#the fear to the internet is slowly fading

[karolldr1]

You guys wouldnt mind if i show my Kirby OC on tumblr after showing it for months only on discord??? :D

because im doing it anyways

say hi to Xayden, again

they eepy

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 118.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

karina wandered among the people trying to find her friends, she didn't know exactly where they were because the place they had positioned themselves was at the center of the dance floor where all the people were crowded together. she asked for permission and passed between strangers, but realized she was circling the place to no avail, she assumed they would have gone to sit at their table so she started moving in that direction. she proceeded to keep running groupings of the path, finally emerging from the crowd and being spit out to a clear passage on the side, left so that they people could walk through.

she examined both sides, trying to mentally locate herself in the club and guessing where her table was based on her location. she made her way to the left slowly so she could watch carefully to find her friends.

"jimin." she heard at the same time someone tapped her shoulder.

she had clearly done things wrong as she was paying for her karma. the universe kept sending her challenges as if she was odysseus himself, the only difference was that she didn't have the will nor the motivation to overcome them and just wanted to disappear before she had to solve a worse problem.

"jimin." repeated that voice that, unfortunately, she couldn't mistake for any other.

she spun on her heels, her face serious, she wouldn't even dare to give him a surprised reaction because he didn't deserve any emotion related to good things.

"do you need something, kim jongin?" her stance was rigid, facing him ready to defend herself or attack him for anything he had to say.

"to apologize." the boy had a droopy attitude, he wanted to sound honest.

"that's very empathetic of you, but i don't need your apology." she was going to keep walking, but he grabbed her shoulder again to make her look at him.

"i'm really sorry for how it all ended." he continued. "i acted like an idiot, i didn't understand you." he admitted doing his best to look like a wet dog.

"whatever you say, bye." again she was stopped by the boy as she wanted to run away. "jongin, i don't care what you have to say."

"listen, i know i was wrong, that i was selfish." he held her from both sides to keep her from trying to walk away from the conversation. "but i want to show you that i can be better."

"jongin-" she pinched the bridge of her nose as if to help her stay calm, but as the boy's words sank in she looked at him abruptly. "what do you mean by that?"

"that i'm sorry for not knowing how to act at the time, but i want to make amends." explained with tenderness in his eyes. "if you want too, i want to try again." he clarified.

karina paused for a second, completely stunned, it seemed that the music had faded and people were no longer dancing. she inspected the man's features looking for a hint of honesty in them, she wanted to decipher if he really believed in what he was saying,

because if he did then he was the most disgusting person she had ever met.

"jongin, are you an idiot?" she removed his hands from her body roughly. "no, in fact, do you think i'm an idiot?" she pressed her own chest with her index finger pointing at herself. "that you can find me by chance at a party, put on an innocent face, say three stupid things you read on the internet and get me back?"

"things aren't the way you think they are." he denied with a sad expression. "i really miss you."

"why are you doing this?"

"because-"

"did sehun leave you?"

kai was silent, paralyzed, wondering how the woman had figured that out, going over in his mind all the people who could have told her.

"see how stupid you are?" the girl reaffirmed.

"how do you know about sehun?" he asked dumbfounded.

"i saw it." she clarified, feeling a little embarrassed as she remembered her tactics.

"you saw us?" the boy was surprised, afraid of what they might have been doing when they were discovered.

"i saw your chats." she elaborated.

"you went through my phone!" now jongin was angry, it showed on his face and in his voice, he wouldn't in his most jealous moment have done that.

"i didn't check your phone, jackass, your chats were open on your computer!" she revealed, flustered at the oldest's accusations.

"how long have you known?" he cocked his head to the side, the times and jimin's actions didn't make sense no matter how hard he tried to combine them. "were you with me for these last few months even knowing?" there was some hint of hope in that question, as if it meant she could forgive him.

"i would never be consciously cuckolded, i found out when we broke up." she didn't think much about her words because of the repulsion to the idea that he would think she would let herself be played that way.

"were you at my house after we broke up?" the volumes of jongin's voice rose brutally. "are you crazy?"

"i wanted to give you back your clothes and you weren't there!" she defended herself.

"so you broke into someone else's house without permission?" he rebutted.

"hey, don't change the subject, you cheated on me!" karina reminded.

"you crashed my house!" kim was totally offended at this new information he was getting.

"you were with someone else for seventy percent of our relationship!" she was annoyed at the lack of interest the boy was showing in the subject.

"you committed a crime!"

"damn, come on, jongin, i don't think it's a crime if i have your door code and we were boyfriend and girlfriend, i need you to use your brain." yu tapped his temple lightly signaling him to think.

"don't do that!" he grabbed the girl's wrist away from her body and directed her downward, roughly.

"hey!" exclaimed jimin, it hadn't hurt, but she was shocked by the action.

she was ready to complain and now add this to her list of things to fight about, but was distracted from further yelling when someone stepped between the two of them.

"leave her alone." between kai and karina was now serim, who calmly tried to push the boy away without using much force.

"great, my favorite person." said jongin wryly.

"the appreciation is mutual." she flashed him a smile with the same energy.

"this isn't about you, so i'm going to ask you to leave." jongin tried to run her off, but serim wouldn't let her.

"i don't think you have anything to talk about." dismissed the girl. "so you'd better get on with your life, okay?"

serim brought her hand to karina's back and rested it there to guide her in the opposite direction of the man. feeling the contact, the younger one wrapped her arms around her body, clinging to her. she just wanted to feel her once again, to breathe in her scent, but if she complained she'd say it was to get jongin to stop bothering.

"listen, you." jongin addressed jang with an annoyed tone. "you have already intervened too much in my relationship, stop meddling in matters that don't concern you." he demanded with a defiant tone.

"i think you're the one who's out of line now." the newcomer contradicted. "go away."

"no, you should go." he refused to listen. "i am settling some stuff with my girl, you have no business here." he was impatient.

"you cheated on me!" exclaimed karina, tired of saying it.

"she's my girl." serim stated at the same time.

"i'm your girl?" the younger girl turned to look at her perplexed.

"shut up, this isn't the time." jang ignored her.

"but this is about me!" complained jimin.

"is it because of her that you're doing this whole circus?" jongin accused the blackhaired one. "you want to feel less guilty about falling in love with her when you were with me." he assumed.

"what are you talking about? you had a whole boyfriend behind my back!" at that point karina really thought jongin must be hallucinating.

"why can't you admit that you cheated on me?" the boy questioned.

"but you were on a break." interrupted serim, lifting her index finger in the air pointing out her fact.

"and you were cheating on me!" shouted jimin in despair.

"so did you!" replied the man. "and besides you're all over her right now in front of me!" he grabbed serim's arm jerking from it, as if trying to pull her toward him to get her away from yu's grip.

"don't touch her!" a new voice joined the argument. "can you stop? i know you're still dating sehun." it was kyungsoo, helping her friend.

"but look who it is." announced kim when he saw the boy. "did you have something to do with all this?"

"no, this is your fault and your fault alone." now the one speaking was jennie. "you have a history of being a cheater, don't play dumb." he didn't know what to say seeing his other ex-girlfriend there.

"and i just don't like you." sejeong joined all her friends who had gone to accompany serim.

"thank you." muttered jimin to the new one since she was the closest one.

"i kind of dislike you too." she informed, causing karina to nod in understanding and fall silent.

"i heard we were terrorizing kim jongin so i came." one more person appeared.

"ryujin." spoke the attacked one.

"i hate you." she made clear. "go away and leave my friend alone for once." she proposed. "if you are not together today, it's because you handled a difficult situation selfishly, and also cheated on her." she reminisced. "you don't want to put yourself in the victim's place, this is your fault."

"leave her alone already." jennie took the lead again. "weren't you gay?"

"i'm bisexual." he put a hand to his chest in offense.

"stop hurting karina." the other man interfered. "and please don't start hurting sehun." he advised.

"it's over between us, jongin, it's over." finished karina.

the boy paused to look at them all with annoyance, but quickly realized that this was a war he would not win. he lowered his head in frustration and left without another word.

"thanks guys." expressed serim to everyone once he was away.

"thanks for that, i thought you guys hated me." said karina.

"we don't like you, but we like jongin less." expressed ryujin.

"ryujin." her best friend gave her a puzzled look.

"i'm just being everyone's voice." proclaimed the named one exalted.

"i can't believe i was with that guy for so long." the girl was still attached to serim's body as the older one, focused on the discussion, hardly noticed that karina was hugging her and hadn't pushed her away, so she took advantage of the closeness to rest her head on her shoulder seeking comfort. "it's the worst thing in the world."

"sure, yes, i agree." serim raised her hands in the air to indicate that she wasn't reciprocating her so she should also pull away.

"let her go." sejeong tapped yu on the shoulder to make her understand that she was talking to her. "let her go." she said again, now tugging on her waist.

"stop it, jimin." now commanded her best friend, to whom she did listen. "you better go do that outside." she ran to the side, clearing the way for them to pass.

"what?" serim was astonished.

"jimin needs calm, go with her, you were the one who was there for her all through the jongin situation anyway." she suggested, leading them outside.

"what about you?" she looked at shin confused.

"i can't, i have a cold." she pretended to cough.

led by a force by the name of ryujin, karina and serim ended up alone in the club's courtyard where people went to smoke.

"what are you doing?" jang's friends questioned her.

"you don't understand." she hedged upset. "i have a manhwa to update."

outside, jimin and serim stood in silence, separated by a significant distance from each other. neither could find anything that wasn't awkward to say, and maybe serim didn't even want to, this one pulled out the box of cigarettes she had in her pocket and lit one, starting to smoke it.

"namu." called the younger one.

"don't call me that." she reminded her.

"semmie?" she tested.

"only my friends call me semmie." she was right, she had never earned the place of a friend.

"serim."

"that's my name." the addressed stated sarcastically.

"i didn't know you'd be here tonight." she clarified. "sorry if you came to distract yourself and i showed up."

"that's okay, i didn't think you came on purpose." they both nodded, closing the subject.

"and thanks for helping me with jongin." she added.

"it's no problem." jang brushed off. "you know i can't stand him." she laughed softly.

"thank you anyway." she restated. "and about that thing about me being your girl..." mentioned with a playful tone.

"i just wanted to make him mad." she cut her off quickly. "don't get excited."

"i already got excited, now don't try to stop me." karina joked. "do you usually refer to a lot of strangers as 'your girl' or is it just me?"

"what are you talking about?" serim raised an eyebrow, lost.

"it's good to see you again, jang serim-ssi." she gave a barely noticeable bow with her body.

"ah, you're still at it?" took a puff on her cigarette. "i remember telling you not to bother me, though."

"one thing you should know about me is that i'm very stubborn." jimin had switched to using a flirtatious tone. "and i tend to get my way." she tilted her head to the side, a leaned smile painted on her lips.

"why do i get the feeling i already knew that?" she corresponded the game.

"how strange." the youngest feigned disinterest. "we must be connected."

"or you look a little crazy." she held up her hand, demonstrating with it the word little.

karina let her mouth open indignantly at the response, then let out an almost soundless laugh and averted her gaze to the front. "can i confess something to you?"

"as yu jimin-ssi or as the girl who used to live in my apartment?" she flicked the cigarette butt she had left.

"from jimin to namu." she replied, serim motioned with her head for her to continue talking. "i almost kissed a girl today." she suddenly shared.

serim kept silent, she furrowed her eyebrows, easy to tell she was thinking about how she should react to that confession, she brought her tongue to the side and pressed it against the inside of her cheek, stifling the opinions that formed in her brain that impulsively attempted to come out. she swallowed saliva, gave a long sigh, it was requiring all of her to keep calm.

"i don't want to listen to this." she decided, turning around to go back inside with her friends.

"namu." jimin managed to catch her jacket and hold her in place. "nothing happened with her." she made clear.

"then why are you telling me?" the woman was starting to get agitated, not being able to hide that it hurt.

"nothing happened because of you." she explained, moving her grip up to her chest where with each hand she grabbed both sides of the zipper of the jacket serim was wearing.

"i don't know what you mean." she felt her eyes getting wet. "if you're telling me this to hurt me..."

"serim, i don't want to hurt you anymore." she stated. "i don't want to cause you or me any more pain." assured, feeling her emotions welling up. "i'm telling you this since i didn't want to kiss her because i couldn't stop thinking about you, so you can see that i don't want to and can't be with anyone but you." the girl confessed. "namu." now she held her face gently. "my namu." she looked into those eyes she loved so much, which now looked sad, on the verge of breaking. "i know that i should have treated you better, do you think we can start again?"

serim wondered if jimin might be lying.

she had hidden things and avoided her feelings, but would she lie to her? after neglecting her heart, would she lie to do it again? serim wanted to give herself to karina, there wasn't a single fiber of her body that didn't want to belong to her, or that didn't already claim to be hers,

but you are what you did, and what did her actions make of jimin? if she was a coward, it was nothing that couldn't be solved with a spontaneous burst of courage. was that what was going on? was this question her finally plucking up courage, was she finally fighting for her like she wanted her to?

and if so, should serim trust her again?

"i've had too much of you already." she whispered, almost inaudibly. "it scares me that you're not being honest and that you will ruin me again." she completed. "i don't know if you deserve another chance." she sentenced and then walked back inside, losing herself in the crowd the further she went.

(!)

— taglist [CLOSED]: @yoontoonwhs @cwpiqwon @aliceiwk @xen248 @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @aeriuchinarga @multiliker @somedaydream @impossiblesharkcashrebel @yjiminswallet @nwjnsloona @yerimbrit @73vyn @dni-unavailable @yizhuobberi @sewiouslyz @yeetaberry127 @masuowo @yallatalla @aerithykly @chaenniefirst @minfolio @starrynini05 @hotluvlet @wmnrhot @mineige @lisaswifey @brocoliisscared @fae-the-wanderer

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Death

Yandere!Kidnapper x f!Reader

warnings: fanatic behaviour, kidnapping, unreliable narrator—split perspectives—contradictions, mentions of self-harm, suicidal tendencies, mentions of sexual topics, touching without consent, heavy religious themes, yandere has taken somewhat the role of a caretaker, forced infantilization

Note: Read at your own risk tbh, I perceive this story as pretty disturbing, however if you can handle heavy topics, then enjoy. :)

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

He was righteous, has been all his life, or well, had been until he met you.

There just wasn't a way to stop himself, no, to stop the demons haunting him from taking you in his grasp, imprisoning you in his humble home.

Perhaps he was doing you a favour? Chaining you to the bed placed in his basement just for you, white ruffles decorating the sides of the countless pillows and the duvet cover. Everything pristinely white—linen, handpicked for you.

He even dusted it and cleaned it, installed an old-school TV and even got you coloured pencils and endless amounts of paper of all kind!

And it all was just for you. How romantic, don't you think?

Your captor was nice—he was soft, even his edges didn't hurt you. He never raised his voice, couldn't even imagine hurting you, even if it was just a hair on your precious head.

You were his entire life. His gift from God himself.

However he quickly realised that you didn't quite share his opinion. You weren't horribly hostile, tried to appease him in fear of his sometimes rash and almost fanatic behaviour, fearing one day he might just flip the switch and obsess over breaking a bone in your body, yet you never were overly soft. There was this wall between you two that bugged him greatly, but he just didn't know how to destroy it.

To top it off, you feared death at his hands, at first. However as days faded into weeks and then into months—and before you knew it a year had passed with no one succeeding in rescuing you from the obsessive stalker clinging to you—you started fearing a life with this man.

It started off with small things, like you eating less, your leftovers slowly increasing in size or you would leave the paper completely blank instead of scribbling something onto it.

Until it started affecting other areas of your very limited life like you starting to lose interest in watching TV, the only luxury that connected you to the outer world. Until that penetrating dark cloud hanging over your head affected you more severely, so much so, that it worried him.

You his sacred bride losing your excitement for life was terrifying. He couldn't imagine a life without you—he refused to even think about it, the sheer thought was too painful.

You refused to eat, laid around all day, didn't even fidget when he would not so subtly try to seduce you. Well he was a kidnapper, but he would never force you to spread your legs for him! So he was still waiting for your heart to warm up to him, however instead of warming up, you started fading away from his grasp.

It was so petrifying, so much so that he started asking his pastor for help, then his colleagues—he even searched through the internet at the computer of his local library!

Depression.

in big bold letters was what popped up first, a page dedicated to mental health. He was mortified reading through everything, the symptoms and what it could possibly lead to. Death. The word daunted him and haunted him.

He rushed home, your captor breaking out in a cold sweat, only experiencing sweet relief seeing you curled up beneath the covers, pale in the face as always.

Days have passed and now he clung to you like glue. “Sweetheart—Sweetheart you have to eat!” he whined, the spoon once more missing your mouth as you twisted your head away. He bound you to the chair to keep you still and yet you kept on avoiding his attempts at feeding you.

“Say Ahh love! C’mon for me! Be good? Please, sweetheart!” he pleaded and begged to no avail, you gazed at him empty-eyed and shook your head. That was when he finally caught sight of the red streaks down your neck and collarbone.

At first he thought it was an allergic reaction, then he remembered you hadn't consumed anything but water in the last few days. Then with a glance down at your shaking fingers, feeling over the broken and bloodied nails he realised.

Your own nails. You hurt yourself with your own nails.

He lost it. The bowl of boiling hot soup landed on the ground, porcelain shattering as he lunged forward, grasping your hair and tilting your head back to gauge the damage to your holy skin.

“How could you?—” he spat in revulsion, face mirroring the rage that was consuming him inside, yet he never could be mad at you for long.

“Sweetie—Sweetheart—” your kidnapper's voice faltered, face pulled into a grimace, he let go of your hair, easing the sting of your scalp, sinking to his knees in front of you, pleading with his eyes.

“Please talk to me baby, please tell me what's wrong. Is it the TV? I can buy you a new one. Do you want new pencils? Do you want crayons? Maybe watercolour? I can get you new clothes if that is the problem!— Sweetheart please, please talk to me.” he broke down, fat tears running down his cheeks, pathetically clinging to one of your calves, licking a strip up your knee.

“Baby—baby.” he whimpered, crying into your two knees, fingers now grasping your lap in such desperation that if it wasn't the man that kept you captive you might have felt more sympathy for him. It wasn't as if you hadn't considered just carving in by now and accepting him as the person that would be beside you till death, yet the thought hurt. It dug a hole in your heart and left you wanting to pluck each individual hair follicle out of your scalp.

You just couldn't bear stand his constant whining and begging, humping you dry from behind like a dog when he thought you were deep asleep, preaching that he was a devoted believer to god, when he had kidnapped you, forced you down here, kept you still chained up, with only limited times when you could use the restroom and then always with the door a split open to ensure you didn't flee from the narrow window placed over the toilet. Showering was even worse, he would insist on staying, waiting behind the shower curtain, eyeing your shadow. When you would step out he would be bright red, averting his eyes and adjusting himself before finally draping a towel over you that always managed to smell like his musk. It was disgusting.

Even though he claimed that he would never hurt you, he had overly violent episodes, where he would just throw things around, rip up the extensive pages upon pages of your emotional rant, threaten you with a broken glass bottle, before always falling to his knees, crawling on the floor begging and pleading for forgiveness.

All in all he was a walking contradiction and never could be trusted. So wasn't it clear why you would prefer death over being stuck with the constant fear of what's to come?

“Baby” he whined incessantly, clinging to you like a lifeline. Bastard. You kept on ignoring him. It wasn't just this day, but all the following days, opting to just leave yourself to rot away.

However it seems you didn't calculate that he was so transfixed with you, that he would protect you from anything and anyone, even if that someone was yourself.

“Sweetie” he whispered oh-so sweetly into the shell of your ear, still weary from your restlessness the night prior, you didn't even want to turn in your bed to face him. Big mistake.

Before you could see it, you felt it. Fingers grasped your jaw, some sort of fabric draped over the lower half of your face, a strong scent engulfing you all while he rocked your head back and forth, stroking your hair lovingly.

When you woke up, unbeknownst to you, you succeeded in losing all your privileges.

“Sweetheart! How are you feeling?” he chirped, the basement now completely padded, decorated in pink, filled with toys and plushies. That wasn't all—because you regretted looking down.

A diaper. You were wearing a diaper. You breath staggered, horror written across your features.

He snickered, stepping closer to you, kneeling down to your level on the floor. “Sorry Sweetheart, but— you just wouldn't listen to me. You were starving yourself! It was obvious that no one ever taught you properly. You didn't receive proper parental care—they didn't care for you enough, they didn't love you as I do. So I am just going to start from zero and reteach you everything! How does that sound? Good right? You will love it!” he cupped your wet cheeks, the real nightmare starting just now, with the prospect of being saved already having slipped from your mind, understanding that this hell was your new reality.

He leaned forward, lips brushing against your scalp as he whispered something so gut-wrenching you hoped that he would swallow his own tongue and choke on it.

“Cuz’ Sweetheart I gotta teach you real good, so when we get our own baby you will be a good mother, yeah? A great mother! The best mother!”

he laughed.

[catboybiologist]

In the quiet, unassuming town of Willowbrook, lived a young man named Sierro. Online, he was known as "catboybiologist," a name that had earned him a modest following on Tumblr for his unapologetically explicit artwork and commentary. Sierro was a marine biologist by day and an artist by night, channeling his creative energy into works that challenged societal norms and celebrated queer identity.

Despite his bold online persona, Sierro was introverted and often felt misunderstood by those around him. His Tumblr blog was his sanctuary, a place where he could express himself without fear of judgment. His followers adored him, and he found a sense of belonging in the online community that he had never felt in the real world.

One evening, after posting a particularly provocative piece, Sierro received a message from an anonymous follower. The message was unusually aggressive, accusing him of corrupting young minds and spreading harmful content. Used to trolls, Sierro dismissed the message and moved on. However, the messages kept coming, each more threatening than the last.

Sierro's friends urged him to report the harassment, but he shrugged it off, not wanting to escalate the situation. "It's just some internet troll," he told them. "They'll get bored eventually."

But the threats didn't stop. One night, after a long day at work and an intense drawing session, Sierro decided to take a walk to clear his mind. The air was crisp, and the streets were empty, casting an eerie silence over the town. Lost in thought, he wandered further than he intended, finding himself in an unfamiliar part of Willowbrook.

Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. Turning around, he saw a shadowy figure lurking in the darkness. His heart raced, and he quickened his pace, but the figure matched his speed. Panic set in, and Sierro broke into a run, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He darted into an alley, hoping to lose his pursuer, but it was a dead end. Trapped and out of breath, Sierro turned to face the figure. In the dim light, he could make out a mask covering the stranger's face. The figure approached slowly, a menacing aura emanating from him.

"You think you can corrupt our society without consequences?" the masked figure hissed. "Your filth has no place in this world."

Sierro backed away, his mind racing for a way out, but there was none. The figure lunged at him, and Sierro felt a sharp pain as a knife plunged into his side. He screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the empty streets.

The attack was brutal and relentless. Each stab was filled with a hatred that Sierro couldn't comprehend. His vision blurred, and the world around him faded as he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

As his life ebbed away, Sierro's last thoughts were of his online sanctuary, the community that had accepted him for who he was. His art, his voice, silenced by the cruelty of the real world.

The next morning, the residents of Willowbrook were shocked to find the lifeless body of the young artist. The police investigation revealed little about the attacker, who had vanished without a trace. The news of Sierro's death spread quickly, and his online followers mourned the loss of "catboybiologist," a vibrant and courageous voice silenced too soon.

In the aftermath, his friends and followers rallied to honor his memory, sharing his artwork and stories, ensuring that his legacy would live on. Yet, the senseless brutality of his death remained a haunting reminder of the dark undercurrents that could surface in the most unexpected places.

Honestly the most insulting part about this is calling me an artist

Its insulting to actual artists

[bloogers-boogers]

ERIC CARTMAN (SP One-shot) (small drabble?)

Slight Eric Cartman/ Kyle Broflovski

'Drugged by mommy'

Summary/ warning⚠️ : this is a against fic; addictions/ may suggest sexual harassment/ sensitive topics. Your girl Liane ain't it in this fic (she's kinda awful)

Author's note: I'm finally slowly getting out of my writers block u guys! I'm excited to get back with writing, having a lot of stuff planned 🙌🏼!

~~~~~~~

Eric curled up in bed covering his ears with his blankets, loud moaning being heard by the next room. It wasn't something uncommon atleast not something he's supposed to be in shock from, genuinely he didn't seem to care. He was numb by these noises, they had become his own sick twisted lullaby, a quick method to go to sleep, a signal to do so.

He wanted to fall unconscious by the comforts and protection of his blankets bringing him warmth and a shielding effect to it, being left with the sheltering feeling of his bed. Forgetting it all, but his mother's screams full of last and pleasure have never been as louder then that dreadful night, he feared his mother was being raped outta instinct but by this point he's figured out she seemed to enjoy it. After a couple of internet searches and how Kyle explained to him about 'sex' after that one time he made himself look like a fool infront of the new kid and his coon pals. He genuinely thought Kyle was fucking with him, but once he navigated the internet he soon realized the truth.. his mother's a.. he found pages of people dedicating and even having a carrier over such thing! He couldn't believe it, it was eye opening.

They called it 'porn' that same crap Kenny was so obsessed with, and for his own awful luck he had found his mother appearing in a couple of thumbnails. No child should ever witness their parents expose themselves like that, sell themselves..

But that wasn't what bothered him the most, it was the strange men she'd bring. Complete intoxicated strangers. He sniffed, small tears popping in the corner of his eyes.

Hearing heavy footsteps walk through the hall a whole different contrast to his mother's, and the doorknob of his room began to budge turning fanatically a couple of times as if the stranger attempted to trespass his only safe place. Which was probably the case, it wasn't the first time that has happened neither would it be the last. Though, now he's learned the importance of locking his door room.

He gulped hearing a light knock, "sweetie, it's me."

He closed his eyes for it to appear he was fast a sleep, but his mother knew him too well.

"I know what're your trying to do, Eric. That won't work on me, now opened this door and don't be naughty."

He groaned, sitting on the edge of his bed, reluctantly walking towards his door and opening the door slightly, peeking through the small gap.

His mother gave him a small smile, which he took as innocent and apologetic. She hold on to a cup of tea.

"Brought you some tea for you to relax, I know you're probably having difficulty to sleep for the big event tomorrow, poopsikins."

He won't deny that was something he was actually looking forward to, he accepted the cup and took a sip before walking back to bed.

His mother stood there in the the door frame, the door wide open as he cautiously continued to drink the tea eyeing her up and down skeptical. She seemed saddened but her smile never faded, however her eyes we're sure telling.

He drank the last sip, and suddenly his body felt relaxed and his head all giddy. He layyed back flat against his mattress he saw his mother approach him pampering in whispers while she caressed his hair and kissed him in his forehead affectionately.

He doesn't remember all too well what happened next, however he was awaken by sirens, and a police officer asking if he was feeling okay. His mother was cuffed but she looked away from him as she was dragged that night in a police car. The officer who stood by his side gesture him to follow, taking him outside as he was greeted by a crowd of noisy people watching everything unfold.

Some looked at him with pity, others in shock, then there's was concerned. He managed to see his friends in the crowd all looking concerned seemingly just waken up by the commotion, he still felt himself dizzy, but there was something in the pit of his stomach that was telling him his mother had got themselves in trouble for real this time.

The police cars lights almost blind him as he was shoved inside, he watched the crowd of people get smaller and smaller as it drove off.

"Do you recognize this man?" The chief asked him while gesture a man with a black coat and curly black hair, pale skin just as a perfect description for a vampire.

He denied with his head, still seemingly confused by the whole thing, he felt tired like if he hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep, "no."

"He was an undercover cop, boy. Your mother has been in the wrong ropes for quite a time, we just needed some actual proof that she was in the business."

"What business?"

The chief place a hand on his shoulder which gesture made him arched a brow for, "son, I'm afraid your mother is a no good whore."

He slapped the officers hand off him in disbelief and annoyance, not caring for any negative responses from that.

"Okay." Was the only thing he managed to mustered, that still doesn't make any sense on to why she'd be cuffed when she's alway been participating in those type of jobs since he remembers and still, she's never gotten in trouble for it.

Actually he was pretty sure his mother and the chief had gotten it going at some point, which makes this even more irritable.

The chief rub his hand bitterly but didn't comment anything about it, "Howie here, pretend to be a client for the night. We take are job serious, we needed to prove certain rumors being true."

"What rumors?"

"Eric, has your mother ever made you dance for men while being intoxicated and doing inappropriate things with the men she brought home while you were watching?".

His eyes widen, in fact, she had.. but would it be right to admit that? It was embarrassing and humiliating.. but by his expression it was enough for the chief to realize that was in fact right.

He said nothing looking at the ground as it were the most interesting thing in the world, he genuinely didn't want to be there. He wanted to be back home and wait for his mom to reappear and make him his favorite pastries. Like none of this have ever happened.

Ofcourse that wasn't gonna be anytime soon.

For his dismay he was taken in by the Marshes, Sharon has taken pity over the situation and somewhat felt she had to do something about it. He wasn't allowed to see his mother until her trial which will be in a month.

Being driven to Stan's has never felt longer, as the social workers dropped him off and he was greeted by a saddened Sharon who hug him lightly before letting go. Stan peeking from her side with an awkward expression, both looking at each other not knowing what to exchange, tension forming but was quickly broken as Randy showed up from the kitchen walking by the living room. A shirt in hand as he shoved it on him abruptly.

"Randy!" Mrs. Marsh smacked him on his back in shock, "What do you think your doing!?"

Stan looked at his father just as offended but said nothing.

"If there's gonna be more people in this house it means more free publicity for our weed business," he then mustered quietly but not quiet enough, "Besides, a case like his is gonna bring quite an attention on us."

"Dad!" Stan shouted angrily, incredulous.

Eric was unfazed by the whole ordeal, just bothering to fix the hemp shirt adjusting well on to his body.

"See? He gets it," Randy shrugged the obvious glaring, nudging Stan lastly as he went back to the fields.

Mrs Marsh gave him one more small apologetic smile before walking to the kitchen telling Stan to take Eric to the guest room.

Stan kicked the floor lightly, "so.."

"I don't want to talk about it Stan. I don't care." He blankly admitted causing Stan to look at him bewildered. Eric shrugged dismissing his reaction, "let's just do something skewl I'm bored outta my mind."

Not long after his arrival to the Marshes he figured out why Stan complained so much about his home (a couple of hours to be in fact); everthing smelled like weed, even the bathroom.

Though, he won't deny having dinner among a somewhat family was nice, in a sense.

He got along with Shelley so it wasn't hard to make conversation with her, they actually shared a lot of the same taste in music/fashion/ idols. So topics to bring up we're easy between them.

There was a door knocking heard from downstairs but he didn't pay much mind to it just pacing around Shelley's room complaining of the ongoing hype people were doing over the weekend's new partner, as if he didn't have more girlfriends than someone could possibly count on.

Footsteps were heard rushing upstairs, and a following interruption brought by Stan and two other guys; Kyle and Kenny.

They glance at him with the same awkward expression Stan had gave him with his arrival. He hated it so much.

"Always ruining the fun, turds." Shelley commented while putting some headphones on now scrolling through her phone.

"C'mon Cartman," Stan commented while dragging him outside by the sleeve, towards his room.

Kenny closed the door as all three pair of eyes layyed on him.

"Goddammit! Quit it you guys." He spat glaringly, "it's fine, I've never been better," rolling his eyes lastly trying to push the subject elsewhere, "let's play video games."

The three boys shared a look before reluctantly just doing that.

••••

Eric grunted once again, as he was not able to focus on the game with Kyle anxious leg bumping again his. It was starting to annoy him and also, Kyle has been losing to many rounds for his liking.

"Can you quit that?" He sneered at the redhead earning a glare that immediately faded to a pitiful stare.

"Sorry," he replied back, which made Cartman throw his controller to the ground outta frustration causing his three friends to flinch in surprise.

"DON'T FUCKING APOLOGIZE!? WHY ARE YOU APOLOGIZING!?" He screamed outta the top of his lungs, now dashing outside in a fit of rage. Not knowing his redhead friend ran behind him.

"Cartman," He called out calmly, closing the front door of the house and standing still on the porch as he watch Eric who had sat down on the first step in a slouch manner, "you can talk to us."

The boy rolled his eyes to that, "I'm fine. Why can't anyone get that?"

"How are you gonna be fine after that?"

Eric stood up grabbing some tool that was carelessly left there, "it's not like she raped me, Kahal," he sneered once more tired of having to explain himself, noneless to his archrival. He threw harshly the tool twoards some crops visualizing from afar Randy and Towelie sneaking inside credigree farms.

"We should go check that out," he stated trying to move pass it, but Kyle ofcourse wouldn't let him do so.

Kyle gripped on the back of his shirt, practically yanking him towards him.

"Stop trying to run away. It's not gonna work on me and you know it."

"And what do you expect, Kyle? Do you expect me to drop all my sob story to you like if we we're all buddy buddies!?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" The redhead glared at that.

Eric scoffed, "let's be for real here, Kyle. We're not friends, we've never had, I hate you, you hate me. So stop acting like you give a fuck."

Eric felt Kyle loosen his grip letting him go. He took this as a sign that it was his chance to run off as Kyle seemed to be left with out anything else to say.

Before even managing to go down the porch stairs Kyle pushed him off making him fall flat on to his stomach.

"WHAT THE F KAHAL!? WHY DID YOU DO THAT FOR," He whined out trying to stand back up but a pissed off redhead boy prevented him from doing so; lounging himself on to him being left on top of him while gripping on to his collar, fanatically shaking him.

"You really think you could make me believe we're not even remotely friends by this point, fatboy?"

Eric nervously looked away as Kyle's nose brushed against his. Talk about personal space huh.

Kyle with his free hand gripped on to his chin forcing him to look directly at him, "look at me when I'm speaking to you, Eric."

He gulped and he swore Kyle could feel that, "what else do you expect me to believe?"

"After all the shit we've been through, makes us something right? I've gone through hell because of you and I'm not gonna let you pinned down my efforts as nothing more than just rivalry," Kyle spoke, still not letting go of his collar, "Eric, I'm really, REALLY sorry about your mom.."

Eric's expression softened.

"It's really fucked up she made you do those things. And I just- you can't just shrug that shit off and act like it didn't happen?"

"What did you think I was doing all these years, asshole?" He spat almost bitter, the fact that he unintentionally opened himself to Kyle, a slip of tongue about something so vulnerable and very personal of his.

He cursed himself internally as he saw Kyle soften in bewilderment.

He pushed Kyle away and this time he managed to escape the interrogating noisy ginger.

[quads4days]

The Curse of the Werewolf: Blue Moon Rises

Happy Halloween, Everyone! May your candy be plentiful and your gut full as you enjoy this Halloween Tale! 🎃

Chapter 1: Echoes from the Past

The cold February wind seeped through the gaps in the window, making the heavy curtains sway gently. Chase stared at his reflection in the old, ornate mirror that dominated his bedroom wall. Just four months ago, the image staring back at him was that of a lean, chiseled marathon runner. Now, the man in the mirror bore little resemblance to that memory.

His once-taut skin was now stretched, filled with an extra 60kg that seemed impossible to believe. The sharp jawline, a point of pride for Chase, was now softened, making way for a double chin that settled comfortably atop his significantly wider neck. His chest, once firm and defined, now hung heavier, the pectorals replaced with soft mounds that jiggled at the slightest movement.

But it was his midsection that showed the most drastic change. Chase's washboard abs, painstakingly earned through countless hours of training, were buried beneath layers of adipose. His stomach, once flat and rigid, now protruded in a grand, soft arc, cascading over the waistband of his sweatpants. The once negligible love handles had transformed into rolls that spilled over his sides. Every step, every breath caused ripples to run across the vast expanse of his belly.

Feeling a heaviness not just in body but in spirit, Chase sank into his reading chair, an old tome in hand. He had been scouring ancient texts and obscure internet forums for any hint of the curse Bennett had passed onto him. And there, in a weathered folklore book, he found it. A legend dating back centuries, discussing a curse far more insidious than he had feared. The "Werewolf's Curse," it said, wasn't just about uncontrollable weight gain during the full moon. The original curse allowed the cursed individual to pass it on through a bite, causing the afflicted to be overcome with the hunger of the wolf during the full moon of Halloween, an event that if Chase’s calculations were correct would occur again next Halloween. Administering the curse during such a full moon would rid Chase of his fat body and stop his monthly growth and cause him to turn into an alpha wolf, the image in front of him depicting the most muscular man Chase had laid eyes on in front of an illustration of a full mood. The curse, once transferred, would be his victims problem, leaving the victim heavier and the curser once again free to live their life.

Chase's heart raced, his new, hefty form quivering with anxiety. This was more than just gaining weight; it was a sinister game of passing the burden, forever altering lives. In his frustration, he stood up, the chair groaning under the sudden movement. He grasped his ample stomach with both hands, shaking it as if he could simply cast off the added weight, the thick layer of fat rippling like a disturbed pond. His face was etched with a mixture of despair and anger. He had 8 months until Halloween and at his current pace, could be very well too large to survive until that time came.

Just then, a soft knock echoed through the stillness of the room. A shadow passed by the frosted window pane next to the entrance. Someone was at his door.

Chapter 2: Unforeseen Bonds

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the familiar faces of Luke, Sean, and Ethan. But as recognition dawned on Chase, so too did a mixture of horror and surprise. For while he was taken aback to see his brothers on his doorstep, the changes in their physiques were even more startling.

Luke, the youngest, once had the lean build of a swimmer – elongated and streamlined. But now, the once pronounced muscles of his torso were noticeably softened. A pouch had formed around his belly, pushing against the fabric of his tight shirt, hinting at the beginnings of a more rounded physique. The V-line, which once directed one's gaze towards his slender hips, had faded, overshadowed by the soft bulge that started just below his navel.

Sean, always the lithe gymnast, now exhibited a roundness that betrayed his athletic history. His formerly flat stomach, which used to ripple with defined muscles during his routines, now bowed out gently, creating a silhouette that was undeniably softer. His love handles, previously non-existent, were making a noticeable appearance, cushioning his sides.

However, it was Ethan's transformation that was the most dramatic. The eldest after Chase, Ethan had the build of a sprinter – muscular, yet agile. Now, he looked as if he had taken a hiatus from all physical activities. His shirt, stretched taut across his form, revealed a pronounced belly, the result of months under the curse's effect. The belly was rounded, prominent, and jiggled slightly with each step he took. The waistband of his jeans dug into his sides, creating a muffin-top effect, emphasising his increased girth.

“Look at what you have done to us, Chase!” Ethan's voice boomed, anger evident in his eyes. Sean and Luke, equally upset but more contained, nodded in agreement.

Chase looked in horror. “How?” He prompted.

Ethan, his once chiseled jawline now softened, cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the room. "After we, well, taunted you on Christmas Eve, I noticed you seemed feverish, distant. As we all gorged on the desserts, I recall trying to grab a particularly decadent piece of cake from your hand." He rubbed the back of his now-chubbier hand absentmindedly. "In your frenzied state, you bit me. It wasn't a huge bite, more like a deep scratch, but I felt an immediate jolt of hunger like nothing I've ever experienced."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing, "Then, during a family get-together, I had a similar moment of insatiable hunger. I was sharing a pizza with Luke. As I reached for another slice, I accidentally bit him." Luke grimaced at the memory, rubbing the spot on his hand where the mark still faintly showed. "It was bizarre. It wasn't painful, but the sensation was... overpowering. Before I knew it, I was engulfed in this same hunger, and one unfortunate evening, Sean got in the way of my meal."

Sean sighed, looking down at his newly rounded belly. "I never stood a chance. The bite, the hunger, it's like a wildfire, spreading uncontrollably from one to another." The room was silent for a moment, the brothers absorbing the gravity of their intertwined fates.

Chase, overwhelmed with guilt and shock, tried to find the right words. "I didn't... I didn’t know. I swear!" he stammered.

Luke's voice wavered, a mix of frustration and sadness. "Look at us, Chase. How could you not know?"

Trying to calm the rising tension, Chase gestured to the living room. "Let's sit. Talk."

As they settled, the room was filled with the sound of fabric stretching and the occasional grunt as each tried to find a comfortable position with their newfound weight. Chase, in a bid to lighten the mood and also address the gnawing hunger the curse brought, brought out plates of sandwiches, pastries, and a large pitcher of iced tea.

Eating together, despite the grim circumstances, brought back a semblance of normality. The room resonated with soft chews, sips, and the clinking of cutlery. Chase felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering countless meals shared in their childhood. Despite the anger and the many questions that lingered, there was a comfort in this shared moment - a reminder that the bonds of family often ran deeper than any curse or adversity.

Chapter 3: The Gluttonous Moonlight Duel

The brothers, determined to confront the root of their cursed hunger, scoured the city for Bennett. They would force him to take back the cure, they just needed to find him. They looked in the old bars, visited obscure places Bennett might have mentioned, and even hired a private investigator. Their desperation grew with each passing day, knowing another full moon was on the horizon. The truth was, none of them had the willpower to handle the insatiable hunger another full moon would bring.

The brothers, determined to confront the root of their cursed hunger, scoured the city for Bennett. They looked in the old bars, visited obscure places Bennett might have mentioned, and even hired a private investigator. Their desperation grew with each passing day, knowing another full moon was on the horizon. The truth was, none of them had the willpower to handle the insatiable hunger another full moon would bring.

The day of the full moon arrived faster than they had hoped. Although the sun still dominated the sky, a gnawing hunger began to grip them. By nightfall, their restraint faltered. 

The brothers' unity in their quest to find Bennett frayed when the next full moon approached. A latent competitiveness, fostered since childhood in sports and academics, reared its head in the most unseemly manner. Each brother secretly harboured the hope that if they ate the most during the full moon, they might somehow outpace the curse's effects. It was a twisted logic, born of desperation and sibling rivalry.

In the heart of the city stood a 24-hour buffet that the brothers once frequented after marathon training. It now became their arena of competition. As the first pangs of hunger struck, Chase, a remnant of his former athletic self, loaded his plate high, the pile almost obscuring his newly bloated face. His shirt, already snug over a belly that had been washboard-flat merely months ago, looked ready to give way as he heaved mouthfuls of food.

Ethan, who was already bursting out of his clothes from previous feasts, seemed hell-bent on leading the pack. Every bite he took stretched his shirt a bit more, threatening to expose the soft, doughy expanse beneath. With each plate, a new roll seemed to emerge, his belly extending ever outward.

Luke, normally calm and collected, had a wild glint in his eye as he attacked dish after dish. His trousers, once loose, now bit into his flesh, creating noticeable muffin tops. His belly, firm and flat just months prior, bounced with each step, revealing his rapid transformation.

Sean, the youngest and least affected until now, was not to be outdone. He gorged with a determination that was both admirable and horrifying. As the night progressed, the waistband of his jeans dug deeper and deeper into his increasingly softening midsection.

The buffet transformed into a battlefield, with plates as weapons and food as ammo. The staff watched in horror and fascination, having never seen such voracious appetites. By the night's end, the brothers, each trying to out-eat the other, were sprawled amid a scene of utter devastation.

Dawn's light found them in Chase's living room. Chase, his belly stretched and bloated, spilled generously onto the floor, his shirt buttons ripped open unable to contain his newfound girth. Ethan, beside him, looked as if he'd swallowed a beach ball. His shirt, already tight at the start of the evening, had split open, revealing a quivering mass of fat.

Luke, curled on a chair, had clearly undergone the most dramatic transformation. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a once-taut stomach now soft and pudgy, quivering with the slightest movement. Sean, sprawled on the couch, was barely recognisable. His face, once angular, was now cherubic, and his stomach, round and distended, was a testament to the night's excesses.

Their food-fuelled competition had left them all losers in the cruel game of the werewolf's curse. The pressing need to find Bennett and break the curse became more palpable than ever.

Chapter 4: The Bitter Reveal

The stifling August heat was only made more unbearable for Chase by the weight he carried. Nearly 260kg now, he moved with difficulty, each step a reminder of the curse Bennett had placed on him. An investigator they had hired had finally tracked Bennett down to a park in the heart of the city, and Chase had managed to make his way there, accompanied by his brothers.

Bennett was a revelation, a stark contrast to the man Chase had known. Gone was the mountain of flesh, replaced instead by a physique that would not be out of place on a magazine cover. Broad shoulders, a chiseled chest, and abs that seemed carved out of stone. Bennett stood shirtless, performing calisthenics, drawing admiring glances from all around.

Chase, lumbering forward, could hardly believe his eyes. "Bennett?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Bennett turned, his ice-blue eyes regarding Chase coolly. "Well, well," he drawled, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "If it isn't the marathon man himself."

Chase felt a hot flush of embarrassment as Bennett sauntered over, taking in Chase's massive form with obvious amusement. Without a word, Bennett reached out, his strong fingers digging into the soft flesh of Chase's belly, making it jiggle. Chase tried to pull away, but Bennett's grip was firm.

Around them, onlookers whispered and pointed, some even laughing. Chase felt like a sideshow attraction, humiliated and exposed. Bennett seemed to revel in the attention, clearly enjoying the power he held over Chase.

"You see, Chase," Bennett began, his voice dripping with condescension, "I had grown tired of my own immense size. The curse, as , is both a blessing . By transferring  my weight to you, I was able to revert to this." He gestured at his impeccable form. "I chose you that Halloween night because you were the perfect specimen. A fit, trim man, ripe for transformation."

Chase struggled to find words, his shame almost too much to bear. Bennett continued, "And the more you gain, the stronger the beast inside me becomes, did you know that? Each month you have been getting fatter, I’ve been getting stronger.” Bennett flexed his massive biceps. “Last month must have been a big one chase, I could hardly fit through my apartment door I gre so broad, all because you can’t keep yourself from eating like the pig you are.”

As if to emphasise his dominance, Bennett reached into his pocket and produced a large chocolate bar. Without warning, he pushed it against Chase's lips, forcing him to take a bite. "Eat up, fatty," he whispered maliciously.

Chase, tears of humiliation forming, felt anger rising inside his substantial stomach. He began to run after Bennett as he fled, the four father brothers trying to catch the last chance they had at a normal life.

Chapter 5: Labyrinth of Shadows

Under the mottled shade of the summer trees, Bennett's toned and muscular form glistened with a sheen of sweat, each sinew and contour exaggerated by the sun's dappled light. His shirtless torso was a testament to physical perfection, a sculpture come alive, every muscle rippling and flexing as he darted effortlessly ahead. The sunlight played tricks, casting an almost golden halo around him, making him look even more godlike. Behind him, the brothers labored in pursuit.

Chase, the heaviest amongst them, moved with surprising speed for a man of his size. Each step caused his swollen belly to bounce and jiggle, and his clothes strained to contain his expansive girth. Despite his massive size, there was a determination in his eyes, a fire fueled by the burning humiliation Bennett had subjected him to.

Ethan, despite being the next heaviest, tried to keep pace with Chase. His once trim waist now spilled over his jeans, and his shirt, too tight to button, flapped open, revealing a soft belly that danced with each heavy step. His face was flushed red, both from exertion and anger.

Luke and Sean, both now considerably plumper than they used to be, panted heavily as they followed. Their once fit physiques, though not as transformed as Chase's, were now cushioned in layers of soft fat. Their fuller cheeks and double chins bounced rhythmically, and their bellies, though smaller than their elder siblings', bobbed with every step, the shirts they wore riding up, exposing the lower curves of their new-found paunches.

The chase was a spectacle. On one hand, Bennett, the epitome of fitness, darted forward like a gazelle, while on the other, the brothers, weighed down by their new bulk, lumbered behind, a strange mix of determination and despair in their strides.

As Bennett led them on, the town's old carnival lot loomed in the distance, its rusting rides and dilapidated tents casting eerie silhouettes against the setting sun. Without pausing, Bennett made straight for the haunted house attraction, its entrance a gaping maw beckoning them in.

Not thinking twice, the brothers followed, their heavy breathing echoing in the dimly lit corridors of the haunted house. Strange shadows danced on the walls, and the sound of distant laughter filled the air, giving the place an atmosphere of chilling anticipation.

As they delved deeper into the labyrinthine twists and turns of the attraction, it became clear that this was no ordinary haunted house. Rooms expanded and contracted, hallways led to dead ends, and ghostly apparitions appeared and disappeared at will.

Suddenly, the brothers found themselves in a vast chamber, the ceiling lost in shadows. In the center stood Bennett, an eerie light illuminating his flawless physique from below, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance and intertwine with the darkness.

"I've been watching you for months fat boy,” Bennett sneered, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Did you really think you could escape your fate, Chase?"

The singular door that allowed them entry suddenly slammed shut with a thunderous clang. Instantly, a thick, opaque gas hissed from unseen vents, rapidly filling the room. Despite their best efforts to hold their breath, the gas's overpowering nature made the brothers' heads spin. One by one, their eyes rolled back, and they collapsed to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness.

When they awoke, the scene was more terrifying than any nightmare. The brothers found themselves bound on individual metal tables, cold and unyielding. Chains wrapped tightly around their wrists and ankles, rendering any movement impossible. Overhead, dim bulbs cast an eerie, flickering light, causing their now plumper shadows to dance grotesquely on the walls.

Bennett, now dressed in a dark tailored suit that accentuated his Adonis-like physique, leaned over Chase, his blue eyes piercing into Chase's soul. "You see, Chase," he began with a malevolent grin, "there's a little detail about this curse I hadn't shared. If you pass it on this Halloween, my growing power will be halted. But if I keep you here," Bennett's hand glided across Chase's expansive stomach, the coldness of his touch sending shivers down Chase's spine, "and ensure you keep eating and expanding, my strength will grow exponentially, unending. Imagine the possibilities."

The weight of Bennett's revelation hung heavily in the air, as the brothers exchanged terrified glances, realising the direness of their predicament.

Chapter 6: The Inescapable Feast

In the chamber's gloom, the four MacIntyre brothers lay captured, a grotesque banquet of burgeoning flesh. Each one was placed strategically so they faced one another, a cruel design by Bennett to ensure they bore witness to each other's continuous expansion. All of them were bereft of clothing, highlighting the stark transformation they had undergone in their captivity. Their fat forms were immobilised, not just by the sheer weight they had put on, but also by the chains that bound them to the cold, metallic tables.

Attached to each of their faces were tubes, which seemed to pulsate with a life of their own. From these tubes flowed a golden concoction that was the brainchild of Bennett's malevolent imagination. This liquid, he had explained with a smirk, was a specially concocted blend. A fusion of mass gainer to swell their size, an appetite stimulant to keep them constantly hungry, a muscle relaxant to ensure their bodies absorbed every calorie, and a thick sugary cream to accelerate their weight gain. The brothers had no choice but to swallow the relentless flow of the potion.

Chase, the eldest and once the paragon of health, lay with his midsection expanded grotesquely outward, a vast dome that rose and fell with his labored breaths. His once sturdy limbs were now submerged under soft, wobbly layers of fat.

Ethan, the next in line, had always been a tad larger, and this predicament had simply exaggerated his natural tendencies. His midsection was a maze of soft rolls and creases, with the skin stretched taut from the rapid gain. It was clear that his body had struggled to accommodate the sudden influx of weight. His cheeks were chubbier, giving him a boyish appearance that contrasted with the large double chin resting on his neck. He now had a belly that sagged significantly, folding over itself. The skin stretched and shiny, bearing testament to the rapid accumulation of pounds.

Luke was distinguishable by the peculiar distribution of his new weight. His backside had grown immensely, creating an elevated mound on the table. It wobbled independently of the rest of him, it had blossomed into a large, rounded mass that lifted him slightly off the table, and when he occasionally shifted, it would jiggle for several seconds, betraying its softness.

The youngest, Sean, was a spectacle of even distribution. The added weight had rounded him out uniformly. His once angular face now exhibited plump cheeks and a fullness that erased the vestiges of youth, giving him an almost cherubic appearance. s belly, while not as pronounced as Chase's, was still a significant mound, with a deep crease where it met his pelvis.

Bennett's potion was a masterstroke of wickedness. As much as they were horrified by their situation, the brothers couldn’t help but feel a perverse yearning for the golden nectar, their bodies betraying them with each insatiable gulp.

Chapter 7: The Power of the Full Moon

The atmosphere in the chamber became electric as Bennett purposefully moved to a lever on the wall. With a swift pull, the roof slowly split apart, revealing the ominous night sky. The brilliance of the September full moon flooded the room, illuminating every crevice and corner, bathing all in its ethereal light.

Striding with purpose, Bennett shed his clothes, standing in his full muscular glory, every sinew and contour outlined by the luminescent moonlight. The very aura of strength and dominance emanated from him as he soaked in the full force of the lunar energies.

Chase, Ethan, Luke, and Sean, already incapacitated, could do little more than become vessels for the overpowering transformational energy of the full moon. The effects of their curse, magnified by the celestial event, took hold with unprecedented vigour. Their feeding tubes, already delivering the potent potion into them, seemed to pulsate faster, urging them to consume more. Greedily, they swallowed, their bellies making soft, sloshing noises.

Chase, already the largest among the brothers, began a grotesque metamorphosis under the moon's influence. The once athletic form, now imprisoned by layers of lard, seemed to come alive with a voracious appetite for expansion. His flesh, as if possessed, started to ripple and quiver, each wave pushing the boundaries of his skin further. The room echoed with the sound of skin stretching taut and the soft sloshing of the liquid coursing through his feeding tube, catalysing his transformation.

Above his head, a scale displayed the alarming rate of his growth. The numbers, which had been steadily climbing over the weeks, now leaped forward at a frantic pace: 320kg, 325kg, 330kg. The pace was unrelenting. Every second seemed to add more weight, each digit flashing faster than the last. 335kg, 340kg, 345kg. It was as though some invisible force was pumping him full, each pulse adding kilograms. The soft, pliable fat from earlier was now consolidating into heavy, pendulous masses. His belly, once able to sway slightly, became more solid and pronounced, stretching down and threatening to touch the floor. As 350kg approached, his legs, buried beneath the burgeoning bulk of his abdomen, were slowly being swallowed up, becoming mere appendages to the leviathan mass that was his stomach.

His sides filled outwards, like dough rising unchecked, consuming the space around him. What was once a distinguishable waistline vanished into rolls that cascaded down, merging with the equally expansive swell of his hips. As the scale hurtled past 360kg, his chest, no longer discernible from his midsection, was now a plateau of flesh, rising and falling with his increasingly laboured breaths.

The transformation was a haunting symphony of expansion. Chase's body, under the potent combination of the moon and Bennett’s concoction, seemed hell-bent on becoming an unending expanse of fat. The room itself seemed to grow smaller as his enormity filled every available inch, turning his form into a dark monument of excess and overindulgence.

Ethan, previously a robust figure, was now a distorted version of his former self. Once tipping the scales at a fit 100kg, he had always carried his weight with a sense of pride, a touch of bulk to his frame that gave him presence. But now, his body betrayed an entirely different story. The scale above him blinked rapidly: 150kg, 155kg, 160kg...

As the weight packed on, his once broad shoulders were now rounded, padded with thick layers of soft adipose. His midsection, previously taut with muscle, was now a vast expanse, billowing outwards, pushing his once toned pecs into soft, pendulous breasts. Each ripple and shudder of his body made it expand sideways, making him wider and broader, as if trying to occupy as much space as possible.

His abdomen was a canvas of rolls upon rolls, cascading downwards and outwards, each layer softer and more pronounced than the one above. The once firm belly now sagged heavily, folding over in thick layers, every fold deepening with each kilogram he added. His navel, once a simple indent, was now lost within the deep canyon of his belly. The sheen on his stretched skin, reflecting the dim light of the room, bore silent witness to the extreme pace of his gain.

His face, though still recognisably Ethan's, was puffier. The chiselled jawline was now obscured, buried beneath chubby cheeks that gave him an almost innocent, boyish appearance. But this semblance of youth was betrayed by a heavy, large double chin that rested heavily on his neck, quivering with every breath. The scale above hesitated momentarily at 190kg, before inching agonisingly forward. It settled, blinking, just a hair shy of 200kg, marking Ethan's shocking transformation.

Luke, with his gymnast background, had always flaunted a lower body that drew attention, a chiselled monument to his countless hours on the pommel horse and parallel bars. As the curse’s effect took hold, the very athleticism that defined him became his undoing.

His buttocks, previously firm and rounded from years of discipline, continued to expand at an alarming rate. They swelled in size, morphing from solid muscle to soft, yielding flesh that jiggled with every heartbeat. Each cheek ballooned outwards and downwards, reminiscent of overfilled sacks of rich cream. The tables creaked ominously beneath the mounting weight, protesting the rapid deposition of fat. It was as if gravity itself had decided to claim Luke's posterior, pulling and stretching it down, rendering it a dominant feature of his burgeoning silhouette.

In tandem with his expanding rear, Luke’s thighs thickened dramatically. Once lean and muscular, they now resembled overstuffed sausages, straining with the rapid addition of fatty tissue. The inner thighs rubbed together with an audible chafing, each step a testament to his newfound girth.

His love handles and hips didn’t escape the cruel twist of fate either. Fat accumulated around his midsection at an alarming pace, causing his once narrow waist to broaden and blur into his ballooning hips. His once taut sides now bore the burden of heavy flaps of fat that jutted out, creating a pronounced pear-shaped silhouette. The defined V-line he once boasted had disappeared, replaced by a soft, flabby curve that merged his abdomen with his inflating love handles.

Luke's scale, affixed above, mirrored his drastic transformation. Numbers soared the former lean 90kg man, skipped past the 130kg mark, and settled with a mocking finality at 153kg, marking the rapid and shocking expansion of the once agile gymnast.

Sean, with his youthful sprightliness and lean form, seemed almost ill-suited for the curse's perverse machinations. Yet as the full moon's power coursed through him, the transformation it wrought was nothing short of astonishing.

Initially, the youngest of the brothers began to expand uniformly. It started with a slow puffing out of his chest, followed by a widening of his waist. Every part of him began to inflate simultaneously, as if an invisible force was pumping him full of air. His pecs, once flat and athletic, became rounded mounds that protruded from his expanding torso. His arms, though still visibly muscled underneath, were blanketed with a layer of fat, turning them from chiselled limbs to thick, padded appendages.

But it was his midsection's transformation that truly defied belief. As he gained, his belly didn't droop or sag like his brothers'. Instead, it swelled outwards in all directions, giving him the appearance of a perfectly spherical ball. This even distribution of weight rendered his navel almost a central point on this vast expanse of white, taut flesh. His back, too, curved outwards, ensuring that from any angle, Sean looked like a near-perfect circle.

His legs, once slender, became tree trunks of fat, each thigh nearly touching the other all the way down to his knees, their muscular definition hidden beneath the soft layers. His calves, too, puffed out, making it seem as if his feet might disappear beneath the inflating mass at any moment.

His face, always cherubic, became rounder, the sharpness of his jawline now obscured by a layer of plumpness. His cheeks resembled juicy apples, full and rosy, while his neck seemed to have been absorbed into his swollen chest and chin, creating a seamless transition.

The scale positioned above him blinked and whirred, reflecting his burgeoning mass. The digits climbed: 100kg, 110kg, 120kg, before finally settling with a small beep at 130kg. The sight of the number only accentuated the uncanny, balloon-like transformation of Sean, the boyish brother who had morphed into a fleshy orb under the moon's malevolent glow.

Amidst this transformational chaos, Bennett's body too underwent a change, but in stark contrast to the brothers. Every muscle in his physique bulged, growing larger and more defined. Veins snaked their way across his body, pulsating with the power he was drawing from the full moon and the brothers' plight. His shoulders broadened, and his chest expanded as if an unseen force was inflating him from the inside. The sheer force of his muscular expansion seemed to be in perfect tandem with the brothers' fattening.

A powerful energy permeated the chamber as each man reached a climactic point in their transformations. Bennett, at the height of his muscular growth, appeared as the ultimate alpha wolf, while the brothers, though immobilised, could not deny the overpowering dominance he exuded.

Suddenly, the overwhelming force of the combined transformations reached a crescendo, and the room was filled with a blinding light, enveloping each of them. Moments later, the room plunged into darkness, the weight of the night's events causing every occupant to fall into a deep unconsciousness.

Chapter 8: The Heavy Reality

The room's chilling atmosphere was stifling, but even that couldn't hide the warm, pulsating hum of four obese bodies, each grotesquely distorted by an unthinkable curse. Chase tried to shift, to get a better view of his brothers, but the sheer weight of his own body inhibited him. His vision was dominated by his massive, fleshy breasts which, like twin mountains, jutted out and were only surpassed in scale by the undulating mound of his stomach below.

It wasn't just their size but their feel; the very texture of his flesh had changed. Where it had once been taut and firm, it was now soft and doughy, yielding to even the slightest touch. He could feel every roll, every crease, every stretch mark that adorned his new body, mapping out a topography of his torment.

A strange sensation tickled the underside of his gargantuan gut, and it took him a moment to comprehend what it was. His belly, distended and pendulous, had grown to such a magnitude that it now grazed the cold, stone floor, pulling his skin in different directions.

Sean, Luke, and Ethan, while not as massively transformed as Chase, were unrecognisable. The brothers who once laughed, competed, and shared a lifetime of memories together, now lay incapacitated by their own bodies, their features obscured by layers of fat.

The faint echo of footsteps grew louder, and the door creaked open, revealing the towering, muscular form of Bennett. His physique was a stark contrast to the brothers: where they were round and soft, he was chiseled and hard. The malevolent gleam in his eyes made it clear that he took perverse pleasure in their plight.

"Good morning, boys," Bennett's voice oozed with malice, filling the room with an even more pronounced sense of dread. "Enjoying your new figures, I see?"

Chase tried to respond, to muster some sort of defiance, but all that came out was a heavy, laboured breath. Bennett approached him, his eyes raking over Chase's form with a mix of pride and mockery. The muscular man leaned over, his hands caressing the vast sea of flesh before him. Each touch sent a shiver through Chase, as Bennett seemed to savour the sensation of so much softness beneath his fingers.

"You've always been the standout, haven't you, Chase?" Bennett whispered, his breath hot on Chase's ear. He pressed himself into Chase's side, hugging the mass of flesh. "420 kilograms. A magnificent size. And just think," he continued, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "in a month's time, this will be but a memory as you grow even larger."

With a final, lingering touch, Bennett straightened up and moved towards the door. "Enjoy your stay," he smirked, the door slamming shut behind him, sealing the brothers once more in their fleshy prison.

Chapter 9: Encroaching Desperation

In the cold, dimly lit chamber, the incessant drone of slurping and gulping seemed to magnify, echoing off the stone walls in a macabre symphony of gluttony. As days melded into nights, and nights into days, Chase's perception of time warped. The room, which once seemed vast, now felt increasingly confined, not due to any change in its dimensions, but rather the ceaseless expansion of the occupants within.

The sweet, viscous nectar that flowed into Chase's mouth through the feeding tube was intoxicating. Every gulp was a mix of bliss and torment; the pleasure of the taste juxtaposed with the horror of his uncontrollable growth. Even as his thoughts grew muddled, one unyielding desire remained at the forefront of his mind: to consume.

Chase's body was a testament to excess. His mammoth breasts, heavy and pendulous, completely obscured his vision, pushing up towards his face in their quest for space. The sheer enormity of his belly was incomprehensible; it sprawled out in every direction, the skin stretched thin, glistening with sweat and speckled with reddened stretch marks.

But then came a new sensation—a pressure at the front of his distended gut. At first, he assumed it was just another roll of his own fat folding over itself. But as the minutes passed and the feeling persisted, the unsettling truth dawned upon him. The pressure was external. It was Ethan's body meeting his, their growth pushing them inexorably together.

The brothers' bodies, once distinct entities, now melded and merged, their boundaries blurring in this grotesque tapestry of flesh. The very air in the room seemed to grow thinner as their combined bulk consumed the available space. Chase's moans of pleasure and discomfort intertwined with those of his brothers, creating a haunting chorus that spoke of both ecstasy and despair.

As the feeding continued, Chase's thoughts spiralled into chaos. He was trapped in a cycle of arousal and horror, torn between the pleasure of the relentless feeding and the impending doom that lurked ever closer. The forthcoming Halloween full moon was a ticking time bomb, promising either salvation or an even grimmer fate.

With each passing moment, one thought grew more and more pronounced in Chase's fevered mind: Would the moon's transformative power be their saviour? Or would they simply continue to grow, their bodies pushing and pressing against each other until they were nothing but a mass of flesh, smothering one another in their insatiable hunger?

Chapter 10: Shadows of the Full Moon

The hollow echo of night birds and the rustling of trees filled the cavernous chamber as the roof creaked open, revealing the inky sky. Stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, but what caught Chase's strained eyes was the pale, foreboding glow of the Halloween moon. Its silver light bathed the room, casting ghostly shadows and illuminating the vast, undulating expanse of flesh that the brothers had become. The brothers, their restraints now released, attempted to communicate with each other. Their once-strong voices were now muted, distorted by the sheer mass of their swollen, fat-encased throats and the torment of weeks in bondage. Sean's voice emerged, more a distorted moan than a clear utterance. "Chase... God, you've... transformed... must be pushing past 650kg."

From deep within his own cavern of flesh, Luke struggled to project his voice, each word a battle against his engorged jowls and cheeks. "Sean... my God, you're unrecognisable... you've ballooned beyond 300kg!" Amidst the layers of fat that blanketed him, Ethan managed a choked whisper, the strain evident in his words, "Luke... you're not... not trailing far... easily 250kg."

Chase's world was a suffocating cocoon of his own body. Everywhere he turned, mountains of his own flesh blocked his view. Desperately, he tried to shift, the mass of his form resisting at every attempt. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart raced, and his breathing came in ragged gasps as he endeavoured to catch a glimpse of Ethan’s scale. After a nightmarish struggle, he saw the numbers, and the reality bore down on him with a weight even greater than his flesh: an unthinkable 450kg.

A sudden rush of cold air heralded the entrance of a new figure. Bennett, now an 8-foot titan of muscle, loomed over the brothers. Every rippling sinew of his body seemed to be chiseled from stone, a stark contrast to the soft, expansive forms beneath him. Naked and unashamed, he manoeuvred his way through the mounds of flesh, his sneering face a mask of dark triumph.

He clambered atop the vast terrain of the brothers' combined bellies, his powerful form casting a long, threatening shadow. As he settled, the sheer weight of his muscular frame pressed down on them, eliciting groans of discomfort. Bennett's fingers, strong and unyielding, dug into the soft fat, manipulating it, toying with the brothers as if they were nothing more than playthings.

Lying atop the vast sea of the brothers' stomachs, Bennett looked up at the rising moon, his face illuminated in its haunting glow. "I hope you're enjoying your new forms," he whispered malevolently. "Because this is only the beginning. You'll be my everlasting machines, your bodies expanding endlessly, fuelling my growth."

Chase's heart raced. The moon was at its zenith, and the curse's power was at its peak. This was their one chance, the one moment when the curse could potentially be reversed. But the realisation was a double-edged sword. As he tried to summon the will to act, the enormity of his form betrayed him. He was immobile, trapped by his own body.

The room felt colder, the weight of Bennett's body and the impending doom pressing down on them, magnified by the power of the Halloween moon. The lines between hope and despair, between salvation and eternal entrapment, seemed to blur.

Chapter 11: The Curse Reversed

The atmosphere was electric as Bennett rose to his feet, every sinew in his bulging muscles tightening in anticipation. He lifted his arms, reaching out to the heavens as the glow of the massive blue moon washed over him. It was as if the universe had painted the sky especially for this moment – the moonlight, pure and unfiltered, cast a silvery-blue sheen over everything, painting the grotesque scene in stark relief.

“Grant me your power!” Bennett roared, his voice echoing with raw desire, every fibre of his being resonating with the pull of the moon. He stood tall, his chiseled form in stark contrast to the vast landscape of flesh beneath him. The brothers, for all their grotesque size, seemed almost dwarfed by his towering, muscular presence.

But as Bennett revelled in his moment of ascension, an unforeseen twist awaited him. Slowly, he felt a peculiar sensation. Glancing downwards, he realised with growing horror that his foot was sinking into the soft flesh beneath him. As if it was quicksand, the mounds of fatty tissue began to envelop his leg.

"No!” he cried, panic evident in his voice. Trying to retract his foot, he only found himself sinking further. The very mass he had cultivated in the brothers was now becoming his prison.

The brothers, sensing his vulnerability, began to stir, their moans of despair transforming into growls of determination.

“Hold him!” Sean gasped, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. And with an effort that seemed impossible for his overstretched body, he rolled forward, his mouth finding purchase on Bennett’s straining bicep. Bennett screamed, a sound of pure agony, as Luke, with newfound strength, lunged forward and clamped his jaws onto Bennett’s outstretched hand.

Ethan, his face a mask of determination, managed to hoist his swollen form enough to take a bite out of Bennett’s shoulder. The pain was clearly excruciating as Bennett's cries reached a fevered pitch.

But the crescendo was yet to come. Chase, the largest and most transformed of them all, summoned every ounce of his might, rolling his colossal mass forward. As he moved, waves of fat rippled outward, pushing Bennett further into their collective mass. As the moon reached the zenith of its power, Chase, with a look of grim determination, leaned over and bit down hard into Bennett’s thigh.

The muscular titan's screams of pain and fear resonated in the room as he found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the sea of flesh below him. As his head began to submerge, the combined weight of the brothers bore down on him, muffling his cries.

And then, as the final seconds of the full moon's peak ticked away, the room was filled with the chilling, combined howl of the brothers. The sound echoed, merging with the night, until everything faded into blackness.

Epilogue: Happy Halloween

Chase grunted slightly as he struggled with the rebellious button, but ultimately gave up. The silver strands of his shirt clung to the striations of his impressively muscular chest, highlighting the sinewy contours of his physique. The Halloween night air was cool against his skin, but he felt a warmth radiating from within, the pride of his transformed body. Every ripple, every bulge, was a testament to their hard-fought victory against a dark curse.

Flashing back to that horrifying Halloween night, Chase shuddered, even with his now almost invincible physique. The nightmares of their ordeal persisted, but amidst that darkness emerged a new beginning for him and his brothers. Their shared trauma had cemented their bond even further. The brothers had not only defeated the curse, but in its wake, they had morphed into muscular gods, their bodies sculpted as if by the finest artists.

Ethan, always the tallest, now had shoulders so broad they seemed to span doorways. His washboard abs prominently displayed under the tight fabric of his werewolf costume. Luke, previously lean, now boasted legs so muscular they looked like they could lift a car. His toned arms flexed effortlessly, causing more than a few onlookers to gasp in admiration.

Sean, the youngest, had retained some of his boyish charm, but it was now paired with the physique of a seasoned bodybuilder. The definition in his back muscles alone drew attention from afar. He had traded his youthful naivety for an athletic confidence.

The carnival lights painted a surreal glow on the night, as the brothers converged at the entrance of the haunted house. Their laughter was hearty, filled with camaraderie and jests about their synchronised werewolf attire. They appeared more like models from a fitness magazine than men who had once been trapped in a nightmare.

Entering the haunted house, they navigated the dimly lit corridors, the scent of musty old wood and artificially aged props assaulting their senses. And then, they came upon an attraction titled 'Human Blob'. The grotesque figure of an immobile man, seemingly weighing a tonne, lay before them. Its face was obscured by the layers of fat, making it seem eerily lifelike.

The brothers exchanged knowing glances, the atmosphere thickening with tension. Luke hesitated a moment, then reached out, giving what appeared to be an animatronic figure a tentative poke. To their horror, the flesh yielded slightly under his touch, warm and pulsating. However, the brother’s knew that this wasn’t some carnival contraption, but a living, breathing entity. And not just any entity – the grotesquely swollen form before them was unmistakably Bennett. The mighty and malevolent figure from their past had been transformed, cursed by the very power he sought to harness. The blue moon had taken its revenge, transferring the combined weight of the brothers onto Bennett and then some.

His once muscular physique was buried beneath layers and layers of accumulated fat. His limbs were buried beneath his bulk, and his facial features were almost indistinguishable, smothered by the rolls that cascaded down. A stifled, gurgling sound emanated from deep within the folds, a chilling testament to the life still trapped inside this mountain of flesh. This was Bennett's cruel fate: with every full moon, he would continue to expand, forever trapped in his ever-growing prison of flesh. His eyes, the only recognisable feature, pleaded silently from their sunken sockets. They told a tale of endless hunger and an insatiable appetite that the brothers could once relate to. Ethan whispered to his brothers, “He's still growing...”

Chase, eyes cold, approached the engorged form of Bennett, leaning close to where he assumed the man's ear would be. “Happy Halloween, Bennett,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a mixture of pity and vengeance. The blob shuddered and a loud moan filled the air. The brothers left the haunted house, but the haunting image of Bennett's grotesque transformation would remain with them. Every full moon, they would return, feeding Bennett in a twisted act of mercy and ensuring his curse continued. It was their way of remembering the nightmare they had escaped and the price of meddling with powers beyond comprehension.

Under the pale illumination of the full moon, the brothers paused. Its intense light bathed their chiseled forms, casting elongated shadows on the ground. A sudden surge of power pulsed through them, making their skin tingle. They exchanged anxious glances, bracing for what was to come.

Chase's eyes widened as he felt a peculiar sensation, like molten steel flowing through his veins. With a mixture of awe and apprehension, he watched as his thighs began to swell, the sinewy muscles expanding and bulging. The fabric of his pants groaned under the strain, the seams straining and beginning to pop.

Ethan, smirking, slapped Chase's now even more muscular posterior. "Always told you those calves needed catching up," he teased, a twinkle in his eye. Chase huffed a laugh, flexing his burgeoning calves for emphasis. "Just making sure you guys don't forget who the biggest brother is," he quipped back.

For a moment, the atmosphere lightened, the brothers basking in their newfound strength and unity. Their laughter echoed through the quiet night, a stark contrast to the eerie memories of the past. With their broad shoulders touching and their heads held high, the brothers continued their journey, leaving footprints embedded deeply in the ground, symbols of their growing power. As they walked, their forms grew ever more imposing, silhouettes of raw strength against the moonlit night. A howl rang into the night from the haunted house, the curse of the werewolf audible to all dormant for now until once again, the bite of fate is shared with another.

[2manythoughtz]

Damon Vs Stefan, But They’re Both Toxic

One of the most popular debates on the internet ever since the first season aired is: which Salvatore brother is the best love interest? But is it really up for discussion?

(before reading, this is only my opinion based on my knowledge of the series, I'm not trying to hate on the characters or the series)

Most movies and series have their fanbases discussing many topics which can lead to real divisions among fans. The hottest topic you can ever discuss with another fan is probably what’s the best ship (romantic couple) or love interest.

The biggest example is probably the Twilight Saga which has people still arguing whether the best love interest is Edward or Jacob.

Speaking of supernatural romance, The Vampire Diaries is still to this day one of the most popular TV series, with eight seasons and two spin-offs, it quickly became revolutionary.

Seeing how people still talk about it, I wanted to compare the Salvatore brothers and explain why they’re both terrible choices. To do so, I will focus on both of them singularly so that, even if you haven’t seen the series or you don’t remember it that well, you can understand my point of view.

Stefan

I’ve seen so many people arguing that Stefan is the best love interest because he’s “the good one” and his love for the protagonist, Elena Gilbert, is so pure. 

While I can see why one would think that he’s not as “evil” as his brother, I wouldn’t say that he is good. In fact, I think he’s just as bad as Damon on so many levels.

But let’s take it from the start. We meet Stefan immediately in the first episode, he’s portrayed as this mysterious, good-looking and emotionally unavailable guy who was extremely acclaimed in every 00s movie. He’s enrolling in the same High School as Elena, and we can see right there that he’s not like any other boy in that school.

In fact, he’s a vampire and he’s decided to study there just to meet Elena. Why, you would ask. Well, because Elena looks exactly like Stefan’s old lover Katherine. Funnily enough, a few seasons later we find out that Stefan never truly loved Katherine, they had their share of fun and he cared for her, but once he realized what she had done to him, he immediately resented her. 

Elena and Stefan fall in love and they help each other whenever something goes wrong, which happens very frequently. Because of that, they get separated and their love slowly fades away as they break up after a year together. 

Elena gets with Damon, but we’ll talk about that later, and Stefan has some up and downs before falling in love with Caroline. Their relationship is peculiar in a way, at first they both push each other away, then get together, then push each other away again and then get back together again. 

Spoiler alert: Stefan dies in the end as he decides that he wants to sacrifice himself to help Elena and Damon live a happy life together as they wanted. 

So, as you can see, he seems like a very gentle and honorable guy, but there’s more to be said about him. 

Stefan is a ripper, he can’t control himself around blood and ends up losing his humanity as he slaughters and eats every human along his path. He’s known for killing entire villages, spreading chaos and fear. Sure, one might excuse him because later on it’s revealed that he got that gene from his mother. 

But let’s put it this way. For Stefan blood is like alcohol for an alcoholic, they may not know what they’re doing when they’re drunk but that still doesn’t excuse their actions, the same goes for our vampire. 

Stefan is a hot mess as a vampire, he’s a ticking bomb and only has two regimes: he either feeds on animals, which results in him being way too weak, or he drinks blood and goes crazy.

Not to mention, the young Salvatore isn’t exactly an angel. He’s done many wrongdoings throughout the series but they’ve all been forgiven just because he’s Stefan and everyone likes him, only in the last season he finally realises everything that he has done once he becomes human, a big foreshadowing of his death in the end. 

He’s still manipulated and killed people because they were getting in his way, but maybe that doesn’t really count as toxic seeing as most characters in TVD do so without any problem. 

So let’s talk about his attitude throughout the 8 seasons. Stefan has had a few love interests after Elena broke up with him, that wasn’t necessarily his fault since he had been compelled by Niklaus to turn off his humanity, but even after regaining his humanity, he seems off and distant. 

After Elena, Stefan is confused and doesn’t really know what to do. But just as he was about to get over her, his brother gets sucked into another dimension (so much happens in TVD, so I hope you can keep up with me) and he decides to just leave everything behind and get a new life and a new girlfriend.

That doesn’t go too well since the girl dies soon after, he was never really into her and never opened up about anything with her. 

So later on he realizes that he’s in love with Caroline, what a surprise, but the two of them cannot be together yet. Once they actually become a thing (it takes a while), Stefan’s first love appears and Caroline is very jealous.

Does that stop Stefan from running away with his first love and having a relationship with her as soon as he’s in danger? Nope, he does leave Caroline without saying anything and spends years with his first lover. 

Not to mention, as soon as he gets back in town he gets dumped by the girl and he goes back to Caroline. She accepts but tells him that he can’t run away from her anymore.

He kind of runs away again? He proposes to her but he’s also wanted by the Devil to work for him, so he turns off his humanity and leaves Caroline… again. 

See a pattern here?

In the end, as I said, he sacrifices himself for Damon and Elena… right after marrying Caroline. 

Now, I’m not saying he’s the worst person in the whole series, but I must admit that his relationships were all very weird and superficial. He never really got in-depth about his feelings with anyone a part maybe from Elena. He always sacrificed himself for Elena, which was cool when they were together, but after breaking up my question is… why? He gave up on his brother when he thought he was dead, but never gave up on his ex-girlfriend? 

Let’s see it from Caroline’s point of view. Her boyfriend took his sweet time to realize that he liked her, he left with his first lover, proposed and then immediately un-proposed since he worked for the devil, he had a full debate about whether he should’ve married Caroline and after marrying her he basically kills himself for his ex… 

As I said, I don’t think he’s exactly good. I personally think that he’s very toxic in his ways, we just learn to ignore it throughout the series because he’s always painted as the best brother. But to be fair, even if he had stayed with Elena things wouldn’t have gone any better between his blood problems and tendencies to sacrifice himself for anything. 

Damon

Let’s talk about the older brother.

It’s fair to say that most people love Damon even if he’s the bad boy, or maybe they like him because of that. 

I honestly think that he’s had a big character development in the first 3/4 seasons, but after that, it got really boring and repetitive. At least, unlike Stefan, he learned to value himself and those around him. 

Damon is presented to us as this jerk and heartless older brother whose only goal in life is to torment Stefan for everything he’s done to him. That promise gets forgotten very quickly in the series, but that’s a different topic. 

I personally cannot stand Damon in the first 2 seasons. He’s so exaggerated in every way, he’s made out to be this big bully who kills without remorse and sleeps with everyone. 

He literally kills for no reason if not for fun, but everyone gets over it very easily, if not for a few times when they kind of point out to him that he’s not the best person ever, but what really ticked me off was the way he treated Vicky and Caroline.

Vicky’s death is something spoken about every season with her making an appearance every single time. So many things would’ve changed if she hadn’t died! And Caroline… well, I just felt sorry for all the abuse she had to endure and that everyone ignored once she became a vampire.

Can we also talk about the fact that Damon is like 25 (ignoring the fact that he's been alive/dead for 170-something years) and sleeping with Caroline who’s 17 while having a crush on Elena while she’s also 17? Yikes.

He’s very determined to find Katherine, his only true love who is later revealed to be a traitor and a liar. Everything Damon has done to get her back means nothing and the worst part is that Katherine has always been in love with Stefan and Stefan only. 

Once his love dream gets destroyed, he focuses on Elena full-time. He seems to be dependable on his love interest, meaning that he lives his life based on that only. 

And his personality doesn’t really change when he turns off his emotions so there’s not much to compare him to, if anything it just makes it worse because it means that he’s always so bloodthirsty and perverse in a sense. 

He doesn’t really have any relationships other than Elena and Katherine, he does hook up with many people throughout the series but it’s nothing more than sex most of the time, except for a few women he befriended.

The only good development he had was about caring for his friends other than his girlfriend. But that doesn’t cancel the fact that he was willing to kill and actually killed Elena and Stefan’s friends for nothing. But yeah, there isn’t much to say about Damon since his main problem is killing people here and there and his obsession with his love interest.

But even that doesn’t stop him from sleeping with other people while being deeply in love with Elena or Katherine, although this is a bigger problem in movies and series, cheating is so normalized that people don’t even think about it anymore. While one could discuss that he didn’t really cheat since Katherine was allegedly blocked under a church and Elena was asleep and couldn’t wake up. But is it really a good excuse? I mean, if his love for her was so deep that he wanted to become human and spend the rest of his life with her, shouldn’t he only want to sleep with her?

As per toxicity, in his relationships, he’s pretty stubborn and easily irascible. He’s Stefan’s opposite, so while he’s understanding and open to confrontation, Damon tends to think that his opinion is always correct and there is no other way until proven wrong, and even there he won’t admit that his idea wasn’t the best. I think it’s safe to say that he has some anger issues, every time he has an argument with someone or feels threatened he goes rogue and unleashes his anger on people. 

He’s not the nicest but as I said, that doesn’t mean much. He might not be as nice as Stefan but that doesn’t make him worse, to be honest. 

So in conclusion I don’t think that there’s a better choice, both brothers helped and ruined Elena's life in many ways. Both of them had this superhero complex and wanted to sacrifice themselves all the time, they could’ve just come up with another idea or something half of the time but they didn’t. And every time Elena got in trouble it was mostly because of them, because someone wanted to get revenge on what they did in the past or simply to hurt them and she was the perfect way to do so. I’m also pretty confused by the fact that they fell in love with Elena just because she looked like Katherine at first, Damon’s infatuation is plausible since he was head over heels for that woman, but Stefan? He never really loved her, so why approach Elena in the first place?

Like most stories with supernatural characters, vampires are not the healthiest partners. Stefan or Damon? That’s not an easy decision, but not because they’re both amazing people, although they did care for Elena till the end. They’re both toxic and difficult to deal with but maybe that’s exactly what made them so memorable and acclaimed by fans. No matter how cold and scary they could seem, they had a sweet side of them with the people they really cared about.

Which brother do you prefer? Let me know!

[hyperfixingfr]

@kndrules said I should talk about the Hoagie shutdown HCs for hours so that's my excuse for doing such (CW for S/H and some brief abuse & addiction mentions)

Hoagie is more quiet than his teammates. That's kind of something people don't notice because the way he's quiet is kind of different because of his neurodivergence. Yes, he talks. Yes, he socializes. But the way in which he does these things is very obviously a quiet kid. He lets other people lead conversations. He tends to follow the actions of others. He talks excessively if you let him, but the moment someone shows any form of rejection or disapproval of it, he stops talking. He stays behind everyone else, or at least behind the "leader" of the scene. And overall, his personality would cause some pretty obvious outcasting from groups in school. But these are some pretty boring aspects of canon and it's hardly ever thought about, so I'm gonna expand upon it.

Hoagie shuts down fast and he shuts down OFTEN. He's rejection sensitive. Now, he's not oblivious. If Wally says something like, "you're so stupid!" he takes it as a joke. The issue is if Wally used a tone that was *off* from his normal joke tones. Intentionally or not, a different tone in any way. Those words would start to ring in Hoagie's ears. He starts to overthink, and of course - shutdown. Anything he was saying prior to this, he'd slowly fade the conversation out and eventually stop talking or responding. He'd try to get himself to a secluded area as soon as he could, to prevent attention being drawn to him. He does a really good job with fading out from conversation because no one knows it's happening until he tells them. They just think he got bored and left.

Like I said, this happens often. Nigel scolding him, him getting bullied at school, Abby ignoring him to focus on work. The list goes on. He's too scared to express how these things make him feel, so he has a shutdown just about every day. His family further encourages this behavior by rewarding silence and scolding him for speaking. Tommy experiences the same stuff, but confidence boosts from Hoagie prevent Tommy from shutting down and staying silent when he's being mistreated. Hoagie never had anyone to stand up for him, though... At least, not after their dad died. He was the only one who tried to stand up for him.

He does a lot of hiding due to his environment at home. His shutdowns always result in him locking himself away and trying to get people to focus on someone else if they try to see what's up. He doesn't have any good coping mechanisms so, to try and "get it over with" he cuts (something he learned about on the early internet). After that, he'll go on to use an actual healthy coping skill like working on his projects or spending time with someone (once he finds his voice again). He feels a lot of guilt for it but because he hides his emotions, it takes a while for people to figure out what's going on and help him out.

In any situation causing distress and self confidence issues, Hoagie will shut down. It tends to happen with raised voices the most, though. If they're away from the treehouse on a mission somewhere and won't be going back for a while, he'll disappear wherever possible. He even becomes known for it, at least to Nigel. Unfortunately, Hoagie has a razor with a seal guard to protect the fabric in his pocket at all times, so he still engages with harmful mechanisms even when away from the treehouse. He put it there for that very reason, but it does double as a good tool if he's in trouble and caught in something... I guess

His shutdowns were a major part of his life from 10-13. They caused loneliness, a lack of help and support, and further fear. Not to mention the harm it caused to his arms because of how he decided to deal with it every time it happened.

On the bright side, Abby and Wally eventually realized things were going on. Wally wasn't much help in his teen years because he fell down the same hole of depression that Hoagie did especially during high school where he was forced to be misgendered, but he helped whenever sane enough to do so. It started off with Abby getting a bit concerned by his tendencies to slip off after Hoagie had mention he loves listening to conversations normally. She tried to be discrete when asking him things about the shutdowns, until they were on a mission away from the treehouse and Abby asked Hoagie if he had anything like scissors to cut something off an old file. She was handed the "infamous stained razor" and of course, freaked the fuck out on him. Not to scare him or anything, but it kind of did since she started asking a bunch of questions he didn't think he'd ever be asked as she paced around anxiously, hitting herself on the head and preventing him from even getting CLOSE to the razor he'd lended her. After that she started being more nosey about his shutdowns. She refused to let him suffer from them as much as he did because she knew he didn't have to. Over time, she managed to understand the signs of shutdowns. Wally did, too. If either of them are around when his shutdown starts, they immediately identify it and follow him off to wherever he ends up going. This soon turned to them actively being found by Hoagie during his shutdowns, and given a simple hand signal to let them know he shut down and needs to be watched over in a safe environment (since by this time at 13-14 he's suffering from genuine addiction to harm, and needs supervision when at risk). They tend to haul him off to a nice, cozy place in the treehouse. There, they'll do whatever Hoagie pleases. He doesn't speak, but he'll make it clear what he wants to do. He'll drop playing cards in front of them, he'll turn on the TV and cling to their sides, sometimes he'll just fall asleep or cuddle up in their arms. His shutdowns became far less stressful and dangerous after Abby and Wally found ways for him to shut down and then unwind in a safe environment. In late teen years Wally became incapable and even unsafe to be around at certain points due to doing the exact same harmful things Hoagie did at that time but Abby still helped keep him safe whenever possible and, in rare instances Wally would be able to when he wasn't unsafe. Abby also did searches of both of Hoagie's rooms (with his permission) every month to cleanse the area of harmful stuff so he couldn't hurt himself even if he didn't properly identify a shutdown and seek help for it. She came out of there with a looot of different things she didn't even know could be used. She disposed of them in secret locations and soon enough she wasn't finding anything in his rooms, which meant his shutdowns were either being had with his trusted partners, or he was capable of having a shutdown all alone without harm being caused. That part kind of goes beyond that point and he does have (even worse) problems still but that doesn't really correlate with his shutdowns so that's for anyone who's interested in his problems with addictions which I'll talk about if people are interested

[calebwittebane]

im not gonna lie, there are people i follow who often make posts that are preddy funny and who often have good opinions, but whom i find unpleasant and annoying and generally unkind, and whom i kind of really hate. its not a hatefollow because i do enjoy many of their posts but i hate them as people and anytime something mildly bad happens to them im like LOL :).

thankfully i am not mutuals with them because if that were the case, the close proximity would cause their body to be affected by that hatred, even if they werent aware of it, or knew but didnt care. but the malice would slowly poison and ruin them, and they would start to become sick. they would feel as though someone had been adding antifreeze to their food and drinks. ethylene glycol and so on and so forth. but they wouldnt make the connection between the illness and the malice of mine that they were being afflicted by. their hair would begin to fall out in clumps, they would experience light-headedness and nausea and increased body stench, they would begin to regularly experience sleep paralysis, they would see mysterious red marks on their skin that would quickly fade away.

unable to think of their condition as anything other than them being infested with demons, and consumed by fear and desperation, they would eventually turn to some real out there pseudoscientific woo Soul And Body Healing bullshit peddled by a guy with a youtube channel and a popular tiktok account. they would purchase tons and tons of his supplements and read all his books, and become invested in the belief system to a shocking degree, still tormented by the disease. all the fans followers friends family and folks at home would have a hard time recognizing them at this point. 'what happened to the goodposter we knew and loved?', they would ask, and ultimately all distance themselves from them one by one.

already holding a new propensity for conspiracy theories, the blogger would take this as a sign that the fools were all simply threatened by their recently mastered forbidden wisdom, and fall deeper into the rabbit hole of fringe internet spirituality. they would eventually become an obscure type of flat earther, believing in an astronomical model so strange that other flat earther would scoff at them and accuse them of making them look unserious.

a viral video would emerge of the blogger approaching some young people in the street, vigorously lecturing them about the mobius strip earth, with the sun being a round hole carved in an enormous egg made of black obsidian that we are all trapped within that shields us from the brilliant divine glow the rest of the universe is bathed in. supposedly, humanity had shattered the egg before, freeing the earth from its prison, however an unhealthy diet (containing dairy and plant oils) causes humans to emit invisible particles that float up into the atmosphere and above, where they solidify into the obsidian shell. many commenters would point out the tshirt the blogger was wearing, depicting an absurdly muscular man breaking out of the obsidian egg, with text above saying "W.H.A.T.: We Hatch Again Together".

humiliated and scorned, the blogger would make the decision to abandon their brethren at least for some time, and retreat into solitude deep in the woods. they would sustain themselves on acorns, the youtube guy supplements, and whatever birds and rodents they managed to find. no longer in close online proximity to me (and no longer online in general), they would quickly start to recover from their illness, and (not incorrectly) attribute that improvement to their hermit lifestyle far away from those poisoned by dairy and plant oils.

one day, a bear would attack them. against all odds, newly full of vigor and powered by years of pent up anger, they would emerge victorious from the encounter. they would skin the bear and start wearing its pelt like a fursuit, giving them the appearance of a somewhat deflated bear with eerily human movements. emboldened by this experience, they would make the decision to return to their preaching, and travel from the wilderness to the nearest populated area.

having arrived in a small town, still wearing their hard-earned fursuit, they would cause widespread panic. not sure how to approach the issue just yet, and weighing the possibility of leaning into the bear thing regardless to add some extra dramatic flair to their sermons, they would walk into a convenience store to get some soda. the cashier would immediately flee and call 911 from a safe distance, reporting a horribly fucked up bear casually strolling into the building, so even if the blogger had any money, they would not be able to pay for the soda, absolving them of this responsibility.

they would take a generous sip of the cold refreshing soda they had so dearly missed during their time in the wilderness. unfortunately, the effervescent sugary drink would unexpectedly interact with the supplements and acorns still in their system, causing a violent chemical reaction. the energy released as the byproduct of said reaction would be so great, it would cause their body to disintegrate in a burst of blinding orange light.

as their body faded away, they would smile serenely, knowing that although they did not manage to convince everyone they had spoken to, they had sown the seeds of knowledge among them, and that even the arrogant nonbelievers would eventually start seeing the signs. there is hope for humanity, that it would one day break out of the obsidian shell, and regain the long-lost enlightenment and magic. they would feel that they have done well.

some time would pass absently--seconds or centuries, one could not tell. to their shock, they would realize that their consciousness has not been extinguished by death. suspended in endless void, they would try to scream, yet their efforts would be in vain.

then, another change would occur--they would begin to experience a tingling sensation, seemingly psychological rather than physical. cell by cell, they would regain a physical form, and their senses would all at once return to them as they awakened. their surroundings would snap into focus. they would be surrounded by otherworldly tall green structures, curved and swaying lightly. their field of view would span 360° on every axis, their eyes situated on flexible stalks. they would then realize--they have been reborn as a slug.

all because they had roamed too close to the powerful confident beautiful gentle unemployed brown-eyed bloggeress whose righteous ire they had earned despite her peaceful nature. all because they did not heed the signs. by then they would have learnt their lesson, but by the time they earned another lifespan as a human, the internet would be no more, replaced by a mass malfunction of amazon brain chips giving those affected constant visions of various ai generated rule34 pictures of the hex maniac that jeff bezos had saved on his hard drive at the time the disaster struck

[sourcerry]

My body issues are acting up again, so naturally I project them on to a fictional character - because I can't, for the love of god, find a therapist. This is mainly a sad Hob/caring Dream self indulgence.

I'm thinking about Hob falling into a rabbit hole on the internet and not being his happy confident self. Maybe it's because things move on so fast this century. Maybe it's because you're connected with everything all the time.

The thing is Hob used to think very little about his body. First because he just had to keep it running, later he focused on achieving different things from money to education.

Bodies and their shapes however, seem to be the main focus of people these days. So it's for the first time that he actually looks at himself and worries. He is quite on the hairy side of men and since he quit the soldering he got quite soft around the middle. After his experience with starvation, he enjoyed food more than ever and perhaps, indulged more than it was appropriate.

Since Dream visited more often and things were evolving from friendship to relationship, Hob feels more and more insecure. Dream used to persue great leaders and goddesses. Hob is neither and it bothers him. He fears that he won't be able to keep Dreams attention for long. So maybe being nice to look at would help him. Just to keep him a little longer.

The plan of action is quite simple. Lose the fat and gain more muscle mass. The internet offers a lot of solutions. From healthy to harmful - he can't die, so what does it matter? He cuts back on food, fits regular exercise in his already busy schedule and soon sees results. His body changes but his insecurities don't. He still finds things to dislike or right on hate about himself. It affects his whole life, his mood and his dreams.

Right after Dream told him about his true nature, Hob asked him to not interfere with his dreams. He liked them - dreams and nightmares alike. Just like he loved life with its ups and downs.

Now he suffers through nightmares of not fitting into his clothes, people calling him nasty things, Dream leaving him for someone better looking.

Dream of course notices the changes but doesn't know how to bring them up. While he honours his promise, he can't help to steal a glance at Hobs visits in the Dreaming. He just needs to understand what's happening. When he does it breaks is heart. It really does. He still doesn't know how to confront his friend, who became way more than a friend, during his past visits.

Falling in love with Hob had been so easy and felt so natural, it had never occurred to Dream, that it needed clarification.

His next visit is, like all visits, unannounced but carefully planed. He enters into Hobs living room and finds him standing in front of a huge mirror. Just staring at his reflection without really seeing anything. Dreams stands behind Hob and startles him. When Hob tries to turn around Dream just shakes his head and holds on to Hobs hips. They are way sharper than they should be. Pointy bones easily felt trough the fabric of his trousers. Slowly Dream moves closer and presses himself into Hobs back, finding his gaze in the mirror.

They've rarely been this close and Dream cherishes the warmth that's oozing from Hob.

"Dream..wh- what are you doing?" Hob stutters. Heat filling up his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He feels caught and ashamed and so happy to have Dream touch him.

"I worry." Dream answers, his voice a deep hum. "You seem to be unaware of how much you mean to me. Meant to me through all the centuries. It seems that I have neglected to show you." He sounds remorseful.

"Dream.." Hob starts but Dreams look shuts him up.

"Please, Hob, let me finish. I want you to know. I need you to know, that you are acknowledged and seen. That you are loved and cherished. I need you to know that my feelings for you run deep and will not fade. I need you to know that you are in my thoughts permanently and that I wouldn't change that, even if I could. It hurts me to see you hurt so deeply, Hob Gadling, as your wounds feel like my own." During his speech a wet sheen covers his eyes and tears cling on long lashes. Hob tries to take a deep breath but it gets caught in his throat and turns into a wet sob. Big tears run down his face and his emotions are all over the place and drowning him.

Carefully Dream steps around himself and blocks his view into the mirror. Hob feels Dreams arms hold him close in a loving embrace and between one blink and the next, they are in his bedroom, no mirrors in sight. He is guided onto his bed and held through all his sobs, tears and sniffles. Fingers carding through is hair and rubbing circles on his back. "I'm sorry" he whispers again and again. "You have nothing to apologize for, my love".

The endearment rips another sob from Hob. He feels utterly pathetic. But Dream is patient and holds him. When the sobs stop, he tells him stories and when he falls asleep, he is welcomed in the Dreaming with warm hands and gentle kisses.

Nothing changes over night. Hob is still painfully insecure and worries whenever Dreams been kept away for a longer period of time. Dream is patient and kind and doesn't tire of showing his love for Hob in all the ways he knows.

[headingalaxys-spicy]

🌟⭐️Banged this one out at a Bar!⭐️🌟

Brain Dump Time!

Title: There Are Reasons Why I Don’t Like Winter Nights

Demon! Russia x Reader

In the quiet hills you lived. Your closest neighbors were maybe a mile nearby. You had a peaceful life free of strife and you never sought out the ire of others. You simply existed in your small little world alone and happy. Except for when Winter came. That’s when your fears reigned true. You were unable to hush the incessant nagging that something was stalking your home. When all you wanted was to be left alone. You wondered if there were others that shared your issues but never approached anyone considering you were a bit of a recluse. The feeling of prying eyes that were starved for the likes of you didn’t fade away when the golden yellow leaves faded away. The leaves signaled to the sky for the sun to wave goodbye. It was replaced by small diamonds in the sky, with a dark navy blue backdrop. By 5 it looked as if you could take a dive into the sky just by stepping outside. Your eyes graded the glass barrier that kept you separated from the darkness.

‘Breathe, Breathe.’ is what you silently told yourself. You gripped your weighted blanket closer to your chest. Jaw was clenched and back was stiff. Grabbing your phone hoping that the sun was just on the verge of daybreak. The tiny screen read 17:35. Far from the safety from the sun. You grimace. You really didn’t enjoy winter nights. You sprung to your feet and muttered out: “Fuck.” It was the worst part of the day. You sprung to your feet and roamed around your tiny home. You wanted to distract yourself from the burn of eyes that you felt whenever you turned your back. You reached for your solution to that which was your velvet black out curtains. They provided you with some semblance of safety. As the thick inky and opaque fabric sweeps your white carpeted floor.

“See no evil, there won’t be no evil.” You mumble somewhat confidently to yourself. As long as you stayed in your comfy fortress. You drew a deep breath of oxygen into your lungs, paused, and breathed out slowly. You were going to survive another night. Just like you always had. Even though you were still on edge and your stomach was in knots…You at least wanted to try to be peaceful tonight. Although that would be difficult when it felt like there were a ton of mosquitos in your ear. Your jaw suddenly clenched and your hands were shaken with salty sea water. Tiny spiders had crept inside your headspace to spin together terrible tales of what could happen to you.

‘What if I hear thumping again?’

‘What if it has only gotten closer outside?’

‘It’s going to devour you!’

‘ESCAPE NOW!’

These were some of the worries that echoed through your mind like hundreds of bouncing balls attempting to shatter your sanity. But it was too late, the catastrophizing had begun. You stared at the curtains, hoping that not taking your eyes off them would prevent the figure you’d seen days before from reappearing. You tried not to think of all the ways that it’d hunt you down. You took in another breath, held it in, then exhaled.

‘No, I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Nothing is out there.’ Are the lies that you would tell yourself. You tried your best to continue on and ignore it. You wash the negative away with comfort food and shows. You let your mind wander through the internet but to no avail. You wind back up thinking about the ominous hulking figure with glowing violet orbs. They peered at you from 20ft away. Another tumultuous brawl of thoughts barraged your way, with the worst possible scenarios. Fear was beginning to frost over your soul.

The thing you loathed most switched its tail back and forth. Like a grandfather clock that was biding its time, until the haunting hour. The sky was moonless and had been eaten by the lurking beast. Outside is a cold eternal dark chasm.

Outside there was a lurking beast. One with heavy black boots and a sweet iron glare.

It slammed against your roof causing a ripple effect throughout the entire house. Immediately he heard shrinking from his poor victim. A smug smile formed on his pale face, that has been kissed by the frozen over part of hell.

You scampered to your bedroom and locked the door. You longed for sunrise. With your heart beating fast and your mind muddled with stress. You were under great duress. You grabbed your duvet and covered yourself. The thick heavy fabric felt comforting like a hug. If only for a few moments you felt safe. But that was short lived when you heard another thumb against your roof. It sounded like a heavy hoof. You should know better than to trust a lifeless thing to save you from a terrible king.

King Ivan was his name.

He began to rap his large hands on the outside windows and walls. Taunting you. He encircled your small cottage like house and sauntered around with glee. Every so often pounding your wall with his trusted pipe. When he heard you yelp it was like music to his ears.

“Time to play up my hand.” He had cheer in his voice. He cut the power. You would succumb to absolute darkness.

All you could do was cower in your room.

Paradoxical breaths erratically escaped your lips. It fell silent for a few long moments, before Ivan barrelled down hard that was right behind you. It left a large dent. You sprung from your knees. You wanted to fly out of there like a bat trying to escape the depths of hell. In your haste you paid no heed to how loud you’d be.

Ivan’s violet eyes lit up to seek where you were. To him your walls were like glass. Your heat signature was identified swiftly. Your fear was palpable. His fun was going to continue though playful schadenfreude.

“Playtime is over. Time for real fun.” With his rusted pipe raised high above his head he makes a gaping hole in your bedroom wall. The crashing of rubble made you bellow out in terror as if you were decending into the seven circles. Petrified and in full flight mode you raced for the front door and took off into the frigid night. The ice began to munch away at you.

The cruel demon stayed behind and cast a fireball at your home. To safety which you’ll never know.

The stars and the moon had vanished into the jet black chasm that thrived off your fresh terror that was leaking from your soul. Feet pounded on the thick slushy snow that rose up to your calves and eventually began to swallow your knees. The adrenaline in your body was running low and your body was not able to keep burning on high.

You had to slow down.

But, he was on your heels.

‘Keep going, keep going!’ was all your mind could say on repeat.

But your nervous system and muscles froze. Your heartstrings one edge. Muscles constricting.

‘When did the ground come so close to me? Why are there small dots in my vision?’

From above your trembling figure continued to amuse Ivan. He watched from the treeline. You were covered in frost and losing body heat fast.

“You go home with me, Sunflower.”

[scolbert22]

Were-fatty : Muscular and ripped but fattens up every full moon

Full Moon

My roommate Derek was hot.

Like Hot hot.

Like 7 percent body fat, 6 foot 4 inches of ginger furred sex machine hot.

I had trouble seeing the appeal though, because he was also an inconsiderate douchebag. He never cleaned up after himself, and when he wasn't at the gym, he would be loudly streaming in the living room! But it was difficult to deny that he was hot. I mean beside his massive internet following, Derek brought home a different girl every night.

Well, every night except full moons...

I had chalked it up to coincidence at first, but now after two years, I had become convinced that my roommate was a werewolf. And I was going to prove it.

After months of research on supernatural forums, I had put together a collection of silver jewelry, a squirt gun full of holy water, and the most important part of the plan: A poster with the phases of the moon with a large full moon in the center.

I got the idea from xXwolfboyy69Xx, who pointed out that would catch him off guard, and that if things got out of hand I could always roll the poster up and he'd turn back.

Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but how crazy is your roommate coming home the morning after every full moon in shredded clothes?

I picked a day we both had off, and I told him we needed to discuss something in the roommate agreement. He'd rolled his eyes, but it was plausible since he was a pretty sloppy roommate. He came out of his room and sat on the couch.

"Alright bro, what's up?" He sighed.

I took a deep breath, counted to three in my head, and unrolled the poster.

Derek's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and then he grunted and grabbed his stomach. He got up and tried to head for the door, but a convulsion wracked through him and he fell to the ground, howling. His ears were becoming pointed and furry!

I pinned the poster up to the bulletin board on the wall behind me, and grabbed the squirt gun out of the back of my pants, training it on him.

My poor roomie shredded his shirt, convulsing on the floor, clawing at his torso. I watched as his red body hair thickened, becoming denser across his chest, shoulders and back. Then I realized he was getting bigger...but not in the way I'd anticipated.

I watched as his pale, freckled flesh began to surge forward in pulses, his abs softening, and then vanishing. Now a belly forming, and then a sizable gut. He rolled over, and I watched a pair of love handles bloom, round and wobbling and...biteable. They pushed down the waistband of his pants, beginning to reveal a very different pale white moon from the one pinned on our notice board. Over his exposed crack, a fluffy ginger tail slowly sprouted. His growling and grunting began to fade.

Finally, the plump ginger rolled onto his back again, laying spreadeagle on the floor. His plump white belly rose and fell as his breathing levelled out. I looked at this giant man that had once been my svelte fuckboi roommate. At this size, with all that hair, I kind of saw the appeal. In fact, even with the ears and tail he was the hottest I'd ever seen him. But he could still be dangerous.

Hesitantly, I reached out with my free hand and placed it on his belly. Instantly, the chubby dude's eyes snapped open, and he looked down at me. I feared the worst until his long pink tongue lolled out of his mouth and he started panting happily.

I set to work scratching the werewolf's wobbling belly and he kicked in delight, whimpering and panting. I reached up and played with one of his giant new man-tits too, which elicited a howl that I could only take as approving.

"So this is what you were hiding from me, huh boy?" I baby talked the giant man-beast, scratching under his bearded chin. "Well, I think I like you much better this way! Who's my big boy? You are!" Derek licked my face in response. I looked up at the poster I'd pinned to the wall and smiled to myself. Immediately, I got up and opened sat at Derek's computer setup. He'd never let me touch it before, but now he trotted behind me, setting his round head in my lap and looking up at me lovingly. I opened his Amazon account.

"Now let's see...We'll need a couple more of those posters, just to make sure we have a full moon every day," I smirked down at my much more agreeable roommate. "And then...collar, dog bed... Do you think Purina makes werewolf chow?"

[scottsummersevents]

For the Sexy Days of Summers Event happening right now we've invited Scott Summers (Cyclops) fans to take part in spreading more love for him out there on the internet by creating fanfiction, fanart, fan works, etc. to celebrate our favorite X-Men leader and the possibility of what if. For the duration of this challenge so far we've received some really incredible submissions with super rare pairings that are new to us. For the month of September we'd like to share some of those and also share some various fandom creations along the way in terms of content. Some might be an old favorite pairing while others might be something in terms of shipping you've never considered before.

Today's spotlight pairing is another pairing that picked up some traction during the X-Men Evolution days.

Below under the cut you can take a look at this pairing and see what fun it could prove to be!

Also if you have a favorite Scott pairing and a fanfic that you've written or that you love, then feel free to drop us a note and let us know so we can showcase it in the future!

Stay tuned for more duo spotlights coming soon!

Cut a Rug - A Gift for Tasseomancy by Maedelin (Rated T) During the first Hellfire Gala, Cyclops and Rogue steal a moment.

Touch by Kount_Xero (Rated M) A short time after the battle with Apocalypse, Rogue is having trouble adjusting to life. Her fear of touching, coupled with strange dreams about Cyclops, is driving her up the wall. What she doesn't know is that she isn't going towards a wall, but towards a secret kept beyond it.

The Rest of the World is Noise by Kount_Xero (Rated E) During Scott and Rogue's journey to the Academy of Tomorrow, in a roadside motel, one night.

Mouvement by Kount_Xero (Rated M) Scott and Rogue on the road to Academy of Tomorrow, trying to cross the distance between who they were and who they are going to become.

The Dividing Line by Kount_Xero (Rated E) Scott and Rogue have made it to the Academy of Tomorrow, but all is far from well as Rogue is slowly slipping away. As the line between herself and the echoes of all she's absorbed is slowly fading away, Rogue finds that there is only one person she can turn to: Scott Summers.

Out of Touch by Kount_Xero (Rated T) Rogue leaves the Institute to go back to her home, to find out what her name was and to recover a piece of herself. On the way, she runs into a familiar face: Gambit, stranded on the side of the road.

Untouchable by Kount_Xero (Rated M) Ms. Marvel arrives at the Institute as a show of solidarity on the eve of the Mutant Registration Act being put to vote. During this tumultuous time, Charles Xavier's ghosts come out to haunt Rogue and Scott... and force Rogue into a confrontation that will change everything - herself, the world and the X-Men.

Road Trip by roguewords (Rated G) Rogue and Scott take a trip.

Fools Who Fall Behind by roguewords (Rated M) "She says that love is for fools who fall behind, And I'm somewhere in between, I never really know, A killer from a savior"

A Modern Day Fairytale by roguewords (Rated G) This is no fairytale.

The Man Underneath by GammaGaze (Rated T) Scott Summers (a.k.a Cyclops) is the fearless leader of the X-Men. People think he has it all and has it easy. Little do they know about his life and his past. When things unravel, will he still be calm and composed or will he turn to his old self?

This story takes place when Scott is still in Bayville High and Jean and Duncan are in a relationship.

Thrill Sex With Scott and Rogue by MarvelMaster616 (Rated E) Rogue wants to spice up her sex life with Scott. So she convinces him to have sex in the most dangerous place imaginable. Wolverine's bedroom.

X-men Supreme: Scott and Rogue's Outdoor Romp by MarvelMaster616 (Rated E) This takes place in my X-men Supreme Series. Rogue and Scott enjoy a sunset that quickly gets heated.

X-men Supreme: Scott and Rogue's First Time by MarvelMaster616 (Rated E) This takes place in my X-men Supreme Series. Rogue and Scott are dating. This is their first time together.

Reflux by blueskypenguin (Rated T) “Rogue,” the groan from the region of her feet drew her attention immediately, and the bowl clattered to the floor, spilling milk and soggy bran flakes everywhere. Rogue dropped to her knees into the stuff, and it began to seep into her jeans. She didn’t notice, as Scott Summers gave a relieved smile from his prone position on the step before passing out.

Close Your Eyes by DallonR (Rated T) Scott and Rogue both know how it feels to not be in control. When Rogue decides to trust Scott, she finds that she probably trusted him with a little too much.

Sunshine by sarcastic_fina (Rated T) Rogue and Scott are expecting their first child. Unexpected complications change their future, leaving Scott unsure how he's going to go on.

Falling Slowly by flareonfury (Rated T) How Scott and Rogue slowly fell for each other... Basically deleted/alternate scenes in Seasons 1 and 2.

Of Dreams and Red Socks or the Lack Thereof by angeladex (Rated T) “Scotty’s an obedient kid, believe it or not,” Jack was saying, bragging to his weird friend. “Ain’tcha Scotty-boy? I always thought so. Took ‘im offa the streets myself, ‘bout a year ago, y’know. He does whatever I tell ‘im to.”

A firm shove, and Scott was mobile; he kept his face carefully neutral as he felt the barrel of a gun at his back.

Scott dreams a dream, has a conversation about it, and gets his butt kicked at cards. Probably. Set directly after "Turn of the Rogue." Scott/Rogue -ness with a nod to the Dysfunctional Teen Mutant Club. Because I like it.

And many more at AO3 here.

[hinatastinygiant]

7 | Vermilion

Pairing: Itadori x Fem!Reader

The Encounter

Your hands are helplessly bound behind your back as the kidnapper proceeds to cook a pot of bland-looking oatmeal over a small fire. The smell of the unappetizing meal fills the air and dread gnaws at you as you continue to think about how to get out of this situation. 

Carefully, the man takes a spoonful of his tasteless concoction and gently feeds you, forcing you to accept with each bite. You can't help but hate the food, everything about it is unappealing.

Between bites, your voice trembles as you summon the courage to ask, "Where are we?"

Your kidnapper continues to stuff another spoonful into your mouth, his expression without emotion. "In the woods," he answers plainly.

Then, you can't stop your curiosity from getting the better of you. "Do you live out here?"

He lets out a sigh, as if deciding whether to answer your question. Finally, he nods. "I have a house. Well, more like a cabin. It's about a mile south of here. But I only really go there to watch the television sometimes because it really sucks without the internet out here," he shrugs nonchalantly, as if his double life in the woods and the cabin is a normal thing.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in your head. You realize that his cabin, so close to where you are now, might be your only chance to find help and escape from this nightmare. 

That night, after your kidnapper has fallen asleep and you find yourself alone, awake in the eerie forest. Your heart pounds in your chest as you begin to fiddle with your bonds, determined to free yourself. Slowly, you manage to loosen your restraints enough to slip one hand out, and then the other. Adrenaline surges through you as you break free and make a desperate rush towards his house.

Inside, you find a landline and, without hesitation, you dial Itadori's number. Your hopes skyrocket as you hear the phone ring, but they're ruined just as quickly as the line suddenly goes dead right when Itadori answers with a hopeful "Hello?"

Panic courses through you as you glance around. Your worst fears come true as you spot a shadow lurking just outside the nearby window. Your kidnapper has followed you here, and the realization sinks in that this was all a trap, yet again.

Dread fills your heart as you race to the back door, only to find it locked from the outside. You hate how strategically he's planned every detail of this ordeal, and you can't help but wonder how many others have fallen victim to his twisted game.

Just as despair threatens to consume you, something heavy smacks against the back of your head, and the world fades into darkness.

When you regain consciousness, your head throbs with a pounding headache. You find yourself bound with handcuffs and gagged, sprawled on the cabin's couch. Your attempt has failed, and the chilling truth settles in - you may never see your friends again.

ITADORI'S P.O.V.

It's raining again, and we're still out here searching for Y/N. The worry has begun to eat me alive, and after that strange call I received a few minutes ago that ended abruptly, only added to my sense of unease.

All three of us are completely soaked, the damn weather not showing us any mercy. And despite all our efforts, I can't sense any curses in the area. Even Fushiguro's attempts with his dogs yielded no results.

"Guys, I think we should turn back and get some rest," Nobara says just a bit after eleven that night. "We need some sleep so we can continue the search in the morning."

However, with my growing concern about Y/N, I disagree with her. "No! How could you even think about turning back now?" I question both of them, my anxiety and frustration bubbling over. "If we go back then you're just being terrible friends!"

"Oh don't be a child," Fushiguro chimes in. "You need to think things through. If you don't, then you'll be the one who's a terrible friend."

"Well that's fine with me because I'm not just her friend anyway. I love her and I'm pretty sure she feels similarly," I huff, not realizing what I'm saying until it's too late. The words slip out so unexpectedly, and the two of them freeze, their expressions a mixture of shock and surprise.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I gulp, realizing that I wasn't supposed to confess like this, not without Y/N, and certainly not under these circumstances.

"I knew it!" Nobara makes a failed attempt at whispering to herself. "I knew something was going on with you two."

"How long has it been?" Fushiguro chimes in, trying to dilute Nobara's words.

"Uh, a few months," I answer shly, knowing exactly how she'll react.

"Months?!" Nobara's voice booms. "And neither of you told us? What the hell, Itadori?!"

"We don't have time for this," I gulp, trying to steer the conversation back to finding Y/N. However, Nobara insists on me sharing the details about me and Y/N, and I reluctantly agree, promising to do so only if they both agree to continue walking with me.

After the deal is set, we continue to walk through the woods. Not too much later, we stumble upon a tent and a small laundry line tied between two trees. 

Fushiguro sets his dogs on the site, but still, there's no trace of a curse which solidifies our suspicions that whoever took Y/N is a human.

As I look around, I notice rope and the remnants of a fire from early this morning which immediately grabs my attention. There's no doubt about it, Y/N was definitely here. I just don't know why or where she has been taken, but I'm determined not to stop until I finally do find her, despite what the others might say about rest. What matters to me is finding Y/N. 

The Encounter

Taglist: @liyahsocorro @Bandit6199 @little-aruma

[doodledoinks]

EVERYWHERE AT THE END OF TIME

Everywhere at the end of time is by far one of the biggest, most influential and addictive things I have ever listened to. Its an incredibly beautiful yet devastating representation of dementia and Alzheimer's yet it feels so... Soothing?

I am incredibly afraid of getting Alzheimer's and/or dementia and having seen what it does to people only increases that fear. By no means am I trying to say that I enjoy listening to the rollercoaster that is EATEOT, only saying that from an artistic point it feels incredibly unique and different compared to anything I've seen before.

I'm gonna basically summarise the 6 stages of EATEOT for those who don't know what it is first:

Everywhere at the end of time (EATEOT for short) is a 6 part project spanning 6 and a half hours of listening time. It contains ballroom music from the 1920s-1930s. It is by no means the largest project out there- with albums inspired by it being in some cases 9 hours long- but what it covers in those 6 hours is phenomenal. It starts out with a sample from the start of "Heartaches", by Al Bowy, before slowly but meticulously deteriorating into unrecognisable static.

BRIEFISH SUMMARY OF EATEOT

Stage 1- The calm before the storm

Stage 1 starts out with looping samples from segments of ballroom music, seemingly whole and in no state of corruption. Whilst there is the occasional pop here and there it doesn't feel disorientated.

Stage 2- Unfamiliarity

Stage 2 feels like a more gunned down version of stage 1, with the music being more staticy and hearing a lot more vinyl pops between tracks. It feels off compared to stage 1 yet still recognisable. Towards the end it crumbles further, before segmenting into stage 3

Stage 3- Feelings of confusion and fear

Stage 3 is when it really sets in, with the first track containing 2 samples layed over eachother in an effort to create a sense of confusion in the listener. You hear the music being reversed, broken down and just ripped apart; with bits of clarity here and there it still feels painful.

Stage 4- The dread solidifies as everything fades

Stage 4 is by far one of the hardest parts to listen to- more specifically when you hear HELL SIRENS in the middle of it, thanks Leyland for that one. But it feels horrible. The audio is in shambles, there's still some music legible but only barely. It feels to me like trying to listen to what your neighbour's watching on tv whilst there's a government speech going on in your room. It's just painful.

Stage 5- The advanced plaque entanglements

K1 is where you know that afterwards is not pleasant. There's brief periods of clarity that fight to be there, begging for a chance to stay with you. At this rate it's impossible to hear the music, just warbling nonsense. Is practically impossible to explain stage 5 given that it is just backwards and forth nonsense in your ears

Stage 6- The end arrives with cavalry.

Stage 6 is the end, it is where the Caretaker as a character just ends. There's practically no way of knowing what is going on, it feels almost ambient in a way. Then you reach it. You reach the terminal lucidity. A choir, church? The orchestra that is death wraps her arms around the caretaker- leaving the listener with a minute of silence.

MY THOUGHTS ON EATEOT

EATEOT is one of the greatest, most powerful things I've heard. Hearing a song I love (heartaches) get split apart and thrown into probably ¾ of the album is honestly depressing. The whole album is. Everything about it is depressing. It wasn't intended to be a nice fairytale of sounds, more so a boxset of torment on the soul and ears. If you told me to take 6.5 hours out of my day to research dementia I would've spat in your face and said a few words. BUT if you said to listen to it and then go and explain it to random internet people then Idve been delighted to. The hell sirens in stage 4 absolutely terrified me when I was half asleep in maths, but I'd listen to it again either ways.

Everywhere at the end of time is not intended for people in a difficult mental state, so please if you are struggling with metal health then get help.

With all being said

LISTEN TO EVERYWHERE AT THE END OF TIME

Thank you for listening to my lecture :-)

[insertsickusername13]

First Visits - Richjake

prompt: an ‘I thought I lost you’ kiss

warnings: drugs, but it’s like, painkillers because. I mean. Halloween.

Word count: 2595

this was not beta read or even edited (i did proofread!! hopefully there are no typos) so please have mercy. I tried I promise.

Everyone — even Rich’s brother, who was older and wiser, the one meant to be Rich’s protector— seemed to think that just because the tragedy was technically over, the pain was gone. Rich had woken from his burn-induced coma over a week ago, in the early days of December. He was hardly aware of the month; day; time — he couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t see the dark unless the artificial lights in his hospital room were dimmed just enough.

His friends came to visit him. Though there was a rift between him and Jake (and therefore a rift between him and Brooke, him and Chloe, him and Jenna, all girls that would side with him during a fight), Christine sat by his bed, Brooke gave him a haircut while the doctors weren’t looking, and Michael made him watch Pirates of the Caribbean because, “according to the internet, this is the peak bisexual experience.”

They somehow seemed to miss the fact that his skin had fucking boiled. That the bandages weren’t just there for show, but to protect the raw red from the outside atmosphere. Michael would lean too close, pressing up against Rich’s arm, and Rich would have to bite back a scream of utter agony. Brooke touched the back of his neck with her scissors and the world had blurred out of existence for almost three minutes. He didn’t want them to know, obviously. He wanted them to view him as strong; view the fire as a fluke rather than a build-up of anxiety and fears that didn’t go away with the flames. They weren’t still there, hiding in the tears he cried when no one was looking and the nightmares no one but he knew he had. He was fine.

And high. A lot. On a billion different painkillers — pills, shots, creams that made his whole body numb. Maybe they thought he laughed so hard at stupid jokes because he was relieved to have the SQUIP out of his head, or that he was so spacey because he was still getting used to talking for himself. 

Yeah. No. The truth was simple: he was high as fuck. 

That was his excuse for kissing Jake, at least.

Jake had shown up after visiting hours, a show of just how much the rules bent for Jake Dillinger. Deadlines? Nope. The fucking law? No underage drinking? Jake had held whole conversations with cops while so drunk he could barely remember his own name. He was something else. 

(Something amazing, something beautiful, something Rich hurt. Good lord, Rich had hurt Jake.)

He’d stopped in the doorway just long enough for him to scan the room — make sure it was empty, probably, that he wasn’t going to have to face Rich’s brother’s prodding questions or Brooke’s expectant gaze. His eyes widened when they landed on Rich. 

“You’re awake,” he breathed out. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, out at the hallway. Rich could see his brain plotting his escape, and it was that which drove him to speak so quickly and desperately. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

Jake hesitated. The action in and of itself was quiet — muted and resigned, like Jake was just as out of it as Rich was. 

God, Rich was so out of it. He should be crying. Jake was here. After weeks of waiting, of staring at the door even when every single one of his friends were already by his side, Jake was here. In front of him. Looking soft. His hair had grown out longer than Rich had ever seen it. He was in a wheelchair, but that was the last thing on Rich’s mind until he realized it was his fault.

“Yeah,” Jake whispered, looking down at his lap, “Yeah. Fuck. Okay. I… I can do that.”

Rich smiled lazily as Jake wheeled over to the left side of the bed. A practiced action, Rich noticed, though the world was blurry and slowly fading out of existence. Jake had done that before. He’d been here before. Probably while Rich was still in his coma. Maybe afterward? If he usually came this late at night. 

“Creep,” Rich giggled, “The fuck are you doing here so late? Tryin’ tah get a look at sir sleepin’ beauty?”

It was late enough that the lights in the hospital had dimmed. They weren’t completely out, they never were, but it was dark enough that Rich missed Jake’s blush. (Of course, he’d missed it back when he was squipped too, out in broad daylight. He never noticed the red when he pressed himself up close to Jake’s side or grabbed his hand to lead him somewhere.)

“Jesus, Rich, what drugs are you on?”

“Lotta. They’re supposed to make me sleepy. Jus’make me warm, though. Cozy.”

“Cozy?”

“Mhmmm,” Rich hummed, head lolling to the side — closer to Jake, closer to this expression that was more worried than mad. “Ya make me cozy too.”

Thoughtlessly, he reached out for Jake— not for anything specific, just in Jake’s general direction. Jake seemed to understand his intentions and offered up his hand. There were bandages up to the second knuckles on Rich’s fingers, but there was just enough mobility left for him to get a grip around three of Jake’s fingers. Jake remained still.

“Awww, Jakey,” Rich whispered, “Hold me baaack—”

Jake was staring at their hands. Slowly, he said, “Burns, Rich. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Rich felt an unexplainable sob bubble up in his chest. No, no, no, not in front of Jake, of all people. Rich had to be strong and safe and stable. No therapists, no doctors, no psychiatrists asking questions Rich didn’t want to think about.

“You should wanna hurt me,” Rich cried, his bottom lip wobbling. Jake’s gaze shot up from their hands to Rich’s, expression split in half. 

“What? No, Richie, no I— I don’t want to hurt you.”

Rich felt helpless, lying where he was. Jake was sitting up— like this, he was taller than Rich, looking down on him. It had always been like this, but before the fire, with the SQUIP in his head, it had felt like Rich had the upper hand. Now he was lost. Lost and confused in this warm, weird fog. 

So he let go of Jake’s hand. Jake stayed exactly where he’d been, hand limp, waiting for Rich to return as he propped himself up against his elbows and pillows to finally get himself in a sitting position. Sitting like this, without sleep something he could so easily slip into the (temporary) safety of, Jake felt more real. This wasn’t a dream. He was here for some godforsaken reason. 

Rich didn’t take Jake’s hand again. Jake pulled it back into his lap and stared at it like he had something to be ashamed of, as if it wasn’t Rich who had fucked up so royally bones were shattered and skin was marred. 

“You…” Rich tried, his tongue feeling heavy. His eyelids, too. His head. His skin tightened around his bones. Fuck. Fuck. Jake shouldn’t be here. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You asked me to stay,” Jake whispered, sounding small. It was so wrong — Jake was confident, Jake was tall. Jake didn’t feel or sound small. That wasn’t right. 

“I wanna… you…” the drugs must be wearing off. He could feel the pain ebbing back into his system and clarity forcing its way through his brain. “I want you here.”

“But—”

“You weren’t supposed to come in the first place, or want to come, or—” Rich wasn’t going to cry in front of Jake— that was something he couldn’t emotionally handle—but with the drugs wearing off, the guilt was becoming all the more real. He did this. Jake was in a wheelchair because of him. Jake was staring at his hands with glassy eyes because Rich broke his trust. (Was broke even the right word in a situation like this? Shattered? Mangled?)

Jake shrugged helplessly. Then, “Wanted to make sure you were alright, I guess.”

“No, no, no, no—Jake, you don’t get it—”

“What?” 

His voice was refracted through the hospital air, reaching Rich so lightly he was barely sure it was real. 

Rich was forced to pause. He could feel his frustration growing in the same way it had back when he had the SQUIP. Restlessly, like lightning. Shooting around his insides, forcing his fists to clench even though it hurt every skin cell on his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear the hospital apart. 

Jake wasn’t supposed to be here. It was obvious now, with the pain and the guilt and the blurred vision. Jake should not be here. 

“You’ve gotta go,” Rich said. His words tore through the room, so much louder than anything else spoken between them— it had been all whispers and tears, guarded words and gazes, but now Rich was yelling,  transparent and desperate to get what he wanted as soon as humanly possible. He needed Jake away from him. 

“You’ve gotta go,” he repeated, “You’ve gotta go now, Jake, now—”

“No?! What the hell, Rich, you don’t get to tell me to go after you burned down m—”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you, Jake, oh my god—” there were tears now. Rich blinked and they fell down his face, wet with shame and… shit, was it heartbreak? It’d only been ten minutes, Rich thought it would’ve taken longer for Jake to break him all over again.

“Okay, well. Fuck you. I’m not leaving.”

“Yes, you—”

“No. I’m right here.”

To emphasize his point, he clicked on the brakes of his wheelchair. Rich reveled in that for a moment, furious beyond action. How was he supposed to respond to this, other than to scream and throw a fit?

Jake reached out in the silence, never going as far as to touch Rich, but he placed his hand at the edge of the bed, palm up, ready to be held if Rich chose to do so. 

“No,” Rich choked out. His throat felt like it was going to be torn in two. It was the kind of pain tied to crying, the kind that tried to stop you from saying the words necessary to convey the agony experienced in your mind. “No, Jake, I lost you, man. I fucked—I fucked up so bad. I—”

Because Rich was selfish, he took Jake’s hand into both of his own and cradled it against his chest, a valuable never to be lost; a moment he swore to himself never to forget purely out of fear he may never experience anything like it again. 

“I broke you,” he said, his voice strained with pain and Jake’s bloodshot eyes. “I broke you and I fucked you over and— and I called you stupid because I knew you hated it and I made you feel like shit so I could make me feel better… without…fuck, Jake, I lost you. I—” 

Rich couldn’t breathe. Jake didn’t seem to understand why. He shook his head slowly, seemingly at a complete loss for words, something Rich had never seen him do before.

“Rich,” he whispered. Rich could feel Jake’s hands shaking in his grasp. “Rich, you— you could never lose me. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here. Always—I’m always gonna be right here.”

Jake looked terrified by his own words and even more so by their implications. It was a confession in its own way—not necessarily romantic, as Rich so desperately hoped it was—but an I love you nonetheless. Jake loved him. 

“Never?” Rich asked, his voice cracking. The burns hurt. God, they hurt. He’d need to call a nurse soon. Really fucking soon, but the nurses tended to scare his friends (Brooke getting all tense, his brother avoiding eye contact) and Jake was already too vulnerable; any disturbance might send him running. 

“Never. I swear it.”

There was only one conceivable response to such a false promise. Even just the saccharine hope that maybe Jake was telling the truth (that maybe Rich hadn’t messed up as badly as he thought, that maybe Jake really did care for him and it wasn’t all a ruse for the rest of the school to appreciate, a friendship out of convenience) made it worth saying, despite the absolute terror of it. 

“So—” Rich tried, still holding Jake’s hand despite the pain spreading across his palms and forearms. He thought the outer layer of him might simply peel off, the bandages taking his skin with them. “So, if, if say… say I didn’t—” he sucked in a breath through his teeth and purposefully ignored the way Jake’s lips parted with concern. (There was no real concern, Rich lost him. Jake was gone. Whatever this was, it was temporary. Born out of guilt more than love.)

“Say I didn’t want us to just…just be friends.”

As Rich spoke, Jake gripped one of Rich’s hands and fucking squeezed. A wretched, visceral scream of agony built up Rich’s throat and was only suppressed by the instinctive need to keep Jake as close as possible.

“I just said I’m not leaving. We’re friends, Rich—”

“No, Jake, fuck, I meant—”

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. 

And through the haze of acid, fire, red, flames, ice, drowning, peeling blisters, Rich grabbed Jake by his shirt and pulled him in, rough and desperate. Just to feel the realness of him before he disappeared again. Just in case this was a dream, just in case Jake was lying and would never come back to him. For all the what ifs and firsts Rich would never get to experience because, no matter what promises Jake offered up in the darkness of this hospital room, Rich lost him. He bruised every memory he had with Jake and scraped away whatever fragile romance they may have ever had. He fucked up and he lost everything. 

Everything except Jake, apparently. Because Jake was kissing him back. 

It was so much more hesitant than Rich’s rushed, panic-induced kiss—slow, scared, overflowing with bitter doubt and deep-rooted prejudice. There was relief in it, too. It was the relief that did Rich in. 

He felt safe for the first time since the fire, and without the terror of losing Jake driving every breath, all that was left were the burns. And the fucking pain.

Jake pulled away first. Rich was paralyzed even after Jake leaned back and studied him, searching for more answers than could ever be provided. 

“Rich…?”

“Hurt,” Rich breathed, almost inaudible. “Hurt, it hurts, it hurts—”

“What?” Panic. In Jake’s voice. He was sitting up, instinctively trying to stand despite his legs. “Where? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nurse. Now. Plea—please. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop, Jake. Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake—”

He thought he was going to die all over again. And if that were to be the case, he decided Jake was going to be the last name he ever said. Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake, Jake.

Voices. Loud. His eyes were squeezed shut by now, his body unable to handle the sensation of the burns and the dim light. Too much. It was all too much.

He didn’t know how it ended. There was no fading to black, no sudden relief. One second he was suffocating in the sun, and the next everything was foggy and the lights in his hospital room were bright again. 

Brooke was there. Jeremy, Michael, and Christine too. 

And Jake, who still had his hand sitting palm-to-the-sky on Rich’s bed, waiting for Rich to take it.

-

@lovely-blue-galaxy this is my thank u for the fanart, it was beautiful. take my offering of gratitude. I hope it is up to your expectations