I Miss My Boyfriend (mike Faist)

they’re one years old today 🩷

Thinking abt. The challengers boner slap

let me jump THEM BONES PLEEEEASEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

yikes. unstanning now. was okay with the cannibalism, wasn’t aware of the ‘being mean to nat’ part.

camp counselor! tashi duncan hcs

WHO જ⁀➴ .. reluctantly agreed to sign up for a summer camp as camp counselors together, as a getaway (technically, it was, anyway) before she went off to stanford, and you to princeton.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. hated it the second you stepped foot on outside in the heat. she hated dealing with bugs, dirt, and uncomfortable weather. she doesn’t like the uneasiness hanging in the air—she’d heard offhand comments from locals about the camp, rumors about strange happenings in the woods.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. thought the other counselors were annoying. the feeling only grew when at the first night, while telling campfire stories, a counselor told a story about an old camp legend—something about a counselor who went mad and committed a massacre. she bit down her annoyance, her grip on your thigh tightening every time the dimwit spoke.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. tries to ignore the others, and bonds with the kids quickly. she thinks they’re adorable (although she’d never admit it. kids still bother her.. a lot). she helps them with setting up tents, and occasionally will play a campfire game with them to shut them up.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. liked to sneak out with you into the woods at night, and make out. you know a good spot with soft bushes. she’d never admit it, but sometimes the peacefulness of the woods would get to her, especially when the two of you were alone. she felt safer when it was just the two of you, away from the tension of the camp and the rumors swirling around. the quiet of the night, the rustling of leaves—she’d let herself relax for a few moments, even if it was only when she was with you.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. despite all the discomfort, liked the experience—being away from the world. she’d cling to you openly when the creepy stories got too much. it wasn’t just the physical moments in the woods that made it special—it was the sense of solidarity, the unspoken understanding that you two were in this together, whether it was dealing with the weirdness of camp or the impending separation after the summer.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. notices first. at first, it was easy to dismiss—just small, almost forgettable inconveniences. a piece of equipment would go missing, supplies would be misplaced, flashlights would flicker unexpectedly, and it was always just enough to feel like coincidence. but things escalated. campers began whispering about seeing someone standing just beyond the tree line at night. some of them insisted they heard voices after lights-out: strange, fragmented whispers that drifted through the dark. voices that didn’t sound like anyone at camp. she didn’t laugh it off like the others, she believed them. from that night on, she kept a flashlight tucked beneath her pillow—just in case.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. notices immediately when a counselor didn’t come back to their cabin. the director wrote it off as them quitting and sneaking out—but her bunk was still made, her stuff untouched. that’s when she stopped pretending everything was all stupid fun. that night, she clung tighter than usual when you snuck out to the bushes, her kisses frantic, as if she was afraid it’d be the last time.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. used to love the rain. that night, the rain fell in heavy sheets, relentless and loud, drowning out the usual chorus of insects and leaves. then came the scream. sharp, piercing, and far too close. she took off running, the mud clung to her shoes as she scurried through the downpour. she burst into your cabin, soaked and panicked, barely able to get the words out. she didn’t want to go back to the fire circle, her instincts screamed at her not to. but you two went. the scene that waited for you there still haunts her. benches knocked over like someone had fled in a hurry. scattered debris. drops of blood gleaming on the wet stone. and the axe—the one from the equipment shed—was gone. after that, the rain never felt the same again.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. quickly locked the campers in the mess hall. the power went out. and the remaining counselors—those who were alive—huddled together with flashlights. she didn’t speak much, except to grip your hand. her grip would get tighter every time you heard another scream, and the thump of a body. you two scurried off when the masked figure tore their axe through the door, ending up barricaded yourselves in the arts & crafts cabin. she had a pair of scissors gripped in her fist, and you had color pencils (sharpened, obviously. there weren't much weapons, unfortunately).

WHO જ⁀➴ .. barely had time to register the flicker of movement behind you. the figure emerged from the dark as if waiting for this moment. you shoved her behind you instinctively, yelling for her to run. the attack happened fast.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. didn’t run, not at first. she screamed, charging at the figure with her scissors. you were already on the ground, blood in your mouth, telling her to go. she didn’t want to leave you, didn’t want to believe it was happening. eventually, she did—barefoot, bloody, and grieving—until she burst into the main lodge and collapsed.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. regained consciousness with a paramedic shaking her. her vision swam as she blinked against the harsh light, her mind slow to catch up—but the first thing she did was search for you. her eyes darted frantically across the bloodied campsite, heart pounding, until the empty space where you should’ve been made her stomach drop. even as they tried to lift her onto the stretcher, she fought to stay. she insisted you were coming—that maybe you were hurt, sure, but not gone. you’d walk out of the trees any second now, bruised but grinning, like you always did.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. broke down when she learned the final death toll. fourteen lives lost, including yours. once she got home, she shut herself away in her room, swallowed by grief and shock, unable to face the world outside her door. for days, she didn’t eat, didn’t speak. just mourned. at one point, she nearly turned down her stanford scholarship, convinced she couldn’t move forward. but her parents gently pushed her to go, reminding her of everything she’d worked for. and maybe, deep down, she knew that leaving wouldn’t mean forgetting.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. carried your memory like a wound—something that never quite scabbed over. she’d stare out dorm windows at night, wondering what would’ve happened if she’d made you run with her. wondering if you’d still be alive if she’d said the camp was a stupid idea.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. shut down patrick and art immediately, still in the grieving process. she couldn’t even think about dating, when she’d lost you.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. gave up on tennis for a bit, but pushed herself to go back (after all, her scholarship was for tennis). grief clung to her like a second skin, heavy and unrelenting, but she tried to outrun it, tried to drown it out in the rhythm of serves and volleys. every morning, before the sun had fully risen, she was on the courts. and at night, long after the world had gone quiet, she was still there, chasing something she couldn’t quite name.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. let training became her ritual, her escape. with every swing of the racket, she fought to keep her sorrow at bay. when the knee injury came—sharp, sudden, and cruel—she barely flinched. the pain wasn’t as bad as the pain of losing you, in her head.

challengers i love u and u deserve so much more than this

thank uou for showing me your little white boy i do not like him can you put him away please

unpure ; art donaldson

the moment you entered the chapel, art donaldson—perfect, revered, untouchable—momentarily unraveled. known as the pastor’s son and golden boy of a devout small town, he was adored, idolized, and expected to be without flaw. but you weren’t there for god, salvation, or belief. you were there for him. and there was something intoxicating about tempting someone so carefully constructed to be pure—something deliberate in your movements, in the way your skirt rode up, in the way you sat just within his line of sight. you knew he was watching, just as you knew he shouldn’t. yet the tension—the push and pull of guilt and desire—felt electric, and impossibly easy. maybe it was wrong, but it never felt like it. not with the way you looked at him.

i miss tashi duncan, she can never do wrong

(flirting)