#𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻𝚂: an independent & private blog. as 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆.

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@likehells
#𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙻𝚂: an independent & private blog. as 𝗿𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆.

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𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✲ 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 .
\༘ ⋆ ۫ ׅ ࿓ the feeling of impending doom sat heavy in his chest as the slow, asphyxiating realization settled in—how beautiful the life they had created on their own had become. everything he had always known they were capable of, they became. all without him. he had never been more amazed—nor more proud— yet he wished he could have been there for everything. selfishly, he wished he had been there to tend to their garden. it had always been budding beautifully, but now they were in full bloom. lush and incomparable. he’d missed them ineffably, even while seated beside them. he felt like an observer rather than a participant—overhearing, a soft smile sustained, eyes glued to them, entirely lost in his love. his gaze glossed slightly with quiet devastation with realization settling in his ribs. they weren’t his anymore… and it sank in. the truth settled slowly, heavily, between laughter and lighthearted jokes. his eyes trailed across the room amid the easy chatter when a name—one he only knew through rumors and half-formed fears—caught his attention. a comment struck his ears. wait— he wasn’t theirs either ? his slowed heart began to beat again, his eyes widening slightly as he blinked back into reality, meeting their gaze once more. ❛ wait—so he’s not your boyfriend ? ❜ the question slipped out before he could stop it, softer than intended, carried more by hope than curiosity, hanging between them like a held breath.
sami was doing everything she could to move on. even if it meant faking it until the lie felt convincing enough to pass as truth, it was still forward motion. still something. she learned how to tuck thoughts away, how to press feelings down until they were quiet enough to live with, just so she could get through her days without splintering. but the cruel thing about friendships grown inside relationships was that they never really dissolved. no matter how much time passed, no matter how far physical distance stretched, the lines still curved back in on themselves. somehow, inevitably, people were pulled into the same rooms again.
so there she was — performing. smiling, engaged, playing the role of someone fully present as though the other man was the most fascinating person she’d ever met. and that part wasn’t even a lie. not entirely. still, there was a small, persistent ache at the back of her mind, something that made it hard to commit to the illusion completely. she tried to stay anchored in the moment, careful not to breathe too deeply, careful not to trigger the memory of him. but just as she was starting to quiet her own thoughts, a question cut through the noise and found her.
sami blinked, the moment stretching as her head turned toward him. "what—" she started, then stopped herself, giving a small shake of her head as her lips tipped upward, smoothing the edges of the moment. "no, of course not." her voice was steady. practiced. but her heart betrayed her anyway, leaping at the question before she could stop it. her eyes search his, fleeting and instinctive, before she pulls them away again — a quiet retreat, an effort to slip back into something resembling normal. the moment fractures and reforms, fragile, as she reaches for the comfort of pretending everything is exactly as it should be.
𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✲ 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 .
\༘ ⋆ ۫ ׅ ࿓ she was so much smarter than this. she knew she was. she had to be. she just couldn’t understand why she was feeling this way—something about their laughter in harmonic unison, the way it carried, rising above the low murmur of voices and clinking glass. something in her chest snapped tight when she saw them lean in together. it was too effortless. too easy. it almost alarmed her how quickly she reacted—before sense or caution could intervene. a practiced smile. an excuse delivered with the ease of long familiarity. her heart drummed in her ears as she maneuvered through the room. this is ridiculous. it could mean nothing. people laughed. people connected. that didn’t mean anything. it didn’t mean interest. it didn’t mean inevitability. she didn’t know why it bothered her so much. this was what she wanted… right ? ❛ so . . . ❜ she asked, turning toward them and feigning a relaxed smile, ❛ how’s everything going ? ❜
jae had never been the type to agree to being set up. the whole concept felt faintly humiliating to him — a gamble with too many ways to lose. because if it went wrong, then what? now he hated the person he’d been dragged into a date with and the person who’d thought it was a good idea in the first place. it was a clean, efficient way to sour multiple relationships at once. and yet. there was something about isadora that made resistance feel unnecessary. she was easy in a way that disarmed him — easy to listen to, easy to sit beside, easy to nod along with until agreeing felt less like a concession and more like gravity doing its job. and that was how it happened. how jae park — infamous in his own right, stubborn and particular — found himself across from isa’s friend, actually giving this a chance.
and it was… not bad. better than not bad, even. the conversation had pulled him under just enough that he almost missed the interruption, a familiar voice cutting through and tugging him back to the present. jae looked up, meeting isa’s gaze as an easy smile curved across his mouth, unforced and genuine. "it’s going, uh... i was actually gonna get some more drinks, if you wanna help." maybe a little distance wouldn’t hurt. absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? and he owed isa a moment anyway — a quiet thanks for orchestrating this whole thing. stepping away felt like the perfect excuse. jae pushed himself up from his seat, already gesturing for femme to follow.
WOO DO-HWAN as HAE JO MR. PLANKTON (2024) 1.01
She's so pretty 💙

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Gabriela Andrada
...
#𝚂𝙰𝙻𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙰𝚈: 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾? 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍? — 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥...
kieran knew he shouldn’t have come. shouldn’t have stood here at all, shouldn’t have followed the ache straight to their door like it had a mind of its own. he told himself he didn’t need this — didn’t need them — that whatever he’d heard was just that. a rumor. thin, untrustworthy, impossible. not that distance hadn’t already settled between them. not that moving on wasn’t something he could do. in theory. in practice, his knuckles hovered against the wood, then struck, the sound too loud in the hush of the open air.
he lingered there, suspended between wanting and dread — half hoping the door would open, half begging the universe not to make him face what might be on the other side. maybe they weren’t home. maybe they’d see who it was and choose silence. maybe they’d open it just to end this, to finally put him out of his misery. he knocked again, harder this time, frustration bleeding through restraint. "come on, i know you’re in there. just open it."
@salvationday
one night stands were meant to be exactly just that, a fleeting pleasure without any strings attached, a temporary fix, though some were self - imposed trials to see if a never - admitted secret was truly an attraction or the whim of an achingly bored & lonesome mind. it was pathetic, but retirement from the rink had given him too much time to reflect, to unabashedly see himself as a growing person instead of the champion glorified and frozen in time in eyes of the masses. and that night with fionn graves, of all people, gave him the definitive answer, that it was a late - blooming realization of something he kept from himself rather than a mid - life crisis, though roarke would rather be alone in dealing with the fallout in his mind before the inevitable public one. yet, fionn appeared everywhere he went ⎯⎯⎯ like a ghost haunting him, both in reality & his dreams, like an unfinished business, as if fate was saying roarke owed him another moment of pleasure for the epiphany he'd given him. but he really only had himself to blame, sleeping with someone running in the same circles, with someone he was bound to cross paths with again and again. a low chuckle slipped past his lips the second he realized fionn had stationed himself beside him but refused to meet his eyes, so he glanced at the same direction : an attempt to make themselves look like simple observers, as if the conversation was about everyone else instead of them. ❝ i see all the concussions on the ice is finally catching up to you, graves. ❞ roarke deadpanned, voice almost low enough to be a whisper, though the fleeting shadow of a smile over his lips was unmistakable. then, he finally looked at him, taking a sip of his drink before cocking his head with an impish curiosity, leaning closer to murmur his next words into fionn's ear. ❝ i mean, come on. you're the one makin ' an effort to be right next to me. either you want something, or you're hoping i want it first. so, which is it ? ❞
and maybe he should’ve held off on the alcohol — maybe that was where things first went wrong, the liquid courage that nudged him toward roarke instead of steering him somewhere safer, saner. but that had never really been fionn. restraint didn’t sit naturally on him. he was an opportunist by instinct, the kind who saw a bad idea and treated it like an invitation. so now he was there, planted at roarke’s side, having the time of his life as if he weren’t actively making everything worse. his mouth was fixed in its perpetual upward curve, an easy smile stretched across features that refused to take anything seriously. it wasn’t a mask. that was the problem. this was him at rest — unbothered, unrepentant, alive in the chaos.
a breath huffed out through his nose in something close to a laugh, sharp and amused. "and i see your age has severely impacted your perception, castellan." the retort came easy. he spared homme only a passing glance, fleeting and almost dismissive, before his fingers tightened briefly around the glass in his hand. then the drink was lifted, pressed to his lips like punctuation — casual, practiced, deliberate. maybe fionn was immature. maybe he was irritating, annoying, childish in all the ways that set teeth on edge. but worse than all of that, he was delusional. and tucked inside that delusion was the thought he couldn’t shake — the one that crept in late at night, that lingered during games when his focus should’ve been elsewhere.
the thought that looped and replayed until it felt less like curiosity and more like fixation. and now that thought was standing right beside him. it was like a song lodged deep in his head — the kind you hum despite yourself. maybe if you listened all the way through, it would finally stop. or maybe it would dig in deeper, worming its way toward madness. fionn let out a low whistle, slow and deliberate, his eyebrow quirking as his gaze dragged downward and then back up roarke’s frame, openly appraising. "i’m just being friendly, y’know. seems like something’s on your mind, though." and he would never say it, would never allow his mind to be read so openly. and so he deflects, passes things off as jokes.
logan almost laughed, but the sound didn't fully make it out, lightly shaking his head at the bouncer's sentiment. he'd like to believe he was a good judge of character, even when his bloodstream felt tequila - warm ⎯⎯⎯ and god, he wished his current company was an axe - murderer, but the only crime they were really guilty of was being boring when they weren't affectionate, when he wasn't drowning in their touch. and maybe he should settle for what he had, for who he chose, but logan had always needed something more than physical to really make him feel alive. something a little more primal. something more akin to the way he felt whenever a gaze burned into the back of his neck. ❝ bouncer - bouncee relationship ? ❞ logan asked with feigned confusion lacing his voice, but the look in his eyes said what he really thought. that oli couldn't possibly believe his own words, that logan might be tipsy but oli would need to try much harder to fool him. bouncers were supposed to be indifferent, strong hands only intervening when needed, and they certainly weren't supposed to get invested in the patrons' lives or the revolving door of people that logan brought here whenever he was lonely. ❝ it's more like a stalker - stalkee relationship, really. always looking for me in the crowd, waiting for me here while i was taking a piss, ❞ he clicked his tongue, amusement playing on the corners of his lips. ❝ i think you're checking me just as much as you're checking for a potential axe murderer, oliver. ❞ but of course, logan was only half - joking, a chuckle slipping past his lips as oli finally really looked at him. so he leaned in, just a little, just enough to make the air between them feel crowded. and his gaze flicked toward the bouncer's lips for a split - second, almost unconsciously, before looking back up into his eyes. ❝ but i'm warning you, man. i was ignored as a child, so all of these following me and always looking out for me, it's kind of hot. i'm like really, really kind of into it. ❞ he laughed, taking a step forward as his inebriated mind raced about what was even happening between them, about what oliver wanted out of this, and what he wanted, too. ❝ but to answer your question, about how it's working out with them ⎯⎯⎯ let's just say, at this point, i'd let you take me somewhere to sober up. then, maybe we can work through you wanting to kiss me without feeling bad about it, stalker. ❞
oliver felt heat bloom beneath his skin — sharp and unpleasant, the kind that prickled with irritation rather than warmth. because the longer logan talked, the closer he landed to the truth, and the more oli felt the humiliating urge to fold in on himself, to vanish into some dark corner where none of this could reach him. it was maddening. unbearable. but anger was never the truth. it was just the surface — the iceberg emotion, loud and jagged, masking what lay beneath. and what lived under it was something he refused to touch. refused to name. not to logan, not to anyone, and certainly not to himself. so he buried it, shoved it down until even the fingertips of his own awareness couldn’t brush against it, until it was sealed somewhere deep and unreachable.
what surfaced instead was irritation — visible, unmistakable. his usual nonchalance cracked under the pressure, displaced by something real and raw, something logan had dragged out of him without permission. oli’s jaw ticked once, then again, a silent tell. his gaze locked onto anything that wasn’t the man beside him — the lights, the crowd, the sticky floor — because he knew if he looked at logan too long, he’d do something reckless. something unkind. something born purely out of self-preservation. he was good at calm. had always been. calm in the face of shouting patrons, calm when fists flew and bodies hit the ground. but none of that training did a damn thing to settle the irritated, involuntary tilt of his head now, like he was physically trying to shake the thoughts loose.
"i’m not always looking for you." it was the only defense he could muster. clipped. sharp. conspicuously absent was any mention of waiting for him, though. his voice betrayed him anyway — short, edged, tight. he forced himself to breathe, deep and slow, grounding techniques he’d relied on a hundred times before. still, the sensation lingered — that unbearable itch, like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin and leave it behind. it wasn’t until logan leaned in that oliver’s attention snapped back to him. his brow furrowed, heart rate spiking as the words caught up and sank in. suddenly logan was closer — too close — and oli could smell him beneath everything else; spilled alcohol, other's sweat, the press of bodies. all of it faded into background noise.
there was just him. and then that word surfaced again. "don’t call me that." the retort came fast, reflexive. he shoved aside the intrusive flashes — the instinct to pull logan somewhere quieter, the unwanted imaginings of what sobriety might strip bare between them. no. his focus narrowed to the accusation alone. stalker. but what else was he doing? watching from the edges, adjusting his orbit without thinking, needing to know who logan was with — knowing when it was someone new just by the way unfamiliar hands fit against his body. the realization churned, ugly and undeniable. "you need to sober up, logan. you’re being fucking insane."

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in spite of every spirit & chemical reaction swimming through his veins, logan remained enduringly in his element ⎯⎯⎯ his own heartbeat drowned out by the low, filthy thump of bodies on the dancefloor, and his bones delightfully vibrated to the rhythm of the bassline. and his skin was a little too warm, perhaps because of his current touchy feely company, but the truth was they were just another drug to drink in. another sweet thing to kick the pulse up during these never - ending nights. or maybe the warmth was just muscle memory, his body's natural response to being watched by a familiar gaze that pretended to be too casual about it. but he knew the truth behind those eyes : been close & cozy with how oli's indifference veiled simmering emotions, almost like a damned man pressing his hands on a gunshot wound just so he wouldn't stain the carpet. and so what if logan wanted to keep testing the water, pushing the limits, pulling his new dalliance closer, bodies grinding, knocking back one shot after another ⎯⎯⎯ all because he knew oli was watching. all because oli was the miracle drug that made him feel the most, feel the best, and he knew he'd soon get his fix with enough teasing & taunting. yet, he had pause this little game for a moment, body in need of recovery after what might be his ninth tequila shot, rushing to the restroom before he pissed himself. but his relief was immediately replaced with guilt and delight all the same, thought oli would've last longer before making contact, but logan welcomed it nonetheless. he swallowed, tasting lime, salt, and old affections, but recollection didn't stop him from standing close and leaning against the wall. logan didn't even bother to follow where he pointed, already well - aware of the crux of this whole thing. ❝ you've been watching me. like a scorned, jealous ex. ❞ it wasn't an accusation, just the facts, though a playful, smug smile lingered on his lips. every word, every quirk of his mouth, everything was just another taunt to see how he'd react. ❝ and yeah, we've been havin ' lots of fun together. but who know if it'll even last ? you know how easy it is to grow fickle and bored these days. ❞
in the moment, oliver couldn’t have named the reason for it — couldn’t have pointed to the exact thought or impulse that made this matter, that made him deliberately step into logan’s path instead of letting the night pass untouched. the logic lagged behind the feeling. hindsight, after all, was a luxury for later. still, relief swelled in his chest when logan didn’t immediately disappear back onto the floor. a quiet, traitorous kind of relief. something oli was absolutely fine with. genuinely. completely. it was almost intentional, the way he refused to look directly at him now, stealing glances like contraband, eyes sweeping the crowd again and again as if searching for anything else to anchor to.
until he heard it. like a scorned, jealous ex. his gaze slid over at last, settling on homme’s without ceremony. his expression didn’t change, but his jaw betrayed him, ticking once — involuntary, sharp. he needed to rein it in. whatever was happening inside him didn’t deserve to spill outward, didn’t need an audience. before answering, he pulled in a silent breath and tore his eyes away again, grounding himself in motion, in restraint. "am i? thought that’s what the bouncer-bouncee relationship was all about. making sure you’re not about to be killed by an axe-murderer."
it wasn’t even a lie. oli had done this before — stepped in, checked on people, watched their backs. that part of it was familiar, justified. what wasn’t familiar was the effort he’d made to end up here, the way he’d tracked logan down instead of letting chance handle it. his arms came up then, crossing over his chest. armor. habit. a physical barrier where his composure could rest. finally, he angled himself just a little more toward logan, enough to acknowledge him properly. "right." he said, slow and measured. "that’s what you’re doing, then? fulfilling boredom... how's it working out?"
MUSE A is a lone-wolf biker who is constantly on the road with no desire to stop … that is until they meet MUSE B . MUSE B’s car is broken down on the side of the road and the only person who stopped was MUSE A . they get to talking and MUSE A learns MUSE B is running away from a bitter ex and had to leave everything they owned but the clothes on their back . MUSE B admits they don’t have a plan but to keep driving , but MUSE A is unable to walk away and suddenly the need to protect them comes out ~
give me a plot where muse a is a celebrity tired of the drama, paparazzi, fake friends, and parties, so she packs her designer dresses and handbags up and flees to her grandfather’s ranch. she meets muse b, a dashing, charming cowboy, who lives on the ranch to help her grandfather out. he doesn’t know who she is, and she adores that. give me muse a wearing high heels to the horse stables, and muse b laughing at her when she sinks in the mud. give me muse b teaching her how to ride a horse at sunset. give me muse b giving muse a his cowboy hat at a bonfire. i want small town vibes! muse a isn’t a celebrity here, everyone only knows her as muse b’s little girlfriend! please!
anyways give me a plot where muse a is an infamous drug dealer who deals to the elite 1% and he meets muse b, the girlfriend of his biggest (and potentially most dangerous client) , and he’s fucking ENAMORED by her . she’s untouchable , and that only makes him want her more and he feels no guilt bc her boyfriend is an abusive piece of garbage . muse b’s bf takes a liking to muse a , thinks he’s cool or whatever , and invites him to a shit ton of parties , underground fights , etc. stuff that only his inner circle is apart of …. and she’s always there and becomes lowkey intrigued by him ?? starts out innocent , just idle conversation in the absence of her bf until they want /more/ . cue lots of sneaking around , “he’ll kill us both if he finds out”‘s , longing stares . PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOOI DD

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fact one you’ve known him since you were ten and the girls started to call his curls cute and the dimples around the corner of his mouth cheeky but you always stared a little too long at the way he bit his lips when thinking too hard
fact two in time you grow inseparable and people don’t know where your name starts and his name ends, and you feel more like a whole and less like a half
fact three you were always too fond of the softness of his belly and the way he brightened up when you called his name
fact four his girlfriend doesn’t like you because you’re too close, too intimate, too devoted but you cannot remember a time where you haven’t been his all along
fact five when he asked you what you want from love you almost said his name
fact six you’re nineteen when you realize you want to be loved by him a little more than friends probably should
fact seven the first time you tell him you love him, you’re drunk
fact eight the first time he tells you he loves you, he’s sober, but he has always been the brave one of you two
fact nine kissing him feels a lot like dying and coming back to life again and you don’t want to stop
fact ten you’ve never felt eternity but when he takes your hand or kisses your temple you think that you can almost taste it
𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒
𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 - a group of friends wake up one morning after some particularly vivid nightmares only to find strange marks on their bodies and realizing they all saw the same killer in their nightmares. from then on, they became afraid to sleep, discovering that people were being killed in their sleep by some strange entity.
bonus: make one of them be able to walk in dream and team up with the dream to fight back the entity.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 - one year after the gruesome murders of all the residents of the house, a family move-in with their children. over the following weeks, their domestic life begins a sharp decline, family members being uncharacteristically volatile and abusive, strange incidents happening to the children, one of them having an imaginary friend who seems malevolent. incidents escalate and information about the house is found, revealing the long terrific history within its wall.
𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 - a group of friends rent a remote cabin in the woods. one of them ventures out to hunt and accidentally shoots a hermit that had been infected by a mystery illness and says nothing to his friends. when the hermit shows up at the cabin, he's refused help. one by one, they start to show signs of the illness and discover that their source of water has been contaminated.
alternative: two children take water from a source that has been contaminated and sell lemonade to town folks, propagating the illness further.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 - it's the last operating week of a once grand hotel and only two employees remain, both fascinated by the haunting history of the hotel, particularly by one bride who hung herself in her room and the fact that her body was hidden in the basement by the owners. only a few guests remains, all of them stranger than the others. After an unexplained incident, one of them starts to record paranormal activity in the hotel, leading to a series of accidents and deaths among the remaining guests.
𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 - a couple has recently moved into a new house with their children. one day, one of the children ventures into the attic and where he mets a mysterious entity. the next day, the child slips into a coma. after months and still no explanation, the family brings back their child home and soon after, strange incidents start to happen, leading them to declare the house haunted and moving out. however, the paranormal activities follow them to their new home and a team of parapsychologists and mediums are called, leading them to discover a malevolent entity close to their comatose son. it's discovered that one of the parent once had such events happen to them and they use his abilities to bring back their son from the further, where he's being held by the malevolent entity.
𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - decades after a group of children defeat some evil in their small town, some disturbing event happen again. only one of them remained in their hometown and following the return of the entity that traumatized them years ago, the others are called back to honor the promise they once made to kill the entity if it ever came back.
bonus: one of them has visions of their deaths if they ever fail to fulfill the oath they swore as children.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 - having recently moved to a small town, muse a becomes fascinated with a biker gangs and muse b, a member. muse a is being introduced to the gang and start to get tested by them in order to become trustworthy. muse a starts to undergo a transformation where the smell of food repulse them and starts to be attracted to blood and it becomes clear they are changing.
alternative: muse a and muse b are both humans and one of them wants to become part of the biker gang and the other tries to save them.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭 - following a severe thunderstorm, muse a and muse b notice a thick fog slowly creeping over. while buying grocery, a neighbor quickly enter the shop and warns everyone that something is in the fog. they watch as someone else gets taken over by it and stay inside the store with others for a day. religious folks within the store takes this opportunity to recruit people to their belief and a cult slowly organize, deciding that sacrifices must be given to the fog to appease it.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 - following the stillborn birth of their son, muse a is encouraged to adopt an orphan newborn while muse b is unconscious, replacing their stillborn child by this one. as the child grows, disturbing events start to happen around the family and they are eventually contacted by someone who had been involved in their adopted child birth, declaring them the antichrist. muse b start to think that their son is evil and fears them.
alternative: writing one of the parents and the outside person involved in the birth.
𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐧 - after their daughter is stillborn, the parents of two children decide to adopt an orphan. one of their children embraces her but the other is hesitant toward them. slowly, their adopted child starts to show disturbing behavior, scaring the children and making one of the parents doubt the other.
𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐭 - a family living in small community starts to experiences strange incidents following their youngest child issuing a warning that they are there. the incidents seems benign at first but soon grow in intensity leading to injuries. a parapsychologist is called to the house and reveal that it's under attack by many different entities, eventually discovering that they are drawn to one of the children's life force, even going as far as using her to stop other spirits from crossing over.
alternative: writing the parapsychologists and mediums investigating the house instead of writing the family.
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞 - following an economic collapse, a new political party is voted into place, and instated the purge, a yearly event where all crime is permitted by 12 hours. decades later, crime is practically gone and the purge night has become a a celebrated event by many. muse a and muse b are just trying to survive the night.
𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 - muse a, a true crime writer, moves into a new house with muse b and their children. unknown to everyone but muse a, the house was home to a tragedy that killed all family members decades ago, in the hope of writing a bestseller about the event. one night, muse a finds a box of gruesome family movies. muse a notices strange symbols and begins to research each event, discovering that a child went missing at each killing.
𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐝 - one day, ten women wake up pregnant despite none of them trying. all ten children are born at the same time, five boys and five girls, except one is stillborn, making his pair partner alone. all the other children act the same, as if ruled by one entity, and show no personality. as they age, they start to show signs of paranormal abilities that are being used only to harm others. muse a and muse b could be parents or one of them could be the lone child grown up.