cosmicawg

[cosmicawg]

❝𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄❞

EXCERPT — Chapter [18]

Content Warnings explicit M/M sexual content (18+) dominant/submissive power play overstimulation, praise kink

Travis stepped in, slow, calculated, his hands creeping around Devon's waist, trying to memorize every inch of him. He pulled him closer, body heat radiating, breath thick between them. "Stop worryin' bout her," he muttered, eyes locked onto Devon's, catching the flicker of hesitation, that little worry sitting on his chest. "She all talk," his voice came low and gentle, like a promise between just them.

Devon chewed on his bottom lip, eyes hooded as he tried to chase the thoughts of Camellia away. He let himself sink into Travis' hold, arms draping around his neck. "I know," he whispered, voice matching the weight of the room.

His tongue darted out, slicking over his lip, and he caught how Travis' gaze tracked it, eyes darkening, body shifting just enough to close the gap and enough for Devon to feel the heat between them, the pressure stirring beneath the rough denim of his jeans. Devon smirked, it was so easy to get Travis raddled, he knew damn well how much Travis liked his lips.

They leaned in, slow at first, trying to savour the moment. Travis dipped first, lips latching onto Devon's neck, sucking at the soft skin, teasing with the scrape of his teeth before he bit making Devon gasp. A small bruised bloomed in his wake, and he smirked against Dee's skin, proud of his work. Then their lips collided, gentle, then more, mouths open and hungry as if they were tasting each other for the first time.

Devon melted into it, hands sliding up into Travis' hair, nails scratching against his scalp just enough to make him growl low in his throat. Travis' hands roamed over Devon's frame, rough hands gripping his ass through his jeans, fingers squeezing, spreading him just slightly. Devon whimpered at the motion, his breath hitching against Travis' lips.

Travis tapped his hip, a silent command, and Devon wasted no time. He wrapped his legs around his waist, letting Travis lift him with ease. They moved toward the bed when they landed, the mattress let out a tight creak beneath their weight, but neither gave a damn. Their lips stayed locked, the kiss growing desperate and messy, tongues tangling, teeth clashing, moans getting swallowed up in the heat.

Devon gasped when Travis sucked his bottom lip between his gold grills, letting his teeth scrape causing a shiver to run down his spine. Travis pulled back, looking at him through heavy hooded eyes, pupils were blown wide, lips slick and swollen. His clothes felt suffocating. He felt his dick press against his cotton underwear, itching to get out of the cramped space.

Then, with one slow deliberate motion, he peeled off his shirt, revealing skin inked up in black and colour, a canvas of stories only a few got to see and that Devon wanted to trace with his tongue. His muscles flexed under Dee's stare, the red light grazing over deep cuts and hard lines that made Devon's breath hitch.

"Shit," Devon muttered, voice strained. Fingers twitching to touch, to feel.

Travis smirked, leaning in, voice dark, thick like honey. "Go ahead, baby," he murmured, reaching for Devon's shirt, fingers teasing the edges. "You already know what it is."

Travis was undeniably attractive, and although Devon had seen him naked before. His uncut cock fully erect was always an experience he eagerly anticipated. Travis stripped off his own clothes, followed by Devon's, before leaving hickeys along his chest, neck, and arms.

Devon flinched at every bite, his body jerking with soft moans as Travis nibbled on his sensitive skin, sucking on his nipples and swirling his warm, wet tongue over them as if they were a delectable meal. Travis bit down gently, and Devon moaned, eyes half-closed as he gazed into Travis's almost glowing brown eyes, watching him unravel.

In search of more stimulation, Devon found himself grinding against any friction he could find, pulling Travis's heavy body closer with the leg wrapped around his waist, desperate to feel Travis's thick cock against his wet hole.

But Travis was preoccupied with marking his territory. He struck a sensitive spot on Devon's body, causing him to arch into his grip and plead for him to take him. "Can't let me enjoy myself, can you?" Travis asked, pulling away from the hickey he had just left.

He readjusted their position, with Devon still lying on his back as he shifted to his side and hooked his leg up, exposing himself to the cold air. Devon shivered, his lips trembling as he clutched Travis's chest. Travis gazed at Devon's entrance, the pink flesh puckering around emptiness, eagerly awaiting fulfilment. He bit his lip, his own cock aching to dig into that tight warmth.

He reached for the lubricant, coating his finger in oil before tossing it aside. His index finger traced the rim of Devon's hole, and Devon flexed, breathless. Travis devoured him with his gaze, absorbing every warm, uneven breath he took. Damn.

His fingers sank in, and Devon's mouth gaped wide as he pressed his head into Travis's chest. Although Devon wasn't a virgin, thanks to Travis, he felt tight like one at the moment. Travis settled his fingers knuckle-deep, exclaiming, "Yes, look at that," he praised. His finger dug deeper, exploring, earning small and eliciting moans in response. Travis paused before inserting another finger, pushing it side his index.

Travis pressed his fingers deeper, kneading slow, deliberate circles against Devon's walls. A sharp inhale broke from his lips when Devon jolted in his grasp, trembling. A smirk curled at the corner of Travis's mouth-he had found it. And he had every intention of taking full advantage.

A shudder wracked through Devon, his breath hitching as he watched Travis. His slick fingers were now replaced by the slow, teasing drag of his cock against heated skin. A low groan escaped him, his self-control thinning as he traced the same sensitive spot with the head, revelling in the way Devon squirmed beneath him.

Travis exhaled sharply, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of Devon's thighs, holding him open as he teased, barely pushing in before retreating. The anticipation hung heavy between them, stretching each second unbearably. Devon whined, hips bucking, desperate for more.

Travis chuckled, his voice rough with amusement. "Look at you," he murmured, running a thumb over Devon's trembling stomach. "So eager."

And then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he gave in.

The first time they had sex, it felt like his body was being ripped in half. He had no idea how girls did it but eventually, he got used to it. The burn, the stretch of Travis's cock filling him, was something he learned to crave.

Now, he wanted more. He wanted it to tear him open, to leave him aching. He wanted Travis to paint his insides, to make him his.

Devon's fingers dug into Travis's chest, tracing the lines of his tattoo as he sank deeper, the stretch sending a moan tumbling from his lips. "Yes..." he breathed, his voice thick with pleasure.

Travis couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at the sound, the way Devon's body responded to him. He stayed still for a moment, letting the heat between them settle, his breath ragged. As much as he wanted to take control, he forced himself to wait, letting Devon adjust to the overwhelming fullness. The anticipation in the air made his pulse race, knowing how badly they both needed what was coming next.

After a beat, Devon gave him a shaky nod, his breath uneven. Travis hesitated for just a second before testing the waters with a slow thrust, watching how Devon's body reacted. The sight of that pleading look, those eyes dark with want and the soft pout on his lips sent a surge of heat through Travis. Without a second thought, he hooked Devon's leg up around his waist, pulling him in closer. A grunt escaped him as he sank deeper, the tension in his body finally giving way as he filled him completely.

The thrusts grew more forceful, and deeper, each one hitting with brutal precision. Devon's eyes fluttered back, his nails scraping down Travis's chest, leaving streaks of red in their wake. His breath came in frantic gasps, lips parted as he tried to suck in air, but every harsh thrust stole it from him, his body losing rhythm with each deep push.

Travis noticed the slight hiccup, the tremble in Devon's body, and couldn't help but respond with even more urgency. He slammed into him harder, a growl of satisfaction rumbling in his chest as he drove deeper, determined to make Devon feel every inch of him.

Travis groaned, the feeling of Devon's tightness stretching and pulling at him was almost too much sweat beading on his skin. His hips began to move harder, faster, each thrust growing more relentless as the sharp bite of nails digging into his flesh spurred him on.

He gripped Devon's waist, his fingers digging in rough enough to bruise, his hold unyielding. The sound of Devon's high-pitched moan spurred him further, each desperate cry pushing him to give more, to claim him completely.

Travis yanked Devon's body against him, his movements hard and relentless, each thrust sharper than the last. His mind raced with curses, words barely enough to express the heat coursing through him. Sweat slicked down his back and shoulders, rolling between their bodies, mixing with the sticky heat of their passion. The air around them was thick with lust, almost suffocating.

"Fuck, you're tight as hell, baby," Travis growled, his voice rough and primal. "You like that, don't you?"

Devon barely had it in him to find a response.

Travis muttered a curse through gritted teeth as he slammed into Devon's sweet spot, his thrusts hard and relentless. A long, silent whine escaped from Devon, his back arching off the bed, body trembling. The rush of heat that followed was enough to make Travis's smirk grow Devon's own release spilt in thick ropes, the sight of it almost as intoxicating as the feel of him.

The thought of Devon coming solely from the pressure of his cock filling him up, from the relentless rhythm of his thrusts-it was enough to drive him wild, the heat of the moment almost unbearable.

Even as the rush of pleasure surged through him, Travis couldn't stop. He kept driving his cock into Devon with precision, each thrust aimed perfectly to slam against his prostate, hitting deeper with every angle.

Devon was lost in pure bliss, his mouth hanging open, drool slipping from the corner as his body surrendered completely. His eyes fluttered, rolling back, every brush of Travis's thick length against his sensitive spot sending waves of sensation coursing through him.

"Travis! Mhm! Fuck me, harder, Daddy... yes!" Devon's desperate cry echoed through the air, arms shooting up to wrap tightly around Travis's shoulders. His leg hooked around Travis's waist, pulling him in closer, so close that the space between them was consumed by the heat of their bodies, the air thick with their need. It was intense, raw, and perfect.

His cock throbed, the intense pain of flesh thick and hot scorched into a flavourful pleasure, he knew his body was going to be screaming for more after Travis finished having his way with him.

To be continued....

Read the full chapter on Wattpad ❝𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄❞ by @cosmicawg

→ Chapter 18 — it’s not shy. → Tags: m/m, explicit, slight daddy kink, black characters, black queer men, lgbt, slight dom/sub

[cosmicawg]

❝𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄❞

📌A novel written by, @cosmicawg 📌Comprises: [ 19 CHAPTERS so far ]

📌Genre: urban romance

📌Plot: In Norwood Grove, where gang life defines the streets and loyalty is everything, Devon and Travis walk a dangerous line. Devon dreams of escaping through his art, but his family ties to the Black Vipers keep pulling him back into a world of violence. On the other side, Travis, raised in the Black Fists, is caught between the life he knows and a secret desire for something more. As tensions between the rival gangs escalate, both must navigate the brutal realities of the streets while facing their inner struggles. In a place where love is a weakness and betrayal means death, will they survive long enough to break free of the code that binds them?

📌Characters

1) The Main Lookers: Devon & Travis

Devonte Richie —(n). determined for greatness

Casting: domgenovesse on ig –

Travis —(n). success waits on nobody

Casting: chris.phero on ig –

2) Featuring Characters: Naomi, Ashley, Ryan

Naomi —(n). pain builds character

Casting: killvng on ig –

Ashley Willis —(n). a collective token

Casting: —face claim unknown— found on Pinterest

Ryan Coleman —(n). action over words

Casting: miri300k on ig –

3) Careless Older Brother: Jelani

Jelani Richie —(n). the foundation

Casting: kinstonali on ig –

📌Character Castings, prt 2, prt 3 📌Stand-alone character posts: Devon & Travis 📌Street Code Notes [ character overviews, gang overview names/timelines, character + character histories, media plug, chapter links, music playlists ]

[cosmicawg]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄: Stand-alone characters prt (1)

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞: [Dee]

—(n). Main character issues

age

20 years old. 12/08/1992.

face

rounded cheeks, plump pink lips, doe chocolate brown eyes, long lashes, tiny, dotted freckles painted around his nose, and trimmed bushy brows.

skin

a dark golden complexion, moonlight touched

body

balances between a slim and toned physique, standing at 6'4 mocha-dotted freckles lining his back, and in between his thighs.

hair

midnight-colored dreadlocks often pulled back & tied.

sexuality + pronouns

gay and goes by he/him

personality

an artist by calling, he’s sarcastic & witty, extremely stubborn/hardheaded, gets flustered easily (at sexual gestures), is a bashing virgin, and has deep-rooted hate of police officers. simply the cutest baby.

hobbies + aspirations

enjoys painting & drawing, also a pretty good dancer. dreams of becoming a famous painter & leaving behind the ghetto lifestyle.

insecurities + fears

he is just a wee bit insecure about his hair + hates guns + crippling fear of dogs

adds

always wearing colorful wristbands, black painted nails, and small dud earrings pierced both ears.

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐧 playlist

( ★ )

[cosmicawg]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄: Stand-alone characters prt (2)

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐤: [Striker]

—(n). Main character issues

age

26 years old. 03/24/1986

face

intense brown almond-shaped eyes, full lips, short curly lashes, strong jawline, small scars on his cheeks, and thinly trimmed brows.

skin

chestnut brown complexion, deeply sun-kissed

body

muscular build, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, standing at 6'6, visible scars alongside back/hip area, and tattoos littering his forearms and chest area

hair

dark, low-cut wavy hair often tied down with his durag

sexuality + pronouns

bisexual [leaning towards a certain someone named Devon] and goes by he/him

personality

a true gangster by calling, he's confident & loyal, extremely protective of his family, the biggest Jerome hater, and quiet yet arrestive. just a big ol' complicated sweetheart.

hobbies + aspirations

loves boxing, is a great cook, works now and then in his uncle's mechanic shop, and also likes gardening(WATERING THEM OCCASIONALLY). his life is in the streets to the black fist operation, forever.

insecurities+ fears

somewhat embarssed by his scars + ending up like his father

adds

always wearing his durag, noticeable gold grills adorning his canines. also owns a pitbull named Princess Cammie

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬 playlist

( ✿ )

[cosmicawg]

Hey, would you look at that, officially 18 years old today.

does it get any better from here? Probably not. But hey, life’s a bitch but I keep on living.

[cosmicawg]

Ah! Thank so much for adding me <3!! I have not been on tumblr for a hot minute due to writers block and stuff- so it’s fun to be apart of these cute challenges! I’d say this is pretty accurate tbh lolll

I am tagging (only 2 ppl if thts okay😭) @raivos-world @dearunreliablenarrator

Was tagged by @nicotinepup for this little game thing, search ‘your name’+core together on Pinterest and pick 6 photos!

Have no idea how this was so accurate lol. Algorithm I guess. I’m tagging @macabrevampire @mortissanguis @acid-onthefloor @frogus @bloodonthecross @heathens-child @anaisthete if you guys want to do it!! <3 (if I added you later sorry I am taking my time finding the @s of people lol)

[cosmicawg]

10). things you can do to get in the writing mood:

1). Create a playlist for your main character(s)! Hop on YouTube Music or Spotify and add songs that match the vibes of your character(s). Really good if you're writing from a certain character POV.

2). Eat. Like, yeah. I don't know about you, but after having a nice meal, the writing juices just start flowing. Eat something your character would; for me, my characters are either dirt poor or college students (aka the same thing), so all they eat is cup noodles.

3). Listen to slowed-reverb versions of your favorite songs. Listen to music overall. Get your headphones, block out the world, and immerse yourself in the feel of the song.

4). Getting your chores out of the way. Whenever am writing my mind drifts to that endless amount of dishes my demon family left for me to do. So, before writing I get them outta the way so the only thing am focused on is how to successfully make my character commit arson.

5). Eat.

6). Take a shower. Write while in the shower since for whatever god-forsaking reason all your ideas seem to pop up while you're washing your ass. Very good.

7). Create mood boards for your character(s).

8). Watch your comfort shows. Grab all your sheets and blankets, sit on the floor, sofa, whatever—and watch that one show that's never failed to make you smile, cry, love.

9). Take a deep breath.

10). Lastly, you see all those zits that keep bursting in your head? All those ideas? don’t overstimulate yourself. Inhale for 7, exhale for 8. If they go, then it probably wasn't worth it. If they're still there, create a folder and write them down for the future.

And that's all my shallow mind could come up with. Does anyone have anything they wanna add? Reblog! hehe

EDIT: plus one!

11). You can work on your STORY NOTES. (like am doing rn as of editing this lol) It's really relaxing and quite fun, it'll perk you back in that writing mood in no time! (currently, am jotting down character history: how my characters met etc etc, nothing detailed or long just write something cute and sweet!)

[cosmicawg]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

📌An October short series special, by @cosmicawg

📌Comprises of: 5 Chapters [hopefully]

lollllll- poll regarding my short little horror seres

[cosmicawg]

too damn true, adding to the fact; "hello, did you forget about the 50 other wips you got?"

"eh, one more won't hurt."

I don't know if I've said this before but every time I think of a new wip idea, I turn into this bitch:

[cosmicawg]

Cherries Under the Sun: a chapter one scene snippet

“Hi, welcome to Blessed Beans. What can I get started for you tonight?”

Once again, they wished to be something that wasn’t them. If it was possible to steal another person’s body they would’ve. And if it was possible to sink into the floor like a speck of dust to be swept away, then she’d hope that one throw her away gently.

But, in the mirror she steeled herself. Taking in a deep breath and holding it for longer than necessary; before slipping through the heavy wooden door. Behind the buzzing counter, stood baristas cleaning down and blending drinks for whatever sugar-fiend entered the cafe doors past nine o’clock.

“Hi, welcome to Blessed Beans. What can I get started for you tonight?”

Standing in the front of the counter, a girl too deep into her phone waited for her boyfriend to order; smacking on her gum as her thumb switched in between apps.

“Uh yeah, can we get one of those Chai Tea lattes—with oat milk. And um, babe what did you want?”

Her blue eyes flickered to his in disinterest, a momentary pause to her scrolling unsatisfactory. She gave a cheap smile as a hand waved the nervous boyfriend to the side.

“A double shot frappuccino with two pumps of vanilla creme, pumpkin spice and caramel drizzle. Oh, and whipped cream.”

“We don’t carry pumpkin spice here. The closest thing you’ll get is our Maple Brown Butter or Cinnamon Ginger Spice.”

A pout came, along with an unsavory snort that made Grace focus on counting the sugar packets and straws by the register. It wasn’t long before the line behind the couple slowly began to queue and with only one working register it’d be minutes too long before it was short again.

“Oh. But I really wanted my fix for the day. Baby, are you sure we can’t go to the Starbucks down the road? Are you sure there isn’t anything in the back,” Her watery blue eyes glanced at the black name tag. “Graice?”

“It’s Grace. And no, if I said we didn’t carry it five seconds ago then we won’t carry it five seconds later. Is there anything else I can get you besides a Chai latte?”

i love my little graice poo, they're so sweet...

read the full chapter and prologue here...

keep up with the tag, #howsweettheesound

join the cherrylist, taglist

the cherrylist: @cain-e-brookman, @seastarblue, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @rumeysawrites, @bellascarousel

[cosmicawg]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

Chapter 2: "THERE'S SOMETHING OUT THERE!"

word count —(.) 2,971

read time —(.) 10 mins : 48 secs

There was something foul in the air, something thick and oppressive that clung to the senses. Whatever it was, it fucking stank—like rancid meat left to rot under the punishing sun. And it only grew worse the closer Emery got to the motel. The main road was lined with the decaying carcasses of roadkill, as if some unspoken curse had swept through. The smell was unbearable, forcing her off the beaten path and into the woods—a touristy spot for poor souls who thought they’d find peace, but instead found themselves mauled by bears or lost forever. The crunch of dead leaves underfoot was the only sound, the only sign she was still moving, alive.

Above her, the sky hung heavy with gloom, dark clouds pressing down as if the very heavens had forgotten to exhale. They twisted and contorted like a frown etched across the horizon, promising rain—cold and unforgiving. But rain or no rain, it wasn’t going to stop her from karaoke tonight. Unfortunately, that meant Julius had to cover for her. She smirked at the thought. He’d understand. At least, he damn well better. The least he could do was let her have a little fun, considering what a shitstorm this place was.

The motel loomed ahead, its peeling paint and flickering neon sign a testament to neglect. As Emery stepped inside, the first thing that greeted her wasn’t the musty air or the flicker of a dying light bulb—it was Julius, face down on the front desk, passed out cold. She snorted. Typical.

"I wasn’t sure if I should wake him or not." The smooth voice, accent, slid into her ears like melted butter, catching her off guard. She turned toward the sound and found a guest sprawled out on one of the threadbare sofas, the springs creaking beneath him. "I’ll admit, he’s kinda adorable like this." He gave a sheepish grin, eyes flickering. "Oh, uh… sorry. Name’s Remi. I'm staying here."

"Yeah, no worries, Emery." she giggled, the absurdity of it all bubbling up. "I work here, unfortunately. But, uh… I wouldn’t get too comfy. Those sofas? Bedbugs." She shot him a wink as she made her way behind the front desk.

At that, Remi shot up like he’d been electrocuted, dusting himself off with a grimace. His nose crinkled in disgust. "Of course. What was I expecting? A five-star experience." He shook his head, still swatting at invisible bugs. "Anyway, is there seriously no Wi-Fi here? I’ve got an important call, and all of a sudden, the service is just dead."

Emery opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a loud crash reverberated down the stairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of pure chaos.

"YOU ARE UNSERIOUS, ALEX!" Gloria, the fiery redhead guest, came storming down the stairs, her face twisted in rage. Behind her, Alex—her boyfriend, husband, whatever the hell he was—stumbled after her, looking equally flustered.

"Jesus Christ, Gloria, I wasn’t peeping at her, she's a teenager! Do you even hear yourself right now?" Alex barked, his voice tinged with desperation. "Do you always make shit up in your head like this?"

Their shouting echoed off the walls, amplifying the already suffocating tension in the room. Emery didn’t bother intervening; this had to be a normal thing between the two, it wasn’t worth her time.

As they went at it, another guest jogged down the stairs nothing but a sweatpants and a tank top. Bowie, if she recalled right, the blonde charmingly greeted everyone before likely heading out for an afternoon run. Jocks.

And yet! Another guest, Alia, came thundering down the stairs right after, her heavy footsteps shaking the old wooden banister. She was in a skimpy bathing suit, chewing gum with a disgusted sneer plastered on her face. She took one look around, her lips curling as if the very air offended her.

"Please tell me there's a pool at this dump," she spat, her eyes rolling.

Emery forced a smile through gritted teeth, rummaging through the drawers, cursing under her breath as she finally found the damn key. "Yeah, sure. Just go out the back, take a left, and you’ll find the gate." She tossed the key toward Alia, who caught it with a barely concealed look of disdain, her nostrils flaring in disgust.

"Do I look like I work here?" Alia snapped, as if the mere act of catching the key had insulted her dignity.

Before Emery could respond, the commotion had roused Julius from his uncomfortable slumber. He groaned, his hair a mess, dark circles heavy under his eyes, and a streak of drool shining on his cheek. He looked around in a daze before glancing at the clock. Noon. Shit. He should have been home hours ago.

He groaned louder, flinging a hand over his face. "I’m crashing in one of the guest rooms. I’m not dealing with any of this shit—not after last night."

Emery couldn’t help but roll her eyes as he stumbled away, leaving her alone to deal with the circus that was quickly unfolding.

"Uh, about the Wi-Fi?" Remi’s voice cut through the noise, a hint of frustration creeping in.

Emery sighed, massaging her temples, fighting the urge to scream. "Just… go into town," she muttered, the tension in her voice clear. "There’s gotta be Wi-Fi somewhere. Not here, though. Definitely not here."

And with that, she stepped out of the lobby, leaving the chaos behind—at least for a moment.

She guided a petulant Alia toward the pool, biting back the sharp retort bubbling on her tongue. The girl was already complaining, her voice grating and full of resentment. "This place is disgusting. I hate my father."

Emery's jaw clenched as she pushed the rusted gates open, forcing a smile to hide the rising irritation. “Ta-da! Your pool, Your Majesty,” she said with a mock bow, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Alia barely glanced at her, her eyes scanning the pool area with a look of pure disgust. The pool was far from the pristine, high-end resorts she was used to. The tiles were chipped, cracks spider-webbed across the edges, and old, deflated pool floaties lay scattered like forgotten toys. The sun loungers were stained and unkempt, the once-white fabric now a dull gray. Alia flinched, letting out a shriek when she saw something, dark and fast, dart across the pool deck—probably a rat.

"UGH!" Alia’s scream echoed, her frustration boiling over. "Next time, I should plan the vacation! My useless father can’t do anything right!" She kicked at the ground, a petulant grunt escaping her as she threw herself down by the water’s edge, her bare feet dangling into the pool. At least the water was clear, she noted with the barest flicker of relief. "While my mom is off in fucking Jamaica, I'm stuck here with a worthless parent."

With a huff, she clamped her oversized sunglasses onto her face, crossing her arms over her chest like a sulking child.

Emery's patience was wearing thin. She stared at Alia, inwardly seething. What a spoiled brat, she thought, resisting the urge to snap. Just as she turned to walk away, hoping for a moment of peace, Alia’s voice rang out again.

“Who's that?”

Emery let out a sigh, her annoyance palpable as she glanced at Alia, who was now pointing across the pool. With a resigned look, she followed Alia’s gesture, her eyes landing on a woman lounging in the distance. The woman was sunbathing—or at least pretending to. A glossy magazine obscured her face, while an obnoxiously large sun hat perched on her head, its wide brim angled just enough to cast a shadow over her entire figure.

Who the hell wears a sun hat when there’s barely any sun? Emery thought, squinting at the strange figure. The woman’s body was unnaturally still, her pale, almost ghostly skin gleaming under the overcast sky. She looked fragile, almost too slender, like she might disappear if the wind blew too hard.

“I don’t know,” muttered Emery, her tone indifferent.

“How do you not know? Don’t you work here?” Alia’s voice was filled with disbelief, as if Emery was personally responsible for knowing every single guest by name.

“I didn’t sign in guests last night, okay?” she snapped, her patience finally running dry. “Damn, you are so annoying. Just enjoy your swim.” With one last glance at the mysterious woman, Emery shook her head and walked off, leaving Alia to her sulking.

The workday dragged on, and the pool seemed even more decrepit under the cloudy sky. Emery busied herself with paperwork, her mind drifting now and then to the strange woman by the pool. Later, two other guests arrived at the front desk. Except this time, there was a hiccup—no room had been booked for them. Emery sighed, knowing the mountain of paperwork this would cause. Meanwhile, Julius, her co-worker, remained blissfully unaware of the chaos, dozing off somewhere like he always did.

LATER....

Nightfall crept in like a shadow, blending with the soft drizzle tapping against the windows, making the world outside blur with a melancholic haze. Inside one of the unoccupied guest rooms, Julius lay sprawled on a bed, his snoring heavy and unrelenting, the kind that shook the air like distant thunder. Drool pooled on the pillow beneath his face, a stain that no one would bother cleaning. Suddenly, he jerked awake, gasping like something cold had crawled through his dreams. His eyes shot open, wide and startled, as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Fuck… what time is it?” His voice was thick with sleep, and he rubbed at his face, groaning as he rolled over to glare at the window. The curtains were slightly ajar, revealing the deep darkness outside, the faint drizzle now pattering softly against the glass.

Did I really sleep here? God, I’m getting pathetic, he thought bitterly, pushing himself up from the bed. His head was foggy, and his limbs were stiff from sleeping in his clothes. Wiping the sleep from his face, he cursed under his breath and staggered toward the door. But as soon as he stepped out, he was face-to-face with a guest. Of course.

“Yes, may I help you?” Julius yawned, barely able to muster any enthusiasm.

The woman in front of him was short, with brunette hair that stuck up in every direction, her face contorted in panic. “Look, my friend and I checked in like around noon, and around three she went out, but she hasn’t come back yet!” Her voice trembled, fear thick in every word. “I tried calling the police, but there’s no service—no bars, nothing!”

Why couldn’t she go missing too? The cruel thought slithered into Julius’ mind before he could stop it, and he had to slap himself mentally. Get it together, he thought. “Sorry to hear that,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I just got off break, and, honestly, I’m not even supposed to be working right now, so…”

His voice trailed off, and he awkwardly rubbed his forearm, staring at the floor. "Get Emery to help. The girl up front," he mumbled, already turning to leave, hoping to escape the situation.

But the woman wasn’t letting him off that easy. She followed, her voice rising in frustration. “What girl? There’s no one at the front desk! Please, did you even hear what I said? My friend is missing!” She was practically screaming now, the words buzzing in his ear like an angry wasp.

Julius barely registered her panic, though, because as they reached the top of the stairs, he could already hear the commotion below. The lobby was filled with noise, voices clashing against each other in an aggressive symphony. He cocked a brow, turning back to the woman. “Did you say no one’s at the front desk?” His voice was skeptical as he stomped down the stairs, bracing himself for the chaos.

The moment he entered the lobby, he could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Voices were raised, arguments flaring.

"Fuck’s sake, Gloria! Hang up the damn phone!" Alex screamed, his frustration sharp and biting.

"Why would I listen to you?! And the damn landline is down! Thanks so fucking much for this GREAT vacation, Alex!" A woman’s voice shot back, dripping with sarcasm and anger.

And that’s its own mess, Julius thought, his annoyance growing as he tried to wade through the chaos.

He was immediately bombarded from all sides. In his left ear, old man Chester was complaining about a rancid smell in his room, his voice hoarse and furious. Meanwhile, a young girl, Violet, tugged at his sleeve, her wide eyes filled with worry as she begged to know when her father would arrive. On his right side, a father-daughter duo was screaming about the state of their rooms, their voices blending into a cacophony of complaints.

Through it all, there was no sign of Emery.

Julius felt his blood pressure rising. He squeezed behind the desk, his breath caught in his throat, his patience hanging by a thread. Finally, he snapped, his voice booming through the lobby like a thunderclap.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, ALL OF YOU!”

For a brief, glorious second, the room fell silent. Every face turned toward him, their mouths hanging open in shock. But it didn’t last. That firecrotch—Gloria—was the first to break the silence, her hands on her hips, her eyes burning with anger.

"Why the fuck is the landline down? I’d like to make a phone call!" she spat, her voice venomous.

“Yeah, my dad isn’t here, and I’m getting worried… the service is down, and…” Violet muttered, tugging anxiously at her black hair.

"And that smell!" Chester growled, his face turning red. "I’m damn near suffocating in my room. Fix it."

The room was on the verge of erupting into chaos again when Julius held up his hand, commanding their attention. His glare was cold, cutting through the noise like a blade.

“Where is the girl that’s supposed to be here?” he demanded, his patience worn thin.

Before anyone could answer, the woman from earlier—the one looking for her friend—spoke up again, her voice tight with anxiety. “She went out to the karaoke bar around the time my friend left and hasn’t come back.”

Julius pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration clawing at him. “When exactly was this?” He glanced at the clock. 6 PM.

“I don’t know… around 3 PM?”

Julius' eyes widened in shock. Three hours? His heart skipped a beat. Where the hell is Emery?

A low rumble of thunder cracked through the sky, ripping the night open with a violent roar. The ceiling lights flickered, casting the room into momentary darkness. Everyone flinched. The arguments that had been simmering reignited, but now in hushed, anxious tones, like they were afraid the storm itself might hear them. Julius stood frozen, his eyes scanning the room as the tension thickened like fog. His hand instinctively reached into his pocket for his phone. No bars. His breath caught in his throat. Shit.

Okay, he thought, swallowing the rising panic. Emery's fine. She's grown. She can handle herself.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, his mind racing, trying to keep the flood of anxious thoughts at bay. Turning back to the restless crowd, his usual sneer stretched across his face, but it felt hollow. "Look," he began, his voice more strained than he'd like, "I hear you guys, but what the hell am I supposed to do exactly?" His sarcasm was biting, but it was a flimsy mask for the dread crawling up his spine.

Chester, red-faced and puffed up with indignation, spat back at him, "Do your damn job! Is this how you people run an establishment?"

Julius shot him a cold glare, unmoved. Before he could retort, Wallace, a stiff man in a tailored suit, stepped forward, adjusting his tie with exaggerated calm. "I’d like to speak with the manager, if that’s alright," he said, his voice smooth but laced with impatience.

Julius clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to tell them all to shove it. "He isn’t here. I’m in charge while he’s on vacation," he growled through gritted teeth. His frown deepened as he glared at Wallace. "You’ve got a problem with your room, right? Guess what, big daddy, you booked this place. So deal with it."

The room collectively gasped. A shocked silence fell, thick with disbelief.

Without missing a beat, Julius whirled toward Gloria, who stood with her arms crossed, her glare cutting through the tension like a knife. "And the landline? Yeah, it’s not working because my cheap-ass boss cut it off before leaving. Doesn’t want to pay the damn bills," he snapped, his irritation flaring.

The woman from earlier—the one who’d been asking about her missing friend—opened her mouth to speak again, but Julius cut her off before she could even get a word out. His voice, thick with frustration, cracked through the air like a whip. “Shut up about your friend! This is a small town! Nothing ever happens here—"

His words were sliced clean by a deafening crash, WHAM, at the front doors. The room exploded with screams as the guests scattered, their panic palpable, and the world seemed to tilt sideways. Julius felt his heart slam into his ribs, his breath stolen as he spun around toward the entrance.

Standing there, drenched in rain and blood, was Emery, clutching her side, her face twisted in agony. Blood soaked through her clothes, dripping onto the floor as she stumbled forward, carried by Remi, his wide eyes wild with terror. Julius’ stomach plummeted, cold dread crawling over his skin.

"Emery!" Julius choked out, his voice barely a whisper, his feet rooted to the ground in shock.

Remi’s frantic voice cut through the chaos, words tumbling out in a terrified rush. “There's—there’s something out there!” His voice cracked, his wide eyes locking onto Julius, pleading for understanding. "Something… it… it attacked us!"

The room erupted again, the guests shouting in fear, complete nonsense. Julius couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His eyes were glued to Emery, her bloodied form swaying as she gasped for breath, her face a mask of pain.

Something had followed them. Something that wasn’t supposed to exist in their quiet, forgotten little town. And it was still out there.

[cosmicawg]

𝟐𝟎). 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬: 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝/𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

To anyone seeing this, hi! You can go ahead and reblog with your own tips on this; or just comment! Am an awkward person by nature; so these come naturally to me (bad or good thing? eh, who knows.)

1. Mistimed Compliments

A character tries to give a compliment but it comes out completely wrong, leaving the other person confused or offended. Example: "Your hair looks... better than usual."

2. Socially Unaware Responses

A character doesn’t pick up on obvious social cues and keeps talking or doing something when they should stop. Example: Continuing to tell a long, boring story (like no one wants to hear about your birdwatching sessions, Randy, god!)

3. Unintentional Insults

A character accidentally insults someone by mentioning something personal without realizing it. Example: Complimenting someone’s outfit, then adding “It’s much nicer than the last one you wore.”

4. Poorly Timed Jokes

The character makes a joke in a serious moment, only to be met with silence or awkward stares. Example: Cracking a joke at a funeral or during a heartfelt confession.

5. Physical Clumsiness

Characters tripping, bumping into things, or knocking over a drink while trying to act cool or confident. Example: Walking into a room full of people only to trip on the door frame.

6. Talking Over Someone

Two characters start talking at the same time, both trying to politely yield, and ending up in an awkward back-and-forth. Example: “Oh, sorry, you go—no, no, you first—um, okay—wait, sorry…”

7. Silent Pauses

Long, uncomfortable pauses in conversation where no one knows what to say next. Example: After revealing a huge secret, and no one responds, just complete silence. "....so what? don't just ignore me guys!"

8. Accidental Spills

A character accidentally spills something on someone in an important or formal setting. Example: Nervously fumbling with a glass of wine and spilling it all over someone’s fancy outfit at a party.

9. Misread Signals

A character misinterprets someone’s body language or signals, leading to an awkward encounter. Example: Going in for a hug when the other person was just reaching for something. (this has to be feared more than death itself, change my mind.)

10. Unwanted Physical Contact

The character gives an overenthusiastic handshake, hug, or pat on the back that clearly makes the other person uncomfortable. Example: A lingering handshake that lasts way too long, or a hug that becomes stiff and awkward.

11. Inappropriate Laughter

The character laughs at the wrong moment, only to realize that no one else finds it funny. Example: Laughing during a serious discussion or an emotional outburst. (THIS IS SO ME AM SORRY...not really)

12. Misunderstanding Conversations

Mishearing someone’s question or comment and replying with something completely unrelated. Example: "Hey, how's your day going?" "I'm listening to, Anaconda, by Nicki Minaj!"

13. Revealing Too Much

Oversharing personal or embarrassing information during small talk or casual conversation. Example: “Yeah, I had this weird rash last week, I swear thought it was like, ass cancer or something... but anyway, how’s your day going?”

14. Unwelcome Compliments

Giving a compliment that makes the other person feel awkward instead of flattered. Example: “You look so much better without makeup!”

15. Embarrassing Confessions

A character accidentally confesses to something embarrassing, thinking it was common knowledge. Example: “Oh, wait, you didn’t know I still wet the bed... uh, never mind.”

16. Interrupting at the Wrong Moment

A character walks into a room at exactly the wrong time, overhearing or interrupting something sensitive or intimate. Example: Walking in during a personal conversation and saying, “So, what are we talking about?”

17. Flubbed Introductions

A character completely forgets someone’s name or introduces two people incorrectly. Example: “This is, uh... sorry, what’s your name again?”

18. Unexpected Silence After a Comment

The character makes a bold statement or question, only to be met with an uncomfortable silence. Example: Asking if someone is pregnant, only to find out they’re not.

19. Forgetting Basic Social Norms

The character forgets to do something basic, like shaking hands, making eye contact, or saying “thank you,” leaving an awkward atmosphere. Example: Reaching out for a handshake and being left hanging.

20. Accidental Eavesdropping

The character overhears something personal or uncomfortable but doesn’t know how to politely excuse themselves. Example: Being stuck in a hallway overhearing an argument but can’t leave without being noticed.

[cosmicawg]

still hits in the feels tht she's gone. i was rewatching clips of Downton Abbey when i heard :( fly high, Maggie.

A true artist, truly irreplaceable. Rest in peace (or give 'em hell, whatever makes you happy), Maggie. Thank you for sharing your light with us for so many years.

[cosmicawg]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

Chapter 1: "Shitty Motel & Shitty Guests"

word count —(.) 3,962

read time —(.) 14 mins : 17 secs

The rhythmic tick-tock of the black, grinning clock seemed louder with each passing second, almost mocking Julius as he slumped behind the front desk. The outdated TV mounted precariously on the wall above him crackled with faint static, its picture long faded into fuzzy, colorless blurs. His boss’s muffled voice droned on in the background, barely audible as he barked into the landline, too absorbed in his conversation to notice anything else.

Julius let out a yawn, feeling the weight of the night shift drag at his eyelids. His gaze lazily drifted to the entrance, his attention barely held by the empty parking lot just beyond the glass doors. The buzzing of a fly snapped him out of his daze, its tiny wings whirring obnoxiously past his ear. He swatted at it with little effort, already annoyed.

"You know what this place needs?" Julius muttered, his voice low as he glanced at his boss, who was pacing behind the counter. The man was a walking stereotype of middle-aged neglect, with a belly that stretched the seams of his ill-fitting work pants, bulging like a half-deflated beach ball. His thinning brown hair, desperately trying to cover a growing bald spot, barely stayed in place as he moved. More hair clung to his forearms and knuckles than to his head, and his face, lined with deep creases, held a permanent scowl.

Julius sighed, repulsed by the sight. He shifted in his chair, swatting at another fly that buzzed around him persistently. "A can of bug spray would be nice," he grumbled under his breath. "These flies should be paying rent at this point." His nose wrinkled in disgust as a sour, rotten smell hit him, wafting in from somewhere behind the desk.

“What the hell is that smell?” Julius groaned, turning toward Emery, who was leaning against the counter beside him. She hadn’t moved in nearly an hour, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. “Emery, didn’t you take out the trash like I asked?” His voice carried more teasing than frustration, though the stench was really starting to get to him.

Emery, her dark bangs falling lazily over her face, shot him a look through half-lidded eyes. "You’re not the manager," she replied, voice flat, as if stating a fact. "And I took it out last time. It’s your turn."

Julius crossed his arms, nudging her leg with his foot in mock annoyance. "Hell no. I’m older, so that makes me manager by default. And as the manager, I’m telling you—it’s your turn."

Emery groaned, throwing her head back in exaggerated frustration. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

Julius sighed heavily. He always lost.

“Fine,” he muttered, knowing where this was heading. “But regular rules. None of that fire, water, earth-bender crap you try to pull.”

Emery smirked, eyebrows raised as she straightened up, ready for the challenge.

“Rock, paper, scissors...”

They both froze, locking eyes like they were two kids on a playground instead of adults stuck in a dead-end job.

“Shoot!”

Emery’s hand remained clenched in a rock, while Julius’s two fingers formed scissors. He groaned.

“Dammit,” he grumbled, slumping further into his chair as she flashed a victorious grin.

“Ha! Get to trashin’, Jullies,” she teased, pulling a magazine over her face as she leaned back, making herself even more comfortable.

Julius was about to respond when their boss slammed the phone down with a grunt, finally done with his conversation. His heavy footsteps stomped over to them, and he barked out in his usual gravelly tone, "If you two focused half as much on work as you do playing stupid games, maybe this place wouldn’t be such a dump!" He pointed toward the overflowing trash can behind the desk. "Take that trash out already—it reeks!"

Julius glared at the back of his boss as the man waddled off. "Hopefully his cruise takes him to North Korea," he muttered under his breath, grabbing the garbage bag. The sour stench hit him full force as he tied it up, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Emery was already fast asleep behind him, her light snores blending in with the constant static of the TV.

He shoved the back door open with his foot, stepping out into the chilly afternoon draft. A gag escaped his throat as the familiar stench hit him. “God, how long has it been since the truck came?” he grumbled, grimacing as he faced the green dumpster. Ugh, he should have worn gloves. Opening the lid, his skin turned pale at the sight within. “Ah, what the fuck!” Dropping the black bag, Julius stumbled backward, rushing inside to scrub his hands free of germs and erase the horrifying image of a dismembered raccoon from his mind.

He barged in, waking Emery from her doze.

She squinted at him, half-laughing, “Pfft, what happened? Saw a ghost? Big baby!” Her giggles danced in the air as he headed toward the staff bathroom, desperate to rid himself of the mental image.

“Try a dead fucking raccoon! Why the hell would someone dump it in the bin?!” Julius exclaimed, his arms flailing dramatically. He groaned again. “You should’ve seen it—its insides were out like some animal got to it or something.” He gagged, covering his mouth with his hand. “Fuck…” A shuddering breath escaped him as he found his way back behind the front desk.

Emery wasn’t nearly as fazed as he was. She shrugged with a casual grin, her attitude almost infuriating. “You’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forests and bears. So…”

“Ugh, stop. I don’t want to think about it anymore. From now on, I’m off trash duty.” A small scowl settled on his face; he really wasn’t a fan of seeing dead animals on the job.

“You know what would cheer you up?” Emery sang playfully, nudging him with a mischievous grin, like a kid high on sweets. “That karaoke bar! Remember, the girls and I are going out tomorrow evening. You should come, Julies, please?” She hung onto his arm, batting her lashes in a dramatic pout. “Since we got to this town, all we’ve been doing is working.”

“Did you forget already? The boss is heading off on his all-inclusive tropical getaway, and he’s leaving us—well, mostly me—in charge. We can’t just ditch work.”

She huffed, whipping her head to the side, hair cascading over her shoulders. “We damn near live here! I’m sure by tomorrow you’ll change that big mind of yours.” She stretched her limbs, a graceful yawn escaping her lips. “Ah, I’m gonna use the bathroom—the upstairs one, because they’re fancier for some reason.”

Julius chuckled as he watched her ascend the stairs. She really shouldn’t be using those bathrooms. As the boss always said, “PAYING CLIENTS ONLY!” But what was he gonna do? Fire them? Please. He could hardly find anyone willing to step foot in this place as it was.

Just then, the doors slid open, and he held back a sigh. Great—more guests. He replaced his weary expression with a grudging smile as a bickering couple pushed through the entrance.

“Do you ever just shut up, Gloria?! I planned a nice goddamn vacation for us, and you’re still complaining!” the man yelled, clumsily dropping his ID onto the desk.

Julius rolled his eyes. Nice? This is what he called a nice vacation? He held back a grin.

The ginger-haired woman shot back, “Nice? This is NICE?! You spent more money on our honeymoon than this fucking shit vacation!”

He wanted to laugh; guests like these made it all worth it. “Here you go, room 12, upstairs. You won’t miss it,” he said, handing over the card.

The guy snatched it up, muttering, “Yeah, whatever,” before dragging his girlfriend behind him.

What an asshole.

And it was as if he’d rung a dinner bell, summoning a horde of unwelcome guests, each one spilling into the room like a bad joke that just wouldn't die.

The next arrival was an older man, his face etched with a stern frown that deepened into a scowl as he surveyed the place. It was as if he had stumbled into a dilapidated motel instead of the upscale resort he clearly expected. His gaze swept over the mismatched furniture, the peeling wallpaper, and the flickering neon sign outside. “That TV ain't steady,” he grumbled as he approached, his tone laced with disdain. “Wipe that damn smile off your face; you’re creeping me out.” He slammed his ID down on the counter, the noise echoing like a slap. “Tsk, back then this place had a little dignity, at least.”

Julius, barely fazed, hummed a noncommittal tune, his attention half on the man and half lost somewhere else. “Okay, Chester, room 2. Upstairs, you won’t miss it.” He handed over the key, a small token of indifference.

Chester scanned him like a hawk, lips pressed into a thin line. “I ain't the one who pissed in your pot, son. Watch your tone with me.” His heavy Texan drawl dripped with authority, and Julius felt its weight settle uncomfortably on his shoulders. The old man snatched the key from Julius’s hand, huffing as he stormed upstairs, footsteps heavy with indignation.

Once the man was gone, Julius glanced down, realizing Chester had left his suitcase behind. “What the hell does he think this is?” he muttered, rising from behind the desk. With a grunt, he dragged the suitcase across the floor and shoved it into the storage closet. “Old bastard,” he spat under his breath, irritation bubbling just below the surface.

A moment later, Emery emerged from the bathroom, shaking her head. “Sheesh, so far the guests suck. That old guy is so full of himself! He stopped me in the hallway, demanding to know why the sink in his room wasn’t working. I asked him if he tried turning the knob, and he flipped out!”

They erupted into laughter, the sound echoing in the otherwise dull lobby, two friends finding joy in the absurdity of their day. Emery slapped her forearm, still chuckling.

“So real! I tossed his suitcase in the storage closet, as if he expected me to carry it up for him. Hello, this is a motel! We aren’t even three stars!” Julius hissed, a mix of amusement and frustration coloring his words.

Just then, another guest strolled through the doors—a darkly dressed teenager, struggling to manage her oversized suitcase.

“Need a hand?” Emery offered, her voice bright and helpful, but the girl shook her head, determined to handle it herself. Whatever, Julius thought; it meant less work for them.

The teen approached, her voice soft and hesitant. “Hi... uh, I’m checking in with my dad, but he isn’t here... until tomorrow. Is that okay?”

Julius sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself off the counter, his tone brusque and impatient. “Name?” The girl swallowed hard, clearly taken aback by his sharp demeanor. “Violet...” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Last name,” he demanded, the words clenching through his teeth. Emery nudged him, a silent plea for kindness, but Julius sighed, his tone softening slightly. “Do you have an ID?”

With shaking hands, the dark-skinned girl fumbled through her hoodie pockets and pulled out a school ID. With a forced grin, Julius snatched it from her and punched her last name into the computer. “Emmie, get her a key, room 9.”

“On it, manager sir!” Emery giggled, her playful spirit lighting up the drab atmosphere. With a quick stretch of her arms, she grabbed a key and tossed it to Violet, who clumsily missed the catch. “Oops, sorry!”

Violet said nothing as she awkwardly retrieved the key and wrestled her suitcase toward the staircase, the weight of it seeming to reflect the burden of her uncertainty.

Watching from afar, Emery turned to Julius, trying to lighten the mood. “Were we that antisocial in high school?” she asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

Julius hummed in acknowledgment. “Sure, while you were out partying and being pursued by cute guys, I was at home finishing our science project.” He popped his neck in her direction, feigning nonchalance.

“You had cute guys too! Like... that goth guy! He used to make those skull carvings with your initials!” Emery squeaked, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

At the mention of the goth weirdo, Julius shuddered. One detail Emery conveniently forgot was that he was also the kind of guy who’d shove dead birds into his mailbox along with those so-called “cute” skull carvings. Yuck. Some memories were best left buried, and he’d rather not relive those awkward high school days.

The unmistakable sound of a car rolling up broke the stillness of the evening, tires screeching against the pavement like a banshee wailing in the night. Blasting music vibrated through the air, a thumping bass that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. The vehicle screeched to a halt, and out stepped a blonde—his hair so bright it practically glowed in the darkening twilight. He had the kind of physique that suggested he was more than just a pretty face; the sort you’d imagine tossing geeks into lockers and bins with a smug grin.

With an exaggerated swagger, he sauntered in, a bright smile plastered across his face. “Hey, y’all,” he drawled, his voice dripping with bravado.

Julius blinked in pleasant surprise. This wasn’t the typical obnoxious jock he expected; there was something disarming about his good looks and surprisingly friendly demeanor. Despite the aggressive façade, he didn't seem like an asshole at all.

“Welcome, name?” Julius asked, his tone softening instinctively, a sweetness curving his lips into an eerie but inviting smile.

“Bowie Rock,” the blonde replied.

Emery stood off to the side, casting wary glances between the two, a grimace tugging at her lips. The last thing she wanted was to witness Julius making a fool of himself. “What was that?” she blurted out once Bowie had strutted off, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Unbothered, Julius shrugged, a casual air about him. “What was what? He was obviously flirting with me. I just played along, you know?”

Her eyes narrowed, skepticism dripping from her tone. “Right, pfft. Anyway, I’m gonna take off soon. You can handle yourself all alone, right?” Emery wiggled her brows mischievously as she stepped away from the desk, teasingly twirling a finger in the air. “Scary down here on your own.”

Julius rolled his eyes, rubbing his forearm absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on her with an unamused expression. “Right, let’s just hope that dead raccoon doesn’t haunt me.”

Emery, still playing along, trailed her fingertips over the cool, smooth wood of the desk, her demeanor shifting to one of mock-seriousness that only barely masked the tension in the air. “Who knows what’s lurking in those forests?” she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush that seemed to wrap around them like fog. “Maybe whatever did that to the raccoon is still... out there.”

She leaned in closer, her breath barely above a whisper, and for a fleeting moment, the room felt charged, as if the shadows themselves were listening. Her eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and something darker, something that sent an icy shiver down Julius’s spine.

“Waiting,” she finished, her voice trailing off, leaving an unsettling silence that hung in the air like an uninvited guest. The darkness beyond the windows deepened, as if the night itself was alive, crawling closer with every heartbeat. A gust of wind rattled the glass, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

With an exasperated swat, he pushed her away, unable to suppress a smile as she laughed, her joy infectious.

“Ugh! Can you just go and remember to record tonight’s show for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, you scaredy cat,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

But deep down, Julius was anything but a scaredy cat. Sure, dead animals made him squeamish, and blood made him dizzy, but those were reasonable fears, weren’t they? Beyond that, he felt invincible. Nothing in this sleepy town ever came close to getting his blood pumping. This place, with its mundane routines and predictable people, felt like a prison of boredom. Why had he even left Memphis?

With a sigh that hung heavy in the air, he glanced out into the encroaching darkness, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in the wind.

Later that night...

The clock ticked ominously, striking midnight. Julius was half-asleep, his feet perched awkwardly on the desk, the dim glow of the screen casting long, distorted shadows across the room. Small snores punctured the suffocating silence, each one an unwelcome reminder of his own fatigue. He could feel the weight of his eyelids, heavy like lead, as he fought to stay awake. Just as he was teetering on the brink of oblivion, a sudden rustle outside yanked him back into stark reality. “Ugh, stupid raccoons…” he muttered, irritation flaring as his brows knitted together. With a frustrated huff, he closed his eyes again, crossing his forearms tightly over his chest, desperate to reclaim the fleeting comfort of sleep.

For a brief moment, a familiar quiet settled over him. But then, an earth-shattering BAAM! jolted him upright—the unmistakable sound of cans crashing outside, echoing like a gunshot in the still night air.

“Fuck’s sakes!” he groaned, his weariness morphing into a primal instinct. He felt the clawing dread rising in his chest as he grabbed a broom, the cold metal a meager reassurance. Sliding the doors aside, he stepped out into the biting cold, a shiver racing down his spine, prickling goosebumps along his neck. The darkness loomed around him, suffocating, and he tried to shake off the chill that gnawed at his bones, forcing himself to pierce through the suffocating shadows.

The bins still stood upright, so it hadn’t been an animal. Panic constricted around his heart like a vice as the chilling realization dawned. “Fucking homeless,” he spat, his frustration boiling over into a thin veneer of fear. All he wanted was sleep—was that too much to ask? At 24, he felt like he was aging into an 80-year-old man, his youthful vitality drained by the weight of the night.

With a heavy sigh, his breath misting in the frigid air, he turned to retreat back indoors when something darted past him—quick, shadowy, and furtive. His heart plunged into his stomach, instincts flaring as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

“WHO’S THERE? THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” he shouted, brandishing the broom like a weapon, desperation clawing at his throat. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to flee, yet he stood his ground, glaring into the oppressive darkness.

A gust of wind howled past him, carrying with it an unsettling silence that clung to the night. Then it happened again—a rush of movement behind him. Before he could process it, panic seized him, and he scrambled to the ground, his heart thundering like a war drum in his ears, a scream clawing its way up his throat, desperate to escape.

He lay there, breathless, his pulse racing like a wild animal. The cold ground pressed into his palms, the gravel biting at his skin. He could feel the weight of the darkness bearing down on him, a suffocating shroud that promised hidden horrors lurking just beyond his line of sight.

“get a grip man,” he whispered to himself, trying to ground his spiraling thoughts. He fought to steady his breath, feeling like prey in the depths of the night, exposed and vulnerable.

Was it just his mind playing tricks, or was something truly out there?

He dared not move, straining his ears for the slightest sound—a breath, a whisper, anything. The silence hung heavy, almost mocking. And then, in the pitch-black void, he heard it: the soft, deliberate crunch of footsteps advancing slowly toward him, each step a grim reminder of how alone he truly was in this desolate place.

“U-um, hello?” a voice broke through the chaos.

He let out a silent scream, his body suddenly feeling like a limp sack as he turned to face whatever—whoever—had startled him. And then, he saw them.

A man in his thirties stood there, flustered, with a girl beside him in a coat that looked ridiculously expensive. She popped a bubble of gum, removing her shades with a huff. “What the hell is this, Dad?! This is not an all-inclusive Sea Gardens Hotel!” she screeched, her heels clacking angrily against the pavement.

“Now, Alia, I did mention… I forgot to book rooms for us, and everywhere else is full,” her father replied, the hint of exasperation in his tone.

While they bickered, Julius remained frozen, wide-eyed on the cold ground, gravel digging painfully into his palms. He winced, a fresh cut stinging at the realization. Getting up, he sighed, feeling utterly ridiculous for letting himself get so worked up. He blamed Emery too—if she hadn’t filled his head with nonsense earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess.

“FINE! Whatever! You always find some way to screw up my life, Dad!” Alia’s voice echoed through the night.

Julius cringed but quickly shook off the awkwardness, ushering them inside with a reluctant urgency. He watched as Wallace struggled under the weight of his daughter’s multiple bags, only to sprint back out for his own measly one. A pang of envy twisted in Julius’s gut—if only his parents had been like that. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in this crummy town with this dead-end job.

“Ow, damn,” he muttered, recalling the cut on his palm. Exhaling, he bent down, rummaging around for a hidden pack of Band-Aids—

“Hello?” A voice interrupted his thoughts, making him snap upright, banging his head against the desk.

“Cocksucker!” he yelled, emerging from behind the counter, a mix of irritation and embarrassment flooding through him. “What the fuck do you want?!”

Clearly, customer service was out the window at this point. He shot daggers at the tall man standing before him, arms crossed defiantly. “Well?!”

The dark-skinned man towered over him, clad in a dark green jacket beneath a gray shirt and ragged black pants. His brown eyes narrowed slightly, a raised brow challenging Julius’s tone. “I’m sorry, isn’t this where we check in?” The words flowed from his lips, smooth and melodic, cutting through Julius’s irritation like a knife.

Despite the lingering annoyance, Julius felt his anger dissipate. “Sorry, I’ve had a rough night. Name?” he replied, his tone softening.

“Remi. It’s past the first,” the man said, reaching into his pocket for an ID.

“...Julius,” he replied, his irritation almost forgotten.

“Also from France, I assume?” Remi inquired, a hint of curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Pfft, I wish, Julius thought, rolling his eyes inwardly. Grabbing Remi's key, he faced him with puffed cheeks, “Nope, my mom just plopped the first name that popped up on Google onto my birth certificate.” A true story.

Remi chuckled, their fingers brushing as he took the key. “Well, it’s still a beautiful name.” His gaze lingering a fraction too long.

He felt warmth creep up his neck, forcing himself to suppress the blush threatening to bloom on his cheeks. “Whatever,” he muttered, trying to sound dismissive.

Julius watched him go, a strange sense of calm washing over him, mingling with the remnants of frustration and exhaustion, but the darkness outside loomed larger now, a smothering entity. Maybe the night wasn’t as bleak as it seemed, but something still felt off, like the calm before a storm, waiting to unleash its fury.

[cosmicawg]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

📌An October short series special, by @cosmicawg

📌Comprises: 5 Chapters [hopefully]

📌Plot: In a small motel near the dense forests of Port Angeles, friends Julius and Emery face a chaotic night when Emery returns wounded from a party. As a mysterious threat looms, tensions rise among the quirky guests, leading to mistrust and conflict. With survival at stake, they must navigate their relationships and uncover hidden truths while trying to make it through the night.

📌Characters

1) The Main Characters: Julius and Emery

Julius (sarcastic, level-headed)

Casting: Finn Wittrock –

Emery (nonchalant, supportive)

Casting: Victoria Pedretti –

2) The Reluctant Hero/Love Interest: Remi

Remi (brave, compassionate)

Casting: Damson Idris –

3) The Jock: Bowie

Bowie (Naive, strong,)

Casting: Chris Hemsworth –

4) The Ex-Couple: Gloria and Alex

Alex (Demanding, toxic)

Casting: Noah Centineo –

Gloria (Bossy, arrogant)

Casting: Madelaine Petsch –

5) The Goth: Violet

Violet (Shy, reclusive)

Casting: Avantika Vandanapu –

6) The Old Guy: Chester

Chester (Abrasive, commending)

Casting: Stephen Lang –

7) The Dad and Daughter: Alia and Wallace

Alia (Self-centered, idiotic)

Casting: Lana Condor –

Wallace (Rich, cares about daughter)

Casting: Chad Michael Murray –

📌Schedule:

Chapter 1 "Shitty Motel & The Shitty Guests"

Chapter 2 "THERE'S SOMETHING OUT THERE!"

Chapter 3 "No Way Out 'Til Sunrise"

Chapter 4 "It's Inside With Us"

Chapter 5 "Escape or Die"

📌@cosmicawg notes: Another idea popped into my head! I’ve never really focused on theme-based stories before—tried once, but it flopped because I had such limited time. But since October just started, I thought, "Heck yeah, let’s do this!" Hehe.

Fair disclaimer: I’ve only written horror once before, and the feedback I got was, "It’s too cute!" and "Focus less on the romance, girl!" So, naturally, I’ve been a bit terrified of the genre ever since. Any tips would be super appreciated! Also, this isn’t planned out at all, haha. I���ve jotted down a few notes, but nothing too detailed. I’m just here to have fun, so... MUHAHAHAHA!

[cosmicawg]

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 @kay-m-sinc 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞!

📌Tags by: @kay-m-sinc

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?

Maybe he lied just a little about his job. Like, what was he supposed to tell his parents—the same people who tossed aside their own dreams and ambitions just to raise him? That at 29 years old, he had no job, no wife, no kids, and live out of a trailer that may or may not be on the bank’s repo list?

A little white lie never hurt anybody, right? So, he told them what any decent son would: “I got a job as an accountant.” His mom, being his mom, couldn’t wait to tell everyone in the family. For some reason, accountant was the title of the century.

And that’s how he found himself standing awkwardly at the family function, in this scratchy, bargain-bin suit and tie that made him look like an extra from a bad mob movie. Why a suit and tie? Well, he didn’t really know; when he thought “accountant,” that was the first thing that popped into his head. Not that it helped much under the Texan sun. Nice life choices, Tim.

“There he is!” a familiar gruff voice barked in his ear, followed by a heavy clap on the back that made him wince. “Look, Shannon, it’s the big-shot accountant!”

Uncle Frank.

Tim forced a grin, the same one he’d been holding since he got here. “Hey...Uncle Frank. How’s it going?”

Uncle Frank, round and bald with a face as red as his sunburnt neck, yanked off his shades and stepped closer to his wife. The stain of his sunburn made Tim cringe. Guess he hadn’t heard of sunscreen.

Fran leaned in with a smug look. “More like how’s it treating you, Mr. Accountant. Your momma’s been runnin’ her mouth about how ‘rich my boy’s gonna make me’ and ‘he’s so much better than Fran’s son’ and ‘who needs soldiers when we got accountants.’” Fran’s impression of his mom’s voice was a cringe-inducing squeak, totally at odds with his gravelly baritone.

Tim swallowed, sweat prickling his forehead. “Yeah…you know how she is. Uh, how’s John?” he asked, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Deployed,” Frank replied with a hint of pride, “John’s shipped out, doing his duty as an American. But hey, that’s small potatoes next to you, big accountant. So how’s the job?” Frank's smile stretched wider, smug and taunting.

Tim’s nerves made his voice stammer. “Oh, uh… you know,” he shrugged weakly, “workin’ hard.”

“With all those hours, I don’t know how you have a life at all,” Frank said, smirking.

That question, at least, he had ready to go. “Oh, personal life? Barely have one!” He chuckled awkwardly. “It’s mostly takeout and spreadsheets for me!” He cringed. Great, he sounded like a bad commercial.

Fran’s eyebrows lifted as his grin turned wicked. “Well, when you finally earn enough to move out of that tin can you call a home, gimme a call. We’ll go house shopping with all that accountant money, yeah?” With a snide laugh, he hooked his arm around his wife and waddled away.

Tim’s forced smile dropped the second Fran was out of sight. “Nosy old man…”

“Timmy, sweetie!” His mom’s high-pitched voice rang out across the yard, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Come tell Auntie Carol how much that fancy job of yours is paying, honey!” A ripple of laughter followed.

He sighed, tugging at the collar of his sticky shirt. Family functions were the worst. And he hated this stupid suit.

[cosmicawg]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐈𝐏

Just little scrimbles I thought of while working on chapters of my story and thought it'll be cute little scenes that can be used to help build the relationship between the characters(or my brain couldn't stop bugging me about it so i wrote it down😅)

Scene: A and B sitting in a dimly lit room. The edibles have kicked in, and the vibe is mellow but heavy. A, clearly feeling the effects, looks dazed while B remains laid-back, though slightly amused by Devon’s reaction.

B: (chuckling, shaking his head) “You buggin’ out, man. Chill... Can't believe this yo' first time trying these.”

A: (eyes half-closed, sounding distant) “They ain't like weed… I feel... different.”

(A reaches out slowly, staring at his own hands like they’re foreign. He pauses, studying them as if they’re not his own.)

A: (soft, unsure) “Do you... think I'm special?”

(His voice trembles slightly, carrying a vulnerability that catches B off guard.)

(B smirks at first, but then recalls the weight of Devon’s words. He chuckles but not dismissively.)

B: (grinning) “Yeah, you some alright... But nah, for real, you special. You got dreams nobody ‘round here got.”

(A's eyes light up with a loopy smile as their gazes lock. The high makes him feel everything ten times brighter.)

A: (blurting out dreamily) “I wanna be a famous painter... like James Kelly. I wanna... be somebody.”

(The energy in the room shifts as they both edge a little closer, lost in their thoughts. B's expression softens, and he contemplates his next words.)

B: (quietly, but firm) “You already are somebody. You in here, ain't you? You made it this far... that makes you somebody. In my book.”

(The room falls into silence as those words hang between them.)

(A's eyelids grow heavy, his body giving in to the edible haze. He slumps into sleep, still with that soft smile on his face. B watches him, pondering, lost in his own thoughts as A drifts off.)

End Scene

BASED OFF @11thsense: this really cute drawing by @11thsense. i saw it on pinterest and just fell in love with it, went to sleep and saw it again in my dreams(thus this scrimble for my characters) am not kidding lmaooo.