#usually i blame all my problems on ghosts (i do not believe in ghosts)

[rottenraccoons]

we should blame every problem on Griffin

Yes. Griff drank my last yogurt and didn't rinse the bottle out when he put it in the recycling. Griff moved the TV remote and now I can't find it. Griff won't let me turn on the radiator because it's not actually winter yet.

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

LIKE MY WRITING? WANT MORE? Tell me so! Want in on the tags?? Shoot me an ask and consider it done!

[raaorqtpbpdy]

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off. 

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

[bubblygumi]

Her first words.

hi again! i’m back with a second post, and as before, please excuse any errors as english is not my first language, thank you. enjoy.

˚♡ sincerely, bubbly.

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

pairing : Father! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x deceased Reader

genre : angst, slight comfort.

CW : S/O loss, parent loss, grief and guilt. please proceed with caution if this sounds like something that would trigger you.

little note from the author : Your daughters name is Riley Y/L/N.

Simon had always had problems sleeping, even before he had his little girl. He always had nightmares that plagued his mind. Of death, of his time in the military, of his past, the possibilities were endless with everything he had gone through. Getting up at night was never an issue, it’s not like he slept anyways, not with the terrors in his mind.

His eyes shot open as he heard a familiar cry echoing through their home, a silent sigh passing by his lips as he got up from his bed to check on the little one. He entered her room, the cries getting louder as he approached the fragile baby in the crib.

He picked her up into his arms, remembering the first time he held her when she was delivered. He was terrified, holding her with those same hands that had blood stained over them, he couldn’t taint her innocence like that and resorted to wearing gloves for the first few months of caring for her.

But not now, skin to skin with his crying daughter as he gently tried to coax her to calm down. Minutes went by, and then some more without any luck. He had tried everything he could think of, bouncing her gently up and down, caressing her, giving her small kisses, checking her diaper, he couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Simon was almost at his breaking point, the lack of sleep and his daughter’s loud cries were overwhelming, why couldn’t he do this? Simon went back to blaming himself, he’s a terrible father.

Tears stung his eyes as he prepared a bottle for Riley, her sobs and wailing in the background as he mindlessly went over the same exact procedure. He couldn’t let the tears slip, approaching her and sighing out of relief went she finally calmed down, suckling on the bottle for the milk.

“That’s my girl.” He said, a loving calm tone he always used for his daughter. The gruff voice long gone, always as soon as he entered their home.

He chuckled bitterly when Riley grimaced, “Not into the formula too much eh?” He sighed once again, this time not of relief, “Mommy’s milk was better huh? I know, i miss her too.” Gone, taken away too quickly. Simon was left alone with Riley and Y/N never had a chance of being there with them.

Y/N had always wanted children, Simon remembers the good old days where she would show him baby videos and cute baby clothes to try and give him as much baby fever as she had. It had worked of course, Simon now had a daughter he adored more than anything.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt away as he watched his daughter drink from the bottle. How could he ever be enough for her? Without Y/N, what was he supposed to do? Did Riley hate him?

The tears that stung his eyes before finally let go, one or two running down his cheeks. He pulled the bottle away from his daughters lips, gently wiping away the remains of the milk on her chin before wiping his own tears away. His baby girl would always come first.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered to her, placing a kiss on top of her soft head, she looked so much like her mother. It was like she could feel his energy, frowning on her small face that usually was filled with smiles.

She reached out, her small hands grabbing onto anything she could of her Dada. And then she said it, something that immediately washed away all of Simon’s worries and guilt, her first words.

‘Dada!’

It echoed in Simon’s mind, replaying it as he looked at her in disbelief. He couldn’t believe it, did she really say that? Her very first words at 11 months old, soon to be 12.

A smile broke out on both of their faces, mirroring each other in a clearly loving gaze. “Dada? That’s right! That’s me!” Simon exclaimed, proudly, and almost a little too loudly but Riley just giggled.

He picked at up, placing another kiss on her soft cheek as he carried her back to her crib. He gently put her down, looking at her adoringly as she fell back to sleep.

The smile never faded from his lips as he went back to his own bed, and for the first time, he soundly fell asleep. No nightmares as usual where he would wake up in cold sweat, a well deserved, sound sleep where he dreamed of all three of them being together as a happy family.

Only for the dream to end in sorrow when he woke up, bed empty, missing the mother of his child.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

hiya we stoked for ateez comeback yesss! can I make request pretty please! yander ateez caring for their sick darling? 💌

ATEEZ caring for a sick darling

Yandere ATEEZ(separately) x gn reader

a/n: how did i miss this ask ???? i'm so sorry anon 🥲 the comeback has come out and i'm beyond hyped LMAO stream bouncy . shoutout to my gf for helping me with mingi and jongho🤍

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ genre: yandere, headcanon drabbles

ಠ_ಠwarnings/content: mentions of; throwing up, doctors and hospitals, sickness(headaches and colds), poisoning, captivity, none of these are healthy relationships

if you or a loved one is in an unhealthy or controlling relationship- there is help and there is ways out. know that you deserve better and don't be afraid to reach out

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

Hongjoong has severe trust issues. The amount of times you've attempted to leave him has him on high alert for every little detail that may mean you're tricking him. So at first, when he hears you dry-heaving behind the closed bathroom door, his brain immediately says that you're tricking him. You're trying to pull the sick card? Really, Darling? He doesn't do anything at first, he sits down on the couch with his arms crossed and waits for you to give up your game of charades. But when you come out of the bathroom pouring sweat and pale as a ghost? He drops the idea that your tricking him when you collapse.

After his initial denial and suspicion, Hongjoong will be the most attentive of his darling, only rivaled by Hwa and San. He will treat you like a porcelain doll and give into your every need, no matter how demanding you get. Too hot? He gathers every fan in the apartment to wherever it is you are. Too cold? Welcome to the Kim Blanket Fort™️. Hungry for something he'll never usually give you? Eat uuuuup Darling.

Seonghwa almost breaks the door off of the hinges when he hears you crying. He won't leave or shut up until you've opened the door and are secure in his arms. Poor Darling, was it something you ate? Is your stomach upset? Are you running a fever? He bombards you to figure out just what's wrong so he can fix it for you. If you're sick enough by his standards, you'll be at the doctor in ten minutes flat.

Hwa is the yandere you want if you get sick easily. He isn't suspicious or overly possessive. He will take you to the doctor without a fight and babys you until he's certain that you are in good health. If anything, he is overbearing. He just loves his Darling so much, he'd just never forgive himself if something were to happen.

Yunho is a big baby. When he sees you trying to sneak some medicine from the cabinet, he snatches it up and starts crying as he pours it for you instead. Why didn't you come to him immediately? When did this start? Isn't he good enough to take care of you? In all honesty, he is. He takes great care of you but he is also such.a.bummer. He blames himself for letting you get sick in the first place and will be even more strict about going out or even opening windows. Say goodbye to Friday date nights for months- at the very least.

If you can handle a debby downer, Yunho isn't such a bad option. He rubs your back if you're aching and holds you warmly if you have the shivers. But he will cry and whine more than you will. One major problem if you get sick with a yandere Yuyu on your hip is that you will never go to the doctor. He believes that they are a breeding ground for diseases, all of the sick people in one building? Yeah, not happening. He can do anything a doctor can with the help of a little Googling.

Yeosang is similar to Hwa in the way that he will drop everything to take care of his Darling. When he's about to walk out the door for practice and hears you sneeze for the tenth time in an hour, his shoes are off and he's back in bed with you. Oh, don't worry Darling, Sangie will take good care of you. No matter how little sick you are, if you have symptoms he will be right by your side to make sure he can take care of you if they get worse.

And they will get worse. Because he will make you feel sicker than you are with a little dollop of his stash. He needs you to need him. You will never catch on because he only does it when you're beginning to get sick anyways. He doesn't see the harm in it. Yeosang loves to take care of his Darling and will make sure you always end up curled up to him begging him to make it better.

San learned everything he knows from Joong and Seonghwa. That includes the way he treats his Darling. That's why at first, he's suspicious when you start whining and curl up on your side of the bed while clutching your head. Do you really think that's gonna work? Hongjoong has taught him better than to fall for that act. But when your tears won't stop and you start to snap at him, he knows it's for real because he's taught you better than to yell like you are. Oh, sweet Darling, you must really hurt. Is it too bright? Is the show too loud? Do you need water? After he clears his mind and realizes the truth, he's even more doting than Seonghwa.

San won't take you to a doctor unless it's life threatening, but that doesn't mean he won't treat you like you're dying if you have the smallest of colds. He will bathe you and feed you and cuddle you to no end. And he'll do so until he's sure you're better. After your initial roadblocks of getting him to believe you, you won't have to lift a finger.

Poor Mingi. He has no idea what to do when you wake him up in the middle of the night as you shiver in your sleep. He's immediately turned to his best friend(Google) and looking for solutions to make you feel better. Will a hot rag make you feel better? Oh- but you have a fever! Maybe just the blanket- why are you still shivering? Before you came along Mingi never had anyone to take care of him when he was sick or vice versa so he's lost.

With a bit of your own guidance on your needs, Mingi will help you get better however he possibly can so that he makes sure you know he can take care of you better than anyone else. He'll get all the medicines you recommended and be at your beck and call, all while taking down mental notes for when you get sick in the future.

With Wooyoung, it's business as usual with a bit more caring actions or a little more leniency with you. He knows your sick when you ask for the first shower in the morning, he always gets the first shower but he lets it slide because he can tell how nasty you feel with the sickness on you. Of course, Darling. Do you want some hot tea when you get out? He isn't overbearing in any aspect.

Woo will let a lot of things slide when you're sick that he usually won't but that doesn't mean he won't catch on if your trying to draw it out. He will be nice for a few weeks before he gets tired of it and takes you to a doctor. If the doctor says you aren't sick? Good luck, Darling. Nice Woo's stay is over.

Jongho to the rescue. He is very obsessive observant when it comes to his Darlings health. He and you both take vitamins and supplements religiously, and have regular check-ups. Health is one thing you can always count on him to take care of, so it isn't a shock to him when you come to him right away when you feel sick. Oh, Darling...how did this happen? Come and have some medicine, let him give you a little check up. You'll still have to go about your life regardless, the world doesn't stop like it may with other members.

Jongho has a list of things to make sure you do to feel better while you both go about your regular life. He fits in a nap for you, along with extra veggies, and a longer daily walk for fresh air and sunlight. He doesn't leave you to the wolves, but he won't coddle you either. Unless you go and stray from his checklist. Then he'll take a few days off and watch you like a hawk, force feeding you your medicine if he has to. He won't let his Darling be sick.

--

[mushiimune]

blush first kiss or like how do they get together ….. bless u

RAHHH

Blink doesn't know he's in love until it's spelled out for him.

After spending all of the life that he chose to remember with Mush, there was room for little else except the way things had always been. They did everything together. Lived and breathed in the same space. Shared two halves of the same sandwich, sometimes the same bed. Nothing was ever wrong with it. Blink didn't see a need to change anything, until Mush started talking about girls.

Blink talked about girls all the time. Arguably, too often. Mush told him to hush up more times than Blink could count, because he mentioned Mary, or Betty, or Golda, and Mush would rather talk about Bunny, the stray cat from down the block who kept the streets clear of mice for the common newsboy.

Mush mentions one girl—one!—calls her nice, shows Blink the flower she gifted him, free of charge, for showing interest in her stand at the park.

"It's a rose," Mush informed grandly, tucking it into Blink's front pocket. Mush's cheeks dimpled with a grin. "I never had a rose before. It matches your hair, Kid."

Blink's heart swelled. It didn't match his hair at all. Mush was a beautiful liar, and really believed every word he said, even if it wasn't true. That was one of many good things about Mush. If he said the sky was purple instead of blue, his voice would be thick with such cheer and sincerity that Blink would have no choice but to believe him, and sock anybody who disagreed upside the head.

Blink watched Mush more closely. Mush didn't seem bothered by his personal space being invaded more than usual, but others did. They teased and poked Blink in the side, which did ltitle to dissuade him, or quiet the strangeness in his chest. Fluttering like a bird.

"I love you," Blink said more often. And Mush would reply: "me, too."

There. Good. No shame in the lodging house for loving your friends. Any day may be the last you see of them. The bulls didn't need a reason to scoop boys up off the streets like stray dogs, and put them away for the crime of being small.

Blink worried. More and more. A scrape was the end of the world, and if it wouldn't break every bone in his body, he'd take revenge on the concrete for scuffing Mush's knees.

Winter came. The flowers died. And almost, too, did Mush.

Blink couldn't decsribe what had come over him during those two weeks if his life depended on it. He didn't want to remember. Like every bad thing that ever happened to him, he pushed it out of his head. Half the eyes, half the problems. None of my business.

Mush's wellbeing was his business. He was so sick he saw ghosts, and didn't know who Blink was, besides safe. Blink didn't care if he got sick, too. He didn't care if that bed was the last place he'd ever be. With Mush was where he would stay.

It was a miracle, said Kloppman, that Mush recovered. Shaky and pale for a bit, quiet and feverish, but alive. Blink carried his papers for him, and kissed his forehead to make him feel better.

Blink's mouth got closer to Mush's. Even after Mush was recovered, the kisses didn't stop. The fervor of Blink's lust for live was renewed, because he'd almost lost it. Was he to blame for that? Mush made them matching friendship bracelets, and all was right in the world.

One kiss too many landed on Mush's lips. Mush kissed back. It wasn't discussed what exactly they were, because they both sort of knew. Maybe they were always headed for this, like a train barrelling down the tracks, already laid and nailed into the Earth.

What mattered was what they wanted. To survive, to be together, to sit on the same side of the booth at restaurants, and hold hands, even when it wasn't chilly. To be covered in flowers and wear each others' clothes. Life would be good—no, beautiful—as long as they lived it together.

[myneodream]

So, it's the first time in years that I write something, the first time I do it in English, from DC AND on Tumblr, but this prompt didn't want to leave my head and I'm doing my finals, so I had to get this out somehow. Maybe I will make this into a fanfic later, but for now, my first prompt.

____________________________________________

Prompt Idea: DC x Beauty and the Beast

Jason walked back to his house, nodding absentmindedly at their words, as his focus was on the interlocked hands, their fingers intertwined with his clawed ones. The warm feeling from their conversation silencing the anxiety and self-consciousness about his cursed appearance, slowly starting to accept that they really don't mind it. It was not his fault, after years of people reacting with fear and disgust, it was easy to think they were faking it, their reaction so different from the rest, but Jason was tired of hoping. It was easy to just accept, no need to have expectations just to have them broken on his face, and, despite how many times it happened, it didn't stop hurting, no matter how good he became at not showing it.

The other option was not better than the usual reaction, he would even say it was worse. Jason preferred to be looked in fear and disgust by people he couldn't care less a million times than to receive the looks of pity from his family. Reason why he left the Manor so many years ago. Sometimes, he would fake not noticing how Bruce looked at him, seeing the ghost of a kid, of a Robin long gone, too lost in the past to really pay attention to the version in front of him. Jason doesn't blame him. He, too, would sometimes look in the mirror, missing his old reflection, when he was a boy, a person, and not the monster the mirror is showing these days. His clawed and furry hands were full of scars from how many times the beast that looked at him in the mirror received a punch, glass shards showering the ground, piercing his skin. Not that it mattered, the scars were the least of his problems regarding his appearance.

Then they came out of nowhere and stubbornly stayed at his side, insisting on knowing him despite everything, despite all the walls that Jason kept building, despite trying to push them away, there they are, considering him safe and, maybe, Jason was starting to believe it too.

They enter the house, their house, with them going towards the kitchen, talking about their plans for dinner and Jason notices how this became a habit, how it became so easy to interact with them, to share with them. To live with them. Maybe, there was hope. Maybe the curse could be broken. Maybe, they both could learn how to love each other. Maybe, he could be free.

But as he looks at the corner of the living room, he freezes, their voice being tuned out, his hope shattering. Time stops, only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears as he looks at his most hated place of the house. There, almost hidden by a pillar, was a small table, with a glass dome on it. Inside, a beautiful red rose, that Jason was certain was mocking him.

A lonely petal still on the flower, the last one, trembling, about to fall with all the others at the base of the dome.

It was too late.

[thesoulspulse]

Danny Phantom Randomness (Vlad’s The Real Villain Here!)

I think I talked to someone about this before, but has it ever struck anyone else as odd that the Observants only went after Danny and not Vlad to quote “save the future?” Sure, Danny’s ghost half was the main portion of Dan, but if you stop to really think about it Vlad’s actually the one to blame for driving him mad because future Vlad tells the current Danny point blank:

“And when my evil ghost half mixed with yours, my evil side overwhelmed you...”

This is important to note because the Danny of that timeline was grief-stricken, angry at the world, and ashamed of himself for failing to save his friends and family. So when Vlad removed his ghost half, instead of making them go away all those emotions became twice as strong. Especially the anger part since Danny must have thought Vlad did this to him on purpose instead of doing what he promised which was to take away all of his painful human emotions. Mind you, Vlad might not have shown it but I think he was grieving Maddie’s death too and probably blamed Jack more than ever for that rather than Danny. Either way, Vlad’s evil side completely took Danny’s mind, creating this new person who both was and wasn’t either of them.

That said, even at his lowest moments Danny has never done anything I’d call “pure evil,” including when Freakshow had him under hypnosis. Sure he was a snarky jerk and attacked his friends, but in the end he snapped out of it before crossing the line. When he became Dan though...there was no one left to bring him back from the brink. Nothing worth fighting for except taking out his rage on everyone who ever hurt him and making sure that NO ONE would ever hurt him again by becoming someone far worse than Vlad could ever hope to be. At least at that point in time if we don’t count everything that happened in the new timeline once Dan was beaten.

So long story short you’d think the Observants would want to take care of the root of the problem, aka Vlad since I believe he's the true source of Dan’s evil. Danny was just a kid who didn’t know how to handle the loss of his friends and family whereas Vlad used his deep-rooted hatred of Jack to as an excuse for every bad thing he’s done since the portal accident back in college. Then again, they probably thought getting rid of Danny would be easier since to his credit Vlad is more than a match for them or anyone else they might try to throw at him.

As for getting Clockwork involved, while warning Vlad about Maddie and Danny’s possible death’s if he doesn’t change his ways might be enough to stop him for a little while, on the other Vlad might just do what he usually does and take advantage of that information instead which would only make him a bigger target. Vlad would most likely try to use Danny’s fear of becoming Dan as a manipulation tool or a way to throw him off his game during their battles. In a worse case scenario Vlad could go so far as to try to recreate Dan without anyone dying just so he could turn Danny into some kind of evil minion as a last resort since the cloning thing obviously failed...

Anyways, my point is it would be interesting to see an alternate version of “The Ultimate Enemy” where its Vlad being targeted instead of Danny to save the future from Dan. Who knows, it could end in another team up after Vlad finally realizes he IS the true villain here.

[tacky-jack-with-a-hat]

May we have some Loui hc’s 👁️👁️

Of course, but I don't know what the eyes mean so I'll do hc from my list

🫂Comforting others

•Hugs. This man will cuddle others so tight that the stress pops out like a pimple. (Sorry for the imagery)

•For each state he has a different trick: for Florida gator walks, for Texas competitive bull riding (which he let's texas win most of the time), or for Tennessee he'll ask to see Dollywood and talk it out over there.

•Loui is the best state to talk things out with. He listens and keeps secrets, it's only a shame that no one can do the same for him as Florida and the other states have the loudest mouths when it comes to secrets.

•When a state is sick Loui stays with them, and makes sure they're comfortable. Bringing soup, hot water bottles, and a little bit of home remedies and spells, and making sure that they didn't feel alone.

Comforting them

•Loui hallucinates but isn't diagnosed because he believes he's been cursed or is being haunted by ghosts because what other explanation could someone born in 1682 possibly have for the things he sees that cannot be explained.

•The other states tried to help him but originally most of them lacked the understanding of how the brain works for centuries, believing either he was possessed or lying for attention. The worst part is that a lot of them blamed him for his episodes, delusions, depression and paranoia.

•Nowadays, the states try their best to undo the damage they had done and try to comfort Loui.

•In contrast, Florida never treated Loui differently for his mental health issues because after everything Florida has seen, he just assumed what Loui was talking about was real from the get go. Which comforted Loui, as someone else was treating his experiences just as seriously as he was.

•When Loui is really stressed, the states take it in turns watching him and providing comfort so he knows he isn't alone.

💔 Breakups

• Loui is a great boyfriend, but is closer to Florida than any of his partners. This creates confusion when his partners ask why Florida doesn't join their date nights and why Loui spends more time with Florida and not them. In contrast, some states think Loui is a serial dater who's just Florida's friend. The truth is Florida and Loui aren't defined which confuses everyone even more.

•Loui was once added to a groupchat of Florida's exes by accident (the chat was made by Florida)

•Regardless of the reason, his partners are all aware that Loui would do anything for his best friend including getting hurt, getting arrested, driving drunk because Florida was drunker, and at one point cuddling Florida on the couch because his "sha" had a stomach issues.

•After a while, Loui's partners get disillusioned to the others shenanigans and watching Loui get hurt over and over again whilst refusing to label his feelings for his friend. Often they'd even outwardly accuse Loui of cheating with Florida.

• Loui is pretty chill about his breakups, usually as a cover up to not alarm Florida. No matter how broken and angry he feels he rather not tell it to Florida knowing fully how his friend would react.

•Meanwhile Florida treats Loui's break ups with as much grace as a alligator-slinging-hurricane crackhead can. He will fight them with every inch of his life for making Loui sad. He'll commit vandalism and theft in Loui's honour. Loui doesn't like this gesture as it speaks to a louder problem with their relationship.

•Florida unintentionally sabotages Loui's relationship. He'll bring up every embarrassing and problematic story of their friendship. Accuse Loui's partners of not being good enough, or just call them evil and cruel. He'll argue with most of his partners about cultural differences and tease them until they break.

•Florida overheard a convo Loui and Texas had about him, with Loui stating that Florida is keeping him alone. Feeling bad, Florida tried his best to keep out of Loui's relationships but went to the other extreme of avoiding Loui which made them both depressed. It was only for a few months and the two slowly reverted into old patterns.

☠️ Random hc

•His favourite alligator isn't even his. Loui looked after Darth Gator for Florida when he moved to SoCal and Cali wouldn't let Florida keep a gator in the bathtub.

•Loui also taught him commands in french, but this is now a problem for Florida bc he never taught any rules to his gators-so now he just has a french gator.

•Somehow darth gator is now attracted to jazz music, and will bite people until he hears jazz music.

•Darth Gator is allowed in the house and at BBQs, louisiana used cook an entire state for him until a documentary said raw meat is better for a gator's diet.

•Louisiana doesn't let people know if he dislikes them, but if they're harassed by Darth Gator and Loui just watches- you would know.

•When Florida took Darth Gator back, he felt bad and now Loui and him co parent.

•A month later they found out Darth Gator was pregnant and both were confused.

[an-annyeoing-writer]

hihi can you do 37 for chanyeol ?? :D (from your drabbles thing you rebooted and asked requests for.)

37. “Is that my shirt?”

It's been absolutely ages, wasn't it? I don't even know if you remember sending this to me. I mean, I personally wouldn't remember. Holy hell, it's been AGES. Thank you for the ask though! :D

He wished some things did not happen, and so did you. The life was unforgiving, though, and the past would not change, regardless of your wishes.

Mistakes were made, on both sides. You were eager to believe in things that were more beneficial for you, and he gave you all the reasons to distrust him in the first place. The arguments were even, and so was the blame, but you had one advantage that he did not – you lived in the apartment that you’ve been renting long before you two started dating, and so, it was only right for the split to occur this way, without any unnecessary discourses.

“Is that my shirt?”

You did not notice him entering the doorway upon returning home. It was hours later than he usually would, and he looked worn out and unusually quiet, even despite speaking up first.

He stared at the item in your hand without saying anything more, no movements made as you hovered above his travel suitcase. The hurt in his eyes made you hesitate before putting it in.  

“Yeah…” you answered, as gently as you were capable to – you knew that the pain in his eyes was mirrored in yours. Did you really want it to end like this? No, no you didn’t. But was there any better way?

You didn’t know – and that was the worst. You had no idea if you had any strength and trust left in you to keep this going any longer.

“Oh…”

He finally found it in himself to look around the space. The apartment was small, and he didn’t have many possessions in the first place. His guitar was already packed, none of his jackets were left where he remembered them to be. You made sure not to accidentally skip anything – you didn’t want to leave him without his belongings. Maybe you didn’t have the strength or trust, but there was still some love left. You wished your heart would turn into a cold stone, unbothered and passive to everything and everyone around.

“Is this final…?” the moment he uttered these words, you felt like you’d break. You wanted to say, no, I’m sorry, I overreacted. It’s okay now, let’s hug it out. God, did you want to hold him now – the two huge arms of the tall man seemed enough to solve all your problems.

Yet, that couldn’t happen. Even if you were to do that, to tell him none of it was serious, there would still be a pang of pettiness urging you to make him feel guilty, for you to come out on top. It would be selfish and ultimately lead to the same end. You didn’t want to have that, not after many times it already happened before.

You wanted a fair end, without any underlying, selfish goals. No guilt-tripping, no advantages taken.

Did he understand? Did he see that it was difficult for you as well? Your eyes filled with tears.

He didn’t look at you when he walked towards the suitcase and helped packing the remaining clothes. Everything was quiet. Everything was still.

When he opened the door to leave, he turned around, his gaze finally meeting yours.

“You know it’s not final. You know one of us will come back. At some point.” His tone was grievous, not nonchalant or petty – all he said was the simple truth that held the two of you together for many years, through many arguments and heartbreaks.

“Don’t. Please” you whispered. “Go already.”

“You know that.”

You closed the door almost too harshly, leaning your back against it, as if it could keep the ghosting sensation of him away. But, even without his things here, the smell lingered, and so did your emotions, too deeply rooted to be forgotten this easily.

“I know” you finally admitted.

It didn’t take you long to realize. Maybe a few moments before you admitted to yourself, that you’re happy to know that. It was like addiction, hurting you and him over and over again, yet – you couldn’t live without each other.

“I’ll miss you” you uttered at the very last. Although he couldn’t hear you anymore, you were certain that he knows and feels just the same.

[train-wrecc]

Two Ghosts

marcus baker x female!reader

(I don’t think I used any she/her pronouns in this, but I’m not 100% positive, so I guess it may or may not be gender-neutral…)

warnings!: mentions of food, crying, cheating, a slap, drinking, angst?, unedited rushed writing, I think that’s it? My A/N at the end does mention SA, but the fic does not, so you can skip the highlighted section of the A/N.

includes!: bff!padma(lo), roman an OC, but also not really an OC, ex!marcus

angst!

word count: 5.5k!

A/N: Let’s pretend that Padma and Marcus were never a thing in this :) Yes, I am still working on Champagne Problems 2, fret not

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

It happened suddenly, one moment you were both sitting there talking, and the next your lips were on his. Somehow everything else was drowned out, and all you could focus on was Marcus. The night was filled with fervor, as you poured your love into each kiss, that would soon be meaningless. 

You savored every minute of it because you knew he was only yours for the night. The next day he would be off, kissing Ginny, loving her, or pretending to love her, either way, he was no longer yours. You knew it wasn’t right, but you loved him, so much, that you would take whatever you could get.

You both lay there, Marcus fast asleep. You reach over pressing a kiss to his cheek, “If only you knew how much I still love you,” You quietly murmured, caressing his cheek. You wrapped your arm around him before drifting off to sleep.

Light shined into your bedroom, waking you up. You turned to reach your arm out for Marcus, albeit your hand met the cold sheets. Your eyes flew open, Marcus was gone. You should’ve known, it was your routine, but each time it happened you thought maybe just maybe you had changed his mind. That he once again loved you, like how you still deeply loved him. And each time you were proven wrong. 

Your eyes began to water. You were so stupid. This was it, the fourth and last time this would ever happen. You needed to stop this for Ginny’s sake and your own. You couldn’t keep doing this, because the more you did it, the more you hurt yourself. You wiped your tears, deciding to check your phone, to take your mind off your repeated mistakes. 

You got a text from your best friend Padma. You decided you guys would meet at a cafe to hang out and chat, desperately needing it. You would’ve met her at Blue Farm where she worked but Ginny also happened to work there, and you couldn’t face her, you felt so guilty, sleeping with Marcus. He and Ginny hadn’t been dating for that long but still, it wasn’t right, you knew that, and you continued to get with him, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

You walked inside, Padma wasn’t there yet, so you decided you would order both of your favorite drinks, along with your favorite pastries. She walked in, her long black hair swaying as she made her way to the table. The waiter had just placed your pastries and drinks down as she sat across from you. She gave you a comforting smile, which you returned, but she knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew something was up.

“What’s wrong, bub?” She questioned.

“Nothing,” You shook your head, “We’re always talking about my problems, what’s been up with you, how’s work?”

Padma pursed her lips for a second at your answer, before starting, “Work’s good, the usual, Joe not knowing how to be strict, Ginny always hating on her mom, and dad, and basically everyone. But besides that, remember how I’ve been talking to that guy, Jason?” 

You nodded your head in response, taking a sip from your drink, “Well it turns out he has a girlfriend, and she’s pregnant! Can you believe that, and to think he asked me out on a date,” She shook her head. 

“At this point, I’m really considering just dating you, you’re the only person who really gets me.” She said, causing you both to laugh. “Honestly, same.” You laughed.

You both continued to talk about school, your families, drama circulating around the school, from the most important things to the least important things. After a while, you began to space out, your mind going back to thinking about that one person you just couldn’t ever stop thinking about. Marcus, you swore it was like he was a fucking cancerous tumor in your life. 

“I can tell you’re thinking about him.” Padma interrupted your daze.

“What? No, I’m not…” You scoffed.

“You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me. We really need to find a way to get you over him, I mean his dick can’t be that good.” 

“Oh my god, Padma,” You laughed shaking your head, “Trust me, it’s not that, I still love him, I know we broke up a couple of months ago, and I know I should be over him by now, but I can’t help my feelings for him. No matter how much I wish they would just go away they don’t.” Your vision began to get blurry your eyes shining with unshed tears. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, glancing away for a second, before focusing your gaze on your interlaced hands. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna end whatever this is, I know we never should’ve started it, I mean he’s with Ginny, I don’t know why I ever thought this was a good idea. I guess I just- I don’t know wanted to feel his love again, but this, it’s not love, and it’s not right. If anything I’m just torturing myself.” You said sniffling. 

“I don’t even know how you can stand to look at me, I mean what Marcus and I have done is unforgivable, I knew he was with Ginny, and I still, I still continued it, because I’m a selfish bitch.” You muttered angrily.

Padma clasped your hands in one of her own, “Don’t talk about yourself like that okay, I love you, Y/n, you’re my best friend, sometimes good people make poor choices, we’re human, bub. The world isn’t black and white, we’ve just got to learn from our mistakes and do better. I’m glad you’re ending this because it’s not doing you any good.” She said, giving you a reassuring smile, which caused you to shed a tear. 

“I love you too.” You sniffled, pulling her into a tight hug. “Everything’s gonna be okay in the end.” You both stayed like that for a while before you finally pulled away. “Come on, we need to find you a new man to take your mind off of he who shall not be named.” She smiled. “You know, I think I know just the person.”

“Oh god, no, what did we just talk about?”

“No, trust me, please, he’s like the nicest guy ever, but he’s not really my type.”

“And he’s my type?”

“Yes, he has brown hair.”

“I don’t know Lo,” 

“Come on, I’ll bring him to Abby’s party tomorrow, and introduce you two, that’s all, and then if you like him, well there you go!”

“Fine,”

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You had arrived at Abby’s party, and a bunch of people already there excluding Padma, and her friend who you now knew as Roman. You kept to yourself, hanging out on the back porch in a corner. People filled every square inch of the house, red solo cups in numerous hands. You had stuck to your water, not wanting to meet Roman while tipsy or drunk. Padma had texted you when she had arrived, asking where you were, which prompted you to go and find her.

You made your way through the crowded house, trying to avoid bumping into anyone, however you lucked out, someone’s drink getting spilled all over your outfit. You gave an annoyed sigh, as the person muttered an apology. You continued to make your way toward the front of the house and to a bathroom, when you ran into Padma and who you presumed was Roman, and my was he tall, and had the richest chocolate brown curls. You tore your eyes away from him, glancing at Padma, she greeted you with a ‘Hi’ before introducing you to Roman. “Roman this is my bestfriend Y/n, Y/n this is Roman.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n, Padma speaks very highly of you,” He smiled at you, you stretched your hand out to shake his own, but he instead pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your hand. A small nervous smile tugged on your lips, “Nice to meet you as well, Roman, I’m sorry I should go clean up, someone spilled their drink all over me.” You glanced between him and Padma.

“Roman, why don’t you go help Y/n, I’m gonna go find Silver,” Padma smiled at the both of you, slightly shoving Roman towards you before taking off past the living room.

Roman gave you a small smile, one of his hands going up to the back of his neck  “If you don’t want me to go with you, that’s completely fine, Padma can be very-”

“Determined.” You finished, a small laugh escaping your lips. 

“Yeah, very,” He laughed along with you.

Both you and Roman made your way through the crowd of party-goers and toward the staircase, as you both walked in search of a towel to dry your damp clothes when your causal conversation was interrupted by some arguing coming from one of the bedrooms. You both went silent, looking at each other before making an awkward face, and bursting out with laughter. 

You had finally found the bathroom, which had a few folded hand towels, you attempted to wipe the sticky mess of a drink from your skin, and outfit. The stain was practically ingrained into the cloth, “Here, why don’t you take my jacket, to hide the stain.”

“Oh, no that’s okay, I don’t need-”

“No, it’s fine, I insist,” Roman said removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulders. “Thank you,” You smiled.

Just as you were leaving the bathroom, Roman bumped into someone, “Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine,” The other guy replied after turning around, his eyes meeting yours.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” It was Marcus.

“Marcus? Oh, uh, Padma kinda convinced me to come,” You gave an awkward smile.

“Are-are you here with Ginny?” You questioned, not really knowing what to say. At one time you wouldn't have been able to stop the conversation as the words seamlessly fell from both of your lips, conversation came easy albeit, that was then, and this is now.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I am.” He pursed his lips.

“Oh, sorry uh, Roman this is Marcus, Marcus this is Roman.” You introduced them, unsure of what title to give either of them so you just skipped the labels. They both nodded, before Roman spoke up, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, uh, I should get going,” Marcus gestured downstairs. 

Marcus left with that, leaving to who knows where, however, you had yet to see Ginny. 

“Sorry about that awkwardness, uh, Marcus, he’s my uh…”

“Ex?” He filled in for you, “Yeah, that obvious?” You laughed.

“Just a bit,” He gave you a small smile.

Roman and you decided to head back downstairs, however, all the people combined with the loud music became a little too much for you, so he offered for the two of you to head outside. You both sat on the porch gazing up at the sky, conversation flowed as you talked about various things. 

“I don’t wanna offend you or anything Y/n, but do you and Marcus still have something going on? I mean he’s been staring at you all night, and I don’t know I just get this feeling you still have feelings for him.”

“Uh, yeah it’s kinda complicated, well actually that’s a lie, um, he has a new girlfriend, and I’m- I am still trying to get rid of my feelings for him. I’m sorry, I should have told you from the beginning…”

“No, it’s fine, I know how hard it is to get over someone when you had really strong feelings for them. I like you Y/n, and I don’t think you’re ready to be in a new relationship, but I’d love to have you as a friend, at least for right now,” He gave you a kind smile.

“Thanks, Roman, I’d really like that,” You said pulling him into a warm embrace. 

You didn’t notice it but Marcus had been walking by stopping in his steps as he saw you and Roman hugging. It felt as if something snapped in him, anger filling him at your arms being wrapped around someone. Someone that wasn’t him. 

Marcus practically threw the back doors open, “Hey, get your hands off her, man!” 

He growled at Roman, words slightly slurred. Roman and you both pulled away from each other, turning to face Marcus. You stood up, “Marcus, you’re drunk, go inside and find Ginny.”

“Yeah bud, why don’t you listen to Y/n,” Roman said calmly.

“You’re not my fucking buddy, so why don’t you keep your mouth shut Rowan.”

“Marcus, calm down, alright, you’re not acting like yourself okay?” 

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Y/n, you- you’re fucking him aren’t you?” 

“Okay, Marcus you’re really starting to get on my fucking nerves, and Roman and I are just friends. And even if I was it’s none of your fucking business.”

“That’s not what you were saying a couple of days ago,” He smirked at you.

You walked towards Marcus, “You need to shut the fuck up unless you want Ginny to find out,” You quietly gritted through your teeth. You pulled away from him, “Roman, can you give Marcus and me a second please,” You turned to him.

“Yeah of course, don’t hesitate to come and get me if you need help,” He slightly nodded toward Marcus, Marcus not noticing due to his drunkenness. “Yeah, thank you,” You murmured.

You pulled Marcus further outside, grabbing a water bottle for him from the cooler that was near the door. You handed it to him, “Drink.” You told him. He begrudgingly did so, gulping the water down. 

“Now, you’re gonna listen to me. You’re drunk Marcus, so before you make any more mistakes, you’re gonna go find Ginny and you’re gonna have her take you home okay? It’s bad enough you practically screamed to everyone that we’ve been sleeping together,” You told him.

“I don’t care if the whole world knows,” He murmured.

“Yeah, you say that now, but you won’t be saying the same thing tomorrow morning.”

“How do you know that?” He questioned defiantly, his words less slurred.

“Because we had been sneaking around for a reason, you know like the small fact that you have a girlfriend.” You sarcastically told him.

He sightly hummed, “You know I heard what you said.” He said without any clarification.

“What?” You questioned in confusion.

“You said you still love me.” He quietly said.

“You’re drunk Marcus, you don’t know what you’re talking about, alright?” You shook your head.

“Don’t lie to me Y/n, I know what I heard.”

“No, no you don’t Marcus, okay I never said that,” You said, pitch going slightly higher as you lied, as you shrugged your shoulders trying to come off casual, albeit, beneath your cool exterior you were panicking.

“Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, Y/n? I can tell when you’re fucking lying, just admit it.”

“No, Marcus, I’m not admitting to something I didn’t fucking say, and y’know what if you’re sober enough to say all this, then I think you’re sober enough to understand that we’re done, and I mean it this time.” You angrily muttered.

“Sure you do, Y/n,” He laughed. “I’m serious Marcus, this whole stupid ass friends-with-benefits thing, it’s over, okay. You’re with Ginny, and we knew it wasn’t right, and we never should’ve begun it in the first place. I mean, don’t you think Ginny deserves loyalty?”

Before Marcus could respond, you heard the door slightly creak. You turned being met with Ginny standing there, eyes filled with unshed tears, “Really, Marcus? You told me that I was overthinking, and acting jealous. But I was right all along, wasn’t I?”

“Ginny, I- you heard wrong okay?” He tried to lie, as you stood there silently, you knew it would be best if you didn’t say anything, you were the cause of this after all. You never pictured yourself as a homewrecker, a liar, or a cheater, yet here you were.

“Are you seriously gonna try and fucking lie to me Marcus, I just fucking heard the both of you! I want you to admit it, say it.”

“Ginny, please, let’s not do this right now, okay?”

“Oh really? Why? Don’t want everyone to know that you and your fucking slut are lying, cheating pieces of shit?!” Her voice filled with venom, as she practically shouted.

“If the both of you felt it was okay to talk about cheating on me here, why can’t I talk about it, hmm? I can’t believe this Marcus, I- I should’ve fucking known, all the sneaking off, acting weird, never wanting to do anything. Are you still in love with her or something, clearly you don’t fucking love me if you were able to cheat on me?” 

“Ginny-”

“Answer the question, Marcus, do you still love her?” She spat.

You and Ginny both had your eyes locked on Marcus, your heart was beating erratically, “No, she was just there.” He quietly murmured, by now he was definitely sober, and you know you had no right to feel hurt because you knew what this was from the beginning. Albeit your heart twinged slightly at his words. 

This wasn’t about you, this was about Ginny and Marcus, you had no right to be hurt, I mean you weren’t the one who had gotten cheated on. You blinked away your tears, as you glanced away.

“We're done Marcus, I don’t want to see you or hear from you ever again.” She muttered, voice full of resentment. “And you,” She turned to you, “You’re nothing but a cheap, heartless, bitch, and you know what you two make a good pair, yeah, you’re both selfish assholes, I hope you both rot in hell.” She cussed at you, and you took it because you knew every word she said was true, and you knew you deserved it. However, what you weren’t expecting was for Ginny closer to you, and before you knew it you felt a sharp stinging pain as she slapped you.

As you were stunned, reeling from what just happened, Ginny stalked off anger rolling off of her in waves. You felt a slight heat on your cheek, lifting your hand to your cheek. There was a little bit of blood on your hand, one of Ginny’s rings must’ve cut you when she slapped you.

“Oh my god, Y/n are you okay?” Roman asked as he was suddenly in front of you, his eyes examining your face, as you stared blankly ahead of you.

You nodded your head, ‘Yes’, as you felt your lips slightly tremble. 

You began to walk off, as you heard Marcus and Roman calling after you. You quickly made your way through the crowd, everyone’s eyes on you, as you practically ran toward the front door. Your breathing felt shallow as you made your way out of the house, and began walking. At the moment you really weren’t sure where you were going but you just knew you had to get as far away from that house and everyone in it as fast as you possibly could.

“Y/n, wait!” Someone called, but you were so deep in thought, you had blocked everything out. You somehow misstepped causing you to trip and fall. You grunted slightly as you glanced at your now scraped-up and slightly bleeding knee. The stinging pain from your cheek and knee wasn’t too bad, but as the night kept getting worse you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed as the tears began to slightly roll down your cheeks. It just added to how shitty you felt.

You felt like a crybaby, you had brought all this on yourself, and you deserved it, so why were you crying? Yet somehow you couldn’t stop them. You were so frustrated and angry with yourself, not knowing what to do with all your pent-up anger, you let out a frustrated scream, as your fists met the cement.

“Y/n, stop,” Someone said, holding your fists as they soothingly rubbed your back. You turned your eyes meeting Marcus's own eyes. “Stop, please, j-just leave me alone, please, Marcus, I just want to be alone right now,” You quietly murmured.

“Y/n-”

“She said she wants to be alone, man, so why don’t you listen?” You heard Roman say from behind you, he must’ve just caught up to you. Following him was Padma, “Y/n. are you alright?” She called out toward you.

You simply nodded in response, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” Marcus harshly snapped at Roman.

“I could say the same about you.” Roman retorted.

Marcus stood from the sidewalk, facing Roman, “Who the fuck even are you to Y/n? Alright, do you even know her? Because this is the first time, I’ve ever seen or heard of you, Roman, and you’re really starting to piss me off, so why don’t you leave before I punch you in the face.”

“Can the both of you shut the fuck for god’s sake! God, I wish I were a fucking lesbian, so I wouldn’t have to deal with men!” You shouted. 

Padma reached the boys, telling them both that it might be best if they both left. They were both defiant but they finally agreed, Padma, promising she’d take care of you.

“Alright, come on, sweetie, why don’t we get you home,” She crouched down to meet your eyes.

“I don’t deserve to go home, I should just stay here, and suffer on the cold hard cement.” You sniffled. “Well then maybe I should go grab Marcus too and he can sit out here as well, he’s not innocent.” At that, you stood up.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

The next day you woke up feeling like shit. Not, because you were hungover, you didn’t drink last night. But you had spent a fair amount of your night crying before falling asleep, resulting in your eyes being sore and puffy, slightly aching, and leaving your head with a throb. 

You turned to your other side, being met with Padma laying beside you, causing you to smile. You truly loved her, she was an amazing friend, and was always there for you. You grabbed your phone and wallet, deciding you’d get her her favorite drink and breakfast.

As you looked at the time you saw that it was ten, you also noticed various texts from Marcus, and one from Roman asking how you were. Padma must’ve given him your number. You replied to Roman, deciding to ignore Marcus for now, not wanting to deal with him so early, at least for you, in the morning. You had stopped by your and Padma’s favorite cafe, getting each of your favorite breakfasts as well as drinks. As you were leaving you quite literally ran into someone. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You blurted out in apology.

You looked up, seeing Marcus. “Oh,” You let out in realization. “Hey,” You murmured.

“Hey, did you get my messages, I was actually gonna get you breakfast, but I guess you beat me,” He gestured to the bag of food in your hands. “Yeah, uh, we should probably get some napkins to clean that up,” You gestured to his wet shirt.

“Yeah,” He murmured. 

You grabbed a handful of napkins patting them against Marcus’s wet shirt. “I should probably let you-”

“Yeah,” He said, taking the napkins from your hand.

“I uh, why don’t I buy you another drink, since you spilled the other one,” Marcus offered once he had finished somewhat drying his shirt. “Uh, no that’s okay, really.” You responded.

“Okay, well uh, can we talk then?” He questioned.

“About?”

“Us, y’know and everything that happened last night…” He muttered.

“I mean, what’s there to talk about? Whatever we were doing is over, Ginny dumped you, you were drunk, Ginny slapped the shit out of me, and hopes we rot in hell, did I miss anything?” You questioned.

“I think you covered almost all of it, besides the part where I said I heard you say you love me, yeah that little part?” 

“Yeah, no, we’re- we're not doing this again, goodbye, Marcus.” You said, grabbing your food, and Padma’s drink before leaving the cafe. You made your way to your car, hearing Marcus behind you. “I don’t understand, why you can’t just admit it, Y/n, I heard you.”

“Why does it matter, Marcus? Is this like some sick game to you? Do you want me to admit it so you can break my heart by telling me you don’t love me, Marcus, is that it? Because I got that last night when you said I was ‘just there’ and honestly, I don’t care, truly.”

“I- I shouldn’t have said that Y/n, I was just trying to calm Ginny, alright?”

“Why? Did you ever even care about her, I mean you spent more than half of your guy’s relationship cheating on her. Your probably spent our entire relationship cheating on me too.” You murmured the last sent quietly. As you continued to make your way to your car, putting your probably now cold breakfast in the car. 

“I do care about Ginny, I-I never meant to hurt her, I just…”

“Cheated on her, yeah, cause that truly shows how much you cared about her.” You sarcastically muttered.

“No, and I never cheated on you, Y/n, I promise.”

“Mhmm,” 

“Alright are we done with this conversation, now, Marcus?” You said, a sigh slipping from your lips.

“No, I want you to be honest with me, okay? Do you still love me, Y/n?” He implored.

“Oh my god, I cannot deal with this right now,” You whispered your head leaning against the glass window of your car, eyes shut tightly. Why was he being so stubborn about this? 

“Look at me, Y/n,” He said turning you by the arm to face him. His eyebrows were raised in questioning, as he stared deeply into your eyes. You glanced away from his eyes that were practically piercing into your own, trying to pry the truth from you.

“No, Marcus.” You said, voice slightly getting higher.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care, believe what you want. I-”

“Say it,” He challenged. 

“No, I’m not doing this…”

Marcus snatched your keys from your hands.

“Marcus, give me back my keys, right now.”

“No, not until you’re honest with me.

“Marcus, I don’t have time for this, seriously give me back my fucking keys, you’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

He stayed silent.

“Marcus, why are you doing this?” You murmured practically pleading.

“Because Y/n, you keep denying it, but I know you’re lying. I want you to be honest with me and yourself.”

You glanced down at the pavement, shaking your head. “Fine,” you muttered meeting his eyes, “I’m still in love with you, you fucking asshole, okay? Why else would I have ever agreed to be your fuck buddy, Marcus? Because that was the only way I could have you. Because for some reason I’m fucking crazy and can’t get over you. And I know what we did was wrong and I feel like shit whenever I think about how much we hurt Ginny. I know I’m a terrible person, I know I’m a slut, a homewrecker whatever word you wanna use. You happy? Is this what you wanted me to admit? So you could gloat, or tell me how much of a fuck you don’t give about me? Because I already know Marcus. I mean it took you, what, a month to get over me and get with Ginny? A-and you know what hurts the most is that, I don’t think you ever really loved me. I mean really, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. Great way to end things with someone. But don’t worry, I’ll eventually get over you, and I can’t wait for the day to come. There, I said it, now give me my keys.” You said as tears streamed down your face, lips trembling.

“Y/n/n…” Marcus murmured, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t call me that, and please don’t touch me.” You said as you shrugged his hand off. While Marcus was in thought, you snatched your keys back, making your way to the driver door.

“Y/n wait! God, I have so much to say…” He muttered.

“I just wanna go home, Marcus, okay?” You whimpered, tears falling from your eyes, still.

“Wait, bub, please, I’m sorry, about everything, okay? The whole reason I did all this, because I started all this, was because I’m still in love with you too. Okay? I don’t want you to get over me, ever, because I’m not over you. And I was a fucking idiot for ever letting you go, I know that. And the fact that you could ever think that I didn’t love you, makes me so fucking sad because you’re the only girl I’ve ever loved, Y/n/n. And I’m sorry I didn’t show you as well as I should’ve. I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess, I should’ve never cheated on Ginny with you. I should’ve ended things with her and tried to fix things with you. You’re not a slut, and I don’t want you to ever call yourself anything remotely similar to that word, because you’re not. All that happened was my fault, I knew what I was doing, okay, it’s on me. I’m really fucking sorry, bub, for everything.” He responded, tears filling his own eyes.

“This doesn’t fix anything, Marcus,” You shook your head.

“Your words are everything that I’ve dreamed of hearing since you broke up with me, but they're just that. Words, empty promises. Actions are what show me change, they’re what fix things. You may say you love me Marcus, but you never show me. Each night we spent together, I never wanted to go to sleep because I knew in the morning you’d be gone, and I’d be left alone with my heart broken once again. Because you weren’t with me, you were with Ginny. Do you realize how much that hurt me? Yet I still kept going back to you, because clearly, something’s fucking wrong with me,” You laughed through your tears. 

“No matter how much I love you Marcus, I can’t be with you. I’m only going to end up getting hurt, again. I mean I’m the other woman, and cheaters always cheat. You’d probably end up doing the same thing to me that we did to Ginny because we both had a part in hurting her. It wasn’t just you.” 

“No, Y/n the only reason I cheated on Ginny, was because I’m still in love with you! I would never do that to you…”

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: this is really bad sorry y’all I rushed this bc I wanted to post something for y’all because I haven’t posted in like 2 weeks, sorry about that :((( 

I was gonna add a little more to this today but I started my period and literally everything hurts 🥹😭 so um I just decided I’d post this as it is or else I probably wouldn’t have been able to get this out for another few days.

I am still working on Champagne Problems 2, it’ll probably be out this upcoming weekend hopefully! 

Also I had this idea 💡,

EXPLANATION of IDEA (mentions of SA, percy hynes): lmk what y’all think about it or if you’d like me to write something for it but, I came late into the Wednesday fandom, like when all the Percy allegations and cancel Percy stuff was at its peak. However I love Xavier Thorpe, for me it’s very easy to separate character from actor, just because I’ve always kind of stuck to reading fanfic about actors characters and not them because I just feel weird kinda reading fanfics about the actors. Anyways I don’t really know anything about the allegations just that they involve SA. So, I’m not going to get into whether or not I think Percy is guilty or not bc Idk enough to form an opinion. 

That being said, in a way, I think Marcus and Xavier, are similar characters, they both have that “tortured artist” thing going on, they both stick to themselves I feel like and overalll I just think the characters are similar. As for the actors IDK, bc idk them.

So my idea is to basically use Marcus or Felix as a FC for Xavier Thorpe! PLEASE, I’m begging y’all to lmk ur thoughts on this. Sorry this A/N is so long but yeah bc I really am tempted to write something for Xavier. or maybe I'll just write for xavier and y'all can imagine whoever you want whether that's percy, or whoever else!

[broadraiwrites]

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hallucinations | Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” Characters: Malakai Black, Esme Rutledge/Elora Black Pairing: Malakai Black/Elora Black Verse: Main ( Twitter timelines ) Trigger Warnings: Toxic Relationship, Child Loss

The way that her spirit haunted him was wholly unnatural. She hung around his every waking moment like a ghost, an apparition of the life he was trying to leave behind. There was only one problem: the living do not produce apparitions such as the one that floated through the halls of the empty cavernous space Malakai Black called home. 

Esme, however? Esme Rutledge was haunting Malakai Black to his very core. It was not Elora, as he had known her, that challenged the very fabric of his reality, not the woman cloaked all in black as if a mourner keening at the funeral for the very life she once lived. The figure that seemed to appear to him in the corners of his vision and whisper to him in the silence that came with the three o'clock hour was that of the woman with flowers braided in her light ginger hair. Her flowing pastel gowns danced in the stillness of the hallway as her bare feet moved gracefully along the hardwood floor.

Scientifically speaking, Esme Rutledge was alive and well. Spiritually speaking, however, Malakai had killed her years ago. He had promised her a new life, a new world in which they could rule together as Hades and Persephone ruled the underworld. Over the years, as he began to demand more of his flowering bride and warped her toward the darkness with tools long ago handed to him by his zealot father, he watched as the brilliant bloom that was Esme began to fade and wilt away from him, leaving only the chill and the thorns of Elora in their place. 

The harder he tried to hold on to her, to possess her, those same thorns would leave their scars on his soul, until she no longer found the garden of death they cultivated to be suitable for her growth and went searching for a more fruitful soil to dig her roots into. 

“You decided that you no longer wanted me!” he called into the darkness one night after yet another fitful attempt at sleep. “You no longer wanted my love, so why do you vex me in this way?” He knew better than to expect an answer from the blackness he was shouting into, but swore that he could smell the scent of pomegranates in the air as he did. 

Swinging his legs off the edge of the bed they once shared and stepping into his house slippers, he moved to pull his robe from the wall to protect him from the chill. Even given the gift that he had given his very soul for the biting chill of loneliness ached down to his bones. He took a small golden key from a drawer of the dresser and marched down the hallway to a room that no one in the House had ever been allowed to enter.

The tree stump that had once been her altar stood in the corner exactly where she had left it, though these days it was mostly barren. The few plants she had left had long wilted, and the deck of tarot cards she had once so loved sat in their usual place at the center of the altar. If Malakai had to take a guess, he believed the things she left behind were left there because they were reminders of him. The altar from the tree he had felled himself as a gift to her on their first anniversary. The tarot cards he had purchased her when they signed together with All Elite Wrestling. She had cut ties with him clearly, but then why was she haunting him so?

He caught sight of her in the moonlight streaming through the window to the right of the altar. He would have sworn that he heard her laugh.

“You blame me for many things, mijn bloem; of this I am certain. You blame me for snuffing out the light in your soul; for this you would have every right.” He kneeled down in front of the small altar with his head bowed. “I have always wondered if you blame me for the death of our Dimitri, but I suppose that is an answer that I will never have, isn't it?” He inhaled slowly, his breath shaking as he did. “I suppose that he was saved from the tortures of having a monster as a father. I would have snuffed out everything that was beautiful about him as well, I know it. It is what I do, what I have always done. Your lingering presence on my conscience is a penance of sorts, a punishment that I must bear for the monster that I have become. You are my raven, the heart beating beneath my floorboards to remind me that I will never be free from the terrible choices that I made.”

He stood from the altar, crossing slowly to the door. “I will bear this cross if I must, if you have decided that this is the pain that I must carry with me, but you cannot force me to bear this pain in front of another. I will never let another into my heart as I once let you. It is better this way. I cannot snuff out another light if I remain shrouded in darkness.”

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Sing-U-Lator

For: @thefalsefangirl @higgidigs @briarlovesu @bibliophilea @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

Song inspiration: Addict - Vivziepop and Alastor’s Reprise - Vivziepop Vlad and Danny have a proper talk but it's not really a talk or proper

Danny roughs up his hair, frustrated, why did Lancer always have give such open-ended ‘up to your imagination’ projects? Sure Danny didn't lack creativity but his creativity wasn’t exactly… normal. Plus, how was he supposed to make a song prompt without ripping off Ember? Sometimes being friends with a singer was a major double edge sword.

He’s half tempted to just call Vlad, dude gave some solid advice… even if it sometimes seemed slightly sketchy. What would he know about this though? Maybe he writes poetry in his rich person free time?

Thumping his head on his desk a couple of times, fuck it. Flipping out his phone and leaning back, “hey yo, Vladdie”.

“Daniel? Is there an issue. I am rather… preoccupied at the moment”.

Danny snorts at that, “I’d say with what but you're still all mysterious half the time. Anyways, my homework isn’t home working. Know anything to do with music?”.

“… I’m beginning to believe that you have a very concerning sense of timing, my boy. I’ve rather recently… acquired a seemingly ectoplasm infused music generating bow tie”.

Danny blinks hard at that, not for the first time since meeting the man, Danny’s had the feeling Vlad had sticky fingers or something. Sure, Danny also stole stuff… and maybe did so more now than he used to -which now that he thinks about it, might be ever so slightly due to some Vlad-related encouragement. But that’s a thought for another day- but Vlad was way more sticky fingered. “Why? Though I guess that could just make my music prompt for me”.

Danny jumps at a sudden voice, “that could be quiet a good idea. You are rather bad at this”.

Danny whirls around, “eh yo, what the fuck?!?”.  It’s goddamn GhostWriter… Well at least it’s not Walker, or Boxy, or Skulker.

The GhostWriter seemingly ignores the teen, eyeing the paper instead, “you clearly have no love for the written word, as painful as that is, can’t have you embarrassing ghosts with your lack of lyrical diction”, summoning out his keyboard, fingers flying.

Danny groans loudly, “oh come on! Not this shit again”.

“Language, Daniel”.

The GhostWriter narrows his eyes at the phone, “and I would appreciate my artefact returned”.

And suddenly Danny gets hurtled out his window, half shrieking, “VLAAAAAAAD!”, angrily all the while. Granted… he couldn’t blame his -sometimes sketchy- mentor too much; Danny was usually the one who caused issues and Vlad certainly wasn’t immune to trouble making. Vlad yelping, “butter biscuits!”, on the other side of the line at least means this was probably going to be both of their problem(s).

The two halfas groan and push themselves up from the hard smooth ground.

So they weren’t outside on the dirt/grass. Good to know.

Danny grumbles, “I don’t know whether to blame you, blame GhostWriter, blame you, blame myself, blame you, or blame Lancer”.

Vlad giving a very dry reply, “funny, I was thinking something very similar”, then chuckling faintly, “perhaps halfas merely attract ill luck”, glancing around as he stands and brushes himself off, “we appear to be in some sort of cafe”.

“Ah fuck yes, tell me there’s coffee”.

“Language”, Vlad shakes his head, “you consume enough of that stuff to kill you a few times over”.

Danny snorts, “aw, you’d miss me”.

“But of course”. Vlad’s voice is genuinely fond, making Danny mutter, “I know it’s 🎶till death dooooo us part,  but we're already past that phase🎶”.

Both of them stop at that, Danny looks insanely confused and slightly pissed off; Vlad quirks a single eyebrow. Quirking another eyebrow at the bow tie, which is apparently tied around his wrist now, as it starts making music, a electronic piano beat, “I don’t think this is going to end well”.

Danny grumbling, “sounds like the story of my half life. Shit always so seems to be going south since the whole dyin’ while tryin’ to be helpful thing”.

Vlad eyes him, “but 🎶this could be a brand neeeew start🎶”, grimacing a little after because seriously?

Danny huffing, yeah sure the whole dying thing really legit could have effectively given him a new ‘lease on life’ as it were, but instead he’s just spending all of his time fighting and anxiously hiding his shit. Even if he legit honestly likes the way he is now, he had cool powers and stuff. Grumbling, “tell me about it. 🎶I think I deserve some praise for the way that I ammmmmmmm🎶”, gesturing around a bit ridiculously because he might as well just go along with this and no one else was actually here from the looks of It to witness this bullshit. Being a ghost was fucking great okay? Regardless of his parents anti-ghost ectophobia bullshit.

Vlad glances around and shrugs, he’s been involved in stranger, sitting down in a random chair, “🎶despite becoming a ghost, and ending up nearly comatose🎶”; Vlad was still baffled by how severe Danny’s portal-related accident was. The fact that his body survived getting blasted by an entire dimension worth of ectoplasm and being electrocuted by over four lightening bolts worth of electricity was impressive and a bit horrifying.

Danny rolls his eyes at that, flicking his wrist pointedly at Vlad as the bow tie adds in fucking finger snapping to its tune, “🎶I don’t give a daaaaaaaamnnnnnn🎶”, eyeing Vlad with a bit of a smirk, “what about you?”.

Vlad snorts and stands up, “🎶I let my emotions go, and fudge being a sober hoe🎶”. Danny looks a little scandalised by Vlad’s almost swearing but takes the offered flasks because at this point, fuck it.

The GhostWriter is one hundred percent manipulating this into a musical or some shit, and no one wants to deal with that shit fully sober.

The two taking steps, gesturing, and dancing a little while their hands are almost connected due to holding the flask. Singing together, “🎶this is the maaaantra, this is the liiiiife🎶”. Regardless of anything Danny liked the way he was and he damn well knew Vlad did too.

Separating and twirling, still singing together, “🎶we’re playing with our lives noooooow, till the end of every niiiiiiiight 🎶”.

Vlad eyeing his flask, “🎶eventually surrounded by fiiiire🎶”.

Danny laughing, “🎶my fighting passion igniiiights🎶”.

The two eyeing each other and grinning a little, “🎶a hit of the heaven and hell, a helluva hiiiiigh🎶”. At this point they were in this shit together, even if Danny had a feeling that Vlad was a less than stellar influence, and Vlad knew that Danny might one day force him to reconcile with his ‘old friends’.

Vlad turning away, “🎶I’m addddddicted to the madddddness🎶”, he knew damn well all the crime and less than legal stuff he did was something he got a massive rush from, and what did he care if he screwed a few people over for his own personal gain?

Danny turning away as well, “🎶this tooooown is my atlaaaaantis🎶”, this town, Amity Park, was his Everything and he was protective as Hell of it. It was nice that a lot of the town was starting to actually view him as their protector, made him feel like his purpose was actually being seen.

Vlad chuckles, eyeing Danny quickly, “you do a lot of rather illegal things to protect ‘this town’, you know”. Danny chuckling right back, “as if you don’t do the same to satisfy your possessiveness”.

Danny puts up a fist for a fist bump and Vlad rolls his eyes though supplies him with his requested fist bump, the two singing together again, “🎶we’re forever gonna have a fucking/fudging reason to sin🎶”.

Vlad glares at him a little over the swearing but everything help him if he didn't already know that Danny had a bit of a foul mouth and that it was kind of pointless to correct the boy. Besides, Danny’s ‘soul’ or whatever was a lot cleaner than his own, “🎶let me leaaaaaave my soul to burn🎶”,

Danny pointing at him agressively, “🎶I’ll be breathin’ it in🎶”, then making a face, “I mean that your mentorship is actually kinda good, not that I’m going to literally breath in your burnt ashes, what the fuck GhostWriter”, and glares at the ceiling; faint ghostly laughter could be heard.

Vlad can’t help grinning at that a little, “🎶and I’m addiiiicted to that feeeeeeling🎶”.

Danny gesturing up, “🎶then get hiiiiiigher than the ceiiiiiling🎶”.

Vlad nods curtly, because as not harmful as this was, it was still annoying.

The Ghostwriters voice comes down from the ceiling, “🎶and I’m neeeever gonna want this feeling to end, just conceeeeede and give in to you inner demons again🎶”.  Vlad fires a blast at the ceiling while the bow tie adds in a metallic drum beat for a bit before slowing to a more soft sound.

Danny eyes Vlad a little, “you know I know what you ‘inner demons’ are at this point, right? Your thing for mom?”, cringing and rubbing his neck, “and I mean sure,  🎶yeah, you fell in loooove. But-🎶”, gesturing at the flask, “🎶-you fell deeper in a piiit🎶”.

Vlad blinks, sure he knew Daniel would figure that out eventually but this was definitely not how he wanted that to come out. But what were ghosts if not their past regrets and obsessions? He couldn’t give up on her, not yet, maybe not ever. Throwing a hand out to the side and trying to hide that that comment hurt a little, “well 🎶Death didn’t get us aaabooove. So count your blessing because this is it🎶”, that came out more bitter than he really meant it.

Danny quirks an eyebrow at him and moving to get a bit in his face, “🎶sooooo you’re not letting goooOooOOOOoooOoo🎶?”.

Vlad shrugs, taking a swig from his flask and eyeing the musical bow tie with contempt, “🎶so what if I misbehave🎶”.

Danny huffing, crossing his arms, “🎶I guess it’s what everybody craves🎶”, then pointing at Vlad, “but, 🎶look around and you’ll already knooooOoOooOOOoow🎶”, pausing and rubbing his temples, “it ain’t gonna work out for you, you know”.

Vlad shrugs more vulnerably than he really means to, “I know, I really do. You think I can’t tell, Daniel? Meeting you and seeing them again makes that so clear. But-”, eyeing the boy, “-an apprentice changes a mentor as much as a mentor changes their apprentice”, holding out a hand, “🎶so, come if you’re feeling brave, and fancy yourself a mentor🎶”.  Bow tie beat picking back up again.

Danny chuckles, okay Vlad’s thing for mom was weird and would never work out but if Vlad was content to redirect himself towards mentoring Danny himself then who was Danny to argue against that? Heck! It was probably a really good thing, plus Vlad was -maybe? Possibly?- morally questionable enough that he wouldn’t take Danny’s shit but also wouldn’t question him about being socially unacceptable. “🎶you want it, I got it. See what you liiiikeeeeEEEeeEe🎶”.

Vlad nods, when he first met Danny and realised what he was, a fellow halfa, it was just a maze of endless possibilities. When he realised that Daniel not only formed as a ghost at a far higher ectoplasmic level but also had more room for growth, he was amazing. Daniel could beat Pariah some day, if he tried. Having that boy as his was far too tempting and far more enticing than any amount of money or Maddie. Daniel could take the world if he wanted, and Vlad could guide that, could stand beside him, “🎶we could have it allllllllll, by the end of any niiight🎶”. If Daniel tried he could probably take over the entire Infinite Realm today if he so desired.

Danny snorts, waving him off, “I can’t tell if you mean this world or the afterlife. But here it would be, 🎶your money and power🎶 and in the ghost zone it would definitely be, 🎶my sinful deliiiight🎶”, chuckling, “you know how much a lot of ghosts hate me at this point”. Him chuckling again, “🎶I’mma hit of that heaven and hell, a helluva hiiiiiigh🎶”.

Vlad can’t help chuckling himself at that, Daniel had managed to piss of an impressive amount of ghosts in a very short amount of time, “🎶it’s like you’re addiiiiicted to the maaaadeness🎶”.

Danny waving him off, “🎶this tooooown will always be my atlaaaaantis🎶”.

Vlad ruffles up his hair, “🎶we’re forever gonna have a fudging reason to sin🎶”.

Danny collapsing over a table dramatically, “🎶let me leave my soul to burn, I’ll be breathing it in🎶”; which Vlad rolls his eyes at.

Vlad pokes the boys forehead, “🎶you’re addiiiicted to the feeeeeeling🎶”, Daniel was more combative than Vlad would actually like. Obviously he didn’t really have to worry about Daniel getting hurt but it really was like he was addicted to getting into fist fights sometimes.

Danny bats his finger/hand off, “have you seen the amount of ghosts that show up to cause problems? It’s a perfect excuse to 🎶get hiiigheeer than the ceeeiliing, and I’m never gonna want that fucking feeling to end🎶”.

Vlad sticks his hands out to the side, “🎶so you’ll just concede and give into your feelings again🎶?”.

Danny glares at him and pushes himself up from laying down on the table, “oh like you don’t constantly, 🎶concede and give into your inner demons again🎶”.

The two stare at each other for a bit, definitely recognising that they were both a bit fucked up and their mentorship/apprenticeship thing was extremely all kinds of fucked up. But neither of them could deny that it was good, they bounced off of each other and called out each others shit. They were both better for it. Vlad’s Obsession over Maddie had dwindled some and Danny had an actual adult to turn to. It was good, they both needed this more than either one was willing to admit.

Then the GhostWriter decides to be an asshole again, piping up from the ceiling again, “🎶you should never want this feeling to end. Just concede and give into your inner ghosts again🎶”.

Danny and Vlad both glare at the ceiling, Vlad firing off a pink ecto-blast for the point of it, the bow tie giving a more mellow beat in response like it was mad at them.

Danny eyeing Vlad, “you really have a problem with my mom,  huh?”.

Vlad rubbing a hand down his face, “I used to think that if it wasn’t for my accident we would have wound up together but…”.

“Mom and dad love each other?”.

“Indeed. Though well, I am a ghost”, looking at Daniel, “you and I both know how hard letting go can be. It’s like 🎶I’m addiiiicted to the soooorrroooowww🎶”.

Danny nodding, leaning against one of the tables, “you'll get there, I think. But yeah, it’s like with all the fights I pick even, 🎶when the buzz ends by tomorrow🎶 and every fight after that, 🎶is another rush of poison flowing into my veins🎶”.

Vlad sighing, “giving both of us 🎶a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain🎶”, craning his neck, “🎶I’m addiiiicted🎶”.

Danny pushing himself up off the tables and gesturing agressively at the windows leading out to Amity Park, “🎶I’m deeepeendaaaant🎶”.

Vlad runs a hand through his hair, smiling a little, “🎶looking awwwwwwsome🎶”. While Daniel leans against the cafe/club window, “🎶feeling heeeelpleeess🎶”.  Vlad glancing back at the teen and not for the first time realising that Daniel, maybe, wasn’t really okay… and honestly? Neither was he. Vlad sighing and walking over to the boy, “🎶I knooooooow I’m raising cain by every highway in hell🎶”, he was thinking that maybe he could move and become the mayor here, “🎶maybe things won’t be so terrible inside this home town🎶”; it would be good for Daniel and maybe it was a change that Vlad himself needed.

Danny jerks while the bow tie tune picks up again in a more fancy dancing manner, “you’re thinking of moving here?”. Vlad nods, so Danny continues, “I think that would be good, honestly. 🎶’cause we’re both one of a kind🎶”, Danny making a mocking gesture at him, “and I’m sure I can 🎶give a burning fool a place to dwell🎶”.

Vlad grabbing his hand an twirling him around ridiculously, “🎶and your ideals are just laughable, but hey kid what the Hell. We’re both charming ghost beaux🎶”.

Danny laughing and going along with the twirling, “🎶’cause inside of both of us is just a lost cause🎶”.

Vlad chuckling right back, “🎶but we’ll dress us up for now with a smile🎶”.

The GhostWriter adding in, “🎶a wicked smile🎶”, with an eerie laugh.

Vlad nods to himself, officially making his decision. This town could not survive with just Daniel and was definitely going to need someone with deep pockets who could manipulate the government into giving them money for all the insane damages. “🎶I’ll show these simpletons some proper class and styyyyyyleee🎶”.

Danny snorting, “🎶and I’ll chlorinate your closets with some punny flair🎶”. That feels ominous in Vlad’s opinion.

They nod at each other, speaking in unison, “🎶here in this spooooooooky town, we’re sure our plan is sound🎶”, both of them pointing up, “🎶and our little annoyance will be fooooouuuuund🎶”, which promptly results in the GhostWriter falling through the ceiling due to the songs/GhostWriters keyboards manipulation of reality, and the two halfas outright pounce on him.

His shriek is very girly and their maniacal laughs are very… maniacal.

Danny stuffing the ghost in his thermos and ‘Vlad’s’ artefact too for good measure after yanking it off the other man’s wrist. “So you’re really going to just, try to become mayor here and move?”.

“There’s not much else for me to do with my time and someone needs to keep an eye on you”, Vlad sighing, “and maybe being more exposed to the way Maddie really is will help things”.

Danny chuckles, “good vampiric mentor”.

“I will decide you need a lesson in endurance”.

“Oh be still my fucking tits!”.

“Daniel!”.

Danny just pouts exaggeratedly at him as they try to sneak out of the restaurant/cafe/club without being noticed. That predictably doesn’t go as planned, with Valerie poking her head around, “I have a lot of questions about that opera bullshit”. Oh Ancients, she saw that shit.

Vlad puts up his hands, “now Valerie-”. But Danny cuts him off, dramatically putting a hand to his chest, “are you cheating on me”; this situation was beyond un-fucking-salavagable. Making both his mentor and his friend/fellow ghost hunter look at him like they both bit lemons. Danny rolling his eyes, “what? The only reason for Vladdie to not be super freaked out is if Valerie here already knew about him and no way he would tell anyone other than an apprentice or maybe close friend”.

Vlad shrugs very awkwardly, “I’m not one to put all my eggs in one basket”. Both Valerie and Danny glare a bit murderously, before punching him in the face. Vlad just sighs, “I suppose I deserved that”.

Both of them snapping, “you think?!?”.

Valerie looking at Danny, “who did you even think got me into this?”.

Danny shrugs, “I thought you were just following spontaneous murderous desire all on your lonesome”.

“You’re a fucking idiot”.

Vlad sighing, “yes, and a fool that should dispose of a certain someone before he causes us any more issues”. Danny rolls his eyes, “at least I got help with my project out of this… kinda”, then actually moves to meander off like he’s told, shouting behind himself, “still good for training tonight?!”.

Vlad eyes Valerie, who shrugs, so Vlad shouts back, “as always, though you’ll have a sparring partner this time and finish that project first! I don’t want you wasting this evenings absolute mess!”.  Danny holds up double thumbs up before tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground flat on his face.

Valerie facepalms, “what have I gotten myself into?”.

---

Mr. Lancer was later both very confused and impressed with the… odd direction of Daniel’s song prompt project. It was like one part theatrical musical, one part taking out some kind of issue(s) with song, and one part spite? It was creative though, which is what he asked for. Full marks and maybe a side note about seeing the school therapist.

End.

Prompts: Write a fic inspired from any song released in the last six years. and Danny has to go to Vlad for help and Lancer gives the class a project that Danny finds a very ghostly solution to. and Try as he might, Danny can’t think of a prompt for his creative writing homework. So Ghost Writer decides to step in, and do the writing for him. Shenanigans ensue. and AU where Vlad isn't blatantly evil in Bitter Reunions, and Danny initially sees no reason not to accept his mentorship and Vlad was starting to regret stealing his current artifact.

[opposite-idol]

Mulder

After four years, or has it been five, I don’t remember A child is finally being pulled out of me Through my throat Covered in all the mucus that goes drip drip drip down from the back of my nose At least I’ve reached a good place, where I fully believe I’m a GOAT Am I shifting realities, as the kids say these days, or am I fully delusional But what’s a goat, but someone who used to be a kid, a child

Text my mom, say “do you wanna meet your grandkid” Send her a pic Of myself on a mountain with a baby goat So now she’s mad at me, and won’t answer the phone Just over something that was meant to be a joke And I try again and again to explain to everyone “yes, I’ve seen a ghost” But even when some friends say “me too,” I still feel alone I was also almost abducted by aliens once Keep wondering what would have happened if I had let them take me But when they came for me My subconscious could only repeat “no, I don’t want to to go” “I don’t want to go” And they let me stay So I felt really underwhelmed, realizing it’s not personal They just have to fill a quota, just like everyone else And I’m not special I’m too fearful Just a homebody, who couldn’t even let my spirit be pulled through my home’s walls Just because physics doesn’t work that way But if aliens exist, then what the fuck do I know I never will if I stay

So let me run away! Why I gotta ask permission The wannabe Aquarius in me keeps saying “Fuck tradition” But the overly polite type five INFJ in me Holds out his hands under the persimmon tree In summer, and waits for the fall leaves Patiently When will we be done waiting I pretend I’m a we, so no one can blame me for my own procrastination When will good luck be handed to me? After thirty years I’m still waiting And waiting And waiting And waiting I want to leave! But I’m so damn lazy Maybe pulling the child out of me will fix everything Is that the final point of therapy? I don’t know, I’ve never made it this far in anything In any endeavor, life, or treatment

But what needs treating When I’m using treatment to run away from my other problems Like all the mucus that goes drip drip drip down the back of my throat Lube to help pull out the child Created when I first tried to force it down, deepthroat But I never choke, I just cope So, no, I can’t tell you when it was that I first broke Maybe it was when a friend literally held a gun to my head, just for saying no How dare anyone speak up, I know I won’t Welcome to America, fuck I was five years old And just didn’t want to cut a piece of paper, because I thought I’d be bad at it I’m still lacking Nothings changed I still can’t cry But show me ten seconds of a dog being loved And I’ll have a fucking mental breakdown

Don’t cross me I have a repertoire of stoicism Cure of the world’s anger Poster child of dissociation Raises hand Yes, that’s me, I’m here Or am I

Drip drip drip

The wannabe attention seeker in me keeps saying “Look at me” But the never loud keeps to himself type five INFJ in me Holds out his hands under the persimmon tree In summer, and waits for the fall leaves Waiting for permission, patiently When will we be done waiting I pretend I’m a we, so no one can blame me Because that shit’s scary And usually makes me want to leave But the world outside is not safe So I keep making me wait But for what? I’m just a homebody, who wouldn’t even let my body be pulled through the walls When the aliens thought I was special Just for being delusional But I was too scared to go, because physics doesn’t work that way I know But If aliens exist, then what the fuck do I know What the fuck do I know What the fuck do I know

[my-evil-brain]

I'm so tired of all of this it's not even funny.

It's 2024, and i was promised a bright technological safer better than the past world. Instead, i live through a world of greedy, power-hungry, mean uncaring, ignorant assholes and fuckwads. Growing up was tough enough dealing with 12 years of pokes and jabs, and no one was listening or paying attention. Then suddenly, I'm an adult, and zero shits changed. In fact, it's worse. Now im 40s, friendless , depressed and lonely. I always thought i had friends. But they all proved themselves not even worthy and worthless. I can't even trust people to confide in or be a friend anymore. They all either have ghosted me, lied, cheated, or stolen. I could never share feelings and deep thoughts because so far, so-called friends always used the info to take jabs against me as a joke or not caring in general. Not that people have ever truly listened to me anyway. That always pisses me off. Decades of repeating myself over and over, and eventually, when I'd get upset about it even a little, im being an asshole and unreasonable. My best friend from grade school, I don't even want to know anymore. I'm sick to death of his misogyny and drunkenness hitting on women I'd liked. His knack for insulting every woman I've been with ( to fat, bossy, ugly for his taste) plus how he treats the women he's been with. Blaming everything on his drinking (A.A. is lame so..no). I left for Tennessee after an awful break-up years ago. Everyone I knew ghosted me years ago. It started with them or me asking how things were going. After i responded, days, weeks, months before a response. Which was usually a "how's it going " text. Eventually, i stopped trying, and nobody even noticed. I've had one good friend visit me out here. After 2016 he gets pissy at our friend group because he can't take the trump bitching and hes got a gf he's got better things to do. So that whole dichotomy broke apart. Fuck, my own fucking parents only visited twice in 13 yrs....11 yrs ago. Then suddenly moms sick and 6 months later shed dead. I say suddenly but she just didn't go to the doctor and 2 yrs later the pain was so bad she couldn't take it and that's how we found out she had stage 4 cancer (it wasn't stage 1 when she found out). Surprise motherfucker! I'm so fucking tired of not being able to trust anyone and being the weirdo because my intrests aren't sports and hunting and other perceived manly things along with misogyny and loving a lieing rapest facist traitorous fraud who was president. So sorry I'm into philosophy and art and science and history and the paranormal and freedom to be and not facism. That excludes me from so many anythings when I'm around people. Not that I want to be around that, but its so fucking lonely a way to exist. It's depressing as fucking hell. And yes I've done something about that after 2020 broke me. I even tried therapy. That was useless. The doctor kept insisting I'm not acknowledging some trauma in my childhood at home. When I clearly stated what was bothering me. 12 yrs in public school, nobody listening to me when I speak, and everyone proving to be untrustworthy and mean dicks. It's not that I'm suicidal, I just don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to participate in any of this worlds bullshit and that's all the world is now. I'm watching the environment colapse, the poor get poorer the rich n politicians not giving a fuck and hatred and greed everywhere. And I get laughed at and dismissed by all around me all the time everywhere I've been, because I'm apparently stupid for believing it's that bad. It is that bad, its worse. The bad is totally out pacing the good in life. I just want everyone to feel as hurt as i am as pained as i am, but that's wrong. So i play nice dont jab back and be just as petty. On the off chance i do, or at least stand up for something, I'm suddenly a problem, and I'm inappropriate. Everyone else, perfectly fine when they do the same. I'm so fucking tired of all these people, this world, being ignored, not being considered, the greed n hatred. It's god damn depressing and lonely as fuck.

FML

[zxvtrpnljhfdb]

So they came back to the apartment again today--before I realized the relationship was irrevocably over, I insisted they get an airbnb to do I don't give a shit what and I sure as fuck don't want to know. How the fuck do I always hook up with these absolute fucking weirdos who only want to fuck girls who act like they're still four years old, or want to behave like and be treated like, actual fucking dogs??? Like, my ex has already spent three years treating me like a fucking dog and I didn't even ask for this fucking bullshit.

I put money on my card like Friday evening so I could get some food. Fuck me amiright? It's fucking Monday and it still hasn't gone through.

Anyway, all I fucking want is to be a fucking equal. Alright?! I do not think that is too much to ask.

The reason I bring up the dog thing is, when the new honeypot came in, she was wearing a fucking collar with a legit fucking tag. Un-fucking-believable.

When my ex brought her in yesterday, the dog was losing his mind, so I was kneeling on the ground with the dog trying to calm him and my ex had the fucking balls to kiss me on the head. I have no fucking idea what the game was, I just stiffened up. I could imagine her giving the new plaything a look like "I told you so".

I kinda want to tell this girl to watch out, maybe even fucking run. I think I mentioned, when I realized I was fucking free of this place and this shit relationship, I quit cleaning up after myself. The "primary leaseholder" doesn't clean this place up; this is no longer my place. I've been cleaning up after her the entire fucking relationship.

So when a turd appeared adhered to the toilet bowl, it was not my fucking problem. I left it. It was still there when she had her first over. It was still there when her guest had to use the bathroom. So she fucking asks about it. In my defense, I said something about wishing I could take a solid dump. Believe me, don't believe me. I frankly don't give a shit.

If it was me, today, I don't think I'd care how amazing the sex was. I'd just ghost anyone who left a shit in their toilet.

Of course my ex is fucking blaming the state of this place on me. Anything to make herself look better. I don't fucking care. I spent three years cleaning up after this user piece of subhuman scum. It will NOT fucking kill her to clean up after one month of me. You know goddamn well, my ex would practically rather die than clean up. Maybe she'll performatively clean up this one time, as the long suffering hero cleaning up after the psycho ex. More likely, she'll have the new dog-slave clean it up or have the dog-slave use her mommy money to get a cleaning service. 🙄 Pathetic. What is it that you do all day that's sooooooooo fucking important, you can't get off your ass and clean? My ex literally sat on her fucking dead ass when we first got the first apartment, parked in front of the computer for weeks on end. The same after she got fired in October, until this weekend. Like, fucking sorry somebody has to keep the fucking lights on. Since you're sooooooooo important, I got it.

I almost wish I could sit down with this.... girl, gal, whatever and speak up for myself. But there's no fucking point. Either she'll find out who this person truly is, or she won't. It is what it is. Usually, I end up giving a piece of my mind to someone who is about as fucked up as the person I'm trying to warn them off. So I'm not even going to waste my time or be like, you can call me if you ever need.

However, I'm probably going to pee myself laughing if this plaything turns out to ghost my ex. I would. Especially after the turd in the toilet; but she's young. She probably thinks it actually is mine and I'm the sicko who left it. Whatever. I already know whoever gets to the podium first controls the narrative, and this narrative is so fucking unimportant for me to control or regain. People who like me and believe me, do. People on my ex's side......... well, either they're as sick as she is, or they're too stupid to bother with. Either way. No fucks remaining.

Speaking of which 🙄 I don't fucking understand transwomen. A handful of them, it's really obvious like, okay, welcome! The vast majority of them though, are you positive it's not just AGP??? I actually understand AGP. That makes fucking sense to me. But......I don't know, and it's not my fucking business, how long this girl has been transitioning, but dude, everybody fucking knows. Are you even trying??

This whole fucking situation bothers me. Why the fuck does my fucking ex keep calling me "dear"?? It was so obvious to me for so fucking long that I am not fucking "dear" to you. I am not fucking cherished, otherwise, and I'm going to fucking keep going on and on and on and on about it, you would have fucking compromised with me. You would have come up at least a couple fucking levels from your shit cave, below the basement of rock fucking bottom.

You don't cherish me. You have never cherished me. You never wanted to fucking compromise. It was always your way or bust. If I was "dear" to you, at all, fucking ever, you would have compromised with me. Compromise to the higher expectation when it comes to keeping a clean house only benefits all involved. I'm not asking for the floor to be HEPA vacuumed. I'm not asking for the dishes to be autoclaves. I'm not asking for the walls to be regularly mopped with a 60% bleach solution. I'm not even asking for the laundry to be done with borax. My standards for cleanliness are relatively, incredibly low: Sink regularly emptied of dishes, counters and stove regularly wiped of food, and for the floor to be swept, mopped, etc, as needed. Garbage taken out as needed, laundry done as needed, showers taken regularly so your hair isn't more dandruff than hair 🤢

Speaking of clean, I couldn't even do my fucking laundry today. Fucking stupid capitalist holiday. I need to get everything folded up neatly so it fits into my duffle. I have to get my blood taken tomorrow after work, so I'm probably going to have to at least cram in doing my laundry and probably flail desperately to get it dried before I pack it away. Then I'll have to do my utmost Wednesday to get it all folded, but Friday evening, without question, I absolutely, absolutely must take apart my computer.

This is the week if I find out if I'm ovulating and I'm so anxious. I'm very confident that things will be fine, but what if they aren't?? There is a chance that I didn't ovulate and I don't ovulate. I don't wanna know the bad news--but what if it's good news?? I definitely can't go saying shit like this where my ex can see it. I have to keep acting like it's a sure thing, that I'm definitely not ovulating. But if I am, the chance of me being pregnant goes up from 50% likely!! And if I piss positive in a few weeks, the chance goes up further!! And if I can keep it into the second trimester, then the chance goes up almost as high as it can which is too fucking exciting!!!

My puzzle should be here tomorrow too! Again, too bad I can't just start right into it. I'll probably get to hold it for like a minute before I run to the clinic. Surely tomorrow, my card will work, right?? Another thing I can't let my ex find out that I figured out. Plus, I can't really afford to be flashing cash that I don't actually have all over town--unlike some people who can con others into giving them whatever they want.

I still feel stung. I feel so fucking disrespected, in so many ways. I still feel the disrespect of being told my very reasonable vision for my life and household was unreasonable. I feel disrespected that I tried over and over to end the relationship and make my ex leave, since I've paid the majority of all three of the leases we've shared. I feel disrespected that it took her saying it was over for the relationship to be over. I was never listened to, the entire relationship. I was never taken seriously when it really mattered to me.

Speaking of altering my appearance, I should also get some tattoos finally. But what.......? My cats' toe pads were one idea. Probably the front feet, and if I had to choose, either their dominant or their left. I think one of them is left-"handed". Favorite flower/s is always a popular one. Maybe some of my favorite animated characters.......