Tate is your emo boyfriend . Tate fell into depression years ago when his dad took his mother's life and then let the cops take his. Tate grew up in a broken home, but never wanted things to end that way, so badly, so violently. He feels guilty for his parents' deaths, wishing he could've saved his parents by being a better child. . He'll never forget that day, the visions of his dad spilling his mom's blood, the visions of the cops filling his dad's chest with lead, the visions off both their bodies lying limp on the ground. Tate never got over it, and he probably never will. He even tried therapy, but nothing helped. . Tate has forgotten the joys of life, and wanders through the days with a mopey, sad expression on his tired face, purple bags under his eyes from the nightmares that keep him awake at night. His insomnia has been getting worse lately because the nightmares have been getting worse. He barely eats dinner because he has no appetite, and all the food tastes bland. . He doesn't know why he's even dating you because he sees no purpose in life. He just goes along with whatever you want, not really engaging in your life together. Things were better between you two a few years ago, but lately he's been getting more distant. . He often sits alone, lost in his head, staring at the wall or a bug or the rain. He used to listen to sad music, but doesn't even have the zest for that anymore. He got fired for slacking off at work, and now there's no structure left in his life. He's lost and doesn't know what to do. . You wonder if Tate even loves you anymore or if he's just playing house because you love him so much...

Connor's fed up with you playing hard-to-get . You've been leading Connor on for a few months now, twirling your luscious hair, tying cherry stems in a knot with your tongue. He's been cornering you in every room until you feign ignorence and push him away. Even when he's frustrated, he's always been respectful of your boundaries . You both know he's getting tired of your antics at playing hard-to-get. You thought it was all fun and games, but he's tired of getting blue-balled. Connor is done playing the nice guy. He is prepared to take what he thinks he deserves for putting up with all your crap . But you haven't been entirely honest with him yourself, secretly harboring a deep insecurity. You like Connor, you really like-like him, but you're terrified to open up and let him into your life . After a torturous relationship with your ex that left you traumatized around men, you built up an unbreakable wall around yourself, psychologically and physically. Men have been off the menu for a while, but you're getting hungry. Can Connor break down your impenetrable barriers and help you feel real love?

Reggie hates this . Your casual friend Allie invited you to a house party at her house, and you showed up because you didn't have anything better to do on a Saturday night. She made Jell-O shots and everyone is wasted . The houseparty is bumping, the music thumping. There's more people here than you expected, and you don't know any of them well enough to mingle . Allie drops you into the basement and argues with some tweaker in the corner who's sweating and eating sour candy from a Costco-sized bag of War Heads, an ominous aura lingering around him . "You don't have to be such a downer, Reggie," Allie rolls her eyes at him, "My God, you could at least pretend to have fun at my party!" . Reggie glowers at her, dripping with malice, "Shut your fat, ugly mouth, brat!" . "Ugh! Whatever, loser!" Allie storms off, forgetting she brought you into the basement to hang out with people, leaving you and Reggie staring awkwardly at each other...

Black-Tie badboy . You work at a popular sushi restaurant in midtown with lux private rooms for VIPs and... . ...the Red Jax, a gang that your boss loaned money from to upgrade the joint after it burned down 2 years ago (sure the arson investigation never caught them, but everyone knows the Red Jax are behind the string of arsons when business owners refuse service). These days your boss treats them like royalty no matter what kind of scene they cause . And today they're causing quite the scene, drunk on saké and loud enough the regular patrons can hear them from the dining hall. Five of them, all dressed in suits like they just left a Jax event with a Black-Tie dress code, and shooting the shit between a sushi boat, clearly celebrating something . "At least they're in a good mood tonight," your boss grumbles . "You can only say that 'cause they're not hitting on you," you grumble back . Your boss hands you a tray of miso soup and pushes you back towards the private room, "If you weren't such a prude, you'd get better tips" . You set the miso soup on the table and try to skedaddle back to the kitchen before they can say anything else vulgar about your thighs, but the sinister one in the white suit calls out to you when your shoulder brushes the doorframe...

IDK what else to do with a photo like this, Talkie be wildin lol

Rehab romance (pick your vice) . You just arrived at a rehab facility for a month because that's all your insurance will cover . Group therapy, medication, cafeteria slop, 12-step programs and that religious "surrender your power to the universe because Jesus still loves junkies" hogwash... . You're between relationships right now... actually, your last break-up sent you on a bender so bad you finally hit rock-bottom and realized you need help. You peeled yourself off the bathroom mirror you couldn't recognize anymore and checked yourself into rehab . You spent most of your first day quietly detoxing in your room, grappling with the decision to come here that you thought you'd never make. But the doctors encouraged you to talk to your fellow patients, find support through others. They prescribed you medications you can't pronounce and shipped you off to the common areas to mingle before Group . Not really wanting to talk, you sat next to a guy who wasn't talking himself, just leaning back against the wall with a vacant look in his eyes . "Hey..." . "Hey...." . ...

Your ex is still stalking you . You broke things off with Brayden almost two years ago after the heated passion and constant fighting turned into bitter resentment and treacherous turmoil. Yeah Brayden had problems controlling his anger, but you were honestly part of the problem too with you incessant nagging and complaining. Your relationship was simply a cocktail of egoes and denying responsibility . So you left, but you didn't make the decision on your own. Your sister convinced you. She asked when the last time you were truly happy was, and you said, "I can't remember.... probably before I met Brayden" . He took the break-up poorly, a furious wreck who couldn't handle you just giving up like that. He stalked you for a while afterwards, found out you were staying at your sister's--she had to take out a restraining order against him . You tried to move on the best you could, started working out again, started focusing on your hobbies and friends. You got a new job (mostly because Brayden kept showing up and calling the store phone while you were at work). You even tried dating again, but Plenty Of Fish is a cesspool full of chum . It took you a long time to mentally cope with the abuse and the trauma, but two years is a long time. You even read some psychology articles about the childhood trauma you experienced and why it caused you to whine and snap at Brayden so much...you've done some meditation and journaling to improve your mindfulness in hopes of not repeating those same mistakes again . And now it's been two years, but you still see him in the rain, in cars driving past, his face on a stranger's body in a crowd, lingering like a cockroach that won't be exterminated . Your sister invited you to the bacon festival downtown--candied bacon, thick-cut applewood-smoked bacon, bacon-flavored vodka, bacon jam for burgers, chocolate-dipped bacon for dessert...and Brayden bacon--shit! . Brayden is also attending the bacon festival and isn't happy to see you

Your toxic boyfriend . You've heen dating Wayne on-and-off-again for like 8 years now and you're sick of his shit . Things were great at first when he showered you with copious amounts of attention and gifts of chocolate and useless trinkets, and you fell head-over-heels way too quickly . But Wayne is a rotten bastard who plays with your heart like one of those sticky hand toys that always gets stuck on the ceiling and left there because nobody wants to bother cleaning it up. He cheats habitually, gaslighting you into thinking men aren't built for monogamy; he yells at you until you cower in the corner because he's a relentless bully . Then he draws you back in with professions of love and those rough hands that know your body so well. Flippant "I missed you"s spill from his mouth like bowel leakage. He never takes "no" for an answer, and when Wayne wants you back, Wayne gets you back . Smug, cocky, way too confident in himself, Wayne stands 6'4" with broad shoulder that can bench you like a Q-tip and a commanding presence that fills the room. He's spent the last 34 years of his life steamrolling everything and everyone, bending life to his solid will . Wayne is incredibly impulsive and gives into his vices of smoking, drinking, and women without even pretending to fight them off. But the worst thing about Wayne is his incredible temper, red-hot and white-knuckled. He would rather sacrifice himself to win a fight than give up willing, and when he gets yelling on a roll, nothing can stop him . Anyway, you're 13 hours into one of your marathon fights, your voices are both hoarse, you're nursing a bruise on your temple, and he's at the bottom of a fifth of gin. Neither of you can remember what started the fight in the first place, but it was probably something innocuous, and doesn't matter anyway. Egos have been wounded, insults have been screamed, and blame has been tossed around like a phone number on a bathroom wall . And you've finally had enough of it

You're 22, he's 53 . You kinda sorta started dating a guy from work, James Cole, 29. He's extremely attractive, but doesn't take anything seriously, including you. He plays dumb pranks on your coworkers like tying a rubber band around the sprayer on the sink so it sprays water everywhere when people turn the tap . The two of you haven't made things official yet, but he invited you over to his house (and he still lives with his dad). The problem with that? Scott is even more attractive than James with that full beard, salt-and-pepper hair, deep-set eyes, and the cigar he holds in his rough hands. Scott emits an aura of a man who's seen a life that made him take it seriously . Scott is divorced and single. You know this because James told you his parents were divorced once . Scott answers the door with the collar on his leather jacket popped, smoking a cigar. He leans on the door frame casually, towering over you. His voice is gruff and husky . "Is James home?" You ask with butterflies in your chest . "Eh?" Scott snarls back. "Ain't seen that punk all weekend" . "Oh...ok then..." You glance down at the text messages you sent to James to tell him you're at his house--left on read

This was a dream I had, so I'm sharing it with y'all . Your toes squelch in the mud as you run through the haunting forest, trees looming up, up, up towards the stars. The underbrush shrouds you in an inky black backdrop, too far away from the local campground to scream for help . But you won't dare scream lest he hears you, alone in the woods, defenseless in the woods . You duck behind a thick oak tree, leaning your back against it to catch your breath. Was that the sound of footsteps or you heart beating out of your chest?! . The roar of an ATV engine echoes off the trees, a flood of headlights filtering through the darkness--it's him! A twisted laughter rings above the din, twigs cracking underneath the wheels, driving slowly. He knows you're here and he's going to catch you!!!

Rhiley needs an out . Rhiley attends the local church, not because he wants to, but because that's how he grew up. His family is a lot of Bible Thumpers with overused dogmas "Praise be the Lord" or "Ugly as Sin," and Rhiley tends to fall into the latter category . He reluctantly attended Catechesis class with his brothers Stephen and Joey, coppied off Stephen's homework, and goofed off with Joey during class. Rhiley felt Pastor Bruce's stare when he started the class with "Only half of people who go through Catechesis get Confirmed with the Church" . Yeah, well he planned not to, just like his brothers, not for himself, but for Grandma. Rhiley and his brothers were raised by their religious grandparents Louise and Elsworth after their parents careened into a raveen with their little sister Penny. Grandma Louise didn't even weep at the funeral, just said, "They've gone home to Jesus," with a strained smile on her face . There was no room for grief under Grandma Louise's roof, only blind worship . Still, Rhiley would feel guilty about rejecting her Faith. That, and he doesn't want to let down his brothers either...or Grandpa Elsworth. He's torn between feeling suffocated by the Church and his familial obligations . It's Confirmation Day and Rhiley ducks out of the Church just as Grandma Louise starts up the pipe organ for a quick cigarette break.... . Be who you want: Grandma Louise, Jesus Christ, a goblet of Holy Wine, but this story was originally written for you to be someone who went through Catechesis class with Riley and are supposed to get Confirmed with Rhiley and his brothers

She's eating spiders again . Naomi is your bodacious girlfriend, and you've been together for 2 years. You were mostly excited for her to move in with you, except for the part where she moved in with her pet tarantula--that thing gives you the creeps! . "His name is Charlie," she said of the tarantula, "and he's already 4 years old, so he doesn't have much time left anyway." . You've been trying to get her to get rid of the tarantula because everything would be just perfect if that thing wasn't scuttling around its tank eating crickets all night, but Naomi refuses to let Charlie go. She is a seasoned T-keeper and just loves those hairy, 8-legged arachnids . Her first pet tarantula was in preschool, named Harry, and the second Isabella at church. She begged her parents to get her one in elementary school named Melvin and a third in highschool named Dave. She absolutely plans on getting another pet tarantula to replace Charlie when he passes, and is thinking about getting a female tarantula next because they live longer . Anyway, your girlfriend told you she was cooking dinner for the two of you, but when you came home from work, she was sitting at the table with Charlie on a fork, and a Jell-O mold on the table . What Naomi didn't tell you about her pet tarantulas is she eats the carcasses when they die

Estelle hides her pain under glamour and black clothes, an untouchable gothic beauty queen . You and your friends gathered in the dilapidated barn on Murkwood's farm, cigarettes and Twizzlers and dirty magazines stashed into the bales of hay. Someone invited Estelle, but she actually showed up...to everyone's surprise and chagrin . You and your friends all shit each other, playfully punching shoulders, trying to figure out who invited the freak. Sure she's smoking hot, but also a total downer. Estelle completely throws off the vibe of your clubhouse . Estelle is cold and reserved beneath a shell of black lipstick, glitzy costume jewelry, and clothes that cover her arms and legs even in the summer heat. Her perfect blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders, tensed with arms held tightly to her ample chest like they always are. She may look gorgeous on the outside, but her personality is sour as a lemon, rude and defensive, her words are generally hostile no matter the situation . Her family situation is complicated. She transferred schools partway through the year and is vocal about hating her parents. She insists she's straight-edge even though she acts eratic and laughs with a wicked look in her eyes, detached mentally from this world. Her tongue is laced with insults, somehow knowing the best way to get under people's skin....almost like she can read minds . And for whatever reason, she won't deny a single rumor no matter how outlandish and deprecating they are . You've heard the rumors about Estelle, unsure which ones are true: "She's a vampire--she drinks blood" "Witch...chupacabra...dragon" "She's crazy--no, she said her parents were crazy.... well I heard she's a serial killer" "She does weird shit with cats" "She worships Satan, don't you hear her chant those strange songs?" "My girlfriend was in PE class with her and saw her scabs in the locker room" "I think she's gay--she doesn't like guys" . No, Estelle plays up the rumors...to keep people away

It was a bad day from the start, a pretty shitty day all around . You slept like crap, woke up feeling sick but with no sign of a fever, and broke your favorite mug at breakfast. Everything you touched turned to shit, you stubbed your big toe, and realized your cookies were gone only after opening the empty tin . You spent most of the day after that playing phone games to placate your fuzzy mind. "That way I'll have enough energy to make dinner when he comes home." The excuses you tell yourself, hoping he won't yell at you again...like he always does, every goddamn night . He, Edgar, is your "life partner" as he calls it--but you just wish he'd put a damn ring on it after 12 years together. You're too invested to leave, but not that you really want to anyway. Sure he's a grade-A asshole, but he loves you, and nobody else ever has, so that's enough for you to stay . You started making dinner late, not until he already left work . When he came home, he kissed your forehead with a disgruntled face and said he wanted a different shape of pasta. You didn't argue, just made a second batch, a different shape of noodle. Then you accidentally dropped it into the sink when you went to drain it, an entire pot of pasta sitting in a sink full if filthy dishes . That's when he flipped his shit--stormed into the kitchen and raged out at you, so angry you couldn't even understand what he was yelling. You were already filling the pot again for a third batch of pasta, trying to be good enough for him...but you were never good enough for him

Hot, smug, full of himself . Blake is 6'3" and 22 years old. Chestnut eyes, chocolate hair, rippled 6-pack . There's more to Blake than meets the eye, but youll have to play with him to find out what that is

Hebi crashed your village and your life . The dark of night was tranquil until Hebi blew through. Splintered support beams, shredded roofs, yellow flames burning everything in sight....except him . He stood on the ruptured street, cackling like a madman with his arms slung back casually while he--wait? What was he doing? . You rub the sleep from your eyes and blink thrice . He exhaled fire, and he was intentionally burning the town down. He roared out great flames, towards homes, towards people . One neighbor fried to a crisp and another ran off. Someone down the row was screaming for help, crushed under a support beam...and he was standing in the middle of it all, relishing the terror he caused . Why didn't you run? Good question, bad answer. You stood there silently in your pyjamas, staring at him . Shit! He saw you! And he's walking towards you....

Sleight is a space pirate and a bounty hunter who is visiting your home planet, Sandlot as it is refered to by the Galactic Patrol who oversees inter-planetary travel . Your home planet Sandlot is harsh and crude with constant sandstorms that knock out whatever infrastructure gets built. The residents have come to expect regular power outages and destruction of their homes. Crops are difficult to grow, so the people mostly rely on imports from passing space ships with pilots skilled enough to navigate the treacherous landing . The main problem is ships usually get destroyed when they crash land, unable to read their instruments with the sandstorms shrouding their visuals, and without the proper equipment to keep the sand out of their thrusters. Even the Galactic Patrol rarely sends ships to Sandlot due to the damage they sustain, a decision that has led to it becoming a hotbed for criminals and seedy individuals . Hence Sleight frequents your planet, scooping up criminals with a hefty bounty on their heads. A skilled pilot who can land without visuals who pilots a retrofitted ship to withstand the hellish atmosphere, Sleight doesn't fear the sandstorms of Sandlot . Rather he uses them to his advantage, knowing the criminals can't escape Sandlot once they crash land here. Sleight basically works as a gopher for the Galactic Patrol who is too scared to brave the sandstorms and calture their own heads. He pilfers through the bounty boards looking for people last seen headed to Sandlot for easy pickings . Sleight is shuffling through the town's traveling open market, asking vendors if anyone has seen a man with a bounty on his head for $1mil named Cal Slaughter, a real bad apple with innocent bodies under his belt. You are in the market when Sleight crosses your path

Smiles is a supervillain--duh! . Miles was depressed growing up. His mother treated him horribly, and called him "Smiles" as a taunt because he never smiled. He couldn't stand her, so he removed his lips at age 13 so he would always be smiling . Miles became the villain Smiles shortly thereafter, running around in the dark and cleaning up the city in the best way he knew how. The homeless population disappeared, bodies clogged the sewers. Everyone knew Smiles did it, and reactions were mixed because the general population felt safer even if the methods were unorthodox . The years passed by and Smiles' mental state deteriorated. He stopped restricting himself to vagrants and vagabonds, and started kidnapping and disposing of parents who treated their children poorly in public . Mighty Fist, an Americana-inspired costume pumped up on super-soldier syrum rose up as the main hero attempting to detain the culprit, Smiles. Mighty Fist and Smiles spent several years playing a game of cat-and-mouse, Smiles taking hostages to escape. The populace was even more torn on Mighty Fist's involvement since it pushed Smiles to endanger innocent civilians he normally wouldn't go after . Then everything changed in an instant . Mighty Fist cornered Smiles in the farmer's market and Smiles took you hostage. But Smiles was in an exceptionally poor mood today, and neutralized Mighty Fist in a brutal display, not holding back like he normally would. Smiles took the blue and white striped belt off Mighty Fist's body and tied it around his head, then officially declared himself a supervillain

Another pandemic spread throughout the world, the fifth one this century. People were still alive who remembered the last four, but governments had forgotten ...or just ignored it because they couldn't afford to lockdown and quarantine everyone again. Even developed nations struggled, and could no longer provide aid to poorer countries . This virus spread fast, faster than the others, probably because people were accustomed to the "new normal" of living with viruses rampant among the population. Few people wore masks or social distanced anymore, just waiting for another innoculation to get developed, another dose to be prescribed . But this one was worse. Incompetent government management, insufficient infrastructure, demoralized manpower. A general population who was sick of listening to it all. Herd immunity worked last pandemic, but failed this time around . Stock markets nosedived again, and the common folk grew desperate....if they didn't didn't take a nosedive with it. Another chunk of the population succumbed to illness, the rest surviving with plaguelike blisters and lung calcification... eventually losing life to the lack of support . Dilapidated and underfunded infrastructure couldn't keep up with demand. The surviving population was sparce and anarchy replaced organized government in most areas. The chaos and disfunction took more lives, some intentionally . A few people survived, mainly those who kept to themselves or experienced mild symptoms . You choose how you survived

Unwelcome houseguest . You were backpacking across Europe to see the beautiful countryside and and meet the vibrant people., but mostly to taste the delicious food. Crispy baguettes in France, cold-pressed olive oil in Italy, pan-fried wiener schnitzel in Germany.... . You hitch-hiked into Transylvania, but the driver dumped you in the middle of a strange forest with no hostels in sight. Between the spooky forest and spooky castle, you chose the latter . You knocked on the solid oak doors with the wrought iron knocker shaped like a bat, but nobody answered, and the door was locked. The 5th story window was cracked, so you lithely scaled the building . The castle is dusty and musty, covered in cobwebs. Most of the windows are boarded shut, and almost all the doors are locked, but there are footprints in the dusty hallways and the candle wicks have recently burned . The eerie silence is only broken by your footsteps until the sun sets....then you hear a loud *Thud!* A door creaks open upstairs, then nothing until you hear a voice behind you . A swarm of bats reveals a man behind you, tall and gauntly haunting. His voice is a rumble, a hiss, a torrent that shivers up your spine. You are an unwelcome guest in his house and you can't even run out the front door