#Happy Halloween have a rant

[see-arcane]

The most screwed up thing about this particular "sexual liberation via undead serial killer" cliche is that in this case main female character literally dies in the process of such "liberation". Which remake now clearly tries to frame not as her own heroic actions of bravery and kindness and unselfishness, but as her fullfilling some of her deathwish and dark desires for vampire and whatever and as something which is now good for her (!), hey look people she's actually happy now. Barf.

The hell of it is that, on the one hand, this kind of framework really can work well in the horror genre. All the most alarming and/or deplorable themes of a narrative are welcome under that umbrella. Horror needs no moral, no happy ending, no healthy relationships. I see all that and it delights me. If I were to take some fragments of Eggers' interview answers at face value, I could really get behind the concept of these characters as he's painting them.

A leading lady who even as she Knows what she's doing is Wrong, throws herself at it anyway.

I could get behind the Conqueror Undone by Fixation.

The Plotting Zealot who Sacrifices Others for the Greater Good.

Even the Sole Innocent Standing/Technical Final Girl being the grieving husband who wanted to protect a loved one even when he knew she did not want him, arriving too late to see she'd chosen mutual destruction with her problematic undead crush rather than staying to live as the good wife she knew she could never be.

On the surface? This is all really good classic gothic fucked up shit. I might even do cartwheels if this was an original film in the veins of The Witch or The Lighthouse, both of which are A+ depictions of corruption arcs steeped in the supernatural. This is Bobby Egg's jam!

The poison comes in when, once again, we see just whose names and plot Eggers has stapled onto these figures. It really is a Dracula adaptation in all but title, because he's following in the exact same bullshit footsteps as his predecessors. These characters are not his. For as closely cloned as they are from Bram Stoker's cast and story, Orlok, Ellen, Thomas and the rest are F.W. Murnau's creations, born in his original Nosferatu.

Werner Herzog could recognize that (even if he got weird about the Dracula cast renaming for ??reasons??) and kept the foundation of the story and characters intact even as he built on top of them. Herzog didn't hollow out the cast and stuff his OCs into their skins to play out his fanficified 2 goth 4 U versions of them. The Count's tragedy buried in his compulsions, the proactive nature and power of the female lead, the miserable tragic result of her husband's unchecked contamination leading to the blow of oh god, we did everything right and the nightmare will continue anyway...that's all from potential that Murnau left in his film and Herzog ran with it.

Eggers' version of Nosferatu is, by contrast, shaping up to be a more elaborate version of Francis' wet dream, just without all the fancy costumes and reincarnation BS. No, it's not Count Chadracula Gary Oldman, but Orlok is still the Dark and Powerful Other Man who the Girl One reeeally wants due to her Secret Gothdark Nature and Long Distance Horniness which meek and mincing little Jonathan Thomas simply cannot satisfy..!

Like. Bobby. You know how to make an original story. You do. This, here, is clearly your story. It has Black Phillip's hoof prints all over it. It has the Lighthouse's cosmic toxic radiance. Every hint and line and trailer so far is painting it all in your very recognizable colors. And I would be so ready to love it like I have your others.

If only I didn't know you had to wring the neck of one of my other favorite stories to empty out its carcass and graft the hide on to your 'reinvention' that is in every way just a goth-grimier cousin to Coppola's take. Fittingly, it's not unlike what Murnau did to Stoker's work. 'I want to do that too, but slightly to the left.' Well, you're doing it. One hundred percent.

And it makes me so deeply, sadly disappointed.

[error-dark]

I don't think y'all understand how badly Bloodmoon invaded my brain for over a damn year.

This morning, on the way to art class, I swear with my life, I thought I saw a homemade plush of Bloodmoon, sitting on the back widow, of a white van. Now, I know that whatever the hell it was, it was most likely NOT Bloodmoon. But goddamn it, Bloodmoon! I fucking miss you so much that now I'm going insane-

I blame you for spreading it, @turbotasthick

[doodle17]

Like how everyone is butt-hurt about Halloween being over and how they're "dreading Christmas" but I'm over here thriving because I am both a big Halloween AND Christmas enthusiast

I am ready to deck those halls and trim some trees bby girl

[corrodedcoughin]

I’m absolutely not the person to do it but I feel like there could be such a good steddie Drabble or fic based on spooky by dusty Springfield

The first verse based on how Steve sees Eddie, trying to use his old tactics of playing hard to get when Eddie asks him round to watch the movie he rents from family video. Thinking that if he plays his cards right he might finally get Eddie’s attention. Unsure of how to go about it any other way but absolutely knows with certainty that nobody else is going to compare to the strange and endearing guy who’s had Steve’s attention for far longer than either of them realise.

(But the thing is Dustin told Eddie all of the flirting advice Steve tried to pass on. So when Steve changes his initial ‘no’ to an ‘alright’ with a smirk eddie thinks and hopes and prays he might be in with a chance)

The second verse is Eddie watching steve at work and day to day. Completely unsure of how to take the ex-mr popular, convinced that he’s flirting with everybody that comes into his vicinity and it’s either through mercy or for his sins that Eddie is catching the strays. In two minds about what dustin said, is this part of Steve’s game or is it real? But this time when Eddie gets lost in those spiralling thoughts, Steve grabs his hand and smiles at him. Eddie’s flurry of doubt stops and all he sees is the contradiction of Steve with his neck scar and polo shirts.

Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little boy like you 🎶

[cyberpunkboytoy]

trick or treat 🐶<- my costume

Ohhhh I have just the thing for you

[banannabethchase]

I really REALLY wish I enjoyed Halloween.

[eli-is-an-idiot]

Don't you guys love sitting in someone's conservatory alone dressed as a snake man while they're outside in the dark probably making out with someone else and you've been alone for the last 50 fucking minutes

[vessel-full-of-stories]

When you hit a block in your one contribution to the fandom, so you try something new. And you go a little overboard and post a bunch of those types of contributions, along with a completely different type (in video form, because words are hard and music on repeat for hours goes with the hyper focus). And then you burn yourself out while also getting additional real world responsibilities that take your free time away. So you don't get to create anything for awhile.

Until you feel a little better.

And then you want to do it all at once. And you're paralyzed with it all and just want everything to be done so you can post it and let people talk to you again.

[silvers-not-home]

sitting at home and listening to tyler the creator and rewatching the life series because i have literally no friends to go out with tonight😽

[triglycercule]

i havent even started that one halloween meme i wanted to do (lazy) and now i already want to do another animatic (we're lazy what are you THINKING triglycercule) i can already see it in my head (≧ω≦) (YOU WILL NOT BE MAKING PROGRESS ON IT STOP FANTASIZING)

YOU KNOW WHAT NEGATIVE ME. YOURE WRONG. BECAUSE I ACTUALLY AM GONNA MAKE PROGRESS ON BOTH THOSE THINGS TODAY (trust)

[exsqueezememacaroni]

.

[cherubfae]

how they cuddle || slashers x reader

With Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Brahms Heelshire, Billy and Stu, Art the Clown, Vincent, Bo, Lester, Sal Fisher, & Patrick Bateman, Thomas Sawyer

tags: AFAB reader (not specified), cuddling, affection, rz!Mikey, art is his own warning lmao, terrifier 2 spoilers, little spoon!slashers, nightmares (Sal), comfort, poly!Ghostface, I low-key rant about art in Vin's lmao

Michael

Exhaustion isn't something he's used to feeling so heavily in his bones. He feels the heavy weight rippling across his broad shoulders and spiraling down his spine in white hot pain. He's not a tame being, but he is a bit more docile in the months before and after Halloween. His knife doesn't thirst for blood quite as much as on the 31st.

Seeing you in your bed is a welcomed sight. Michael doesn't say much more than the soft grunt of acknowledgement as he sheds his coveralls from his dirt-caked skin. He has a lovely warm bath that loosens all the tight muscles of his lower back. You'll have his head later for leaving a ring of grime in the tub; Mikey doesn't care about that right now.

The fresh sheets are so comfortable, accepting them fully as Michael tucks his face into your side. His recently cut hair is still long enough to form a fringe curtain over his grey eyes.

Jason

Softly leans his chin to your shoulder. Depending on how far along you two are into your relationship, Jason might feel comfortable enough to have his mask removed. He's aware the material probably doesn't feel too pleasant being pressed to the side of your face or lightly digging into your skin.

His arms wind around your waist, happily sighing as he leans himself against you. Jason also doesn't mind if you switch things up and hold him in return, stroking the top of his head softly.

Brahms

If there's a way where he can wind his body around yours, Brahms will find it. He definitely likes keeping you away from all of the noise of the world, and while he's not mega happy about it, he knows you need trips into town sometimes. He likes seeing what kind of food items you bring back because the meals you make are simply delicious!

After dinner and bathing, Brahms snuggles beside you, clinging to you like you've been gone for ages. The chill of his porcelain biting into your skin as he happily huffs behind it. He's so glad to have you. <3

Billy and Stu

The pair are constantly together, if not with you, then they're almost always flanking each other's sides. The other is often not far from the first. Adding you into their duo to form a trio didn't change much of their dynamic. Instead of the two boys slinking around, they've got you as their third and final confidant.

Billy isn't the most touchy-feely person-- that's what he likes to claim. He doesn't really know how to ask for the things that he wants. He's different to Stu in the way that he's silent when you press your hand to the brunette's cheek, smiling as his eyelids flutter closed. Subconsciously leaning into your touch, chasing the feeling when you pull away.

Stu likes to be what he calls the mega spoon. It's him behind you, snuggled at your back, and with Billy pressed close to your chest still too proud to say that he enjoys being taken care of as the little spoon. You three make a nice, lovely three-person sandwich. Even when lying down, you're in the center with the boys wrapped around you like snakes. There is no them without you; you are their missing piece.

Art

This man is mostly, if not always, within your personal space. 'It's not yours, it's ours'. Art is rarely a being ever to break character or change out of his damned costume, and his hygiene is quite questionable sometimes; though he does in fact bathe and wash his suit. Just not often.

He's a man of very few words, especially when he's deep into his clown character and doing what he does best. Being immortal has its advantages, but his fight with Sienna really put him through the ringer. Art was decapitated! What a riot.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Art is always almost underfoot. In your bubble, seeing what you're doing. Snuggling up to you in a rare moment where his costume is off, leaning his head into your chest with an exhausted expression. It seemed that Pale Girl was allowing him some respite with you for a bit.

Vincent

He is a busy man, constantly sculpting and creating. His sketchbooks are filled to the absolute brim of beautiful works of art in all sorts of mediums: charcoal, graphite, watercolor, and ink. You're his muse, his favorite subject of which his art circulates. There's something so breathtaking about you, minute details that only an artist can see within people. An eternal, everlasting beauty.

Vincent is quick to jot down the rough outline of your sleeping form resting against Jonesy. He's smiling behind the wax mask, skilled fingers shading the crease of your eyelids then moving to sketch the curve of your Cupid's bow. When he felt it was finished enough for now, Vincent sets his book aside in favor of crawling into bed beside you.

His broad frame dwarfs yours as he curls his body around yours, his large hands slide beneath your sweater pressing across your tummy. Vincent really adores you, you know?

Bo

Not much of a cuddler, but if you get especially pouty about it Bo will roll his eyes and tug you to him. He can be a major asshole but he doesn't like seeing his baby upset.

He tucks you beneath his strong arm, his mechanic's hat resting on top of the back of the sofa. Waiting for you to settle down doesn't take long as you're soon drifting off with your head on his chest, focusing on his hand placed on your knee; gently stroking the skin there. His eyes begin to droop, feeling heavy. Cradling the back of your neck, Bo allows himself to drift off, too.

Lester

Long days certainly do get to him sometimes. Tiring him out something awful. He's prepared enough roadkill and deer for his brothers and you, enough to satiate any hunger for the time being until he finds time to run into the nearby town again.

Lester finds you lounging in his bed with Jonesy, Vincent must be working hard and the pup sought out attention where she could. He had no idea where Bo was or whatever the hell he was up to.

Collapsing onto the bed, Lester sighs deeply when you immediately comb your fingers through his messy short hair. He's out like a light soon after.

Sal Fisher

Poor guy has so much going on that sometimes he just wants to crash and sleep for one-thousand years. He doesn't sleep well on the best of days, plagued by frequent nightmares that not even the warmth and comfort of your sleeping form beside him can quell.

Another nightmare yanks Sal out of a fitful sleep. One that has him patting the sheets, searching for you. The heat of your skin against his hands sends a calming peace over him. He's scooping your sleeping form in his arms, his face hidden in your neck. Sal gives a weak smile as you snuggle into him. He focuses on your even breathing, allowing himself to fall asleep soon after.

Thomas

It's incredibly hot on the best of days in Duller County, the Sawyer family set up several oscillating fans that constantly work overtime without a proper functioning air conditioning unit.

Even the lackluster cool breeze and the sweltering Texan heat aren't enough to have Tommy pulling you into his lap and nuzzling his masked face into your hair.

You're much smaller than him. It gives Tommy a sense of pride knowing that he's your big, strong protector. :)

Patrick

He is such an enigma, a contradiction. Patrick isn't much of a cuddler or snuggler but he wants to play the role of being a dutiful partner. He is quick to become a jealous lover if you were to find someone else to give you attention while he's fretting over what sort of shade of cream or white Paul Allen's next business card will have.

A prideful, vain being such as himself would never admit how much he truly does enjoy having your curl up next to him. The warmth your body exudes is a comfort, one he finds him seeking out more and more even though your relationship is still within its earlier stages. Patrick hates that he finds himself being so undone by you, but he can't find it within himself to stop either. There's something inside of you that his fervent bloodlust can't be satisfied by.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

[slut4sugu]

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃 𝐇𝐂𝐒 (𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.)

a/n: im back my loves! I’ve been rewatching criminal minds and omg I love how soft Spencer is he’s just adorable bro. Also JJ with bangs? (She can get it too honestly) Mentions; of sub!spencer, dry humping, cunnilingus, sweet but nasty Spence <33

isn’t the best with explaining his feelings for you not in a nerdy way but is a poet when it comes to words of affirmation; ever time Spencer sees you look so beautiful, so ethereal he just randomly pouts out a poem that can barely come close to describe the amount of love he has for you in that moment <33

I’m a strong believer in the fact that Reid has a little decor around his apartment for when Halloween rolls around; and is beyond happy when he comes home from a case to find that you’ve went a the extra mile and decorating it a bit more for him <33

Memorizes your cafe orders; so on his off days he’ll wake up before you to surprise you with a muffin and your favorite tea/coffee

is usually the big spoon in bed; however if he’s had a challenging week he’ll just silently curl into your side pressing kisses to you neck as he murmurs a “thank you love.”

whines into kisses & grinds his hips into yours while doing so; Spence is weak for you that much is certain. Your voice is as smooth as silk and your touch never fails to ignite a fire on his skin. But your kisses are pure aphrodisiac, you effortlessly pull moans from him like it’s nothing. “You’re so cute Spence, so you want me to touch you?” “Please angel.”

cannot leave without his goodbye kiss and an I love you; one time you decided to mess with him and kiss him goodbye without saying I love you. After not hearing you say it back he poked his head back in your shared bedroom and loooked at you confused. “I love you?” “Mhm, have a good day sweetheart.” Now he’s pouting, “..did I do something wrong?” Now you have to pepper his face with kisses and tell him you love him multiple times so he can leave.

whenever he’s gone for a couple days for a particular hard case he’ll send you flowers, and sends you text messages; to check the new book you’ve read. Which leads you to find a sweet love letter. Promising his safe return and that he’ll make up for lost time <33

loves baking and cooking with you; know we all know Spencer can’t cook worth a damn, so his job in the kitchen is maintaining the mess you tend to create while making brownies and ofc pressing kisses to your shoulder as you mix the batter

eats you out slowly when he’s sleepy but horny; it’s so hot but so agonizingly slow. Even the way his tongue flicks against your clit feels slow, once he hears your begs and whines he’ll speed up a bit. Slowly starting to get more into it than you are, pulling you by your thighs to get close to his tongue. Lapping up your cunt is an art form to Spence, and all art deserves to be appreciated <33

tells Garcia and Morgan about you; he intends not to rant but once he pictures your sweet smile in his head he’s a goner. Now he talking about your mannerisms and how you always cover your smile with your hand because your self conicous about it, but he finds your smile so beautiful..

when he gets jealous he pouts slightly; he manages it relatively well but the initial time a guy looks at you too long or has that look on his face, Spence does that little confused pouty thing slightly before making it clear your happily taken.

Spence is HELLA touchy; cannot go 2 minutes without touching you. In the car? Hand on your thigh, sitting on the couch together? Your thighs gotta be on his lap. One way or the other

Happily spends his money on you; spence absolutely loves spoiling you, and every anniversary he makes a habit of buying you a dress. Not overly pricey but just enough in the 200-300 range. each anniversary he goes a little bit higher and higher or if you found a dress you really like hell buy you jewelry. But once you guys hit one year? He goes all out <33

uses your lotions and shampoo on occasion; being away from you for hours on end can be tough at some times so Spencer makes a habit of buying smaller samples of your vanilla or strawberry scented products. Smell of sweet candy and cookies like helps ease his mind when he’s away at work.

Honorable mentions

princess twirl/hugs when he comes back from a long case

loves going on library dates with you

says I love you every time before doing down on you <33

[tiarpopdind]

The cutest vampire ever!!!!!!!! 🦇

Ik october is like THE month of art challenges (forever blaming the Inktober guy) but unfortunately i've never succeeded in partaking in any of them the last like 8 years BUT i still wanted to draw something in celebration of the month!!

So i drew Ominis! As a vampire!!! For Halloween!!!!

I felt like i was so focused on trying to draw him correctly by looking at references and following them and i could feel my art style losing its flair a little because i'm really not used to realism 😖😖

This piece was a nice break from it all, and I'm happy with how it turned out, even though it's a little messy :'D

This is also why every comic part i made is different from one another and how it's never the same style. Trust me, i am very painfully aware of it lol... but I have to remind myself not to take it too seriously and prioritize on trying new things and having fun!!

Ok rant's over thank you for your attention good bye.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! New random idea that popped into my head falling asleep in the bat boys hoodies while they're on partol.3

I probably misinterpreted this ask but have this instead!

Dick

Uses you sleeping under his hoodie to pretend that he had somehow gotten pregnant.

No one believed this bullshit because dick had gone on multiple rants of you burying yourself under his hoodie and sleeping while clinging onto his chest. He had albums full of these moments that his teammates wonder whether or not he had storage on his phone that wasn’t dedicated to you.

But dick would get a little distracted with you sleeping under his hoodie when he was out on patrol, no matter how hard he tries to focus, he was brought back to you and smiling to himself at how much you trusted him to keep you company while you slept soundly against his chest.

It’s been rather slow for patrol, which was what he wanted but that meant he was prone to giving you kisses and back rubs whenever he felt bored with the unusual quietness of Gotham city. Dick would even hum a tune to you softly or even tell you silly little stories about the stars, anything and everything to keep his mind occupied and you in a state of relaxation under his touch.

‘I still have to go on that stargazing date with you sooner or later.’ He says to no one in particular as he rubs your back, tracing words into it as he smiles softly. ‘I’ll bring Hayley since she loves you so much, I’m jealous but then again I love seeing my two favourites sweethearts being adorable and cute-,’ dick gasps, ‘also we need to do a Halloween costume photo shoot with Hayley sooner or later. What do you think?’

You shuffled a little.

‘I’m glad you agree, we should do it soon.’ Dick replied as he walked across the rooftop in search of anything out of the ordinary, with Halloween closely encroaching, he guessed that people were preparing for the holiday but unfortunately for Dick evil doesn’t take a rest; even on holidays.

Jason

He thought this was ridiculously dangerous for you to pull off, sleeping under his hoodie while on patrol!?

He’s staying on the rooftops and out of range as much as possible as he pops his head under the collar of his hoodie to check on you, only to find you still soundly asleep against his chest as he sighs in relief.

‘Still sound asleep?’ Roy asked.

‘Still- wait,’ Jason looked over at Roy who looked back at him and shrugged his shoulders. ‘You keep checking on them like a mother hen, that and you’re not actually subtle when you keep looking down the collar of your hoodie.’

Jason internally groans but despite cursing himself for being caught, his hand instinctively rubbed your back when he felt you shift under his hoodie, reassuring you that everything was okay and that it wouldn’t be long until you got to go home. Roy smirks as he watched Jason coddle you during this particularly boring night of patrol, finding his need to keep periodically checking on you now and then rather endearing in all honestly, but would put a hand on Jason’s shoulder and remind him;

‘They aren’t going to up and disappear if you don’t check on them for a split second dude, they’ll always be there clinging to you like a koala.’

Jason knew this but didn’t trust Gotham enough to take his eyes off of you without thinking you’ll be taken the next, Gotham didn’t allow anyone to be happy for long, and this relationship with you had was more or less a dream come true for Jason; who had finally found his god given solace in you and wasn’t willing to loose you anytime soon, so forgive him if he wasn’t eager to be apart for you for a while and come across as a protective bear.

‘I know,’ Jason hummed softly, cuddling you closer out of instinct, ‘I know they won’t but I’m not risking anything, not while we’re in Gotham.’ He adds and Roy only accepts this as he went back to his post, making sure that no one would take Jason or you off guard.

Bruce

Curse you and your puppy eyes because Bruce was planning on leaving you in the bat cave upon seeing how tired you were, now here he was, out on patrol with Damian as you slept soundly under his hoodie like you had been for the past hour and half.

‘Why didn’t you leave them back at the man or father?’ Damian asked, patting your head gently through Bruce’s dark hoodie.

‘They have ways of holding things over my head Damian,’ Bruce replied as he felt you snuggle closer to him in your sleep, kissing his collar bone as though to remind him and yourself that you were okay, that everything was okay, ‘ways of which I find myself unable to deny.’ He adds as he kisses the top of your head.

‘Still patrol isn’t exactly safe to be falling asleep.’ Damian echoed the concern of your wellbeing that was prevalent in Bruce’s mind as he raised an eyebrow at his father’s decisions.

‘Try telling them that and watch them pull the puppy eyes like their life depends on it.’ Bruce thought to himself but would never say aloud for…multiple reasons as he looks over at Damian who was hovering over the lump that was you like a protective but overbearing hawk as he stared at his father.

‘I will not allow them to be hurt.’ He declared and Bruce could be help but smile at how adamant his son was in wanting to keep you safe. It was something they bother shared, even know they were well aware that you could keep yourself safe, all in thanks to their intensive training you were put under months ago.

‘They could take out thugs with one arm tied behind their back, they’re more than capable Damian.’ Bruce said humorously as his son pouted and took his seat in front of him, in front of you protectively as he unsheathed his sword. ‘Regardless of their abilities, they’re sleeping right now and must be watched over at all times.’ Was Damian’s response as father and son watched over their city, while the city remained clueless that they were watching over more then just the city but also the slumbering person under Bruce’s hoodie, sleeping soundly.

[munson-blurbs]

Joker!Eddie Munson x Harley Quinn!Reader

Summary: You're a psychologist who has always done the right thing. Enter Eddie Munson, mandated to attend court-ordered counseling sessions, who has a devilish side you can't resist.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: dark fic, loosely based on Joker and Harley's story, mention of drug dealing, mention of parental abandonment and death, murder, ex!Jason Carver/Harvey Dent, arson, power imbalance, allusions to smut

A/N: Before y'all say anything, I know that Joker and Harley have a toxic relationship. Eddie and Reader bring out the worst in each other, but this is *clears throat* FANFIC! So long live these fake toxic relationships. And big thank you to @corroded-hellfire for her help with the lore. Happy Halloween!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie Munson didn’t sit down once for the entire duration of his first session. 

Most of your clients opted for the couch. The more nervous ones sitting so close to the worn cushion’s edge that they nearly fell off, while the more experienced ones practically lounged as they recounted whatever horrors had occurred since their last session. 

Eddie paced back and forth, his Reeboks wearing a hole in the mildewed carpet, only pausing when he needed to light a cigarette. 

“I mean, this is bullshit.” He took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Twenty fuckin’ years, I get shoved to the side, and now they think some shrink is gonna fix all my problems?”

‘They’ most likely referred to Chief Hopper, who had been the one to recommend Eddie receive court-mandated therapy instead of serving time in jail for possession with intent to distribute. The police chief had become soft ever since adopting that teenage daughter, which was probably why Eddie was in your dingy office rather than behind bars. 

Your gaze flicked over the tattoos on his arms, visible where he’d cut his shirt sleeves, and looked him in the eyes. “Have you been to therapy before, Eddie?”

He threw his head back and laughed so violently that you dropped your pen. Before you could reach for it, Eddie picked it up and placed it in your lap, his fingertips grazing the hem of your skirt. 

“After my dad got locked up for, oh, I dunno, the tenth time?” Eddie shook his head and laughed again, though this one was quieter. “My uncle took me to talk to some shrink. Turns out that my old man had actually stolen the guy’s car. Small fuckin’ world, huh?” He scratched at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, he told us never to come back. So we didn’t.”

Your heart broke for the child he once was, rejected by a therapist while coping with his father’s incarceration. “Where was your mother?” You asked softly. 

Eddie flicked some ash into the ashtray. “She’d been dead for a while at that point.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” His face lit up, smiling too hard to properly take another drag of his cigarette. “At least she didn’t have to deal with any of this shit. All she had to do was be worm food.”

The visual made your stomach turn, but Eddie was grinning. 

“Aww, c’mon, Sweetheart” he pouted jokingly, snuffing out his cigarette. “You gotta appreciate some dark humor once in a while.”

The nickname would have earned any other man a stern look, maybe even a warning for dismissal, but it felt so right coming from Eddie. 

“Do you use humor to cope?” 

He twisted a skull ring around his finger and walked over to where you sat before crouching down in front of you. 

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do here.” One hand found your knee, his nail catching on a run in your black tights. Eddie peered up at you, lips twisting into an unsettling smile. “But I’m not dealing because I’m sad or trying to fill a void left behind by my parents. I’m doing it to survive in this shithole.”

He rose then and resumed his pacing while he ranted. “We can sit here all goddamn day and talk about my daddy issues, or my mommy issues, or how the system failed poor Eddie Munson over and over and over. And maybe I’ll leave here feeling slightly less shitty about myself. But you know what that won’t do?” He didn’t wait for your response. “It won’t put food on the table or keep the lights on. It won’t stop the bank from taking my trailer. Greedy bastards.”

Only when you remained silent did Eddie glance over at you with his wide brown eyes, as though he’d just remembered his speech had an audience. “You can put all that in your notes. Show it to Chief Hopper, to the judge; I don’t care.”

You closed the marble notebook perched in your lap and capped your pen. “I’m not trying to fix you, Eddie,” you said. “I just want to know you.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie huffed out a chuckle. “You wanna get inside my brain. You can’t help it. I’m an interesting guy.”

He was. You’d always been interested in understanding people; how they thought and how it affected their behaviors. It was why you chose a career in psychology. But Eddie had something beyond that—a magnetic pull that drew you in, no matter how many times you silently reminded yourself to maintain those professional boundaries. 

For the remaining twenty minutes of your session, you dug for as much information about Eddie as you could get. He played guitar, took six years to graduate high school because of an algebra teacher who was determined to flunk him, and kept a notebook of his own to plan Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.

If you didn’t have another client immediately after him, you would have let him keep talking. You clung to every word like a lifeline, noting the little mannerisms peppered into his personality. 

Eddie spoke with his hands and ran his fingers through his knotted curls when he was particularly agitated or passionate about a topic. His nose scrunched when he asked questions that required your approval. He’d lick his lips every so often, and his tongue poked out of his mouth when he was concentrating. Every movement was intoxicating.

Your next session was more of the same, though this time, Eddie actually sat down on the couch. He lit a cigarette before speaking, taking a drag and holding it out to you. 

You watched the smoke curl around his fingertips, beckoning you to accept his offer. It was wrong; sure, you could smoke during a session, but to share a cigarette with a client? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. 

You did. 

“There ya go,” Eddie murmured under his breath, watching your chest rise with the inhale and fall with the exhale. “Sweetheart, ya gotta take the edge off once in a while. Do something that makes you smile.”

You cocked your head teasingly, holding the cigarette hostage for a moment longer. “Aren’t I supposed to be helping you?”

“We can help each other.” He plucked the cigarette from your grasp. “Watch.”

Your gaze stayed on his lips, full and slightly chapped from the bitter winter, as he inhaled deeply. He crooked a finger, and your body moved of its own volition to the spot beside him. 

His thumb pulled at your lower lip, a question he could already answer. His mouth found yours, not in a kiss, but just to transfer the smoke he’d been holding back; tobacco mixed with a subtle hint of spearmint. 

“How do you feel now?” Eddie hadn’t moved back, and you felt every word he spoke. 

All you could do was nod, focusing every ounce of energy on going back to your chair. The distance suddenly seemed too far; any distance from Eddie seemed too far. You wanted to be in his lap, sharing the remainder of that cigarette, drawing you in closer…

Swallowing your steadily building desire, you forced yourself to ask him a question that didn’t pertain to the way he tasted. “W-What was it like moving in with your uncle?”

Eddie laughed darkly, taking in your nervousness like he knew exactly how brainless he’d made you. “My uncle, huh? All right, I’ll bite” He stretched, revealing a thin trail of hair that started at his navel and dipped below the waist of his jeans. There was a sick gleam in his eyes when he caught you staring, but he said nothing about it.

He told you about a police officer dropping him off on Wayne Munson’s doorstep in the middle of the night after his father had been arrested. 

“Just me and a trash bag full of clothes that barely fit me,” he proclaimed. “Oh, and the headlice tagging along. Ended up having to shave these gorgeous locks.” He shook his head to exaggerate his point.

“That must’ve been really traumatic for you.” You tapped your pen on your notebook absently, somewhat aware that you should be writing this information down, but not able to look away from him.

Eddie shrugged. “Not really. It grew back.”

“I meant…never mind.” You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle a giggle.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but your actions distracted him.

“Don’t hide your smile.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, letting you feel the gravity saturating his words. “Makes me happy when you smile.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you.”

He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy, like he pitied you. It was a gesture you were unused to seeing from your clients. “You wouldn’t be the first, Sweetheart.” Eddie sat forward. “You might have been the first to feel bad about it, though.”

Over the following weeks, your sessions with Eddie followed the same routine. You would ask him questions and he would answer them cryptically. Shared cigarettes became more frequent as you convinced yourself it was good for building rapport.

In the early days of spring, where winter’s chill still peeked in each morning, Eddie opened the door to your office and found you crying in your chair. Most clients waited for you to get them from the waiting room, but he always let himself in.

The moment you heard the hinges creaking, you swiped at the tears dampening your cheeks. Embarrassment flooded your veins and heated you from the inside out at the thought of him seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, reaching for the tissue box you kept on your bookshelf. “What’s wrong?” There was venom in his tone, ready to bite at a moment’s notice.

“N-Nothing,” you lied clumsily, convincing neither him nor yourself. “Just a bad day.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Don’t fuckin’ do that, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin and brought your full attention with it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Not when I’ve been honest with you.”

The story spilled out before you could think better of it: You’d woken up that morning to your ex-boyfriend banging on your front door, screaming to let you in, his slurred words informing you that he was drunk. Calling the police would be futile; he was buddies with the whole department and more than likely had them in his back pocket. All you could think to do in that moment was hide under your covers until he eventually gave up and left.

Eddie tensed, never losing his grip on you. “Did he hurt you?” His breathing quickened, fight-or-flight activated. “I swear to God, Sweetheart, if he put his hands on you–”

“No,” you hurriedly assured him. “No, he just scared me. But Jason’s never–” Your eyes widened when you said his name aloud; all at once, you realized your error.

“Jason…Carver?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “The hell were you doing with an asshole like him?” He shook his head before you could answer. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he never bothers you again.” Rage flashed in his eyes. “Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?” There was no way…he wouldn’t…

He crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the view of the devil on his shirt. “Do you remember a few years ago when Harrington Enterprises was planning to shut down the plant to build those luxury condos?”

You nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Warren Harrington had all but signed on the dotted lines, but he’d been murdered in his own home before he closed the deal. Rumor had it that his own son, Steve, had orchestrated it in order to gain control of the family fortune. An investigation came up without any suspects, and the plant remained open. 

“If they had their way, my uncle and all of his buddies would be out of a job, and then they’d lose their cars, their homes…well, you know how it goes.” Eddie smirked. “So I did what I had to do to stop that from happening.”

“You…” you lowered your voice in case anyone was listening in, “you killed Warren Harrington?”

He bristled preemptively, only relaxing when he didn’t detect any  judgment. “I’d do anything to protect the people I love.” Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks, the calluses scratching at your skin. “I’ll kill Carver if it’ll keep you safe, Sweetheart. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Everything about this was wrong. He was threatening to commit homicide for you because he loved you. 

You needed to stop this. It had gone too far. And yet you couldn’t, not when he was pleading to let him take care of you. All of your career, all of your life, you had been expected to clean up everyone else’s messes. You were the one who fixed other people’s mistakes, who solved their problems. To lift that burden from your shoulders, to let someone else take it on…

“I love you, too, Eddie.” You reached out and took his steady hands in your trembling ones. “I love you so much.”

“Okay. Good.” Eddie sighed deeply, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. There was a flicker of amusement when he pulled back and saw the concern on your face. “C’mon, baby. You should be happy. Here.” He reached behind your chair and grabbed your bag, rummaged through it. Deft fingers uncapped your ruby red lipstick and drew a Black Dahlia smile on his lips, extending from one clean-shaven cheek to the other. “Now, close your eyes.”

You did as he asked, placing full trust in him. You expected him to draw a similar smile on you; instead, he pressed his mouth to yours, transferring some of the makeup to your face.

The words I love you kept falling from your lips, muffled only by the hungry kisses you eagerly gave and accepted. Zippers were unfastened, buttons undone, clothes strewn across your office floor. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft moans and panting breaths that punctuated the silence. It was love, and it was perfect.

It all happened so fast.

You woke up the next morning to sirens blaring down the street, a never-ending parade of noise and flashing lights. There was no way Eddie had already done something to Jason; you’d just talked about it yesterday. Killing one of Hawkins’ most beloved citizens would certainly take more than twelve hours of deliberation.

If Eddie had struck, he wouldn’t have been able to escape unnoticed. 

Black smoke billowed from one of the Loch Nora mansions, visible even in the less wealthy parts of town. You could hear your neighbors clamoring, and the consensus was that it was the Carver house that was burning to the ground.

You drove straight to the county jail, not even stopping off at work or letting them know you wouldn’t be in. The fear of being reprimanded paled in comparison to Eddie’s fate.

Flashing your government ID, you bolted through the doors and blew past the guards. Sure enough, Eddie Munson sat behind the bars of a cell, head in his beautiful hands. The same hands that had touched you just yesterday, fumbling with the tiny buttons of your blouse. The man who was larger than life during your sessions suddenly seemed so small.

“Puddin’?” 

Eddie glanced up when he heard the nickname you’d given him. “Baby, I…I didn’t kill him. I tried, but he got out. Forgot that rich people have those smoke detector things,” he added with a wry smile. It was then that you saw that his mouth was still stained with remnants of your lipstick. “But when he ran out of the house it looked like half of his face had burned off.”

Of course he’d stuck around to see the aftermath of his destruction.

“We can talk about this later. Okay?” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “We’re getting out of town. And we’re never coming back. I’m gonna tell the guards that I’m taking you out for a therapy session. Just follow my lead.”

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet, so much so that you worried the guards might apprehend him because he wasn’t talking. Their narrowed eyes followed you and Eddie until you exited the building.

“My girl is a natural-born deceiver.” Eddie laced his fingers with yours. “So proud.”

You laughed. “If they gave us any trouble, I might’ve had to knock them out with their own clubs.” When you started towards your sedan, Eddie tugged you in the opposite direction. “My car is–”

“Forget it. Leave it here.” His eyes scanned the parking lot. “We’ll take that one.” He clocked your confusion and let out a raucous laugh. “Al Munson may have been a deadbeat, but he did teach me one thing.”

You slipped your arm around his waist. “Looks like I have a lot to learn.” 

“It’s gonna be me and you against the world, baby.” Eddie pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

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