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lovelookspretty · 3 months ago

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not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): ward cameron, slightly sexual joke between y/n and rafe

authors note: sorry for the late update again !! was rearranging my entire room for hrs n then passed tf out ( literally moved my entire pc set up + my dresser + cleaned out a bunch of stuff to make room for my vanity that im ordering im so excited )

okay oops its been like 4 days since my last update but its okay !! this was basically a filler but y/n still got to meet with rafes family + spend time with him

you’re tracing the outline of your textbook as you’re replaying the memories in your head. the café, the walk, the bench, the kiss. you blush at the thought over and over again every time you bring yourself back to it.

he smelled so good; he always does. but he tastes even better. you can still remember how his hands explored your body during the kiss, gently and carefully groping you. and his lips felt so rough against yours, with the same amount of desire that you had when you brought him back in for more.

he’s all that’s been on your mind since it happened last night. it’s embarrassing really, you just feel like a little kid who’s just had their first kiss all over again. but it wasn’t your first—first in a while maybe. but this one was also different.

if you had to be honest, if you saw him again since everything, you would go for another one. anything to feel him on you again. it’s like he’s a drug that you’re addicted to. that you can’t escape. that you don’t want to escape.

the only thing you don’t realize in the frenzy of all your thoughts is . . .

“y/n,” your professor calls out to you, knocking you out of your train of thought. you sit up in your seat and lock eyes with the man who sends you a polite smile, before he’s going back to his lesson.

. . . the world keeps spinning.

just days later, you’re snacking on cereal as you watch some youtube video. you don’t know the channel but they’re just funny as fuck. you need something to entertain you with all the free time you have that day.

aria is reading and working out at the same time behind you. ideally that sounds great, but she’s working out in the way that has her constantly moving around and changing position, making it impossible to read at all.

you don’t know why she’s still doing this. you told her it was a bad idea an hour ago but she’s persistent.

“—two, three, four—” you hear her count behind you. taking a break to just witness all that is aria, you turn around in your chair to watch her.

her hair is frizzy, sweat coating her forehead and if you look closer, her everywhere too. she’s trying her best to hold a book in front of her face to read it, but it’s obvious that she’s struggling. she’s watching a video on the workout, working out, and reading.

“baby i think you need to just focus on one,” you say as you face forward in your chair, clicking out of the youtube video to find a new one.

aria doesn’t miss a beat. she’s still moving through her toe touches. “actually,” she huffs, “studies show that multitasking—like combining physical activity with cognitive tasks—can enhance neural plasticity. it’s all about training the brain to adapt and process more efficiently under stress.”

you turn back around to look at her, and you see that she finally stops to breathe for a second. “besides, if i can master this, just think about how productive i’ll be.”

“oh yeah, i feel your productivity all over me already,” you joke as you pretend to wipe your back and flick it off your hand, like you’re cleaning off all her ‘sweat’ that got on you.

aria smacks her tongue and rolls her eyes, continuing her workout as she flips through to the next page. you’re giggling as you face forward again, only to hear some screams down the hall.

your head snaps toward your door and you glance behind you to see if aria heard it too or if you’re actually just insane. she’s just as concerned as you are.

you get up from your chair and head straight for the door in a hurry. once opened, you peek your head out carefully before spotting a few people crowding a dorm just a few doors down.

rafe and lorenzo’s dorm.

you look closer, immediately recognizing the bunch as rafe’s dad and two sisters. huh. guess rose couldn’t make it.

rafe is just in the middle of a proper handshake and hug with his dad, a grin on his face as he laughs. you can see the backside of sarah who’s standing right next to them, waiting for her turn. wheezie is curious like usual.

she’s looking around the hall but she spots you within seconds. oh fuck.

wheezie hits sarah’s arm quietly to grab her older sister’s attention. you watch as sarah looks down at her before wheezie’s whispering something. she must be trying to not make a scene about seeing you.

sarah looks across the way and sees you, her jaw dropping. “are you kidding me?” she laughs, heading right for you and completely ditching her brother.

you glance back at aria awkwardly when sarah goes in for a hug that you can’t turn down. it’s brief, thankfully, but sarah still grabbed everyone’s attention when she saw you.

you peer over sarah’s shoulder and see ward and rafe staring directly at the two of you. there’s still a small smile on his lips as he makes eye contact, you return it politely.

“no one told me you go to school here,” sarah says, her hands on her hips as ward comes over.

“sarah honey, let’s leave y/n to her business, you don’t know if she’s busy,” he’s telling her with a light guide on her arm toward rafe’s dorm again. sarah lets out a quiet ‘oh’ as ward looks to you. “it’s really great to see you y/n.”

“it’s great to see you all too, but it’s okay, leave her,” you say about sarah, your choice of words causing sarah to smile as ward raises his hands in surrender. “i’m not busy at all, but it is really nice to see you guys.”

ward joins his son again before he’s stepping inside his room. wheezie, feeling more comfortable to hangout with her sister and you, silently decides to follow sarah.

sarah’s mouth is a little open as she’s taking the sight of you in. “it’s so crazy to see you here. i mean, what are the chances?” she says, and you know that she’s referring to the fact that both you and rafe were accepted in and committed to the same university. “and your rooms are so close . . . rafe isn’t giving you a hard time though, is he?”

oh right, they have absolutely no idea that you two don’t hate each other.

“not at all, here and there maybe, but me and rafe are actually friends now,” you tell her, and you’re not surprised when sarah is.

she takes a moment to process it. “that’s actually crazy,” she says. “given how everything was back in obx, everyone kind of assumed you guys went off to college still hating each other. what? you guys are friends now? that’s amazing!”

the two of you are laughing as she brings you in for another hug, like you’re a sister to her.

you rub her back. “it didn’t happen overnight, for sure,” you say with a chuckle, and she pulls away to let wheezie say hi to you. “but it’s actually really nice to not hate someone. hi wheezie.”

she side hugs you, and you get the immediate feeling that she’s a little uncomfortable with how much she doesn’t even really know you. you let go of her and let her stand next to sarah so she feels more comfortable again.

rafe peeks past the wall, his hand grabbing the doorframe by his chest. “sarah, wheez,” he calls out to his sisters. you can hear what sounds like ward and lorenzo talking inside, very loudly you may add. sounds like they’re getting along. “dad wants me to take you guys on a tour. come on.”

sarah looks back to you. “it was really nice seeing you y/n,” she says, then holds wheezie’s hand to walk back to rafe’s dorm.

they slip past rafe to reach their dad and meet lorenzo most likely. rafe takes a moment and leaves his dorm to head over to you.

“hey,” his voice is soft as he approaches you, and you lean against your doorframe. “you doing okay?”

you hum in response, and rafe gazes down at you with a small smile.

“we have the mall later today with enzo and lara but i have something planned for us this saturday. you think you could clear your schedule?” he asks.

you tilt your head. “i think i could make some room for you i guess.”

he grins at you before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips quickly. there’s an immediate vomit noise from behind you. both you and rafe turn back to find aria done with her workouts, and she’s closing her book and tossing it aside.

“sorry aria,” he says aloud. when you turn to face him again, rafe nods at you. “i’ll text you when.”

“okay,” you murmur, and you watch as he leaves to his room again. you swear you see wheezie’s head peeking out the first second he leaves you.

you close your door and head back to your desk.

“so what, are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend now?” aria asks. you look up at her and feel like laughing to ease any thoughts. you certainly aren’t boyfriend and girls—no labels as far as you know.

but dating?

“no,” you answer, shutting your laptop and placing it on another spot on your desk. “just some really cool . . . buddies. i don’t know. we’re not exclusive or anything. i think we wanna just take it slow.”

“you think? you guys didn’t have any talk with each other?” she asks. you silently shake your head at her. she raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. “you two would make a cute couple.”

her words give you relief that it doesn’t lead to anything bad. if anything you’re happy, but it’s not something you’ve thought about before.

you can’t hide your smile that aria teases you for, so you grab your pillow at throw it at her.

‘ come outside, waiting for you ’

you set down your phone after reading rafe’s text, and you check yourself in the mirror one more time before grabbing your purse.

you walk to the door, double checking you’re bringing the right belongings with you. “i’ll see you later,” you say as you unlock the door.

aria is grinning as she kicks her foot back and forth off the edge of her bed. “have fun,” she sings.

when you leave your dorm, rafe is slowly making his way over to yours. as soon as he heard your door open, his head snaps up and his gaze falls upon you. he sends a warm look your way.

“you ready?” he asks you.

“where’s your family?” you puzzle as you and him begin walking down the hallway.

he shrugs. “they knew i had plans today so they said they wanted to go around vista heights and explore. when we get back, they wanna meet up again for dinner though so i’m gonna be a bit busy tonight.”

you nod. “that’s cute; no problem at all.”

you get into rafe’s car with the others since lorenzo claims he’s too tired from lacrosse practice all morning. it’s fun to hangout with this specific group, you’re starting to feel like, because now that you’re in rafe’s car then you and rafe are the ones in the front with lorenzo and elara in the back.

once you’ve arrived to the mall, you join hands with elara who just seems excited to be shopping with her friends.

“where are you guys going?” you ask as elara begins tugging your sleeve so you can come with her to a chic boutique nearby.

lorenzo scratches the back of his neck and shrugs, “i don’t know but i don’t wanna go in there.”

elara groans, “who’s gonna help me and tell me what looks good on me or not?”

“y/n,” the two boys say at the same time.

elara glares before letting go of you so she can walk over to them. she grabs a handful of both of their shirts and turn around. “come on, let’s go!” she says cheerfully, and she drags the guys to follow you and elara to the the shop she’s had her eye on.

“that goes so well with your skin tone,” you say as you and elara stare at yourselves in the mirror with some new clothes on. elara is posing in her corset and skirt, then she takes a look at yours. “it feels a bit tight on me.”

“we can go for something a bit more air-y!” she tells you, and she holds a finger up to tell you to wait while she hurries to her dressing room. she disappears behind the door and grabs something off the hooks on the wall, then comes back out. “good thing that i grabbed just the thing for you when we were looking earlier.”

gee, elara comes prepared, but you aren’t surprised. she makes you take the pieces and she rushes you back into your dressing room, urging that you dress quickly so you can go to the next store.

you listen to her. after locking the door, you try on the outfit she picked out for you. it’s very . . . elara energy. it’s so cute.

“i like it, i think,” you tell her as you unlock the door and step outside. elara is beaming when she sees you. “definitely more comfortable. the material might be annoying though.”

“obviously,” elara says as she guided you to the mirror in the hallway. “beauty is . . . annoyance! but i like it! plus i think somebody likes it on you too.”

you know who she’s talking about. it’s the only obvious person.

when you look at elara, you can see that she’s looking somewhere in the mirror between you. you follow her gaze and stare into the mirror. rafe is sitting with lorenzo just feet away on a seat in the middle of the dressing room hall.

you lock eyes with the boy who’s been staring at you. lorenzo is talking his ear off—again—but it’s clear that rafe isn’t listening. his focus is on you.

“he’s been staring at you since we got out of the car, eyeing you like you’re sex itself,” elara whispers in your ear, an amused look on her face as she waltzes over to her dressing room.

when you look back at rafe, your eyes soften. a blush spreads across your cheeks as you look back at yourself.

“rafe?” you call, walking over to your dressing room. lorenzo stops talking as he and rafe listen to what you have to say. “you wanna come in and help me put on my next one?”

you’re joking, and he knows it too, but you spot the way rafe lights up yet becomes dumbfounded at the same time as he watches you disappear in the room, and you can’t help but giggle once you’re alone.

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romana-after-dark · 10 months ago

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Dead Dove December 2023 Masterlist

Hello everyone!

So sorry it took forever to get this out, but it took me 5ever to read through these fics bc I was expresso depresso and working a lot LMFAOOOOOOO

Anyway, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE ENTRIES!!! I adore you so so so so much. I am SO HAPPY with how this worked out and the amount of response! I hope to hold another event this March with @for-a-longlongtime at @triplefrontier-anniversary for the TF anniversary over at my main account @romanarose, and an event in June for pride, so if those interest you, follow my main page or this one, or @romana-updates

NOTE: I was unorganized so if I forgot someone's fic, IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. I know right now there discourse right now the Pedro fandom specifically, about different people not liking others or small writers or big writers ETC, but I want you to know no one was left out on purpose!

Note 2: If I put your fic here but forgot to reblog LET ME KNOW! I want to make sure everyone gets a chance to shine.

Without further ado, the fics and art!

ALL OF THESE ARE DARK SO SOME DEGREE FROM CNC, DUB CON, TO VIOLENT NON CON! HEAD WARNINGS!

The Last of Us

The Burglary by @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy: Two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

Fight Club by @anama-cara : Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way.

Deja Vu by @milla-frenchy : After a bad experience with a former boyfriend, you meet Joel who makes you trust him fully in the bedroom

Silent Night by @kewwrites : Despite the way he always acted around you, you find it hard to say no to Sarah when she invites you home to her dad's house for the holidays. Surely nothing would happen while she's with you.

Training Day by @koshkamartell : Set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous.

Code Broken by @auteurdelabre : You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

The Art of Breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads : Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark : While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk : As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked. Most of the time. Tonight is not one of those times.

Locket by @toxicanonymity : Dark!Reader dugs her friends hot dad Joel

Run, Rabbit by @justagalwhowrites : It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Godless by @javier-penas-wifexx420 : You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

Across the Spiderverse

After Dark by @runa-falls : He wants you. and he knows you need him.

Triple Frontier

Deep Seeded Issues by @djarinmuse: Summary: At an N.A (narcotics anonymous) meeting you recall a dark and embarrassing memory, not knowing the connection in the room.

My Blood Would Teach Me How to Love by @winniethewife : Santi finds you self harming, blood kink ensues.

Room's on Fire by @romana-after-dark : Cult AU, Pope, Frankie, Will and Ben are cult leaders and need a virgin to breed who will birth the savior: the Madonna. Initially honored to find redemption, the Madonna has to learn how to navigate all four men and a circle of other people at the house.

Goodnight, Princess by @melodygatesauthor : Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

The Card Counter

Bad Bet by @boredzillenial and art by @lunar-ghoulie4art : William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…

Getting Whats Mine by @winniethewife

Lightening Face

Puppy by @darkuselesssomebody : In which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

Mojave

Cruel Intentions by @hon3yboy : You're on a soul seeking journey, just another young, pretty, thing. All alone and stranded in the desert, ripe for the picking and ol' Jack has his eyes set on you.

Moon Kight

Death to Dignity by @juneknight : An intruder (Marc) breaks in to your apartment.

*************

I cannot thank you enough for your support and interaction for htis series!!!!! I had SUCH a good time reading all these, you are all so talented!!!

I hope to do more events soon as it's really helped me make some friends and get to know people here!!!!

Please remember to reblog these authors, and if you're tagged here, be sure to check out more! Lots of great content here!

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rstarsims3 · 1 year ago

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► 4t3 - Island Living - Mermaid Stuff - DF & non-DF

Alright, so...this is not as much a conversion as it is a mash up (a.k.a. Frankenmesh). Here’s what I mean by that:

- Meshes: I took the tails from TS3 and combined them with the fins from TS4 (because the S4 tails have a different UV and in order to fit TS3 they would’ve needed to be re-UV-mapped);

- Textures: a combination of TS3 and TS4 textures -TS3 for tails and TS4 for fins (only because the S4 textures look horrendous in TS3, at least the ones for tails do).

PLEASE READ the details I listed under CREATOR NOTES bellow !!!

Details:

Original meshes by EA/Maxis, I just put them together;

Ages: Teen to Elder, both genders;

All LODs & Morphs;

Disabled for random (for non-defaults);

Custom normal maps included;

Custom thumbnails for both Launcher and CAS (though the game might ignore them and generate normal thumbnails instead;

Format: package files;

Programs: S4Studio, Blender, Milkshape, Photoshop, MeshToolKit, TSRW, S3PE.

!!! The Sims 3 Island Paradise required (for everything except the male tops, those are base game).

What does this upload contain? (so glad you asked!)

2 mermaid tails named Fin One and Fin Two (DF & non-DF) from TS4;

2 female tops - non-DF - these were made by me because of -again- questionable textures n TS4 that don’t match TS3 art-style;

1 male top (converted from TS4 <-> non-DF because by design the male mermaids in TS3 don’t have a default mermaid top);

1 (pair of) stockings - DF M & F (made by me; will replace the “markings” your mermaid sims have on their legs while on land).

EDIT: On a anon's request, I added a NON-DF version for the accessory scales. It's base game compatible, has 3 presets with 3 recolorable channels and is available for both genders from teen to elder.

Edit 16.07.2023: uploaded the male kelp top as accessory as requested by @dezailes2cochon.

!!! FOR Default Replacements install only ONE OF EACH !!!

Polycounts:

Tails AF: Fin One - 1.9k; Fin Two - 1.7k (original - 1.6k)

Tails AM: Fin One - 1.9k; Fin Two - 1.7k (original - 1.1k)

Tails TF: Fin One - 1.9k; Fin Two - 1.7k (original - 1.6k)

Tails TM: Fin One - 1.9k; Fin Two - 1.7k (original - 1.1k)

Tails EF: Fin One - 1.9k; Fin Two - 1.7k (original - 1.5k)

Tails EM: Fin One - 1.9k; Fin Two - 1.7k (original - 1.1k)

Tops: same polycount as the original TS3 items (they’re just painted on the base mesh)

! The reason why I listed the polycounts like this is because it’s up to you to decide whether you’re comfortable using:

the default-replacements (and have all the mermaid sims in town use these items); or

the non-default-replacements (in which case only your sims will use them as long as you’ve changed them in CAS).

Specific Details (for non-defaults):

Tops, bottoms and accessories sections;

Presets:

Tails: 5 presets; 4 recolorable channels

Tops Female: 5 presets each, 4 recolorable channels

Top male: 3 presets; 3 recolorable channels

Mermaid Stockings: 5 presets; 3 recolorable channels

Categories: Everyday, Sleepwear, Swimwear,

Available for Maternity (female versions).

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!!! Attn !!! -> The default replacement tails and female tops use only the first preset because I haven’t found a way to integrate additional maps (UVs, in this case) to a default replacement.

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Creator Notes:

Here’s where it gets interesting!

If you decide on using the DFs - INSTALL ONLY ONE OF EACH!!!!!!!

And to give you an example, here’s how I’m using the default replacements: Fin One for females (the DF files for TF, AF& EF), Fin Two for males (the DF files for TM, AM & EM), stockings for both genders (DF female & DF male).

As I said above the DF files have only the first preset. The non-DF have 5 presets, each with their own individual UV. Meaning I’ve made patterns out of the UVs to better emulate the patterns on the S4 tails. See bellow the difference in UVs and how they control the channels. It’s applicable to both tails and female tops. This is the only advantage of using the non-DFs in my opinion. But you can have both DFs (only one of each!!!) & non-DFs in your game at the same time and maybe use one of the patterns in the non-DF for that one “special” mermaid.

The stockings aren’t the best aligned to the UV, I’ll admit it. But any misalignments (only along the seams) can only be noticed if you look closely.

This appears to be a common issue when installing default-replacements (you’ll know this if you have DF hairs in your game). Upon loading the DFs for the first time you might encounter a texture issue where you can see the new mesh, but the texture has not loaded properly. Like in this example:

To fix it, you either take the sim in CAS with Nraas MC - Stylist (you don’t need to change anything, just get them in and out of CAS) and/or -if that doesn’t work- go ahead and save, quit and reload the game. This should fix the issues.

For NON-DF tails it’s mandatory that you use invisible feet This is what I’m using: 1 or 2 (find the null feet files inside the download). But keep in mind that because of the way the package was constructed, Dashboard might display them as corrupted. That’s because of the age categories being all in one file and not separated. Haven’t caused issues in my game so far and I've been using them since December. Anyway, the important thing is you need invisible feet for NON-DFs.

Let me know if you encounter any issues or need some further clarification.

Watch the tails in action HERE

You can tag me so I can see your beautiful mermaids & reblog your posts!

DOWNLOAD: Patreon / MF / SFS

Download scales acc NON-DF: MF / SFS

Download male kelp top as acc: MF / SFS

Hope you enjoy them!

Happy Simming!

———————————————

If you like my work and would like to support me, you can do so on my Patreon & Ko-fi.

———————————————

TOU 🔊 Do not re-upload my creations. Do not claim as your own. Do not put them anywhere up for download and don’t add adfly to my links.

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thewulf · 6 months ago

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Breaking Point || Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: Request -I've got this itch for some hurt/comfort with Simon Ghost Riley and the reader from TF 141. Reader's this badass sniper, always on top of her game. But one day she wakes up feeling under the weather. She decides to push through training, but things take a turn when she starts feeling faint during drills after Price gives her shit for not training hard... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh this was challenging but so much fun to right. Please let me know your thoughts below :) Got a little carried away with this one!

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader, TF 141 x Platonic Female Reader

Word Count: 7.7k +

TW: Heat Stroke, Flu, Illness, general COD warnings.

Four years ago, you were a part of a special training assignment with the American Navy, deployed in a remote and sweltering military base off the coast of Africa. It was here in the middle of the grueling drills and relentless heat that you caught the eye of Captain John Price. Your prowess with a rifle was unmistakable. Every target set before you fell without fail. But what truly set you apart was your demeanor: you kept your head down, focused intensely on the task at hand, never boasting about your undeniable skills.

Captain Price who was always on the lookout for exceptional talent to add to Task Force 141, saw in you a rare combination of humility and sharpshooting expertise. Recognizing your potential he pulled some strings, navigated through the complexities of the American Military bureaucracy, and somehow successfully recruited you into the prestigious ranks of TF 141. This marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One that would challenge your resilience and skill more than any previous assignment.

Joining TF 141 wasn't just a promotion. It was being welcomed into a family of elite soldiers. While Soap and Gaz took an immediate liking to you, appreciating your wit and marksmanship, Ghost was initially more reserved. His trust was not easily won. It had to be earned on the battlefield not just through training exercises back at base.

Your defining moment came during a perilous mission in the frozen expanses of Russia within your first year with the 141. The mission had quickly gone sideways. Ghost found himself in the deadly crosshairs of an enemy sniper. With the situation deteriorating rapidly and no clear shot available to him your actions in those critical seconds would forever change the dynamics of your relationship with Ghost. From a concealed position you took out the opposing sniper with a single, precise shot, saving Ghost’s life.

This act erased any last reservations Ghost might have held. From then on he saw you not just as another sharpshooter but as an indispensable member of the team, his team. Your ability to make life-saving decisions under intense pressure proved your strength. Not just in terms of physical prowess but in intellectual and tactical acumen as well.

Since then you have become an integral part of TF 141's operations. Your journey from a promising recruit noticed by Captain Price to a pivotal player in some of the team’s most critical missions has been defined by relentless dedication and the deep trust you've earned from some of the military's toughest warriors.

The shrill beep of the alarm slices through the stillness of your room dragging you from the shallow waters of restless sleep into the harsh reality of dawn. For a moment as you blink against the dim light filtering through the barracks' curtains, the room spins slightly—a disorienting dance that forces you to close your eyes again.

You’ve always been the type who never gets sick. The one who breezes through the cold season unscathed while others succumb around you. Your robust health has been a point of pride, a badge of reliability in TF 141. But this morning something is different, and you know it immediately.

Your body aches profoundly, each muscle groaning with a weariness that feels bone-deep, and your head pounds with the relentless rhythm of a dull, throbbing drum. Swallowing feels like dragging sandpaper down your throat. An unfortunate wave of nausea rolls through you as you sit up. It has to be the flu, you think grimly, recognizing the unmistakable and unforgiving symptoms.

Despite the clear signs of illness, the thought of calling in sick doesn’t even cross your mind. It’s not just about pride. There’s also a deep-seated belief that you can handle anything, a belief that has carried you through countless challenges.

With a heavy, determined sigh, you push yourself off the bed. Standing unsteadily for a moment, you use the wall to keep yourself upright. Today is not the day to show weakness, not the day to break your perfect record of health. You decide to power through. To dress and join your team for the morning drills under the rising sun. The thought of letting them down by your absence is more daunting than the physical discomfort threatening to overwhelm you.As you gear up, each movement measured and more deliberate than usual, you steel yourself for the day ahead. Today, you'll prove—not just to your team, but to yourself—that not even the flu can keep you from standing alongside your comrades.

Stepping out into the cool, pre-dawn air, you allow yourself a moment to feel the chill against your fevered skin. It’s oddly refreshing, a natural contrast to the unnatural heat of your illness. It’s bound to be short lived though as the sun’s rays already feel warm on your skin. The training field is a short walk away and with each step you rehearse the day’s routine in your mind. A mantra against the physical discomfort.

As the briefing wraps up and the team begins to disperse to their respective training stations you feel the weight of Ghost’s gaze right on you. Despite the heaviness of your limbs and the fog in your brain, this unspoken solidarity from your teammates, especially Ghost, gives you a sliver of strength.

With each step towards the day’s first drill your resolve hardens. You're not just fighting the flu; you're fighting to maintain the trust and respect you’ve earned. Today, the battlefield is here, within yourself, and you're determined to prove your mettle. You are keenly aware of being one of the few women in the unit and the additional scrutiny that comes with it. It's crucial that you show no weakness even as your body wages its quiet rebellion. Your head pounds with a relentless ache. Your limbs are heavy. And every breath feels like an effort. Despite these symptoms screaming flu, you've chosen silence—no complaints, no excuses.

When you arrive at the training field the usual bustle of activity sharply contrasts with your internal struggle. Everyone is focused on what needs to be done, their attention solely on performance. As Captain Price begins the morning briefing his voice sounds like a distant echo in your ears drowned out by the pounding in your head. The day's challenges loom large, testing your limits before you've even started.

As you make your way to the lineup, the crisp morning air begins to turn warm, almost uncomfortable warm already. Soap falls into step beside you, his familiar grin lighting up his face as he launches into the light-hearted banter that typically marks your mornings together.

“Morning! Ready to outshoot us all again today?” Soap teases before giving you a gentle nudge with his elbow, expecting your usual lively retort.

You manage only a weak smile, one that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and nod faintly. The flu has buried your usual quick wit under a heavy weight of fatigue and discomfort. It takes all your effort just to keep standing without revealing how much you're struggling.

Soap’s smile quickly falters at your lack of reply, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You okay, lass?” he asks. His tone shifting to something more serious.

You nod again, swallowing hard against the surge of nausea. “Yeah, just tired,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You're careful not to reveal the full extent of your ailment, not here, not in front of your team.

From a short distance away Ghost's intense gaze follows the exchange. Though his presence is more subdued, and his demeanor reserved, his attention to detail remains sharp. You can feel his concern even without words. His posture is alert, his body tensed as if ready to act at a moment's notice.

Ghost offers no overt gestures of worry; he doesn't need to. The slight tightening of his stance is a silent signal of his readiness to intervene. His eyes, just visible through the slits of his mask, never wander, tracking your every move with a vigilance that speaks volumes. You know he's always watching out for his team, and today, his protective focus is unmistakably fixed on you.

"Alright, let's warm up! Start with sprints!" Captain Price commands. His voice cuts through the morning air, decisive and clear. You line up with your teammates, the grass cool and slightly damp under your boots. The whistle pierces the calm, and you propel yourself forward. Each step is a battle, your muscles protesting every movement. Yet you push through the fatigue and dizziness.

After sprints the drills shift to push-ups. Down on the warm, wet grass you feel the earth against your palms, stabilizing yet unforgiving. You count each repetition, your muscles burning and a thin layer of sweat forming, which only seems to heighten the chills that intermittently rack your body.

Sit-ups come next and with each crunch a wave of nausea threatens your composure. The world tilts slightly with each lift, blurring at the edges. Captain Price’s footsteps approach. His presence looming. "Let’s see that strength, Y/N! Don’t slack now!" he urges. The encouragement is meant to inspire but it feels like a heavy mantle on your already burdened shoulders.

“Yes sir.” You manage to get out between crunches.

As you struggle through each exercise you can't ignore the hot flashes followed by chills, the hallmark of flu symptoms. Each movement is more taxing than the last and the temptation to give in and rest grows stronger. However, your determination doesn't waver. You are here to prove yourself, to demonstrate that neither flu nor fatigue can break your resolve. You need to showcase the unwavering strength of not just a skilled sniper, but a resilient soldier.

As the whistle blows, Captain Price directs everyone to break into their respective teams for more specialized, team-based drills. You find yourself grouped with Ghost, Gaz, and Soap. Your usual teammates and three of the unit's most competent operatives. Your heart sinks a bit. Their proficiency and teamwork are unmatched and under normal circumstances you would feel invigorated by the challenge. Today, however, it feels like an uphill battle.

"Alright, team," Gaz announces with a nod, "we’re up for the relay sprints and tactical positioning exercises. We need to be sharp and synchronized. Let's show these assholes how it's done."

You nod silently, attempting to muster a semblance of enthusiasm. Soap claps you on the shoulder giving you a reassuring smile, likely mistaking your subdued quietness for focused determination rather than the fatigue that’s slowly overtaking you.

The drills begin with relay sprints. You watch as Soap takes off with his usual speed. His figure swiftly cutting through the warming afternoon air. Gaz follows, moving with practiced ease. Then it’s your turn. As you push off your legs feel as though they are wading through molasses, your usually sharp agility significantly dulled by the flu’s tenacious grip. Each step feels heavier than the last as your breathing becomes ragged and unsteady.

Compounding your discomfort, the gear you're clad in feels unbearably hot against your skin. The layers that are usually a second nature in your fieldwork now seem like a furnace, trapping in every ounce of body heat. Your temperature rises not just from the fever, but also from the exhaustive exertion and the insulated heat from your tactical vest. Sweat beads on your forehead, not entirely from the physical activity but also from the early signs of heat exhaustion—your body’s desperate attempt to cool down under the layers.

Despite feeling increasingly overheated and nearly overwhelmed, you hide your discomfort well. Your face remains stoic, betraying none of the battle raging within your body against the heat and illness. To an outsider you might just appear intensely focused. But beneath the surface you're fighting a much tougher battle, trying to keep pace while your body screams for relief.

Ghost, from his vantage point, watches closely. His sharp eyes catch the subtle signs that others might miss—the slight falter in your step, the way you're breathing a little too hard after your sprint. His gaze intensifies with concern etched across his face as he monitors your every move, aware that something isn’t right but waiting for you to signal if you need assistance.

When you pass the baton to Ghost your hand trembles slightly. He catches it and for a brief moment your eyes meet. There's a flash of concern across his usually impassive face, a subtle shift that speaks volumes. He nods at you before taking off, his movements fluid and precise, yet his mind clearly not fully on the drill. His glance back at you is quick, discreet, checking to ensure you’re still on your feet.

As the exercises continue with the tactical positioning drills, the demands increase. This part of the training requires quick movements and even quicker thinking as each team member needs to cover different angles and work together seamlessly. You position yourself to cover Ghost’s flank, aiming to maintain your usual high standards. However, the world begins to tilt alarmingly. Your vision swims and the ground beneath you feels as if it’s shifting forcing you to steady yourself against a nearby tree.

Ghost, now at a slight distance, turns sharply in response to your stagger. His eyes narrow, not with disapproval, but with intensified concern. He makes a subtle move to close the distance between you, his instincts as a protector kicking in. Yet, he stops himself, respecting your pride and your ability to signal if you need help. He positions himself strategically, so he’s close enough to intervene quickly if needed. His body tensed and ready to act.

“Y/N, you alright?” Gaz’s voice suddenly cuts through your fog of discomfort, and you realize you’ve attracted more attention than you intended.

You straighten up quickly, nodding more sharply than necessary. “Just lost my footing for a second,” you lie. Managing a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Ghost, who has now subtly shifted his position to provide you with both physical and moral support, keeps his gaze fixed on you for a moment longer. He doesn’t call you out on your obvious discomfort. Instead, he gives you a nod, an unspoken communication between you two. It’s his way of saying he’s there, just in case, without putting you on the spot in front of the others.

His presence helps you gather your strength to continue. Despite the unease churning inside you knowing that Ghost is watching over you with such attentiveness gives you a small, but significant boost of confidence. You focus on the drills, pushing through the nausea and instability, bolstered by the knowledge that help is just a few steps away if you truly need it.

You begin to feel the oppressive heat bearing down on you more intensely than before. Each breath feels like you're inhaling fire. And the tactical gear, usually a familiar weight, now feels like an unbearable burden. Trapping too much heat against your body. More and more sweat beads on your forehead mixing with the slight dizziness that refuses to fade. The discomfort is escalating and despite your best efforts to mask it the heat is becoming unmanageable.

Ghost was still maintaining a discreet distance, watches you with sharp, observant eyes. He senses the subtle changes in your posture and the slight grimace that you can't quite hide each time you move. His concern deepens but he waits for a sign from you, respecting your pride and your position within the team.

As the drills continue you find it increasingly difficult to focus. The world seems to shimmer with heat around the edges and you feel a wave of nausea stronger than before. Recognizing that you might be in more trouble than you initially thought you catch Ghost's gaze across the field. It's a silent plea for understanding, a subtle acknowledgment that you do need his help after all.

Ghost responds immediately, his instincts as your LT kicking into high gear. He crosses the distance between you with a few quick strides. His approach discreet yet filled with purpose. “Everything okay?” he asks quietly. His voice low enough that only you can hear. It’s clear he’s prepared to step in, to offer whatever support you need without drawing unwanted attention to your struggle.

Your attempt to respond is less than reassuring. "Heat… too, it’s not the... can't—why can’t the air?" you mumble. Your words tangling into an unintelligible mess, a clear indicator that you are far from alright.

The expression behind Ghost's mask tightens, his protective instincts flaring as he assesses your condition with even greater alarm. Your face is flushed from more than just the heat. It's clear you're struggling significantly under the weight of your gear and the relentless sun.

At that moment Captain Price's voice cuts sharply through the air, his tone laced with the urgency of the drill. "Let's move it, Ghost, Y/N!" he commands from a distance, seemingly oblivious to the severity of your distress. His focus is on the continuity and discipline of the training. Unaware that one of his own is teetering on the edge of collapse.

Ghost’s response is swift and decisive. Without drawing attention to the situation, he steadies you with one arm, his other hand signaling subtly to Captain Price that something isn’t right. "Give us a moment, sir," he calls back firmly, his tone respectful yet insistent enough to convey the seriousness of the issue without alarming the entire unit.

He turns back to you, his gaze intense. "We need to get you out of the sun," he states quietly, directing you towards a shaded area nearby. His hand remains supportively on your back, guiding but not pushing. His presence a steady force as you stagger slightly under your own weight.

Once under the shade, Ghost helps you remove your tactical vest, easing the burden of the heat trapped against your body. The cooler air hits your skin, offering a momentary relief that you hadn't realized you needed so desperately. But as your body starts to cool an unexpected shiver runs through you, violent and uncontrollable. It feels as though the temperature has plummeted, though the day remains swelteringly hot.

"Ghost," you stutter out between shivers, "it's so cold." Your teeth chatter, a stark contrast to the sweat that still beads on your forehead. The sudden coldness is disorienting, confusing, and you clutch at your arms in an attempt to warm yourself.

"Simon," you manage to say between shivers. His actual name slipping out amidst the confusion—an unusual slip that does not escape his notice. Ghost, or Simon as you now call him, recognizes the gravity of the situation immediately. The usual protocols and formalities fade into the background as he prioritizes your wellbeing above all else.

You blink rapidly trying to focus as your surroundings become a blur. The ground seems to tilt beneath you for a second time and a wave of darkness edges your vision. Simon watches you closely with an arm around your waist in case. His trained eyes catching every sign of your deteriorating condition.

“Hang on,” he urges. His voice steady but the concern is palpable. Before he can offer more reassurance your knees buckle beneath you. Your body finally giving way to the overwhelming symptoms. And suddenly the world goes dark in your eyes.

Simon catches you before you hit the ground his arms securing you firmly yet gently. “Medic!” he shouts. The urgency in his voice cutting through the morning air without a hint of hesitation. Captain Price who had been overseeing the drills from a short distance, turns sharply at the sound. His quick assessment of the situation bringing him running.

Price approaches just as Simon adjusts his hold on you, bringing your body to the ground so you were laying. “What happened?” Price asks. His voice a mix of command and concern.

“Heat stroke, I think—she’s out,” Simon responds curtly. His gaze fixed on you as he checks your pulse and looks for any sign of recovery. Your brief moments of unconsciousness are fleeting but each second is critical.

As you flutter your eyes open, confusion mingles with the need to communicate. “Simon... it’s all spinning,” you murmur with your voice overly weak. The use of his first name again in such a vulnerable state only cements his resolve to get you the help you need immediately.

As Simon kneels beside you he carefully supports your head, his eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition. “Can you tell me where you are?” he asks again. His voice a mix of firmness and concern trying to assess the level of your disorientation.

You blink slowly but the effort to focus feeling monumental. Your gaze drifts over the familiar yet strangely distant figures of Soap and Gaz before returning to Simon. “We're... in Bosnia?” you murmur hesitantly, the name of a recent mission location slipping out, completely unrelated to your current setting on the training field.

Simon’s expression tightens, a flicker of worry crossing his features as he realizes the depth of your confusion. He exchanges a quick, grave look with Captain Price who has been monitoring the situation closely. The incorrect answer confirms the seriousness of your condition, prompting Price to look around, expecting the medics to be approaching swiftly.

However, as Simon scans the area his frustration mounts. The medics, possibly delayed or misinformed about the severity of the situation, are nowhere in sight. Realizing that waiting even a moment longer could jeopardize your well-being he makes a decisive call.

"Not fast enough," Simon mutters under his breath. His protective instincts overriding protocol. Without waiting for the medics to arrive he gently but firmly scoops you up in his arms. His movements are swift and determined as he begins to rush you towards the infirmary. His concern for your immediate safety taking precedence over everything else.

Captain Price, upon seeing Simon’s sudden movement, understands the gravity of the decision and immediately acts. "Clear the way!” he shouts, commanding the attention of everyone on the field.

As Simon carries you, the world around you becomes a blur of motion and sound, but his steady grip provides a reassuring constant. "Hang on love, we're almost there. Just stay with me," he urges. His voice a soothing presence amid the confusion.

With each step Simon takes your sense of time and space dims, the urgency of his stride and the rhythm of his heartbeat blending into the background noise of the base. As you approach the infirmary you see figures moving quickly to prepare for your arrival.

Simon’s pace doesn’t falter until he reaches the medical staff waiting at the infirmary doors. As he gently hands you over to their care his gaze lingers on yours filled with concern and an unspoken promise of unwavering support, no matter the circumstances.

In the cool, sterile environment of the infirmary, Ghost stands a vigilant watch beside your bed. His gaze locked onto your face as the medical team works rapidly to stabilize your condition. The typical stoic mask he wears has fallen away, replaced by an expression etched with deep concern. Each furrow of his brow and tight set of his jaw reveals more than usual concern. It speaks of a profound fear that he rarely allows others to see.

As the medical staff step back momentarily to fetch additional supplies, Ghost's role shifts subtly but significantly. He transforms from a mere observer into an active caretaker, a role those in TF 141 rarely witness. He picks up a damp cloth and gently wipes your forehead. His touch delicate and caring, betraying the roughness expected from his formidable field presence.

"Hey, love, can you hear me?" he murmurs. His voice soft and laden with a tenderness that surprises even him. The word 'love' slips out naturally. A term of endearment that he hasn't used lightly before. This slip, this small but significant deviation from his usual manner, is a clear sign of his deepening feelings. Feelings he might not have fully acknowledged until this very moment.

You blink slowly, responding to the sound of his voice. Ghost watches for any sign of recognition, any indication that you understand his presence. As you meet his gaze, there's a moment of relief that passes over his features. But it's quickly replaced by renewed worry as he continues to monitor your responses.

He is utterly overwhelmed. A feeling that's foreign to him. He's faced countless dangers without flinching but the sight of you so vulnerable stirs a fear in him that battlefield threats never have. He realizes perhaps more clearly than ever how deeply his feelings for you run. It's not just friendship or brotherly protection. It's something much deeper, more personal.

He stays close, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. The contact is meant to comfort you but it also grounds him, reminding him that you're still here, still fighting. "Stay with me, okay?" he adds quietly, almost pleadingly. This is not just a command from a superior officer; it's a personal plea from someone who cares deeply.

Ghost's presence in the infirmary becomes a constant, a guardian ensuring that no detail is overlooked, no necessary treatment delayed. His commitment to your recovery is unwavering, his actions driven by a mix of professional duty and personal concern that has become inseparable. The realization that his feelings for you have evolved adds a new weight to every decision, every action he takes on your behalf.

A few hours later, the haze of confusion and illness that enveloped your mind begins to clear slightly. As your eyes flutter open, the stark white lights of the infirmary momentarily blind you, and the unfamiliar sounds of medical equipment beep rhythmically in the background. Disoriented, you try to recall the sequence of events that led to this moment.

Sitting beside your bed, Ghost notices the subtle signs of consciousness returning. He leans forward, his presence reassuring amidst the clinical surroundings. "Hey, you're awake," he says gently. His voice a soothing contrast to the beeping machines. "Take it easy. You gave us quite a scare out there."

As fragments of memory return—the unbearable heat of the training field, your faltering steps, the feeling of collapse—your face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. The realization that you succumbed in front of your team, particularly because of a flu exacerbating the situation, is hard to accept.

Ghost reads the embarrassment in your expression and quickly addresses it. "Listen, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. You’re dealing with the flu on top of everything else. Heat stroke is serious and it’s a lot for anyone to handle. Especially when you’re already under the weather," he reassures you earnestly.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. His touch grounding. "Even the toughest soldiers need to take a step back sometimes. It’s okay to acknowledge that you’re human, that you have limits. It doesn't diminish your strength," he continues in your silence. His voice imbued with empathy and understanding.

Feeling the sincerity in his words helps ease some of your discomfort. "Thanks, Simon," you manage to whisper, your voice still weak but filled with gratitude. The informal use of his first name in such a vulnerable moment speaks volumes about the trust and comfort you’ve grown to have in him.

Simon offers a gentle smile. His eyes softening. "You’re always pushing yourself to be the best and that’s certainly admirable. But sometimes, taking care of yourself is part of being the best. Don’t blame yourself for this. I certainly don’t blame you for trying," he adds, affirming his support in you.

"Sleep now. Don’t worry about the rest for now. We’re all here for you," he suggests while still holding your hand, his steady presence a comforting constant as you drift back towards unconsciousness. His commitment to your well-being is clear not just as a teammate but as someone who cares deeply on a personal level.

As you close your eyes, comforted by his words and presence, you feel a profound sense of relief. Simon's quiet vigil lets you know that no matter what, you’re not alone. Periodically, he checks the IV line and adjusts the cold packs making sure to monitor your recovery closely.. Each time you stir or grimace in discomfort, he’s there, adjusting your position or simply offering a reassuring touch.

As the hours pass Ghost remains by your side, a silent sentinel. Even as you're asleep he doesn’t leave, instead pulling up a chair to sit beside your bed. Occasionally, other members of the team peek in offering quiet words of support. But it's clear Ghost has appointed himself your primary guardian during this vulnerable time.

This unexpected role of caretaker reveals a depth to Ghost that goes beyond his tactical prowess and battlefield grit. In the infirmary, with the soft hum of medical equipment in the background, his softer, caring nature comes to the forefront, showcasing a profound sense of loyalty and protectiveness towards his team. Especially towards you.

As the day's tension slowly ebbs away in the quiet of the infirmary, you sleep deeply, recovering from the ordeal. Ghost sits steadfast by your side. His focus is solely on you. His usually impassive gaze softened by concern. The door creaks open softly as Soap and Gaz walk in. Both their faces splitting into mischievous grins when they see Ghost in his uncharacteristic role as your caretaker.

“Never thought I’d see Ghost play the doting nurse,” Soap chuckles quietly. Trying to keep his voice low to avoid disturbing you. “What’s next? Will you be knitting her a sweater?”

Gaz joins in leaning against the door frame with a smirk playing on his lips, “Maybe a nice scarf to go with it, mate. Make sure it matches her eyes, yeah?” His comment draws a soft laugh from Soap. Their teasing lightening the atmosphere of the infirmary.

Their laughter, though subdued, is a needed release after the day’s stress. It’s filled with genuine affection and respect for both you and Ghost. They understand the stakes of such moments and the bonds they forge.

Ghost, not missing a beat, shoots them a pointed look. His response is tinged with his characteristic dry humor. "Keep it up, and you'll be on the next solo recon mission in the coldest part of Siberia," he replies. His tone firm but with a faint smirk betraying his amusement.

In the background Captain Price stands silently in the doorway. His observant eyes taking in the scene. He watches Ghost’s interactions with a discerning eye, noting the subtle softness in his usually stoic demeanor. Price is no stranger to the complexities of personal dynamics within his team. And he senses the potential implications of Ghost’s deepening concern for you. There’s a hint of understanding in his gaze, mixed with caution, as he ponders the path this could lead down.

As the laughter begins to die down Price steps forward, his presence commanding a subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere. He gives Soap and Gaz a brief nod, a clear signal that it’s time for them to leave. The moment for jokes has passed and it's time to restore some decorum. As they exit Soap can’t resist throwing one final teasing comment over his shoulder. “Take good care of her, Ghost!” he calls out as his tone is playful yet sincere.

Price remains a moment longer his gaze lingering on Ghost and then shifting to you, asleep and unaware of the exchange. There’s a quiet gravity to his demeanor, an unspoken reminder of his leadership role and his understanding of the deeper currents flowing beneath the surface of his team’s interactions.

Captain Price approaches Ghost, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. He pauses beside him, his voice low and measured to ensure privacy. "Simon," he begins. His tone serious but not without warmth, "you're handling this well and it's clear you care deeply. Just remember, maintaining balance is crucial." His eyes, steady and understanding, meet Ghost's, acknowledging the depth of his concern while gently reminding him of his broader responsibilities.

"Don't lose focus. We rely on you—not just for her, but for the whole team," Price continues, his voice softening slightly to underscore his supportive intent.

Ghost nods, the gravity of Price's words resonating with him. "Understood, sir," he responds, his tone reflecting both respect for Price's leadership and an acute awareness of the weight on his shoulders.

Price places a hand on Ghost's shoulder, a gesture that speaks of his care and mutual respect. "Keep me posted. If there's anything you need don't hesitate to ask," he adds. Emphasizing his role not just as a commander but as a supporter willing to provide resources rather than merely oversee.

"Will do, sir," Ghost says, his voice steady as he watches Price prepare to leave the infirmary. Price gives him one last affirming nod—an acknowledgment of Ghost's commitment and his understanding of the emotional complexities involved. As Price walks away his demeanor reflects as a leader who trusts his team to handle personal challenges with professionalism yet remains ready to step in if the balance shifts too far.

Once alone again Ghost turns back to you, his expression softening as he adjusts the blanket around you and checks the monitors to ensure everything is as it should be. In these quiet moments his demeanor reveals the profound loyalty and protectiveness he feels. Traits that define him just as much as his combat skills.

The room is quiet, the only sounds are the gentle beeping of the medical equipment and your steady breathing. In this sanctuary away from the battlefield's chaos, Ghost’s vigilance continues, a promise of unwavering support.

In the dimly lit infirmary, the soft beeps of the monitor blend with the quiet sounds of the night. Ghost sits closely by your side, his eyes tracing over your peaceful face, contrasting sharply with the day’s earlier tension. The room is calm now, the urgency has passed, but the weight of the day lingers in the air heavy with unspoken words.

Leaning closer Ghost watches you for a long moment. His expression a mix of concern and something softer, more vulnerable. He knows you can’t hear him, but the words slip out quietly anyway. A whisper meant only for you. "You’re killing me here, love," he murmurs. The hint of a smile touching his lips despite the worry in his eyes. It’s a rare admission. One that reveals just how deeply he’s been affected by your condition.

He sighs lightly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the room. Adjusting the blanket around you one last time to ensure you’re as comfortable as possible, he finally leans back in his chair. His gaze remains fixed on you a moment longer as a guardian watching over you.

Realizing the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion settling into his bones Ghost decides he wasn’t willing to leave you yet. Not when you’d hardly regained consciousness and certainly not when you might need him upon waking. He shifts to make himself as comfortable as possible in the chair beside your bed, his body angled to keep you in sight.

As he settles in, his eyes slowly close but it’s clear he’s not completely given over to sleep. Even in rest, he’s alert, ready to wake at the slightest change in your condition. In this quiet vigil, his presence is both a promise and a protection. A steadfast commitment to be there for you when you finally do wake.

The night deepens around the two of you. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor a constant in the otherwise still room. Ghost, in his chair, remains by your side. A figure in the dim light embodying both the warrior and the caretaker in this rare moment of peace.

As the first light of dawn begins to filter through the blinds of the infirmary your eyes flutter open greeting the new day with a mix of confusion and sluggish awareness. Initially, your vision is blurry, the shapes and colors of the room melding into indistinct forms. Gradually though your eyes adjust, and the figure slumped in the chair beside your bed comes into sharper focus. Ghost, asleep, his head resting awkwardly against the wall.

The sight of him so uncharacteristically vulnerable in sleep immediately warms your heart. Despite the residual fog clouding your mind a soft smile plays on your lips. "Ghost," you call out, your voice hoarse but audible enough to stir him from his light slumber.

At the sound of your voice Ghost snaps awake, instantly alert. He straightens up before rubbing the stiffness from his neck as he turns to face you. His eyes that displayed a flicker of reprieve meet yours. "Hey, you're awake," he says. His voice rough with sleep but tinged with unmistakable relief. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, thanks to you," you reply. Your voice was still weak but filled with gratitude. "You stayed all night?"

Ghost nods, a soft expression crossing his face as he hears your voice. This subtle return to normalcy reassures him. Warming his heart and letting him know you must be feeling a bit better to revert to familiar terms. "Yes, I stayed. Didn’t want you to wake up alone here," he replies. His tone gentle. Ghost’s eyes scan your face for signs of pain or lingering confusion, ever the vigilant guardian.

"Thanks, Ghost. Really," you manage to say feeling comforted not only by his presence but also by the return to a semblance of normalcy. His constant vigilance, even as you slept, speaks volumes of his dedication not just to his duty but to you personally.

Ghost offers a slight smile, one that reaches his eyes this time. "No need to thank me. Just glad to see you're doing better," he says. He pulls a chair closer to your bed, settling in. "Need anything? Water? More pain meds?" he asks. Ready to assist with whatever you might need.

The simple exchange is light yet filled with unspoken care helps to ease the remaining tension from the ordeal. As Ghost continues to make sure you’re comfortable, you feel a profound sense of safety and appreciation for the bond that has only deepened through this experience. The conversation drifts into a comfortable silence filled with unspoken understanding and mutual respect. In this quiet early morning hour, a new layer of your relationship has been gently unfolded. Revealing the depth of connection that hardship and vulnerability can foster.

As the morning sun continues to pour a warm glow into the infirmary the doctor finishes his examination and nods with satisfaction. "You’ve made a remarkable recovery. I think you're ready to be discharged today. Just remember to take it easy for the next few days," he advises as he begins to pack away his equipment.

Ghost's reaction is almost immediate, his brow furrowing with concern. "Are you sure she’s ready?" he questions the doctor. His voice carrying a protective edge that makes you smile inwardly. His overt protectiveness is both touching and reassuring. A stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

The doctor, accustomed to dealing with the cautious nature of soldiers about their comrades, reassures him with a confident nod. "Yes, she's stable. Just ensure she rests and avoids any strenuous activity. She should be fine," he explains patiently.

Despite the reassurance Ghost still looks unconvinced. His gaze flicking back to you, searching for any sign of discomfort or lingering weakness. "Maybe another day for observation?" he suggests. His tone half-questioning, half-requesting. It's evident he'd prefer you stay under medical supervision a bit longer.

Your heart warms at his concern and though you find his overprotectiveness endearing, you keep your thoughts to yourself. Instead, offering him a reassuring squeeze of his hand instead. "Ghost, I think I’ll be okay," you assure him gently trying to alleviate his worries.

Ghost manages a small smile. His usual impassive facade softening. "Just making sure," he mutters. Though his eyes remain tender with concern. He finally nods accepting the doctor's verdict, but his posture stays alert, protective.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that. But we’re taking it slow for the next few days. I’ll let Price know." he declares. His tone firm, directed more at himself than anyone else.

As the doctor leaves Ghost assists you in gathering your belongings. His movements careful and considerate. He checks in frequently asking if you're feeling alright to continue, his cautiousness evident but heartening. It’s clear that although you’ve been given the all-clear Ghost will be keeping a close eye on you, ensuring your recovery proceeds without issue.

His unwavering attention not only makes you feel deeply cared for but also subtly deepens the bond between you, underscoring a shift in your relationship where his role as protector has become as instinctive as it is essential.

As you swing your legs off the bed and attempt to stand a momentary wave of dizziness makes your legs waver slightly. Instantly, Ghost is there, his hand firm on your waist, steadying you. His touch is gentle yet secure, grounding you in the moment.

You laugh it off with a light flush coloring your cheeks. "Just wobbly legs," you joke trying to ease the tension you feel from his close presence. Despite your attempt to downplay the situation your movements are still a bit too brisk. A clear sign you might be overestimating your current strength.

Ghost doesn't smile but there's a tenderness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "Take it slow, love," he advises, his tone almost demanding. His hand remains on your back as a discreet but constant presence. He guides you slowly out of the infirmary. You feel the steadiness of his support with each step you take. His careful pace ensures you don't overexert yourself, allowing you time to adjust as you walk. The corridor seems longer than you remember but Ghost’s reassuring presence makes the journey feel safer, more manageable.

"You don’t have to rush this," he continues. Sensing your eagerness to prove your recovery. "We’ll get there when we get there." His words are simple but effective reminding you that your health is the priority not the speed of your recovery.

As you proceed you lean slightly into his support realizing how crucial his support has been, not just physically but also emotionally. Ghost’s unwavering steadiness helps bolster your confidence, making you feel that no matter how shaky your steps might be you won't fall as long as he’s by your side.

The walk back to your room is quiet but comfortable. It’s filled with an unspoken understanding that something significant has shifted between you. When you reach your door, Ghost finally pulls his hand away, but the warmth of his touch lingers.

"Thanks again, Ghost. For everything," you say while meeting his gaze. It's an open acknowledgment of all he's done and all he might continue to do.

"Anytime, love. Just... please take care of yourself," he responds. There’s a promise in his words, an implication that he'll always be nearby, watching over you.

As you reach the door to your quarters, Simon pauses, his hand resting lightly against the frame. "Can I help you get settled back in?" he asks. His tone as soft as it has been before, something new that has overcome him in your incident. His concern clearly evident.

You nod, touched by his attentiveness and as you enter your room he follows close behind. Simon watches carefully as you slowly make your way to your bed and sit down, still feeling a bit shaky. The room is familiar and comforting but his presence makes it feel even safer, more serene.

Once you're seated on the bed, he scans the room quickly, always alert for what you might need. "You sure you don't need anything else? Some more water? A snack?” Ghost asks, already moving towards your small kitchenette. He assumed a role that went beyond duty into something more personal.

You smile at his back, warmed by his concern. "I’m fine, Ghost. Really," you reassure him. But he shakes his head, not entirely convinced.

"It's no trouble at all. You should eat something," he insists gently while fetching a glass of water and a small snack from your stash. Simple things that you hadn't thought you’d needed until he presented them. As he hands you the glass his fingers brush yours lightly, sending a small, unexpected shiver up your arm. You thank him with a soft smile, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Noticing a few strands of hair falling over your face, Simon reaches out and gently brushes them back, his touch delicate and caring. His hand lingers for a moment, a silent expression of his deeper feelings.

You’re momentarily stunned but thrilled, nonetheless. You find it hard to find words as his hand lingers on your face. "I know I keep thanking you but thanks again Simon. For... well, for everything," you say after a moment. Your voice low and sincere. Using his first name feels natural, reflecting the shift in your relationship.

He pauses, looking into your eyes with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. "I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be," he replies. His voice so soft it’s nearly a whisper, revealing the depth of his feelings.

"If you need anything else, just let me know. I'll be just a call away, love," He adds imbued with a warmth that reassures and comforts. His use of ‘love’ is tender, an endearment that resonates deeply, marking a significant moment in your ever evolving relationship.

He gives you a lingering look that was filled with care and a promise of protection before he reluctantly steps towards the door. There's a hint of hesitation in his movement, a subtle pause that conveys his desire to stay longer.

As he exits, gently closing the door behind him, you lie back against your pillows, the glass of water in your hand. His presence has left a comforting warmth in the room. A sense of safety that lulls you towards rest. The thought of Simon being just a call away brings a smile to your face. And as you close your eyes it’s not just the fatigue that makes you feel at ease. It’s knowing Simon is there, caring for you with a tenderness that goes beyond the call of duty.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

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lovemyromance · 1 month ago

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Now this has likely already been analyzed and theorized over the course of the past 3-4 years in this fandom, but since I haven't seen it before I am presenting a theory:

We all read the Elriel moment with the potato dish in ACOSF and clocked it as something interesting. It's not necessarily romantic per se, but it's thoughtful. It's odd enough to call attention to such a normal scene of serving dinner that I raised my eyebrows and wondered why SJM even wrote this.

Now, bear with me while I present the same content for the 308th time probably, but this time, like a tour guide at Jurassic park:

A few things to call out here:

See how Elain goes still at the sight of Azriel? It's parallel to that scene in ACOWAR where Cassian & Azriel both go still at the sight of Nesta & Elain.

Then we have Azriel. He "just moved towards her", like it was instinct. AND THEN - here's the real keep-you-awake-at-night point: Mor tenses

Why does she tense? Why are HER reactions to Elriel moments always so peculiar? Even in ACOWAR, we have this moment when Azriel disappears (where did he go?) and Mor stares at where he had been standing? What is Mor thinking?

It's interesting because we don't know what her powers are other than "Truth" - whatever tf that means. What if she sees something between Elain & Azriel that surprises her, even?

The story gets even deeper when you combine Azriel AND Feyre questioning the cauldron. I cannot stress this enough when I say that no other pair of mates has been questioned in this series other than Elain & Lucien. You have MULTIPLE main characters describing their relationship or lack thereof as uncomfortable and questioning their bond.

Now, I'm not going to sit here and say the Elucien bond is fake. I don't think it is, but I genuinely think Elain - as the cauldron's favorite - might have two bonds. One with Lucien - Cauldron Made, likely to provide strong offspring but not necessarily an ideal love match, like Rhys & Tamlin's parents. But then also one bond with Azriel, which is blessed by the Mother, which is more similar to what Feysand and Nessian have.

And I think that entire scene with the potatoes, everything from describing the potato steam like "Azriel's shadows" to Azriel not letting anyone eat before she sits down - I think it's a big hint that Elain & Azriel also share some kind of bond. I think Azriel, at least, is more aware of the traditions and religion so he has an idea of what he's feeling. It's what leads him to ask the question "What if the cauldron was wrong?" (And then later discover it was, in fact, wrong)

I have a theory that Azriel at least suspects there's a bond between them. Maybe that's why he took the potato dish out of her hands, so she couldn't serve him. He didn't want to give her another "You're my mate" PTSD. Or he might not realize WHAT it is yet, be he can feel it. He knows there is something there between them.

It's why he questions the cauldron (nobody is questioning their religion over 'just lust'). It's why Mor sees it too. It's why Azriel can smell the Elucien bond and it makes him sick. It's why he went sicko mode when he realized she had been taken by the Cauldron. It's why Elain knows him so well, even though we only see a handful of their interactions on the page. It's why their BC encounter was so hot and full of UST. Like they are down bad for each other and it is CLEAR.

#elriel #acotar #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel #pro elain #elain #pro elriel

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 months ago

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in-depth opinions on keefe (trying to return you to your roots: getting asks about kotlc characters)?

I may be putting several additional feet in several additional fandoms but I promise y'all have me prisoner and can send me as many keeper asks as you want <3

I will say these are my personal, subjective opinions! Which do include a bit of bias (TLDR at bottom)

For years I was perfectly fine with Keefe; he's never been my favorite, but he had some funny lines and an engaging presence. Never failed to liven things up. This changed around end of Legacy/Stellarlune.

It's not because I don't ship sokeefe, but because I felt sokeefe's execution was rushed and overshadowing the rest of the story. Wasn't even a full book since Sophie broke up with Fitz and said she wasn't ready for a relationship, yet there they are. I think they, and we, deserved more time. (and yes, Keefe exists beyond shipping, but given how HUGE of a role it plays in his in-text and fandom presence, i find it relevant)

Of course that's not Keefe's fault, but seeing all the adoration for what I found lackluster kinda pavloved me into a general distaste. Especially when done at the expense at Fitz, one of my favorites. Which is unfair, but I did say there's bias. That's not to say I'm mid on Keefe because I love Fitz or that you can't love both, just that personally I'm a Fitz fan, and seeing Keefe used as a direct comparison to shoot him down doesn't endear him to me (and no, not everybody does this, but I've seen it enough to be impacted)

As for Keefe independently, he's following the path of Ro. Too many traits are staying stagnant and becoming repetitive, which is adulterating what I used to enjoy. The way he steamrolls everything--forcing hands to go to Ravagog in Neverseen, running away in Lodestar and refusing to listen, the mercadir incident in Nightfall, the going behind everyone's back thing in Legacy, the running away again, etc. At first it was annoying but interesting, but at this point it's like...we're still doing this?

The amount of time and effort Sophie has to expend managing Keefe is ridiculous. if we could just knock him out for like 2 months I think she could fix everything. it's gone from a facet of the plot's challenges to straight up nuisance like get tf out of her way !!

Others have mentioned this, but the privacy invasion and making others uncomfortable is another thing that I didn't mind at first but became annoying. A joke or overstep here or there is fine; no one's perfect, and if it moves the story forward, sure. But he's constantly pushing and isn't sorry. And the more it happens, the less I can stand the earlier instances. I do my pagethroughs and just get annoyed where I used to laugh

Is there an understandable explanation for several of these points? yes. how the hell would he know how to have healthy relationships and boundaries when he's been set such bad examples? However, he's also being consistently corrected and ignoring that advice. He's given pep talk after pep talk, has fight after fight, and yet nothing's changed.

Do I think he's beyond saving? No. I've spoken with a few people about this, but I think a key thing holding him back is Sophie's "I could never hate you" promise she keeps making. Because Sophie is the main (if not only) thing that matters to him, he's got a built in safety net for whatever stupid shit he pulls, and never faces the consequences he's really afraid of.

If we took that net away, if he faced her genuine distrust and anger and upset and her exclusion and her hatred--without the "but not really just give me some time" vibe. I think that'd do wonders and we'd actually get somewhere. And also it'd be vindicating to see; the nightfall healing center fight is one of my favorite scenes

TL;DR: In summary, I don't hate Keefe. He has potential and I've enjoyed him in the past. But currently the combination of him being used against Fitz, the lackluster execution of sokeefe (imo), the privacy invasion, and stagnation don't do it for me. His kind of character already isn't my niche, and that doesn't help. Does he have potential to become less annoying? yes! i hope he does for everyone's sakes. until then, mild distaste for him.

i will be taking Fitz, Tam, Cadence, and Luzia and playing in the corner, thanks <3

(this is in no way against Keefe fans. kudos to y'all! i'm simply not one of you atm)

#kotlc #keefe sencen #quil's queries #nonsie #returning to my roots it's so good to be home <333 #ty nonsie #a good ol fashioned unreasonably lengthed kotlc ask answer #i mean this all genuinely btw i love answering kotlc asks

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rascalentertainments · 5 months ago

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THE GIRL IS HERE! SHE'S HERE! �� You have no idea how long it took me to get to this one! I'll admit this one looks a tiny bit different than in my head (it could've looked a little better, honestly) but I hope she turned out well! After seeing all the wonderful fan art I've been getting I finally got to give something back by showing WG!Asha! Her design is based off of two concepts arts combined into one (Though I forgot her silver jewelry here somehow, my bad 😅) So now she can interact with other Ashas in the Wishverse! Plus she has some sass, cause let's face it, its been building up.

(These two pieces stood out the most to me, and I'm growing attached to Bill Schwab's art style 😅)

The idea was keep the outfit like it was homemade, since her mother taught her to sew clothes from a young age. Sakina lost her wish to become a royal seamstress for Rosas and the citizens, so she gave her daughter all the knowledge she knows instead. Asha might have a royal princess dress (not yet anyway), but she feels comfortable and free still wearing it.

Surprisingly (to my horror), she gets along with TFS!Asha very well. WG!Asha can only swear outside of the movie because "DISNEY". (with the exception of hell, because that's allowed in kids movies now for some reason) and TFS!Asha swears like a sailor, so she admires the freedom she has. And the pessimism they both have, dear lord...😂 However when it comes to their respective Stars, WG!Asha is more open about her feelings that she's developing for Star, but TFS!Asha doesn't want to get influenced by her romantic thoughts, so she changes the subject. 😂😂

As for the progress on the story, the next chapter should be either tomorrow or Wednesday, after I check for errors. I'm also planning to doing the DTIYS challenge of Asha and Suñeo soon, and then get to Valentino's redesign next. Got my hands full with content here and I love it!

NOW WE CAN DO WISH GRANTED SHIP ART!!! 😃

So Star, what do you thi—

Star: SHE'S BEAUTIFUL!!!!! 😍

Me: TOO BRIGHT!!! MY EYES!!!

Uh, can someone take me to the hospital, I think I've gone blind–

@signed-sapphire @oh-shtars @chillwildwave @annymation

@kenihewa @ishadow246 @your-ne1ghbor @tumblingdownthefoxden

@uva124 @mythartist21 @emptyblog7 @flicklikesstuff

#rascal entertainments #wish granted au #wish granted #Wish granted Asha #my artwork #wish concept art #wish reimagined #wish rewrite #disney wish #wish 2023 #wish movie #my art stuff #drawing #artists on tumblr #sketch #artwork

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thinkpink212 · 1 year ago

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The Thinkpink Guide To a Pretty Pink Soft Life - Setting the tone for 2024

Hello lovelies, we've entered November and have one more month to go before we officially reach 2024! This time last year I sat down and wrote out the goals I now have fully compleated through manifestation, dedication and persistance. I've been asked before how I did it, so here is how.

1. It is important to have the mindset of a believer. More importantly, you must be a believer in you. Belive that you can and will have everything you desire simply because you desire it. You are the univers expanding, creating and experiencing itsefl. Once you believe, as well as trust in your abilities, vision(s) and start honoring yourself - You will become who you want to be (which is who you already are, just not yet)

Once your mindset is shifted, you need to get down to the specifics.

2. The Four Seasons - Work with nature, never against her. One of the reasons why I felt so sucessfull achieving my goals were the way they were divided. I had 3 major and minor goals for the whole year. These goals were centered around what would further me towards the life I wanted, with the seasons in mind divided into 4 phases. I wanted to factor in changing weather, possible shifting mood's, hollidays and much more to avoid any distraction or change of plans due to seaosn.

Examples

A. Major Goal was to graduate Massage School -> Lead to more financial abundance, freedome due to being more in control of my schedule etc. This had a deadline as school had a start and an end. It required dedication for studying, funds, and also for me to find a job afterwards. Took 8 months and three weeks exactly. B. Minor Goal Finish decorating my bedroom, in the home I had manifested -> Led to a safe, comfortable and tranquil enviorment that was costumized to my liking and need. Boosted my mood, as I had a sanctuary. This had no deadline, so it felt like a fun activity where it required funds, patience and selectivness. Took me 11 months to get 85% of what I wanted for my room. It is considered acomplished even though I may add more in the future, C. Summer is a time we want to let loose, have fun and be outside, so my goal of writing everyday felt easy enough untill the sun was calling my name everyday to go enjoy it. So, I implimented writing 30min daily, where any 30min not spend would be allocated to days were I did not have plans within that same week. Once I had to write for 3 hours (which I did) but never again did I skip my 30min. Most of it occured during late evenings as it was when I was already back home, few distractions and so on. - A habit I created was writing on public transport. The 13min back and forth was no longer spend scrolling but instead editing, writing, brainstorming etc.

3. Be selective and prepare for temporary sacrafices. Being real with yourself to choose what you truly want to dedicate the whole year to is crucial for a great year. Sometimes what we want can be stacked/combined. The more selective you are with your goals, and your words, the less things you put on your Goals list and can potentially transfer those to your Phase overview. put on your overall list of achievments. And be prepared to sacrafice time, habits and other pleasures that need to be paused for you to get to where you need to be.

Example; Major Goal 1 -> to become Financial Stable Phase 1 (January through March) -> Start Education / Courses that will alloow higher earning. -> Get a side husstle or main job earning x amount. -> Stay on budget of x amount weekly/monthly

4. Remind yourself of who tf you are Staying on track is easy while the spark is there, but after a few weeks, months, maybe even a season, sometimes that spark can start to seem like a tiny flame in the dark. Remind yourself of who you are becoming through moodboard, playlists, friends you trust who you can openly talk about your moves without fear of evil-eyes. Staying motivated is important as that is your fuel, so do what you need to keep your eyes on the prize. I personally made a pinterest board for each month, made sure to change my background to the focal of the Phase I was in, listen to the same three playlists whenever I got down. Journaling And I had an amazing tight circle of friends I would talk to about my moves.

5. Faileur is not a word you know - Rejection is redirection I do not recognize faileur, instead, I see it as the universes way to tell you you've chosen the wrong brick path and need to go left or right instead. So get up, dust yourself off and get to it. Sometimes life happens, so remind yourself that you can call it, go to bed and try again tomorrow. And I would like to emphesis on the fact that you do not have to start in January. You can rest then and start during the Astrological New Year (Aries season) and move in allignment with the Astral Plain rather then our sociatal concept of time. Just never give up, regroup and redirect.

Lastly, if you find yourself done before the year is over (like myself), spend that time further enjoying the fruits of your labor and give yourself a round of applause. Never forget that all is possible, you are a creator so create your reality even if it takes a little elbowgreese till you get the hang of it!

Goodluck to you all <3

#manifestation #guide #manifest guide #manifestation guide #law of attraction #thinkpink thoughts #thinkpink upload #soft life #black girl luxury #advice #thinkpink perosnal #manifest #loa #law of assumption #2024 #dream life #lucky girl syndrome #delulu is the solulu

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probablyintensemuses · 1 year ago

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INCOMING: A DESPERATE COLLEGE STUDENTS OATHBOUND PREDICTIONS!!!!

CC @mageofspace__ on IG

TRACY!! I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES IN THE MIDDLE OF WALMART! THE WHOLE GANG!! I’m so happy to see Valec, Alice, Will, & Mariah in the flesh like wtf! But while we are here, I want to talk about some of my Oathbound predictions…because I can. ❤️⚔️💙

P.S. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ LB OR BM I SUGGEST YOU DO NOT CONTINUE! Spoilers ahead!

• Okay first, I truly believe that Bree has had her squire and kingsmage all along, Nick and Sel. I mean just with the relationships between those three, there is no way it goes any other way.

also, Alice will wake from her coma and have somehow inherited powers from Will as she was LITERALLY breathing his aether signature in. Like I’m not 100% sure how that would work, but we’ve seen it in media before, take Monica Rambeau and Wanda’s hex for an example! Maybe that interaction with magic will awaken Alice's own unique magic too, or maybe it's closely related to Bree again how the Mesmer did too in LB.

Regardless, when she awakens I think bby girl will be given an even more important role in the finale of this series. Maybe like being Will's squire...

• it’s going to come out that not only is shadow daddy, IYKYK not spoiling for potential new readers who have no sense of self-preservation and are reading this anyways, is not only Sel's father but VALECHEZ’s! Like not only would that be pure comedy considering how they were at each other's NECKS in BM, but it makes sense as to why Sel was succumbing to his demonia so fast, faster than others, maybe because a little more demon than others…

•I think this new magic system that Tracy is cooking up is going to tap into Natasia and Faye’s relationship a bit more and even Sel and Bree’s.

I also think it’s going to be the solution to not only Sel’s demonia, but Bree’s bloodmark, and even abatement and all these fucking legendborn oaths. I mean think about the word OATH, practically meaning something one HAS to abide by. Vera took an oath of sorts with the blood mark “one daughter at a time for all time.” The legend born and their oath of service and all this, as I call it, greedy magic which shortens their life spans, the Merlins too! What if, just what if, Faye and Natasia found a way to combine both their forms of magic (root + aether + blood craft) and created something entirely new? Something so potent and powerful, defying these “oaths” or what you could call them, curses, to cure all these things…and what if since Bree is from Faye’s lineage, sel from Natasia, what if they can do it together too.

• I think we will learn more about the Morgaine. More on Nick….hmm. A lot of LB fans keep calling him boring, but with his mom's disappearance, and the fact that Tracy is too good of an author to simply leave his arc hanging, I don't trust it. Maybe he will even go rogue, I'm not too sure ATP, but don't sleep on Nick!

• Lastly for my final predictions…more like a pipe dream. I really, for the life of me, need Bree to pull a Wanda from episodes 8-9 of WandaVision with Shadow Daddy.

We know Bree is smart and clever, this ain’t new! So, I need her to take what she has learned from shadow daddy, and then pull a clean uno reverse, and get out of there! EXPEDITIOUSLY!

Then from there, I need her to find Sel and Nastia (preferably in some cute cabin in the woods, and Natasia needs to be a MILF) this revelation of Bree's survival prompts Natasia to discuss the above ^^^ She and Bree get to work! Sel is now cured and they can get these oaths removed!!! Once these oaths are removed, the REGENTS ARE TOAST, TOR TOO! Then we get to work on Camlann in book 4! Cuz that’s how tf Tracy does it! Period!!

THESE ARE JUST MY PREDICTIONS, NONE OF THESE ARE CANON!! All I have to say is I'm fucking so excited about this book and even though it's still two years out I'm trusting Tracy's expertise to bring us something DE-LI-CIOUS! Also is it too much to ask that if this is adapted for television to have it animated, we know how much Tracy loves and takes influence from anime... it's only fair, and I feel can make for a more accurate and dynamic visual medium.

That's all for now. PEACE.

#legendborn3 #legendborn #bloodmarked #tracy deonn #legenbornpredictions #legendborn cycle #bree matthews #kingbree

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dreamofdawn · 2 years ago

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Hi hi! Can I request for Luxiem where they play horror games with the reader?

✧✧You ask and you shall receive ✧✧

Main pairing: Luxiem x Reader/you (separately)

Au: none

Genre: Fluff (slight crack)

Type: [HEADCANONS], One shot, or Series

Characters: Vox Akuma, Ike Eveland, Shu Yamino, Mysta Rias, Luca Kaneshiro, Reader

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Luxiem playing horror game with You.

✧VOX AKUMA ✧

The sweet voice demon. We know that vox like playing horror games, and he also likes spending time with you! So why not combined them together?

Vox LOVES spending time with you, either cooking, cuddling or just laying around.

You two were quite bored and had nothing to do, when vox suddenly got an idea.

"Dearest? I have a suggestion."

"oh? What is it Vox?"

"You said the other day that you wanted to learn how to play FNAF? Right?"

"ah yes, why is that?"

Why don't I teach you now? Since both have us have a lot of free time."

You agreed and so the (pain and suffering) game begun!

Both of you went to his set up and started laying the game, he was teaching you how to do play (such a gentleman) but ofc it's not Vox Akuma without the teasing.

So be prepared cause this man would tease you over the littlest thing. When a jumpscare suddenly happened and you screamed on the top of your lungs, hu just laughed at you while you were panicking.(ofc he still helped you by giving some hints.)

While yes he is a tease and you screaming your lungs out may not be the best, both of you still had great time. I'd say that's a great way to spend time with someone: 8/10

✧IKE EVELAND ✧

Ah the sweet novelist, Ike ofc is very familiar with horror games he plays them(ofc his a stream for fucks sake) you knew this.

Ike love spending with you, you also love that. So here you are trying out the new horror game that you suggested both of you play.

You were sitting on his lap as both of you try to clear a certain level. Let's see how this plays:

"WAIT! I SEE HIM I SEE HIM IKE!! MOVE!"

"ÄLSKLING IM TRYING BUT HIS TOO FAST!"

"HOW TF IS HE RUNNING SO FUCKING FAST!"

"I DONT KNOW??!!"

Well safe to say y'all have the time of your life(even tho your throats hurt in the end)

The neighbors almost called the cops because of how loud you two are, but you managed to tell them that no there is no murder in your house.

You both are loud but it was fun because both of you managed to spend some great and fun quality time together if I do say so myself:8.5/10

✧SHU YAMINO ✧

Ah the calm and collected sorcerer, Shu I'd say is a great partner for playing horror games!

He is a great shupport for you, and that's why you suggested both of you play this game together to spend time and maybe try to get shu to scream (you didn't heard that from me)

Anywho both of you were on you computer and started playing, but seems like the both of you don't have a clue how your throat will hurt after this huh:

"SHU! HELP MEEEEE!!"

"I'm upstairs babe!"

"HOW TF ARE YOU CALM??!"

"BABE! They are behind you!"

"AHHH-"

Quite chaotic I'd say..

But both of you managed to get all of the endings with the cost of 😱 screaming and almost losing you sanity because of the game.

After the game you couldn't sleep because still being haunted by the man that was chasing you for 5 mins.

So both of you just decided to have an all nighters to forget it eventually?: 9.5/10.

✧MYSTA RIAS ✧

I can already smell the chaos both of you will do-

Moving that a side *ahem" Mysta Rias would be the perfect panther if you have strong ears because screaming will be almost there every second-

Anyways both you and Mysta were figuring out what to play, when he suddenly brought the idea to play Vox suggested.

So now here both of you are screaming on the top of your lungs as you tried to escape the murder chasing mysta -

"BABE! HELP ME!! HIS CHASINGS ME! WAIT WHAT TF?!"

"IM SORRY MYSTA YOU HAVE TO WAIT A FEW MINUTES IM TRYING TO FIND THE DOOR!! AHH-!"

"NONONONO! HIS RIGHT BEHIND MEEEE!"

"YOU CAN HANDLE IT MYSTA-!"

Now that's chaos

It took guys about 5 and 1/2 hours to finally finish the game because both of you keep losing all of your life.

Super load but fun as you both rest in your bed chilling around like both of you were not screaming like your being murdered- :10/10 very beautiful chaos.

✧LUCA KANESHIRO ✧

Ah the pog boss, sweet sweet Luca.

Luca would be a fun partner in a horror game! He would cheer you on while both of you tried to finish the game(even when his dead-).

You both played multiple horror and non-horror games in the past, so both of you decide to try a new one testing if both of you are brave enough and to see who screamed first.

Lets just say both of you screamed almost the same time-

"LUCA I LOVE YOU BUT PLEASE DONT DIE I CANT FINISH THIS ONE ON MY OWN!"

"YOU CAN DO IT!!"

" LUCA PLEASE LOOK BEHIND YOU THEY ARE ALMOST THERE!!"

"OH SHOOT- WAITWAITWAIT PLEASE-"

Really interesting I'd say.

In the end you guys finished hald of the game since your throat was hurting and you didn't want to lose your voice.

And Luca too he was worried for you and your voice so both of you just sat down and played some Mario kart to pass time.

(And to see who's better at playing) Anyways overall very fun!: 8.3/10

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

A/n: another request done! Hope you enjoy! This was fun to write. (Apologies it's short)

#luxiem #luxiem x reader #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #luxiem fluff #Vox Akuma fluff #Ike eveland fluff #shu yamino fluff #mysta rias fluff #luca kaneshiro fluff

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dumbmusclehypnojockboy · 2 years ago

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Odds & Ends: The Muscle Shirt, a Sk8ter Dreams story

9,900 Subscribers SPECIAL

Thank you everyone! In the lead up to the big 10,000 subs, I'm going to be posting some of my oldest original stuff. I used to be a tf writer known as LanceFan2001 or Ikaika. I frequented cyoc.net and the narcississ archive (i think it's the predecessor to the current GSS.com) and the original gay muscle story archives.

These were the days that we had to put warning lables before we posting gay stuff. It was a time before network admins or parental controls, It was a different world. But maybe not so different.

I was lucky to find a community, and someone important to me, whom I have lost contact with was O'Melissokomos: The Bee Keeper. He had his own site, that was part transformation stories part political news blog. It just worked. Anyway, he illustrated this story. I am so thankful that CYOC still has those images. So, I present,for the first time with illustrations , Odds & Ends: The Muscle Shirt.

Odds and Ends: the Muscle Shirt

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction depicting gay sex. If reading such material is offensive to you, or if you are under the legal age to read such material, please read something else.

Author's Note: This is a tale in the Sk8ter Dreams universe spin- off, "Odds and Ends". Special Thanks goes out to Reaver who started this universe.

Second Author's Note: This story is not meant to offend ANYONE. It is FANTASY, and should be taken as so. Thank you! >>>Ikaika<;<<

Trent Stephens dried his hair with a towel he had taken to storing in his school locker-yet again. This time, some freshman jocks had the pleasure of "flushing" him. You would think that as a high school senior, Trent would be the one administering that particular rite of passage, or at the very least would garner a little respect from the incoming freshmen. Sadly, he did neither.

Perhaps it was because of his appearance that he faired so poorly with his peers. Trent stood at 5'6", and weighed 235 pounds, most of it fat. He never wore any trendy clothing, instead, sticking to a wardrobe consisting of thrift store finds. Perhaps, adding to Trent's position on the bottom of the social ladder, was the combined fact that he was the new kid, who had no backbone.

Trent was also a nerd. Growing up, while the other boys were outside, playing tag or participating in sports, he preferred to sit in the library and read books, or sit in front of his custom-built computer, and play games. He really had no friends either. He obviously didn't fit in with the jocks or trend setters, and even the computer nerds felt that he was too geeky for their clique.

Trent slammed his locker shut, and with a clumsy, jerking movement, swung his book bag over his shoulder. Just as he was leaving the school, his backpack, filled to the brim with books for school, and "a little light reading", ripped at the seams, causing one of the straps to tear, and littering the deserted hallway with his books and folder paper. "Shit," he silently cursed, "What else can go wrong today?"

It took Trent about 15 minutes to pick up his things, and find a plastic bag to put his stuff in. He exited the school, and made his way to the bust stoop. As he approached the stop, he heard the bus approaching. He ran for it, only to be left behind in a cloud of dust, as the bus zoomed past.

"Great," he thought to himself, "looks like I'm walking home again."

Luckily for Trent, he only lived a mile from the school. He began his trek home, huffing and puffing in the hot and humid August sun.

He passed the many banks, stores and strip malls that were a common sight in suburbia, not paying too much attention to what he was seeing. He walked by a bakery, enjoying the smells waffing in the air. He pressed his face against the glass to see what treats were available for sale inside. As he glanced back towards the sidewalk, he noticed something unusual. The lot next to the bakery, that had been empty ever since Trent had moved to town, was now filled. In it, a store had appeared, almost overnight. Green awning lined the front and the sides of the store, and a sign reading "Odds & Ends", displayed the name of the establishment.

His curiosity piqued, Trent entered the store, and he heard the jingle of a bell ring overhead. Trent took a moment to look over the shop. It looked like a thrift store, with shelves piled high displaying miscellaneous artifacts. There were also a few racks, tables and bins of clothing, and a shoe rack in the corner. His eyes fell upon one item in particular... a sleeveless, Navy Blue, Abercrombie & Fitch shirt. Trent walked towards the rack, his palms sweating in anticipation. The shirt looked oversized... Really oversized! Just as eh was about to reach for the shirt, a voice called out to him, "Can I help you, sir?"

Trent jumped in surprise. "Where did he come from?" he wondered as he got a look at the person the voice belonged to. He was a teenager, looking both innocent and mature. The shopkeeper was dressed in a baggy green shirt, and had a backwards, sized, baseball cap on with a logo that was unfamiliar to Trent.

"Hi," Trent said, a little shakily.

"Hello," The shopkeeper said, "looking for anything in particular today?"

"Well, this shirt intrigued me," Trent answered. "I've never seen such a large A & F shirt before. Is it genuine?"

"Indeed it is, sir," the shopkeeper said, as he calmly walked to the rack, picked up the shirt, and showed Trent the sewed-in labels.

Trent looked at the labels, the shopkeeper presented. Stitched into the material of the shirt was an original label. It showed the size of the shirt as being a XXL. It also had a second tag sewed in above the main tag that read "muscle."

"I never knew A & F made shirts in a XXL size," Trent quasi-asked, quasi-stated.

"If I'm not mistaken," the merchant replied, "They tried it once, but found that it didn't fit in with their marketing campaign."

"Heh," Trent thought, "their marketing campaign. All those hot models in, but mostly out of their tightly fitted clothing. Those hot bodies... how I wished I had a body like that.

"How much?" Trent asked.

"Only $5.00," the storekeeper responded, "but, I think that it's a little too big for you. Why don't you try it on? The fitting room's right there," he added as he ushered Trent into what looked like a closet with a shower curtain in front of it.

Trent shrugged his shoulders, took the shirt the teen held out, and slid the curtain shut. Feeling a little strange, he shucked off his sweaty polo shirt, and put on the Abercrombie & Fitch tee. Trent looked into the mirror. He felt that the shirt fit him just fine. It wasn't baggy at all. In fact, the vertical white stripes down the sides of the shirt, actually helped Trent look a bit simmer. It was his slight paunch, however, which stretched the shirt out a little, that kind of ruined the effect.

"How does it look sir?" The storekeeper asked, breaking Trent from his train of thought.

"It's a little tight," Trent said.

"Nonsense!" The teen replied, opening the curtain and ushering Trent out of the room, and in front of a mirror mounted on a wall. "Let me take a look."

"It's a muscle shirt," the shopkeeper said, "so, it's supposed to be a little tight." He tugged the shirt in a few places, adjusting a few folds, and smoothing out the shirt. "Looks like a perfect fit to me," he said, admiring his work.

"How can you say that?" Trent asked, a little irritated.

"Look in the mirror."

Trent did as the shopkeeper asked, and was taken aback by what he saw. His stomach wasn't protruding as much as it was just a few moments ago... In fact, his belly seemed to be diminishing, the accumilated fat, just melting away.

"How did that happen?" Trent asked.

"What do you mean sir?"

"That," Trent said, as he pointed to his stomach in the mirror. Trent let out an audible gasp as he was in for another surprise. His once flabby stomach was now gone. He stood transfixed as ridges formed on the shirt, holding tight to his body, and revealing slight definition. The crevices deepened as a four-pack developed into a six-pack which then morphed into a highly defined, ripped eight-pack.

"Whoa... What was THAT?" Trent asked dumbfounded.

"I still don't know what you're talking about sir," the shop keeper said, ignorant to the fact that Trent was changing before his own eyes.

Trent realized that he was now looking down on his companion. He could have sworn that he was eye to eye with the shopkeeper when he had walked into the store.

"This is so fucking cool," Trent said.

"Sir," the shopkeeper responded, "I still don't know what you're talking about..."

But the shopkeeper's remarks were cut short, as Trent doubled over, and reached for his legs. They were cramping... BIG TIME! As he put his hands around his calves, he thought to himself, "They're growing!"

And he was correct in his analysis. Trent's claves were growing. In fact, his whole leg was expanding in both directions. Rock hard muscle developed on his calves and thighs, as they both lengthened. They were engulfed in pain, until finally, the growth stopped. The results were diamond shaped calves, the definition impeccable, and the size of a football. His thighs were so thick, they resembled the trunk of a coconut tree.

Trent then began to feel a pressure around his feet. They felt squeezed into his shoe all of a sudden... suffocating in the tight quarters in which they were contained. Quickly, Trent bent down to take off the shoes. When he did so, he found that his feet were also growing. Creeping past a size 11... slowly stretching, elongating past a 12 �... the bones crunching, crackling and reconstructing themselves, finally stopping at a size 15. His socks then reshaped, and readjusted themselves from knee high tube socks, a pair of Nike no-show socks.

"Are you okay sir," the shopkeeper asked, not really understanding what his customer was going on about.

"I don't kn..." Trent cried out, "But.. but... ARRGGGHHHHHH..."

Trent's comment was cut short by a new pain, this time centered in his chest. On the one hand, he felt like he was being massaged, yet on the other hand, he felt like his chest muscles were being pulled apart. He started sweating profusely, as he gawked in the mirror. His man-tits were disappearing! They were restructuring themselves, turning the once jiggly fat reserves, into solid plates of steel. His pectoral muscles (that's what they were now, not fat, but pure muscles) stretched his shirt to the limit. Trent realized that the shirt he was wearing began to shrink. The bottom hem creeping up, revealing the cobblestone bricks he now had for abs. Trent watched as his nipples shifted, now facing outwards, instead of the downward direction they once faced.

His pecs now pumped, the pain moved to his sides, back and shoulders. Trent's traps, lats and back muscles grew out, forcing his arms to hang at an angle, instead of straight down. His shoulders widened and broadened. The changes finally stopped when Trent's frame looked like a doorway: intimidatingly looming.

Trent didn't have time to comment on this, however, as the pain moved to his arms. Bones crackled and muscles elongated to keep up with his lengthening arms, which grew in proportion to his new physiology. Then, as they stopped their downward journey, his arms began to swell. Like a balloon inflates, Trent's arms blew up, but unlike a balloon, Trent's biceps and triceps were filling up with strong, hard, potent muscle tissue.

Trent's arms continued bulking up, finally reaching a point when his upper arms resembled basketballs. His skin was stretched tight, that it appeared his skin was no more than a sheet of paper. The feeling shot from the arms, down to the forearms. They pumped up, increasing in size, finally looking like miniature legs of lamb, but without any of the fat.

Next, Trent's hands expanded. Growing to mach the size of the rest of his body... HUGE! Joints popped, bones broke apart and reformed, and ligaments and tendons realigned themselves until Trent could more than easily palm a bowling ball... yes, a bowling ball!

At this point, Trent looked into the mirror, and realized what was happening. He saw his solid body, rippling with newly formed mass and muscle. He was turning into a jock. He was becoming one of those jocks he had always fantasized about being. One of those jocks that had always picked on him. The very jocks he detested, yet, subconsciously longed to be.

With that thought, an erotic rush came over Trent's body, centered in his groin. He accepted these changes... No... not accepted, he embraced them... welcomed them. Then, he felt movement on his thighs, and realized that his briefs were turning into boxer briefs... The underwear inched down his thighs, and fit tightly over the densely packed muscles of Trent's thighs and bubble butt. Then, he felt more movement, and an electric shock in his penis. "No, not my penis," Trent corrected himself, "My cock... my fuck stick."

He felt his cock snake down his thighs, and was surprised when the growth seemed to complete itself when it reached about three-quarters of the way down his thigh. Another erotic rush shook his body, as his balls swelled in size from the size of grapes to the size of golf balls, and even then, a little bit bigger. Trent's nutsack dropped, and met expanded to match the growth of its contents.

"UUUGGGH!" Trent grunted, his now deep voice, echoing with a bassy resonance. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed, a new sensation spreading across his face and neck.

"Sir," the shopkeeper said, "If you're going to be a while in front of that mirror, I'll just be doing a few things that need to get done. Just call me if I can help you with anything." And with that, he disappeared from Trent's view.

Trent watched in the mirror as his face rearranged itself. First, his eyes lightened, going from a dark brown, to hazel, passing pale green, and finally stopping at a bright, mesmerizing blue. His cheekbones and facial structure transfigured, giving Trent more angular features, raising his cheekbones higher, and squaring off his jaw. Then, his nose collapsed, and reconstructed itself, giving Trent a nose that appeared to have been broken a few times, yet still having a shape that perfectly matched his other facial features. The pieces of the puzzle coming together, Trent looked into the mirror, and marveled at the fact that the face looking back at him was a face that could be on billboards, magazine covers, and even in the Abercrombie and Fitch Quarterly!

Trent's hair lightened in color. Changing in a few seconds from black, to a sun-highlighted, bleached blond look. It filled in fuller, and thicker than ever before, and all of a sudden, his scalp started itching, as it all started receding back into his skull. All that was lift was a short crew cut, with the sides and back faded down, and his bangs up-turned and spiked out. Then, he watched as his sideburns filled out.

The itching exploded all over his body, as all the hair on his chest, legs, arms, abdomen, back, underarms and crotch, retracted back into his skin. The itching continued as fine blond hairs, started filling in creating just a very slight treasure trail that lead to a very well trimmed and maintained patch of hair. His balls still remained hairless, as did the rest of his body, which would forever remain so. Trent's skin then started darkening. It changed from the pasty white that he once was, and darkened into a rich, golden tan. His complexion was simply perfect, and his whole body just radiated a glowing aura.

All of a sudden, Trent clutched his chest. It felt like something was moving in his heart. He felt something crawling under his skin, and in a moment, he realized that the sensation was veins. Veins snaking their way across his body, down and across his chest and abdomen. Veins popped along his legs, and arms, forming obvious webs and patterns here and there. And then veins started popping along his newly muscled neck.

Trent was feeling pumped! He felt the strength that he now possessed welling inside of him. As he made a double bicep pose in the mirror, he froze. He wanted to stop posing, to go into a most muscular pose (something that he never knew about before), but was frozen in place. Something was wrong... something was tickling him? Trent looked into the mirror at his stomach, and saw that his clothing was now changing. The shirt he tried on remained the blue and white sleeveless Abercrombie and Fitch shirt that it was, however, bottom hem crept up, and took on the appearance of a cut-off tee-shirt.

His former jeans, which now looked like ridiculous high-waters, tied on with a cloth belt (which seemed to have tightened itself throughout the transformation) altered themselves. They grew longer to match Trent's new height. Then, they changed colors. In some places it got darker, turning into a dark brown or black. In other areas, the jeans lightened, turning olive or light green. Then, as a whole, the jeans began to fade, looking as if they had been washed many, many times. Rips and tears appeared randomly, and Trent's belt's excess length hung in front, perhaps hinting at the massive organ that Trent now possessed. The pants had become a pair of waist 28, vintage wash cammos from Abercrombie and Fitch.

The shoes that Trent had cast off earlier now faded out of reality. They disappeared from sight! A brand new pair of black and white Nike cross-trainers formed on his feet.

Trent's book bag then began to flicker. It elongated and widened, darkening to black. A logo appeared on it, finally revealing itself to be the Adidas logo. Trent's backpack had become a gym bag. The books that were in a plastic bag next to the backpack disappeared, gone from Trent's memory, and the memory of the world. The new gym bag filled itself with workout clothing, a pair of shoes, and a jock strap. Not to mention a few other items... condoms and lube!

Suddenly, a sharp, throbbing pain erupted in his head. Trent quickly reached for his temples. It was like a vise was pressing his head, squeezing tighter and tighter. "ARRRRGH," Trent screamed in anguish, "My fucking head! What the fuck is happening to m... ARRRGH!" The pain was incredible!

A new feeling was added to the torture he was enduring. From somewhere within his cranial cavity, it felt like his brains were being forced through a small sieve. Trent's natural ability to learn, and hold knowledge of the world decreased. His very IQ lowered, nearing 90. Things Trent learned from school and books seeped from his head, leaving an empty brain. "Fucking A man, make this stop," Trent cried out, still in pain.

As the torture continued, Trent's brain rewrote itself with information. It filled with knowledge about working out, nutrition, and sports. Trent could no longer tell you the state capitols, but he could tell you that he worked out everyday for two hours, doing bench presses, cable flies, and bicep curls. He could ramble of rosters from sports teams. He didn't know anything about foreign trade policies, but he now knew that the Camero was a bitchin' ride.

Trent's attitudes changed. He now had an aversion for geeks and nerds. His life revolved around, hot guys, hot cars, hot sex, and flexing his muscles on and off the sports field. His world now focused on keggers, and his vocabulary now only encompassed simple words and phrases. Trent no longer would be the sniveling coward who just took everything that came his way. He would now be a cocky jock, who had an air of arrogance and confidence in everything that he did. And his voice, no longer would Trent be confused for a woman on the phone. Instead, his testosterone charged voice boomed with a bassy resonance.

And, as suddenly as the pain started, it stopped in an instant.

"Whoa," Trent said, "That was one nasty trip. I wonder if that's the ephidra in Xenadrine or somethin'."

The sales person came back to the dressing area. Not having heard or seen Trent in a while, he was a little concerned about his customer. "You still doing okay, sir?" he asked.

"Yeah, dude," Trent replied, "I'm okay. That was one hell of a rush!"

"Sorry sir."

"Not your fault guy," Trent said, "what do I owe you for the shirt?"

"Let's see now," the shop keeper said, "Five dollars for the shirt."

Trent reached into his pocket, and retrieved his money, having a little difficulty counting out five ones.

"Thanks man, that's fucking cheap! Let me know if you get anymore in." Trent said after handing the kid his money. "I gotta go to the gym... There's a stud waiting for me, and he's gonna be in for the pounding of his life," he added, thinking about how the star quarterback was his own personal boy toy. Man, this shirt is gonna look awesome on me tomorrow when I start going to my new school `Trent Hall's School for Young Adults'."

"I'm sure it will sir," the shop keeper replied.

And with that, Trent Stephens picked up his gym bag, and walked out the door, the bell overhead jingling one last time, and headed out to his new life.

"Another satisfied customer," the mysterious shopkeeper said to no one in particular. •

Please let me know if you liked this retro post. I have some others that are in reserve, so if you would like to see me post more, like and comment!

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