#and going to horror con next month is one of them

[dootys]

Happy Friday the 13th!!!!

Here we go again! It's Friday the 13th today, so let's celebrate Jason's day!! 😍

[waldau]

menace — boo seungkwan | 2,058 words | fluff

inspired by this video. and ofc boo seungkwan :)

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

no one ever talks about the downsides of having a crush.

having a heart that beats erratically only when you see them. the way your hands turn unattractively clammy even if they’re within normal distance. you know, normal friend distance, because only one of you feels another way. voice cracks that spring up at the worst possible moments. the way you forget what you want to say when it’s your turn to speak.

maybe it’s fun sometimes, daydreaming about a world where you’re something else. something more. but that’s just what it is — a fantasy. the cons outweigh the pros.

case in point: boo seungkwan.

you don’t know how long you’ve been cuddling with your pillow, your back facing the man in question while you try to will yourself to sleep. it doesn’t work, just the way it hasn’t been working ever since you flopped onto your bed.

“you should be out with the others,” you murmur without looking at seungkwan, another variation of the same sentiment you’ve been trying to get him to understand for a while now.

seungkwan lets out a huff. “and you should stop telling me to go.”

you don’t need to turn to know he’s run his hand through his hair in frustration. you’re sure his hair is an adorable mess, but you don’t need any more fuel to add to the fire of feelings that’s been raging inside you all evening long.

when your friends suggested renting a beach house for the weekend, you didn’t realize they’d put you and seungkwan in the same room. you’re best friends, they’d said. of course you’re going to room together.

seungkwan isn’t half bad at being a roommate, but it’s a bit of an issue when you have a massive crush on him that you’re really trying to stop thinking about.

annoying seungkwan with his annoying smile and his annoying hand that rested on your thigh half the time you were playing monopoly. his annoying leg that touched yours when you were watching a movie because there wasn’t much space left on the sofa, but he had to have you next to him because he’s never been good with horror.

even when you’d offered to hold his hand from where you were sitting on the sofa, he refused till jeonghan moved to make space for him to sit next to you.

in a way, you’re glad you sat next to him. at least you didn’t have to pretend like you weren’t scared, not when you had vernon and wonwoo sitting in front of you, watching the screen unblinkingly.

it’s all been a bit…much. which is why you decided to skip going on a walk along the beach with the boys and head for a night in, citing a headache.

the only problem? boo seungkwan wanted to be the one to take care of you.

“do you want me to get you anything? water? medicine?” he asks, soft, and you feel bad for making him stay behind for something that isn’t even an issue for you.

“no.”

“should i sing something?”

“no.” the last thing you need right now is boo seungkwan serenading you while you’re wallowing in your feelings about him.

it’s neither of your faults that the moment you realized you were in sharp, blinding, no-taking-back love with him was when he clinched the match point in a badminton match against junhui four months ago.

four months ago. a badminton match.

your life hasn’t been easy since.

you’ve never minded seungkwan being touchy before — that’s just how he is. he brushes stray lint off your clothes if he spots it, fixes your hair if he thinks it’s out of place, and traces the back of your ear for a few seconds when you’re nervous about something.

you love it. you love being his best friend. but what you don’t love is the way you’ve been carefully rethinking every interaction you’ve been having with him since that fateful night four months ago.

boo seungkwan is sunshine incarnate. he loves and loves and loves. he loves everyone so much that you don’t know if the love he has for you is any different from the love he has for everyone else.

sometimes you wonder if he has even the slightest hint. he’s not clueless, but he’s not very good at acting on his impulses the way you are. for him, everything needs to be measured. set in stone. approved of beforehand. something you wonder if you could just kiss him and see what happened, before realizing that a moment of happiness is not, in fact, worth a lifetime without boo seungkwan.

which is why you let out a deep sigh and curl in on yourself.

“okay, that’s it,” seungkwan says, and you hear the sound of your laptop shutting and the springs of your bed creaking before he comes into your line of sight, kneeling down on the floor in front of you on his knees, head propped up on his arms that are folded near your face.

if he was a bit closer, you could’ve even kissed him.

you wonder who let boo seungkwan be this perfect. there’s nothing about him that you dislike.

“you’re not telling me what’s wrong, and i’m not leaving till you do. you should know that by now.”

you do know that. you’re very familiar with boo seungkwan and his incredibly stubborn self that just wants to help because he loves to. he loves people. and he just doesn’t love you. not the way you want him to.

“it’s your fault,” you mumble childishly, trying to turn to the other side so he’ll have to repeat the whole ordeal, but he just grabs your hand with an iron-strong grip. damn him and his long fingers.

his fingers, weirdly enough, were the first thing you actually noticed about him when you first met him. the way he drank jeonghan under the table with his long, elegant fingers wrapped around the beer glass, draining it like it was water.

this evening, too — his fingers drumming on your thigh, his fingers brushing against your hand, his fingers brushing your hair behind your ear so that he could whisper his plan to you.

“i knew it,” he says, head lifting from the bed. “it’s not just a headache. it’s probably not even a headache, is it?”

“shut up,” you mumble, more out of the fear that he’ll find out somehow than the mortification stemming from the fact that he’s caught on so easily.

“is it really my fault, though? you’re not even letting me make up for it.”

he should be out, you think. out with the rest of your friends and out of your treacherous heart. instead he’s sitting here with your heart in his hands and he’s not even aware of it.

“you can’t do anything about it,” you huff.

“try me.”

when it becomes clear that he’s seriously not letting go of your hand even after a few minutes of silence, you turn to look at the ceiling, eyes fixed on the little cracks above you.

“have you ever…wanted something you can’t have?”

“of course i have,” he says instantly.

“oh. did you get it?”

“no,” he says easily, letting go of your hand. “but it doesn’t mean i’ve stopped trying.”

now you’re curious. you let go of the pillow so you can see him better. “what is it?”

“i’m not telling you.”

“oh, come on!”

seungkwan leans forward to ruffle your hair. “not till you tell me what’s bothering you.”

you sigh. “i can’t.”

“why not?”

“because…”

“hmm?”

“because.”

“wow,” seungkwan says, with a small laugh. “i didn’t know you were this articulate.”

“i hate you,” you say with no heat, turning around and lying down again. maybe he’ll get bored in a while and leave you to your own devices.

no such luck. one moment you’re staring at the blank wall of your room, and the next thing you is that there’s a weight on the bed right behind you. seungkwan’s weight behind you, to be specific. he’s so warm all the time. one of his hands snakes around your waist gingerly, and you tense up immediately.

sure, you’re best friends, but you’ve never done this before. sleepovers are a common thing for the two of you, but cuddling? you’re not uncomfortable, exactly, but you just don’t know what to feel.

“can i ask you a question?” seungkwan asks, and his proximity makes goosebumps rise on your arms. embarrassing.

“sure?” you manage to squeak out, definitely not focusing on how much better his voice sounds so close. and how casual he’s being about all this.

“are you really going to let random strangers on the internet control your life?”

you’re so confused by the tangent he’s gone on that you have no choice but to turn around and face him, and— bad idea. bad idea. his lips look so damn kissable that you have to physically lift your eyes from them to meet his. and he’s smiling for some reason.

you don’t know how you’re going to sleep tonight, much less make it to the next day alive.

“do you want to kiss your guy best friend?”

you feel like he’s stolen all your words. you’re aware you’re just staring at him, blinking like a goldfish, unable to speak. seungkwan lifts a hand and hovers it above your cheek, seeking your permission. he catches the minute nod you give him and rests his palm against your cheek, hand warm against your cool skin.

“i don’t care what she said,” seungkwan continues. “do you want to?”

“how did you—” you manage to choke out.

“because i can see what posts you’ve liked, silly,” seungkwan giggles, thumb swiping against your cheek before he lets go. you instantly miss the heat of his hand. “you still haven’t answered my question, by the way.”

he doesn’t seem upset, the way you thought he might be at the discovery. “if i say…yes?”

“then,” seungkwan says, leaning down, and what comes next is something you’ve only ever dreamed of. his lips are soft against yours, letting you set the pace as his hands gently card through your hair. he’s always been gentle with you underneath the teasing exterior he has, and now is no different.

when he doesn’t pull away despite your fears, you decide to take the leap and thread your hands through his hair, pulling him closer to yourself. he comes to you willingly.

you don’t know what to do with your hands when seungkwan finally pulls away. he’s out of breath. you feel oddly proud, but there’s also an unsettling feeling in your stomach. what if—

“please tell me this isn’t a one-time thing,” seungkwan says, finally looking nervous for the first time all evening long. “because then i should’ve listened to her.”

“no,” you say, feeling yourself smile like an idiot. “no. neither of us should listen to her. i don’t want it to be a one-time thing, either.”

“good,” seungkwan sighs, moving closer so his head rests on your shoulder.

“but…how long have you known?”

“how long? hmm. only a month.”

horrible. he’s been watching you suffer all this while?

“hey, stop being shy on me now,” seungkwan says, turning to look up at you. “i’ve seen the way you look at me.”

you’re sure there’s steam pouring out of your ears. “i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” seungkwan singsongs. “because i love you far too much for that.”

you look down at him. “you…” love me?

but that wasn’t ever a question, was it? he does. you’ve seen the way he looked at you before you realized your feelings for him, and the way he’s been looking at you after, and there’s been no difference.

he’s always loved you. maybe longer than you’ve loved him.

there’s a warm feeling spreading through your chest that makes you push seungkwan away and hide your head in his neck so he doesn’t see you. he lets out a little laugh and rests a hand on your back.

“do you want to go out and introduce everyone to your…boyfriend?” he asks, shy, and it’s a sight to behold because boo seungkwan’s always anything but shy.

“boyfriend?”

“does it sound okay?” he asks sheepishly.

he gets his answer in the form of a kiss.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

[fahye]

book recs: feb 2024

(disclaimer: I have spent nearly three months languishing and sullen with post-COVID symptoms and have read, over dec-feb, eighty-one books. this is a ruthlessly streamlined list of recs that does not include, uh, all the rereading of sarah maclean and charlie adhara and georgette heyer books.)

AT FIRST SPITE by olivia dade - what if I moved in next to the man who ruined my engagement to his younger brother, and tried to ruin his life by playing monsterfucking audiobooks really loudly?? a heartfelt and lovely romance that also expertly sets up a great small-town setting for an ongoing series.

THE REFORMATORY by tananarive due - historical horror based on the existence of a real school for boys, clear-eyed and brutal in showing the the effect of racist systems in the 1950s american south. compelling as hell. even if you're not usually into horror, I'd recommend this: the ghost aspect is light-handed and really not as important as the horror of what humans do to other humans.

SOMETHING WILD & WONDERFUL by anita kelly - this is a m/m romance about walking the pacific crest trail which made me see the appeal of very long walks. a miracle! it's gentle and emotional and well put together; the characters really grabbed me.

THE BELL IN THE FOG by lev a.c. rosen - the followup to 'lavender house', and somehow even better?? a historical mystery series featuring a queer private eye in 1950s san francisco who looks into crimes against other queer people. amazing queer history! ACAB! I hope there are fifty more books in this series.

FEAST WHILE YOU CAN* by mikaella clements & onjuli datta - beautiful, greedy, terrifying small-town horror that is also a fucking fantastic, gorgeously written sapphic love story. this one IS for the horror fans. it gave me the absolute creeps but I couldn't put it down.

LADY EVE'S LAST CON* by rebecca fraimow - I described this on bsky as 'if you like Leverage, space opera, old screwball comedies, and dashing sapphics who are at all times spiritually wearing a leather jacket: this one is for you' and I stand by that. huge amounts of fun.

LONG LIVE EVIL* by sarah rees brennan - I will be screaming from here until forever about SRB's first adult fantasy book. if you like the isekai'd-into-a-villain-character setup and want it to be hilarious, genre-savvy and wildly angry and clever, you will roll around in this like a blood-stained mud puddle and then beg for more.

THE LAST HOUR BETWEEN WORLDS* by melissa caruso - really clever and original fantasy about a woman on maternity leave who gets dragged into saving a cocktail party which is falling through increasingly murderous and bizarre dimensions. LISTEN, JUST GO WITH IT. it's a seriously cool adventure.

YOU SHOULD BE SO LUCKY* by cat sebastian - yes, it's another m/m romance about queer history in the mid 20th century, this one between a baseball player and the journalist assigned to write a story about his slump. made me care about baseball. cat is a genius.

*I read these as ARCs, they're not available yet but consider preordering or keep your eye out for them!

[pricegouge]

Chapter 4 of haul was so good! I was terrified in the best way.

I can’t help but think about doll in the distant bestworst outcome universe. Maybe she’s been with the team for almost a year. The longest anyone’s lasted between the captives doing something stupid or the boys getting bored and playing too rough with their toys.

They never seem to get bored of doll though. She keeps them just entertained enough that they (mostly) keep from breaking her.

Maybe they start getting antsy about not being able to play as meanly as they want to though. By this time, Doll has learned how to navigate tempers and sensitive buttons and has mostly free rein of the warehouse. So they bring in someone new that they can bite into without worrying about the scars and the blood loss. And doll has to experience a fresh wave of horror trying to balance the want to help vs the relief that it’s not her down there.

Hii! thank you! and thank you for all the brain worms! This is underdeveloped but I spent far too long on it as it is so behold

link to the main fic. this is non-canonical!

cw: implied character death, rape/non-con mentioned, heavy angst

Her name is Lauren and she fucking hates you.

It's understandable. You'd hate you too, if the roles were reversed. You can't help but wonder sometimes, what you must look like from her perspective. Kept, docile. Complicit.

It was Johnny who let slip the possibility of an upcoming 'hunt' to you one morning, and the resulting panic had been near enough to undo all the progress you'd made with them - all the work you'd put in gaining their trust. One mention of being replaced and you'd turned into the frightened little thing they'd first dragged home all those months ago in an instant, inconsolable for days. It had earned you time in the hood (bulky, blinding; one of your least favorite punishments) before finally John took you into his lap to assure you they weren't going to kill you.

"The boys are restless. Just want another toy is all, doll. Someone we can be a little more rough with. Just means we like you too much, doesn't it?"

You hadn't responded to that because there was no good answer. "Will she… is she gonna stay down here with me?"

John had leered at you in an unfamiliar way. "Looking for a friend, is that it? Tell you what. We'll make it a game. If you can get the poor thing to like you more than she does us, we'll share her with you. How's that sound?"

It sounded horrible so you shouldn't have been let down when John had set you up for failure, but then it turned out the only thing worse than having Lauren's submission, was having her hatred.

On Lauren's second night there, John brings you to sleep in his bed. You eat breakfast with them the next morning at the table, like you do on the days John wants you to act like his secretary - just another employee at the break room. It's not an uncommon occurrence, but neither is it a treat you ever hold your breath for. 

He does the same thing the third night.

By the teenth night, you see what he's up to.

"What do they make you do when you're up there?" Lauren asked as you finger combed her hair for her somewhere around her seventh day. The only kind human contact you've had in nearly a year. It was hard not to sink into her, smell her hair or do something equally unsettling, but she was tense beneath your fingers enough as it is - a bunny with a fox in her lair. She didn't trust you. Hadn't since the first time Johnny had come barging in and taken her right there in front of you while she'd screamed for help.

And you'd just sat there, shell-shocked, too scared of the knife he kept in his boot because you knew the taste of it too well.

("We could've taken him," she'd sobbed, after. "Together, we could've fought him off." 

It had made you sick later, thinking about it. No one had responded to your ringing in time and you'd made a mess of your bucket for the first time in months.

John had made Lauren clean it.)

True to their word, they play meaner with Lauren than they have with you in a long while. They make you watch more often than not because John's determined to turn the two of you against each other, and he knows you're too afraid of the consequences to try stepping in to stop them. You hate them - hate yourself. Hate Lauren for not understanding your predicament. At night, you lay trapped between warm bodies and think about all you've had to suffer through to earn the right to do so and you feel bitterness build in you. Then the next morning you're brought below so the boys can concentrate on work and you're faced with the battered body of your fellow prisoner and you ache because deep down you know -

You're glad it's her.

You're just as bad as them. Whether they've carved you into a shape they like or you've simply excised enough of yourself as to be unrecognizable, it doesn't matter. When you look at yourself in the mirror now you see only the marks they've left within and without. Some days you imagine gaining Lauren's trust back, fighting off your captors and running away with her; others, you wonder where you could ever be welcome again.

Lauren stays for two months, all told. You don't know what happens to her. One morning you're brought to your room same as usual and she's just gone. Her scent and her clothes along with her. You're less glad then.

After two days, you start searching the room for blood, for any sign really of what happened though you don't really know why. Closure, maybe. Caution, probably. You find nothing, regardless.

They break out the hood again when a week passes and you've not gotten any better. While he puts it on, John asks if you miss your friend, if that's why you've been so glum.

"What did you do to her?" Spit out before he can fasten it properly.

He pauses. You can't see him but the way he tugs at your laces feels slower, more contemplative. "Ask what you really want to know." 

You want to know what they did with her body, if her family will ever know what happened to her. You want to know if his chest ever hurts in the middle of the night, or if the structural integrity of the warehouse is likely to collapse on your little room any time soon, swallow you whole. It's not what he wants to hear. You know because you're getting good at this, no matter who made it so. "Will you do it again?"

"That depends on you, doesn't it?"

[cursedcatvibes]

WORLD RECORD!

re4r!incel roommate leon x roommate reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: Incel leon who thinks he’s above women and thinks he’s an alpha male. he’s an absolute piece of shit too.

tags/warnings: 18+ minors DNI! Smut, many many mentions of misogyny. He literally can’t find the clit. P in V, he wrapped it before he tapped it! Incel 😧. quick mention of abuse but it’s not super relevant to the plot. not proofread!

a/n: not much to say other than i cringed so bad trying to write leon’s character, but i was committed, i looked through incel forums on reddit and even got chronically online real quick. also i’m on vacation! so i’m not able to write as much as I want! :( i’ll probably post small drabbles but i will most likely have another full story up in a month considering I cranked out a whole 7k page fic and then now a 3k one. DONT QUOTE ME! Also maybe agent leon x agent reader next. @gettingsilly (my sweetheart who was so hyped about this! here you go my love!)

songs:

pussy - rammstein (highly recommend them)

behind blue eyes - limp bizkit (fun fact; this was the og title of the story!)

rape me - nirvana (this was going to be a non con but i changed my mind)

norwegian wood - the beatles (literally burns the woman’s house down cause she don’t want him😭)

happy reading!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

Handsome. Is the first thing that came to mind when you first opened the door to greet your new roommate, Leon. 

-

The rent was getting out of hand these days and you figured it was a way better deal to split the rent instead of living paycheck to paycheck damn near.

The only downside were the horror stories about roommates and even just random strangers too. It made you feel a bit queasy, but what else could you do, a recently single woman and at the ripe age of 25, technically you were in your prime for all types of creeps and weirdos to try and pull something, especially if you live alone.

So you bit the bullet and put up a craigslist ad, putting it at the back of your mind for now while you went back to getting rid of your ex-boyfriend's belongings. 

You only remembered about it when someone responded to it and after a few messages back and forth you gave the address to him and told him he could move in tomorrow. Feeling a bit proud of yourself for even being able to organize such an arrangement.

-

The first thing you noticed was how absolutely built he was, he definitely went to the gym and it made you feel a little insecure for a brief moment, before you stepped to the side to allow him to enter. “Welcome to your new home!” You beamed, happy with what you’ve done to the place. Completely missing the way his eyes ran up and down your body lewdly. 

He only wanted to have a girl roommate because he figured she would give it up easily or at least flaunt her body off to him, much to his dismay you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, not a single ounce of skin showing where he could sculpt your body out. “Prude.” Is what ran through his mind.

“Thanks.” He replied stiffly. “Where is my room at?” Leon asked as he looked around, he was kinda pissed off you didn’t show him any goods. He hated girls who didn’t show off their body, but he hated girls who showed off too much, thought they were just whores looking to get some attention.

So what if he catcalled them? Obviously they were dressing like that for attention and got all pissy when he gave them that attention.

You were oblivious to Leon’s degrading thoughts, too focused on trying to make sure he didn’t try to kidnap or murder you. When he spoke about where he would be staying you perked up and showed him the room while also giving a quick tour of the apartment.

You were even sweet enough to help him unpack all his things once they were all brought in! He owned some interesting objects, a bit uncomfortable to watch him unpack as he had a whole box dedicated to just sex toys. Fake pair of tits that were way too big to even be comfortable on a woman, fake mouth, fake ass, and multiple fake pussy’s. That wasn’t even the worst part of it. 

It got all too freaky when he pulled out hentai figurines that had little to no clothes on, all in lewd poses with lewd expressions on their faces, more specifically ahegao. You could feel the initial attraction from him sizzle down to a mere speck of a flame.

How could someone just own all this stuff so casually, flaunting it like it was a toy race car collection? But Leon didn’t care, fictional cat women were so much better than real women. They couldn't reject him or deny him sex. (Because they quite literally couldn’t, they're inanimate figures.)

He had the straightest deadpan expression on his face and you got the heebie jeebies thinking about what he could’ve possibly done with all these weird toys.”So,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling like every object of his you touched was just icky. “Where did you say you lived before this?” You asked curiously.

Leon glanced over at you, wondering if you were gonna pull your hoodie off and finally show him your tits if he answered all your questions, he was growing frustrated. Dammit woman! Show him something! He thinks this is the longest he had gone without jerking off or watching a porno. If you weren’t gonna entertain him sexually why were you still bothering him?

“My mom’s. She said something about me needing to move out because I'm too old.” He grumbled out, this gave you a major ick, didn’t this guy say he was 27? He wasn’t struggling to get money when clearly he can afford expensive sex toys and other items. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You replied quietly, to which Leon grunted in acknowledgment.

Once you finished the box you were unpacking you decided the best course of action was to just walk away from this conversation. “It seems like you can handle the rest on your own, I don’t really wanna break any of your computer monitors and stuff.” You said as you stood up from the floor and brushed your hands against your pants.

 “Okay.” Leon hummed, disinterested in  conversation. All he really wanted to do was hurry up and set his computer up so he could jerk off in peace. You leaving his room was a bonus. He didn’t want to be downright rude and kick you out, after all, he is totally a nice guy. Plus he got the opportunity to stare at your ass as you walked out, he could see it jiggling underneath your sweats which was enough to rile him up.

-

You wish you could say it improved from there but unfortunately it did not at all. It only seemed to worsen. Like who the hell is watching porn from the moment they wake up to the moment they fall asleep. It’s all just yucky. The loud and over exaggerated moans that were definitely done for performance and not real. 

The only time Leon would leave his room was to eat or grab some water, he always looked so dazed too, it made you wonder what he was doing in there, you’ve never seen him go to work so it made you curious. 

Leon on the other hand was always so dazed or flustered in the face from the amount of jerking off he does all day. He once ran his dick dry enough to start cumming clear, rubbing himself raw damn near. It’s not like he tried not to get laid, he definitely did. But it never worked.

The way he carried himself was creepy, flaunting the fact he was a nice guy who could give a girl a good time. News flash! If you have to say you’re a nice guy, you're definitely not. Girls often avoided him in middle school and that followed him throughout highschool and even college. So he naturally drifted towards animated women.

He was hot but his personality quite literally sucked, it's like he would attract women because of his looks and as soon as he started speaking they lost interest. But you? You still greeted him every time he came out of his room with a polite smile on your face, offering to cook him something but he always declined because the mere thought of having a woman do something trivial such as cook for him like a traditional woman should, made him hard on the spot.

He had the normal views on life, such as all men do. Women are baby makers, they belong in the kitchen, they should treat their man like a king. It’s not like anyone could change his opinion either. He’s so far into the rabbit hole that his other incels praise him like he was a god, thus only further bursting his massive ego. 

-

You didn’t think much of Leon, not in a harsh way, you just didn’t really know that much about him because you two never spoke like that. All you did know was that he watched porn, maybe a bit too much that was considered normal. It's not like you're shaming him because you watch porn too, but you have some decency, a bit of dignity and pride.

Yet your opinion of him instantly sours when one day he comes out of his room, which reeked with the smell of cum and sweat, the room was humid too, which confused you when you first noticed it. He wore an angry expression on his face as he stomped, yes, like a toddler would, towards the fridge to guzzle down a can of soda. 

You, sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling through your phone waiting for the time to pass on your off day, you planned to go to a club and slut yourself out to help remind yourself that you’re in fact hot and your ex missed out. Yet when he slammed the fridge door closed that caught your attention, perking your head up like a puppy.

“Uh, you alright?” You asked aloud, watching his eyes snap towards you with a frustrated huff. He figured if you put up with him this long then you must see the same misogynistic views he does about women. “No!” He scoffed out, dragging himself to sit on the couch next to you, like directly. Knees touching and everything.

This piqued your curiosity, maybe you could learn something about him? “What’s wrong?” You questioned as you shut your phone off, sitting up a bit straighter now, putting some distance between the both of you on purpose by grabbing a throw pillow.

Leon then started to rant and you’ve never been more disgusted and horrified in your life before. “I’ve been talking to this really hot chick and we were hitting it off, even had phone sex once or twice but when she asked me who my ideal woman was she ghosted me! Like what's wrong with saying women belong in the kitchen, or doing laundry, or even just cleaning. Women are only here to serve us alpha males.” 

Your nose scrunched up while your face morphed into genuine horror mixed with disgust. Is this seriously his mindset? It must be a joke or something of the sort because no way in hell. “Is.. is this a joke?” You asked, feeling puzzled as you looked around for a hidden camera. Out of all the people you got stuck with, you got stuck with an incel of all people.

Leon stared at you with the most serious face he could muster, he wasn’t kidding, in fact he was getting a bit upset that you were thinking he was joking. “Women are what's wrong with this world! You’re all too soft and so ditzy. You all think men’s feelings are a joke.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and you swear you can make out a dried cum stain on his clothes. 

You felt so sick and also tickled, you’ve never heard someone or have been around a real life incel before and unfortunately this one came in the form of a super hot guy that wasn’t looking so hot anymore 

“Ew..” You stood up from the couch and stuck your tongue out slightly. “Is that how you see women? No wonder why she ghosted you, you’re a fucking incel.” You scoffed out, to which Leon got offended. “So?! What’s wrong with that?!” He shouted, the tips of his ears turning pink. It was different being scolded by a woman in person rather than over the phone because  he knows they can't hurt him physically but rather verbally. Plus it’s much easier to insult someone online versus real life.

“Do you actually hear the words leaving your mouth?” You questioned, staring him down intensely. Leon tried not to shrink in on himself, it reminded him of his mom telling him that he had done something wrong and now he was in trouble. So he doubled down and sat up straighter too, staring up at you. 

“Yeah, and what about it? Why do women get so butthurt over every little thing?” Leon grunted out, rolling his eyes like a little kid would. You were just astonished that he was willing to keep going even after being confronted with the fact, but you weren’t oblivious to the way his ears were turning red from embarrassment. “Fine, if that’s how you’re gonna be.” You murmured as you sat down on the coffee table right in front of him. His eyes follow your form curiously. If he was being honest the only reason why he actually moved in with you was because he thought you were really hot from your profile picture and even the photo you sent of yourself to prove that you were real, per his request. He jerked off to both photos for hours. (Plus his mom really did kick him out.)

Leon went to question you in hopes of turning the table around to make it backfire on you. Yet as his mouth opened to make another snide remark about women you spoke up first. “Let me be the first one to tell you this, and I mean this too.” You paused as you stared right into his eyes. “No woman is ever gonna have sex with you if you have this mentality and mindset.” You watched his eyes widen a bit and felt some joy come from it.

Leon balled his hands up into fists in genuine anger, a deep part of himself knew she wasn’t lying but the other part was so adamant on her being wrong. Obviously she didn’t know what she was talking about, women never do. “You’re a liar. You’re just jealous.” He scoffed out, narrowing his eyes into thin slits.

You were absolutely not lying.

Far from it actually.

The closest Leon had came to a pussy is on a computer screen, let’s face it. No woman on earth would wanna sleep with such scum such as him, not even prostitutes themselves want to take on such a tedious task. They’d rather kill themselves or have their pimp abuse them than sleep with him.

“Really, name 5 women you’ve had touch you in a romantic way.” You countered, staring into his eyes with an intense expression. Leon opened his mouth to try and smugly name a woman until he realized the answer was 0, he had no names because no one wanted him like that.

It was a blow to his ego and it showed on his face. If he wasn’t such a loser with terrible opinions along with his shitty personality then you would’ve felt bad but you didn’t. It was his own fault.

“That’s not fair.” He grumbled, staring up at you with a slight hurt look on his face. He wanted to get back at you. Make you regret and eat your words. How? Well that problem was quickly answered as he grabbed your wrist and pinned you beneath him on the couch. A yelp leaving your mouth at the sudden movements.

“What the—“ You were suddenly cut off by Leon’s hand slapping over your mouth, he smelled of cum and sweat, it made you wanna gag and throw up on him. “I bet I can make you cum so hard you’ll forget that you were mean to me.” He hissed, his fragile ego was broken because of you!

You furrowed your eyebrows before rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” You said underneath his palm, voice coming out muffled.

Leon smirked and moved his hand off your mouth, gazing lustfully at your body. He seemed confident but on the inside he was screaming at himself. He’s never touched or seen a woman in such an intimate manner in real life. This wasn’t a screen this time.

He gulped and hooked his fingers on the waistband of your sweatpants, he was determined to make you cum if it was the last thing he ever did.

Once he removed your sweatpants he found you commando beneath it. His breath caught in his throat, your mound was glistening beneath the light in the living room. It wasn’t even wet because of him, but he was dumb enough to not know the difference. He stared in awe before looking back up at your face when you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You gonna stare or what?” You questioned.

Leon shook his head before putting his hands on you, gently rubbing your inner thighs. Making you think that for a brief moment he might actually know what he was doing, right up until he pressed his thumb against your lower lips and started rubbing them.

Completely missing your clit.

He felt so aroused and a bit cocky now that he was touching your pussy, his eyes laser focused on your face to see if it was feeling good. He even tried dirty talk too. “Yeah? Does that feel good? I bet it does.” Literally hyping himself up.

You found it hilarious and decided to nod, stifling a laugh as you let out a fake over exaggerated moan he hears in his crappy pornos. Leon let out a soft groan at the sound, his hips bucking up into the air while his cock twitched.

Now, Leon had seen enough porn to know that he needed a condom and lube, obviously they never showed the actors prepping the girls' pretty cunts, they just stuck it in. Spoiler alert, foreplay is hot! None is not.

While Leon ran to his room you took the opportunity to finger yourself, even if you were sure he wasn’t packing much you wanted to be somewhat prepared for a small stretch, you groaned silently, throwing your head back in pleasure, clearly favoring your hand over Leon himself.

When you heard his footsteps you quickly pulled your hand away and watched as he excitedly took his pants off. Wow, so much for knowing how to pleasure a woman. It was funny to watch him struggle to keep it together when he kneeled back between your legs.

“I’m gonna put it in now.” Leon announced, squirting a generous amount of lube on your cunt before (attempting to) rolling on the condom. (You definitely had to help him. The last thing you wanted was to get knocked up by some dimwit.)

He put some lube on his cock, jerking off a bit while looking down at your pussy. Not your face. When he stopped masturbating he slapped the tip of his dick against your clit a few times, your body jolting in pleasure at the sudden sensation.

This immediately boosted his ego and you were in awe he was able to make you feel partially good. He was just daydreaming of how tight and warm your hole was going to feel. His dick wasn’t that big either, it was average length, average size, average balls. Just.. underwhelming and average.

“What’re you waiting for?” You murmured, snapping him out his trance briefly before he cleared his throat. “J-Just trying to brace you for my cock, it’s big right?” Leon questioned, feeling a bit insecure but he wanted you to make him feel better, feel like a man. That was a woman’s purpose after all.

“Yes (no).” You sighed out breathily, keeping up your act, dragging your nails down his body gently, causing him to shudder and nod with a smug look on his face. He pushed himself in fairly easily, considering your ex-boyfriends cock was much bigger and overwhelming, accidentally clenching down around Leon’s sad excuse of a penis which riled him up, thinking you had came.

You definitely missed his dick and now was stuck with some crappy one attached to a misogynistic freak. A soft sound of discomfort left your lips and Leon took it as a sign that you were enjoying it. You must love it! He was so confident in himself!

So confident that after 5-6 thrusts he spilled inside the condom, talk about a minute man. He was a millisecond man. His whole body spasmed from euphoric bliss, he had never cum this hard in his life before, burying his face in your neck, sloppily kissing at your skin because he couldn’t kiss for the life of him.

You were stunned someone could cum so quickly, that had to be a world record or something. Quickest man to cum after sticking it in or some random ass title, you hadn’t realized you had zoned out about the Guinness record book until Leon pulled his cock out from inside you, feeling good about himself.

He was panting softly from the intensity of his orgasm, leaning back against the couch to gaze at your pretty pussy, he wanted to eat you out too, wanting to show you he was good orally too.

“Was it good? Did you cum too?” Leon said as he stared into your eyes, wanting to hear you sing his praises and take back your harsh words that hurt his feelings. Almost like a puppy waiting for its owner to praise them for pissing outside the house instead of inside.

You grabbed your clothes and put them back on, smirking as you stared him dead in the eye. “No, I didn’t cum.” You snickered as his face dropped, kissing his forehead quickly. “Sucks to suck, Leon.” You said casually, getting up to go to your room and nap.

Leon sat on the couch stunned beyond relief, his cock kicking against his thigh as he watched you.

He swore under his breath that you were lying and you did cum, after all, delusion is key, and delusion is what made him become your roommate to begin with.

[secret-gallavich]

Shameless Whumptober Masterlist

just a list of all the shameless whump fics i wrote in october

Safety Net

tw suicidal thoughts

Mickey has always been there for Ian, even when he's in Mexico and Ian wants to jump off a bridge.

Solitary Confinement

tw mistreatment of mental illness

Ian’s meds were bound to get out of whack at some point in their prison stay.

Made To Watch

tw implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse

Ian and Mickey go to a couple’s therapist once a month.

Outnumbered

tw implied/referenced rape/non-con , implied/referenced underage sex , child abuse

Laura Milkovich is 19 years old when she gives birth to her third baby, Mikhailo. It’s the 10th of August in 1994, her husband is in jail and she’s a mother once again

You Said You'd Never Leave

tw suicidal thoughts

Ian comes home from the hospital and Mickey isn't there.

Insomnia

Mickey thought he was just having trouble adjusting to the new surroundings of living in the Westside. He’s not used to the quietness, he’s feeling homesick or the moon is too fucking bright.

Infection

Mickey’s never felt…normal when it comes to Ian. Ian makes him weird and do things he’d never normally do. Like get a tattoo of his name on his chest in prison.

Makeshift Bandages

Mickey hides an injury from Ian while working at the Kash 'N' Grab

Leave Me Alone

tw horror, mistreatment of mental illness, murder, dead dove: do not eat, paranormal, major character death

Ian's convinced something is haunting their apartment. Mickey realises he's telling the truth when it's too late.

Drugging

tw drugged, date rape drug

Mickey’s started going to the club with Ian just to make sure no one takes advantage of him. He lets Ian do his thing, give out lapdances, sweet talk them for some extra cash but he’s always stepping in when they go too far.

Floral Bouquet

tw major character death

Ian passes by a flower shop every day on his morning runs but can't bring himself to go inside.

You Will Regret Touching Them

tw implied/referenced child abuse

S03E06 but it goes differently.

Mickey feels like he’s going to throw up at any second.

He’s got a boy spending the night with him. Not just any boy, Ian. Ian is staying the night and he’s trying to play it casual but he can’t stop glancing over at the red head just to make sure he’s really there.

Don't Move

Mickey is allergic to bees and fucking hates spring

Who's There?

tw thriller, horror

Mickey is home alone and starts hearing noises outside the house.

Storm

tw implied/referenced rape, child abuse, internalised homophobia

Mickey's feeling post S03E06.

The hooker is still here, looking just as scared as he is and putting her purple dress back on under Terry’s watchful eyes. He throws her a bag of coke and she fumbles to catch it. Terry won’t stop glaring at her and Mickey takes it as his chance to look at Ian’s empty spot. He’d taken his clothes, wasn’t sure if Ian was allowed to get changed here or if he left in his boxers.

You Look Awful

tw gay bashing, hatecrime

Ian laughs next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him close and Mickey laughs back and turns his body into Ian’s. Adrenaline is running through his body and he feels so fucking good right now, it’s the best high he’s ever had.

Mickey's feelings post coming out

Bloody Knife

Ian wasn’t expecting their little trip back to the Southside to end up like this.

‘This’ being the emergency room because Mickey somehow got himself stabbed.

Borrowed Clothes

tw suicidal thoughts, psych ward

The first 24 hours are the hardest.

It’s full of regret on his own behalf, self-loathing and running thoughts of ‘what if’. What if he had been paying more attention, what if he wasn’t so focused on work, what if Mickey had been a good husband?

Body Modifications

tw implied/referenced child abuse

Mickey's always had a love hate relationship with his knuckle tattoos

[wolfgirl-valentine]

Watercolors, watercolors pencils and ink pen.

My entry for Dreamling Nation's House of horrors, I wasn't going to publish it(and I'm still anxious about it) but my friends at the "Dreaming con ñ" server were very supportive about it, so I decided since I spend so much time in it I might as well publish it. I wanted to make a drabble companion for it to give it more context, but I didn't have the time, so I'll write down the general idea...

This was inspired by the Ballroom prompts(all of them)

An AU where things ended differently in 1889, they actually talked, Dream accepted Hob friendship and after a couple years they realized it was more than that. They got together, and loved wach other in a very obsessive and deranged way. So when Burgess captured Dream, it only took a couple months for Jessamy to get Hob to rescue him. Hob arrived in the middle of one of the first parties throw by Burgess, Jessamy wanted to wait for the next night and do it discretely, but Hob wasn't going to make Dream wait even a minute more. Hob promised Jessamy to don't take unnecessary risks, but seeing Dream Ruby hanging from Burgess neck makes him see red. He ends killing everyone in the place, except Burgess, he left him to Dream.

Hob takes Dream out of the sphere, and he finds charming the violence Hob is willing to inflict in his name. Dream gets his things back, punishes Burgess, and shares another tender moment with Hob in the middle of the Ballroom, the gramophone still playing, they end dancing a waltz, the end.

Everything was supposed to be narrated from Alex perspective.

Anyways, close up of the faces before the colors under the cut

[egotisticaleverything]

madpat smut fic plssss (just go wild atp)

Great To Be A Liar

WARNINGS: Violence, descriptions of dead bodies, mental manipulation, gaslighting, kinda/not rlly dub-con, P in V, unprotected sex, praise kink, degrading kink, oral sex (f receives), Heathers references, sex next to a dead body, in the words of an AO3 author DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

A/N: I was so glad to get this because oml I need to make more egos content lmaooo hope you enjoy.

Word count: 1.5k

"You’ve ever taken German?" Your boyfriend perked up, still holding the gun, loose in his hand as he waved it around almost carelessly.

"No, French." You responded quickly, shooting your attention in his direction, worried by his sloppy grip on the firearm.

"Okay well, these are Ich Lüge bullets," He continued, "My grandfather snagged a shitload of em' back in WW-Two." He carried on as you listened intently, "They're like tranquilisers. Except they break the surface if the skin, enough to cause a little blood but no real damage."

"So it looks like the person's been shot and killed, but really they're just lying there unconscious and bleeding?" You ask, assuming the rest from his explanation.

"Right." He confirms, sitting back down on your bed, "See, we shoot Nate and Mark, make it look like they shot each other and by the time they regain consciousness, they'll be the laughingstock of the whole town."

"Are you sure about this?" You ask one last time, running a hand through your hair still slightly shaky.

"I've never been so sure."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stood there shaking, unsure of how to proceed. You were stood over the body of your former colleague as blood pooled out from the wound on his neck, the shot you took wasn't pretty, It was a violent one. It was point-blank. In addition to the bullet itself causing damage, the exhaust gases trailed behind and caused additional harm. It looked like something out of a horror film, but no. No this was real. You did this. Not just you but-

"Sweetheart!" Your boyfriend called out in a sing-song voice, "I caught the runner." He smiled, dragging Mark by the collar of his uniform and practically tossing him onto the tiles.

Another wave of shock washed over you as the second man's body collapsed.

"You lied." You finally spoke, voice hoarse and weak, pathetic.

"Pardon my dear?" He asked in the same chipper tone, unsettlingly happy.

"You lied!" You practically screamed, bolting towards him and punching him in his chest. It was a fruitless effort, yet you continued punching him, repeating those two words like a prayer as if it would undo what you've done. After about a minute your punches fell weaker and your knees buckled as you collapsed into him with a soft sob. "You lied..." A final shaky whimper left your lips as his arms curled around your waist, settling with a loose grip.

"You only believed me because you wanted to Darling." He looks down at your weaker stature, "You've wanted them gone for months, you knew I was lying. You lied to yourself, even if you didn't know." his usual psychotic smirk returned to his face as you looked up, finally looking him in the eyes.

"I- No, I didn't." You retorted as you attempted to shove him off you as his grip on you tightened.

"You don't have to lie, Dear, it's me." He smiled, bringing up one of his hands to stroke your hair, "I know you, you know me." his tone made a shiver run down your spine as he continued, "You don't need to hide yourself from me."

The more he spoke the more unsure you felt, did you want this? You weren't quite sure anymore, the more words he fed you the more you believed you wanted it. The more you believed he was right. Just like he wanted, almost as much as you secretly deep down wanted them dead. Even if you never knew it until he told you, you did. you always did. As his words lulled you back into a sense of twisted security he continued to stroke your hair, loosening his grip on your waist again he stepped back slightly.

“See? Everything is alright,” He moved his hand from your hair to place it under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him as he spoke, “That’s it… Good girl.” He coaxed, rubbing his thumb along your jaw, spreading the still warm blood that covered his gloves as he leaned down and pulled you in, kissing you softly.

A weak moan escaped your lips as he moved his hand from your waist to cup your ass, placing you up on the desk as his kisses grew more frantic and hungry. Your arms reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck as he slowly made his way down, your jawline to your collar and eventually just above your shirts neckline.

“May I?” He asked, as if it was even a question at this point. He had you wrapped around his finger like the pathetic shell of a woman you were.

You frantically nodded, causing him to practically tear open your shirts buttons, leaving small bites and kisses as he went. The cooling sensation of his saliva trailing down your abdomen sent shivers through your entire body, every hair felt as if it was standing on edge. He soon found himself kneeling between your legs as they dangled off the edge of the table, he looked up once more for approval causing you to instantly undo your pants for him, granting him access.

“You’re eager aren’t you?” He teased, pulling down your pants tantalisingly slow. You impatiently whined as he did so, before being met with his hot breath against your wet pussy as he looked up at you. “So wet for me eh? Or did all that murder turn you on?” That smug look still displayed before he suddenly buried his face in your cunt not dating to give you time to think about what he said. He mercilessly lapped at your pussy, nose bumping into your clit as he did. The mixture of sensations sending waves of pleasure through your body, the low vibrations of his groans added an extra layer of energy causing you to let out an ear ripping moan. You buried your hands in his hair, pushing his head deeper between your wetness as you gridded up against him. No coherent sentences were anywhere near being formed in that brain of yours, you were practically short-circuiting as he ravaged you. Soon a tightness in your core began to build and you felt your movements gaining franticness as you approached your climax. Your thighs wrapped around your boyfriend’s head, so hard you were surprised he didn’t burst. A wave of bliss washed over you as you reached your high, cum drenching his face as you rode it out. The only thing leaving your mouth was an unintelligible string of curses and blubbering as Mad finally detached himself from you, face drenched and chest heaving.

He stood up and slowly undid his belt, “We aren’t even close to finishing.” He breathed, still slightly puffed out. His pants soon hit the floor accompanied by the metal clash of his belt, as he stepped back between your legs he loomed over you. Slowly he pulled down his boxers letting his cock free, leaking pre-cum like a faucet as it lay flush against your thigh. “Ready?” He asked one last time, a hand travelling to your hip as he spoke.

“Yesyes-Fuck yes.” You sputtered as he lined himself up before slamming into you without warning. The sudden sensation and fullness sent a shockwave of sensations through your body as he began to thrust causing you to release a loud high pitched scream from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“C’mon Doll, you can take it.” He mutters to you, pushing you back down on the table, “Atta girl, fuck you’re tight…” he continues to thrust, unapologetically hard and fast, absolutely destroying your g-spot as his sweat covered upper body wains over you like a giant, one hand on your waist and one holding him up on the table as he fucks into you. “God you’re such a slut eh’?” He teases sensually, “Letting me fuck you next to two dead bodies. Sick fuck.” He’s degradation causes you to let out another ear-ripping moan. He was right. You’re so dirty, letting a man who tricked you into killing your colleagues fuck you next to their dead bodies? How much of a slut were you?

Soon you felt the same sensation as before, you were coming close to your climax. And by the now franticness of Mad’s thrusts, he was too. As his thrusts grew more sporadic the knot in your stomach tightened before your back arched up, letting out a high pitched groan as you hit your second orgasm. Soon your boyfriends thrusts sped up even more, as he worked you through your orgasm the sudden tightness of your pussy caused his to crash through him, letting out a low groan as he slumped over on top of you.

The room fell silent, the only noise heard was heavy breathing. Soon enough Mad pulled out, quickly tucking himself away with a simple, “we’ve got to go.”

[abalonetea]

Hi! It’s been a while since I did anything like this! My name’s Katie – and I publish under K. E. Koontz over on Amazon, and Abalonetea on patreon! I used to train horses for a living but now I’m a professional freelance ghostwriter and dev/con editor (I sometimes do beta reading and outline making too!).

I’m the sole working individual in a household of four (plus many furry friends), partially blind, fully disabled, and always looking to make new friends in the writeblr community. My favorite thing in the whole world to write about are werewolves and you’ll see them a lot on my blog. I’m a big fan of horror, high fantasy, and any story that lets me mash twenty different genres together.

My big end goal is to eventually not have to ghostwrite other people’s works and to just rely on my own writing to support the family. It’s a far off dream but I’m slowly getting there!

But Katie, what do you write about? This answer changes constantly but some of my current favorites right now are…

Twice Bitten, the sequel to my YA werewolf novel, Howl, which is also about werewolves

Gorehound, the sequel to my horror novel, Coaltown, which is about monsters in the Alaskan wilds

SHED, which pretends it’s a monster story but really it’s a psychological thriller about loving your best friend so much that you’ll do literally anything to keep them safe

Of Wolves, a 2nd person PoV story about zombies in the Appalachian mountains

Abyss, a super long high fantasy about healers and curses and chosen ones (there’s a werewolf here too)

The Possession of Joshue Roe, as the title implies a possession horror novel but this one is also about best friends

(and if you've been here a while and you're going what about IDS85? well, that one is finished and getting published next month oops)

Some other story ideas I really like but I’m not actively writing are…

Like Clay, a super long story about monster hunters, angels, and werewolves, and also two guys that have the absolute worst lives you’ve ever seen

Pretty Things, following an Anatolian shepherd puppy who has to guard his flock of sheep from wolves once the farmer goes missing

Three Years A Dog, this one is more werewolves but high fantasy

The Summer Murphy Jones Dies, also about werewolves but it’s set on the coast

Dog Hunt, this one is about werewolves and the outline is at 8k and not finished yet

I try really hard to stay up to date on what people are doing on here but my brain is pretty much mush at all times and The Struggle Is Real.

You can catch me on @sweetwatertales too, which is where I post about my romance novel endeavors (Greek Vacation, published, but soon to be also Midwest Station) and eventually I’ll get active on my crime thriller blog, @gravelydevoted where I mostly will be posting about Meathook and Capetown Killers.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Can't fight the moonlight

AN: Day 10, everyone!! Time to take a relaxing break from it all. You're gonna rent a cabin from a nice man called Mr Levinson. What could possibly go wrong?

I’m using dialogue prompts from this post by @nightprompts and they can be found emboldened in the text.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Beta’d by @sidepartskinnyjeans.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics, banners and covers by me.

Pairing: Werewolf!Ari Levinson x Reader

CW: Werewolf, Cream Pie, Dub-con (reader is not fully aware of all the facts and traumatised when she sleeps with Ari) Explicit Sexual content, mild horror, Chasing and breeding kink, Possesive!Ari, SoftDark!Ari (he's more manipulative than violent towards reader)

WC: 3.5k

The wind blew gently through the trees, and you watched them sway from where you were standing in the doorway of your cabin, hands wrapped around your mug of steaming tea. All your girlfriends thought you were mad, wanting to come out here, to the middle of nowhere, but you’d needed an escape. An escape from all the hustle and bustle, the car fumes and squealing train carriages. An escape from Brian.

Your ex. Who didn’t seem to have accepted he was your ex.

Maybe you should have given someone your full location, but Brian always seemed to wheedle information out of your friends, so all you’d done was give them a vague idea of where you were having your retreat and when you were due home. Maybe you’d send one of them a text later on? But for now, you’d just enjoy the silence and the peace.

You’d arrived a few hours ago, your car laden with food supplies to last you the next 4 days, and all of your knitting. This was the perfect time to work on those Christmas sweaters you’d promised your nieces and nephews. The cabin itself had shelves laden with books, so you weren’t worried about being bored.

The cabin owner lived one property over, but given the rural nature of the area you were in, that property was apparently on the other side of the hill, a good 5 mile hike. He had, however, come and opened up and aired this place, getting the generator going, so all had been prepared for your arrival. You hoped that it hadn’t been too much for Mr Levinson. Apparently this cabin had originally been his family home as a child, but he had built another, bigger property when this one had become his, letting the older, smaller one out, for weekend holiday makers, eager to get away from the rat race for a few days.

You took a sip of your tea and pushed off the door frame, thinking you ought to actually start preparing your dinner, when you attention was caught by the sound of a vehicle coming up the track. It was a weathered looking pick-up. Maybe this was Mr Levinson? You ducked inside to place the kettle back on the stove, and opened up a packet of cookies, sliding a few onto a plate. Both your mother and your grandmother had taught you the importance of welcoming guests (although, technically, in this situation you were his guest.)

You heard the pick-up engine rattle to a halt, followed by the creak and slam of the driver’s door as it was opened and then closed. Crossing back over to the cabin threshold, you got ready to welcome the man, and thank him for letting you seek solace and solitude on his property. You pulled open the door and…stopped.

This was no little old man, like you’d imagined. No, this was a great hulk of a man, who looked like he’d have to duck to even get through the door. The late afternoon sun glinted off his brown hair, showing the golden highlights gained from working outside in the summer months. It was shaggy too, almost brushing his shoulders, and along with his full beard, it definitely made him look like a wild man of the woods. He was broad too, his flannel shirt straining across his chest and round his biceps. Unbidden thoughts of being lifted by those arms, being held to that chest, being kissed by the plump lips visible through his facial hair…

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The squeal of the kettle snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned away, moving towards it and away from your visitor. Your face burned and you hoped that he hadn’t noticed the way you’d been staring slack-jawed at him.

“Tea, Mr Levinson?” You turned back to him and raised the kettle up, like some kind of demented woman and you groaned internally at how cringy you were being.

He smiled as he came through the door (and yes, he did duck slightly).

“Do you have any coffee at all? I only tend to drink tea at bedtime. And it’s Ari.”

Why did he have to say that? Images of being tangled up in the sheets of the large bed in the cabin flooded your brain.

“Sure!” You squeaked out your response and continued to mentally kick yourself. You made up the instant coffee and brought it across to the small table in the living area, along with the plate of cookies, some milk and sugar. You weren’t surprised when Mr Levinson, no Ari, didn’t make a move to add either. He settled down on the old, but comfortable sofa, and it was clear he’d spent many an hour here, by the way he sagged into it. You found yourself perching on the edge of the arm chair, your half-mug of lukewarm tea in your hands.

“This is a lovely cabin, Ari. And in such a beautiful spot. Why did you decide to leave?”

“Well, I’ve not left the area, as you know. I couldn’t - it’s always been my home. But I wanna have a family someday, and this place, as lovely and filled with memories as it is, just ain’t gonna be big enough for the family I have planned.”

You weren’t surprised he was already taken. Of course a man who looked like this would be.

“And your lucky lady, she on-board with a whole softball team?” You smiled at him, chuckling slightly at the mental image of a faceless woman surrounded by a multitude of mini-Ari’s. Okay, she wasn’t faceless, she was you. A girl can dream.

“Well…” he rubbed the back of his neck and you watched his cheeks pink in a way that softened him, made him look more boyish. “...we’ve not known each other long. Only just met really. But I know she’s the one. I’ll broach it with her when she’s ready.”

You both sipped your drinks, passing the time talking about your normal life in the city and some of the reasons for this short break (you didn’t mention Brian, because ‘fuck that guy’.)  The sun slipped a little lower, and Ari stood up rubbing his thighs. You tried not to look, but you were only human after all.

“I’ll be going, and leave you to your evening,and I don’t wanna alarm you, but I need to say that we do get a few wild animals around here, so best to lock up as it gets dark, before they come out for the night. They should leave you alone, but you know, sometimes they get curious.”

“No problem, Ari - thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to lock the door behind you when you leave.”

He made his way over to the door, and waved at you when he left. You stood at the window watching him until you could no longer see the battered pick up, or hear the distinctive rattle of its engine.

You ended up staying awake far later than you intended. You’d locked the door as Ari suggested, warmed yourself some soup on the stove, and then settled down with your knitting and an audiobook playing on your phone. With a small fire in the grate and a little side lamp on, it was very cosy indeed, just what you’d been wanting. The rhythmic ‘click-clack’ of the needles along with the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry, narrating the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, made you lose track of time.

However, a strange noise from outside made you start. A low growling noise, followed by rustling in the shrubs outside the window. Putting down your knitting you crept forwards, towards the rough hewn wood wall and the small aperture to the outside world. There were a few clouds covering the star-studded inky sky, and you could see that the moon was only missing a sliver - it would be totally full tomorrow.

Peering out the bottom of the window, you tried to see what creature had been making the sound. You jumped back when you saw a pair of glowing yellow eyes staring back at you, your hands clasped over your mouth. For a few moments you took some deep breaths and tried to bring your heart rate back down. When you felt on an even keel, you crept back over - surely you must have imagined it - nothing in nature had eyes like that. As you looked you let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. Nothing was there. Maybe you needed this break more than you realised.

The next morning, after you’d made yourself a hearty breakfast of pancakes and bacon, you decided to go for a walk around the local hills. You had a GPS app on your phone and your trusty camera, and you planned on sticking to the well trodden trails. The air was crisp, one of those fall mornings which let you know that winter was just around the corner. You explored for a few hours, taking photos when something struck you, but otherwise just enjoying the solitude. As you crested the hill, you realised that if you continued to follow the track you'd reach Ari’s house; you could see part of the roof and the curl of smoke from the chimney. 

You decided against disturbing your temporary landlord, you didn’t need to torture yourself anymore than necessary. When you returned to your cabin you decided to make a batch of cookies - the store bought ones just weren’t the same - and then, while they were cooling, you searched the bookcase for something new. The old wooden shelves held an eclectic mix of literature, from a book of fairy tales, to books on the supernatural and conspiracy theories, and even nature books about wolves. You read the book of fairy tales for a while, dunking your fresh cookies in a glass of milk, curled up in the armchair next to the fire, feeling like a small child again as you read about Red Riding Hood.

As the day drew to a close, you made yourself a simple dinner of a porkchop, fried potatoes and greens and then settled in for more of your audio book and knitting. Every so often you thought you heard something outside, but brushed it off as your over-active imagination. After a while your blinks became longer and you realised you were undoing more stitches than you were making, so you banked the fire, tidied your stuff and headed to bed.

As you walked up the stairs to the small bedroom, the light of the full moon shone in through the window, providing a silvery glow to light your way.

You woke with a start only a few hours later. Your dreams had been plagued by a monster with glowing yellow eyes, chasing you, snapping at your heels, eager to devour you. Your breath burned in your lungs as you hugged the comforter to your chest, disorientated by the lingering images of your nightmare, and sweat beaded your brow. There was also a throbbing between your legs, a strange and unwelcome contrast.

Getting to your feet, you decided to get yourself a drink, before trying to sleep again; you needed to dispel the remnants of your overactive imagination before you could attempt to return to slumber. The moon was still shining through the windows on the stairwell providing sufficient illumination, and the wooden treads creaked beneath your feet. Shuffling into the small kitchen area, you poured yourself a glass of water from the fridge and wandered over to the window while you sipped it.

You barely noticed the glass slipping from your hand, the cold water soaking the legs of your pyjama trousers and the glass rolling away across the floor. You barely noticed because you were frozen in shock and fear. The yellow eyes stared in at you. Yesterday they’d been looking up at you from the bushes, but now – now they were higher up, as if the owner was on two legs. You could just about see a dark silhouette, the outline of arms, legs and a torso. Then the creature stepped forward, into a shaft of moonlight and you couldn’t hold back your scream.

Its body was covered in dark, shaggy hair, muscular arms and legs ending with clawed paws, and its face! A wolf-like head, with a mouth filled with wicked looking teeth and those eyes!

It didn’t stop looking at you, and you could see the hunger it held in the glowing yellow depths. It took one step towards the door and then another and you were turning on your heel, heading for the kitchen and the selection of knives. Your palm wrapped around the handle of the carving knife just as the door burst open and you whirled around. With your free hand, you grabbed anything you could; mugs, plates, wooden spoons, and hurled them at your intruder, but they were totally ineffective, bouncing off its thick fur.

It lowered its head to pass through the frame and moved towards you, its movements careful and measured.

“Stay back!” You brandished the knife, a bubble of hysteria working its way up your throat. You were trying to face down a werewolf – a WEREWOLF! – with a kitchen knife. The creature seemed to have the same thought, as the noise it let out could easily have been some kind of laugh. Every step forward it took, you took one back, but you knew you’d run out of room eventually. You eyed the door behind it and started to circle around the monstrous intruder, trying not to show your surprise when it seemed to work. Either the creature wasn’t intelligent, or it was letting you get a sniff of escape. You weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though. You couldn’t beat it with a show of strength, you needed to escape, so your plan was to get to your car…

You sprinted, running straight to the door and not looking back, then through it into the open air. The gravel outside the front door bit into your bare feet, but you didn’t notice, your only focus was your escape. 

However, when you reached your car you realised you’d been thwarted; the tyres had been slashed, the rubber hanging away from the rims in thick strips. Your car wasn’t going anywhere. You spun around, your back to the cold metal and raised your eyes as the creature looked at you. You almost swore he was smiling. 

Then you bolted, heading into the forest through the trees, desperate for escape even though part of you knew it impossible. A bone-chilling cry - no, a howl - echoed through the air behind you, as though signalling the start of a hunt. But still you ran.

Low-hanging branches whipped at your face and snagged at your pyjamas and hair, as your feet pounded down the trail. There were moments where you were certain you felt hot breath on the back of your neck, but every time you looked behind you, you didn’t see anything. You didn’t dare stop though. Your own place of safety would be Ari’s house. A man like him would have a gun, surely?

When you reached the summit of the hill, you had a moment of believing you’d done it, that you’d escaped the beast, but as you started to pick your way down the slope, it appeared, crashing out of the bushes in front of you.

It had never been chasing you directly; it had gone around to cut you off. Its sudden appearance startled you, and you lost your balance. You screeched as you fell over and then tumbled down the slope. There was a flair of pain as your head smacked against something, then it all went dark.

When you woke, the sun was shining across you, and you were warm and comfortable. Well comfortable apart from the throbbing in your head and needlepoints of pain in your feet.

You groaned as you opened your eyes, and realised you were in a bed, but not your bed at the cabin. Panic rose momentarily in your chest before suddenly Ari was before you.

“Hey, hey, bambi. It’s alright. You’re safe.”

“What? Huh? Oh my god!”

The memories rushed back in.

“Ari! There was a monster, like a wolf man! He broke into the cabin and chased me and I fell and…”

He silenced you with a finger across your lips and sat down on the edge of the mattress, his thigh pressed against yours, albeit with the comforter between you.

“It’s okay. I found you and brought you here. You have a nasty bump to your head and some deep cuts on your feet, so I bandaged you up. You’ve been sleeping all morning, which to be honest is probably a good thing.” 

He brought his hand up to your cheek, cupping it gently and you felt warmth spread through your body. His thumb rubbed across a small scrape and his azure eyes roamed all over your face.

“Are you okay, bambi? I don’t like seeing you like this.”

You were feeling dizzy and hot all over, and was his face getting closer to yours? Suddenly it felt hard to breathe, your world crystallising down to this magnetic man.

“Ari?” Your voice was so quiet, his name almost a sigh, and you knew you shouldn’t want him so much, but yet…

“Please kiss me!”

He growled as his lips came down on yours, claiming you from the first second of contact. Your arms flew around his neck and he shifted to lie across you. You accepted his ferocious passion eagerly, opening your mouth to let him in, feeling his tongue twine with yours. 

You whined with a furious need, and he growled again in answer, pushing the comforter between you away. Cool air played over your skin, and you realised at the back of your mind that you were naked in Ari’s bed.

However, the way that he touched you drove the disquiet from your mind. The frustrations of the previous few months and the pain and fear from the last few hours were pushed away by Ari’s kisses and touch. You barely noticed him shedding his clothes, only concentrating on the way he was making you feel, his lips on your breast and his hand between your thighs, stroking and teasing. You clung to his hair, gulping in deep breaths of air as he learned your body with lightning speed, responding to every cue. No-one had ever touched you like this before.

The orgasm he drew from you was startling, his fingers deep inside you, touching a spot that had rarely been touched before. You then barely had time to recover before he was rising up, wedging his hips between your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he thrust into you. 

You cried out loudly at the feeling of that first stretch, a feeling you were unused to, but Ari swallowed the sound with his mouth, muttering under his breath about how perfect you were, how beautiful. He growled again when you dug your nails into his shoulders, thrusting into you faster, harder.

“Need to feel you, bambi. Need to feel you cum. Cum for me sweetheart. Do that and I’ll cum for you. Fill you up, yeah. Fill this pussy ‘til it’s overflowing? I’ll take care of you.”

“Ari!” You whined, not even sure what you were asking for, only that you were so close, balancing on the precipice.

“Look at me, bambi. Look at me.”

Ari’s hands cupped your face, holding your head still, his gaze capturing yours so intently you couldn’t look away.

“Mine. Mate.”

His eyes flashed yellow as he spoke, and you fell over the edge, pleasure spreading through your entire body. His hips snapped into you, and you screamed in ecstasy, before he swelled inside you, letting out a guttural, animalistic roar and making good on his promise to fill you to overflowing.

You blinked. You must have passed out. Your body ached, but pleasantly so. The sun was setting outside the window of Ari’s room, but the man himself was absent. Pushing back the comforter you swung your feet to the floor. Your arms and legs were covered in scratches and bruises from your flight. Standing up, your legs wobbled slightly and you felt the evidence of your and Ari’s coupling on your inner thighs. 

There was no sign of your pyjamas, although they were probably ruined, so you opened the old wooden wardrobe and took one of Ari’s flannel shirts off a hanger and buttoned it over your nakedness.

You padded out and into the main living area. It really was a big cabin.

A big cabin Ari had built for his future family.

Guilt washed over you. He had a girlfriend, but you had slept together. You couldn’t take all the blame -  he was there as well - but it didn’t stop the sour feeling in your stomach.

Ari stepped over to you from the kitchen counter, gathering you into his arms before you could even think. He pressed his face into the top of your head, inhaling deeply. Feeling awkward you  slowly disentangled yourself from his embrace.

“Ari, I…”

You twisted the cuffs of his flannel in your fists as he looked at you quizzically.

“What’s wrong, bambi?”

“I… I have to go. I shouldn’t be here. Your girlfriend…”

He chuckled, obviously amused by your discomfort. 

“You don’t have to go sweetheart. In fact, you shouldn’t. This is definitely where you should be.”

He moved back to the kitchen, turning away from you as though the discussion was over. Anger flared in you at his dismissal.

“Ari, it’s not fair on her and it’s not fair on me.”

Outside the sun was gone and the moon started to rise. Ari placed his hands on the counter, his back towards you and shook his head slightly, his shaggy hair moving back and forth.

“Oh, sweetheart. I really should have asked you yesterday about how you felt about a whole soft-ball team. But as I said, you weren’t ready.”

“What do you me…” He turned back towards you and your words died in your throat. Ari’s eyes were glowing yellow.

He walked towards you again, but his movements were predatory.

“You’re mine, bambi. Mine. My mate.”

The moon rose in the sky, its last night of fullness, and you watched as Ari’s face changed before your very eyes. Changed into the face of a wolf.

And you screamed.

Tag List: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98

[hezekiahwakely]

More detailed notes before the next episode drops. I should see if I can put my silly powers of trivia to work and help edit the wiki.

Transcribed below the cut:

Page 1

TMAGP#002 - Making Adjustments 1/23/24

Sam asking lots of questions 👁️

- What DOES DPHW stand for?

Incident - CAT3RBC1567-23092022-18012024 Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]

Listed in transcript as a "case file"

- Accessed by FR3-d1?

Daria and therapist

Ink5oul on Instagram (they/them) -Dubstep -London studio -Livestreaming -Floral serpent tattoo on arm & neck

Daria's paintbrush design -Floral patterns -Unknown, glittering symbols -Started on forearm, then spread across body as she made more + more alterations.

Caught by roommate Sarah.

Gwen + Alice conversation - Breakroom CCTV

Gwen thinks Lena is planning lay-offs, overheard her on phone saying they're "expanding external operations."

Page 2

TMAGP#002 Notes con. 1/23/24

Alice thinks it more likely she'll "hire another Sam."

Alice barely speaks to Lena

Gwen desperate for respect, thinks Lena views them as disposable.

Alice's Phone Conversation

28th is payday

Brother, Luke, is in band: Dredgerman.

- Sam knows him

Sam researching the Institute!

Alice trying to dissuade him from getting caught up in this.

Page 3

TMAGP#003 - Putting Down Roots 1/28/24

Computers Malfunctioning

.jmj error (!)

Colin doesn't trust/believe in central IT.

- Doesn't like Alice humanizing the PCs.

Colin believes he's the only one who knows the most about the system.

- Believes it's malfunctioning on purpose.

Alice flirts w/Freddie lol

- Also thinks Robert Englund would have made a better Jack from The Shining.

- Horror fan?

Incident - CAT2C8175-03042009-22012024 Infection (full body) -/- arboreal [journal entry] (written by guest writer Graeme Patrick)

Seems to be a police evidence record/email? Gleaned by FR3-d1.

- Case: 1201/19 -Serial #: 72003210 -Collector: Special Constable Caroline Jennings 2911 -Routing to: South-East Evidence Storage - Lewisham

First journal entry dated 07/12/09... eight months ahead of this record (03/04/09)

Page 4

TMAGP#003 Notes con. 1/28/24

Dr. Samuel Webber

- Killed wife, Maddie -> cheated/possibly married w/Gerald Andrews

- Isolated and unappreciated by those around him (in his mind). Lonely driving someone into the arms of Corruption?

Aspects: bombed out church, jasmine, time distortion/separate dimension (isolated), dead whispers, infection, forgiveness/guilt free, love, blooming

Definitions

- Allotment - (British English) A plot of land rented for individual gardening/farming.

- Lock-up - (British English) A rentable garage (storage locker).

Alice gives correct categorization for this Incident (infection: arboreal)

Page 5

TMAGP#003 Notes con. 1/28/24

According to Alice, Sam has "wobbly... little stick legs" and "noodle arms." He is also a "cute wimp."

She wants Sam to go behind Colin's back (stirring the pot?) to IT

He says no and avoids getting involved in the following arguement. [sic]

He can stand up to Alice (wonder what their breakup was like).

Alice is a lot more nasty toxic and resentful than she lets on.

- How much does Gwen actually have to do with the upper class?

Does Alice also want to know what's up w/the PCs?

They're all coffee drinkers

workin' the night shift

Gwen has a party on the 27th (27/01/2024) w/old friend who made partner at a law firm. She feels envious.

[tiannasfanfic]

I Still Believe: Part 1

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: The world has been dimmer since Eddie Munson has been gone. Even your old spot out at Skull Rock has lost its charm, but you still go out there to feel close to him. Will a trip out there after dark finally help you grieve through your loss...or will it be your undoing?

Rating: Mature

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns used, if any. Part 1 of 3. Happy Spooky Season! We're gonna throw some horror into the mix with this one! Enjoy!

CW: Horror elements (being stalked, chased, grabbed, attacked by a vampire); vampire elements (stalking prey, hunting, attacking prey, non-con feeding); marijuana use for medical purposes (anxiety, grief); Jason harassing people; Eddie being protective (and slightly Dommy if you squint).

Word Count: 3,135

One thing you and Eddie Munson always enjoyed doing together was taking walks in the woods.

At least twice a week you two would head out on foot from the trailer park to Skull Rock, smoke a joint or three, and then make out until you both had come down enough to walk back.

It was something you kept doing after he was gone, even now six months later. You didn’t get as high when you went out there by yourself, thus didn’t stay as long as a result, but you always looked forward to this little bit of time. It felt like a big part of Eddie was still there, like this is where his spirit chose to come to rest. Since there was no grave for you to mourn over, this would have to do.

“Hey sweetie,” you said, as you settled down in you and Eddie’s spot under the large rock. “Sorry I’m so late tonight, I got stuck reorganizing the western paperbacks by myself. Dave was supposed to help, but you know what trying to get help from him is like.”

You scoffed at your own words as you took your rolling supplies from your jacket pocket.

“And then, get this, the douche really had the nerve later to come over and ask me if I’d ever gotten around to-“

And on you went as you got your jointed rolled, filling Eddie in on your day as if he were sitting there with you instead of off in the next life.

While Eddie’s death hit everyone in different ways, it hit you especially hard.

Friends since fourth grade, lovers since Sophomore year and out publicly as a couple since senior year, you two were supposed to be together forever.

That was the plan, anyway.

After Eddie graduated this year, your plan had been to Sadie Hawkins the fuck out of him and ask him to marry you. You hadn’t decided how yet, but you had the ring already. It was a simple vampire skull with red stones for eyes. Nothing fancy, but it was so very Eddie.

Initially, it was supposed to be a graduation present. You’d been holding onto it for two years ever since he was supposed to walk the stage with you. But, as the months went on after graduation and now all of your time spent together was outside of school, the place where you both had to censor your relationship, the feelings between you deepened. You got closer, which you didn’t even know was possible. You were together every day after school, and you spent weekends with him and Wayne since your mom was never home. So long as you were helping Eddie study and his grades were improving (and you two were being safe together), Wayne didn’t mind. Despite being held back two more years, his grades had steadily gotten better until it was just one class holding him back.

While you two had discussed the idea of marriage at some point, both of you were in full agreement that was for way later when the two of you were old. You were still going back and forth on the idea of college but were working full time at the library in the meantime. Eddie wanted to devote his attention to the band after graduation and see where that took them. Neither of you even knew if you wanted kids ever.

But then, sometime while Eddie was on holiday break during his last senior year, you realized, why wait? You two could still do all those things married. He already supported you no matter what you wanted to do and vice versa.

Then Spring Break happened. And Eddie was gone.

You started wearing the ring you were going to give to Eddie on a chain around your neck. A few months later, you added a smaller ring to the chain when Wayne found a ring box in Eddie’s desk. Eddie had the same idea you did as it was clearly an engagement ring. The skull’s mate was a small silver ring that had a band of tiny clear stones running through the middle.

“Robin called yesterday,” you said, finally switching topics from work after you got your joint lit. “Steve’s having everyone out to his parents cabin next weekend. I might go. I don’t know though.” “It feels like everyone just keeps me around because they feel sorry for me.”

You knew that wasn’t true and regretted saying it as soon as it left your lips, even though no one was around to hear you.

You may have only met everyone after Eddie was already a wanted man, but they’d all made a big effort to become a part of your life. You counted them as some of your best friends since you all shared in a similar traumatic experience.

It was by pure chance you even stumbled onto what was really going on. You had been looking for Eddie yourself after the news broke, which ended up leading to an altercation with Jason in the parking lot of your job. They had tracked you down to question you about Eddie and you told them where they could stick their questions. It turned slightly violent when they tried to restrain you, and you had to pull the switchblade Eddie had given you in order to get away. After that, you decided you could protect your boyfriend better by keeping an eye on that asshole instead of looking for Eddie.

Tailing Jason led you to the War Zone, which led to you helping Nancy. At the time, you didn’t know who she was. You had graduated the original year Eddie should’ve and didn’t know any of them. You just saw Jason harassing some poor girl.

After you helped run Jason off, you apologized to Nancy, explaining he was gunning for your boyfriend and had jumped you too to find out where he was.

“Oh?” Nancy asked warily, her nerves still on edge. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

“Eddie Munson,” you said, and upon seeing Nancy’s eyes go wide, you took that as an expression of horror and held up a hand. “Look, I know what you’re about to say, but he did NOT kill Chrissy. He wouldn’t. We were all friends. Yeah, we weren’t close anymore, but, for fucks sake, that boy can’t even kill a spider, okay?!? I have to catch them and take them outside or else he gets sad- whoa! Hey!”

At that point, Nancy had finished paying for her weapons. She grabbed you by the wrist in a grip made of iron and started dragging you towards the front entrance and out into the parking lot. The others were coming out of the store just in time to see her shoving you, a total stranger, into the RV.

The RV where their friend, who was currently wanted for murder, was hiding.

Dustin started to yell in alarm, but Steve shushed him so he wouldn’t draw attention. While the whole thing was extremely unexpected, Steve knew Nancy wouldn’t just involve a stranger like that on a whim. He led the group in a fast walk to the RV, where he yanked the door open and barreled inside, tense, and ready for anything.

He walked in and was greeted by the sight of you and Eddie standing in the middle of the RV, arms wrapped tightly around each other and sobbing into each other’s necks. After a few minutes, you pulled back from him slightly to take his face in your hands, wiping his tears away and kissing all over his face before ending at his lips. Eddie held you to him, clinging to you for dear life as he kissed you.

There was a quick round of introductions, and Dustin was able to finally put a face to your name. Eddie had mentioned you a few times at Hellfire, but you hadn’t met any of them yet. Since they were on a time crunch, you were given a very abbreviated overview of what was going on. You were eager and ready to help…then Eddie told you no, saying he wouldn’t let you go with them.

Since RVs don’t have fans, the shit simply hit the ceiling instead.

A fight ensued that everyone else was forced to awkwardly watch. It your first ever fight as a couple. Sure, you’d argued as all couples do, especially with as long as you’d been best friends, but you had never truly fought.

Finally, with tears flowing again from both of you, Eddie gently pulled you to him and took your face in his hands. He looked into your eyes, and you could see how terrified he truly was.

“Please, baby,” he begged you, pressing his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t save her. Let me go knowing I at least saved you.”

How do you say no to that?

You don’t, that’s how.

A few minutes later, you quietly watched the RV drive away with the love of your life inside. When the RV was out of sight, you headed back to your car and went home, abandoning your tail of Jason since you promised Eddie you would.

You have regretted listening to him every day since.

Presently, it was full dark by the time you told Eddie you loved him and started heading back. It way, way later than you would normally leave. Being out in the woods by yourself wasn’t a clever idea after dark since it was easy to get lost. Coming out when it was so close to sunset hadn’t been a good idea anyway, but you weren’t about to miss the one part of your routine that kept you sane.

Right as you were about to enter the cover of the trees, you suddenly felt like you were being watched.

You turned back to look at Skull Rock. While you hadn’t heard anyone approaching, you had been lost in your thoughts and could have easily missed it. The wind picked up suddenly and whooshed through the small clearing, making it hard to hear anything else but the drying leaves rattling around. You didn’t see anyone though. You passed the whole thing off to your imagination and continued on. The feeling stopped as soon as you passed into the tree line, which seemed to confirm that it was all in your head.

However, you only gotten a handful of feet when the feeling was back.

You swallowed heavily and your heart started to pound. While earlier it hadn’t been much of a feeling, as if you had been given a once over, this time you could almost feel a pair of eyes boring into you.

And every one of your self-preservation instincts were going off.

Your guts were screaming. The hair on your body was at attention, goosebumps raised all over your skin. Your brain was sending frantic impulses to run away down into your legs, which you were fighting off. Danger or no, running blindly through the dark in the woods wasn’t a clever idea. You picked up your pace though and were soon at the edge of the trees.

As you emerged from the trees, you sped up more, not jogging, but walking very fast. You could see the trailer you shared with your mom just over a hundred feet away or so, the front door facing the woods rather than the driveway. It had been put in backwards and was never fixed, so the front door was the back door and vice versa. The only problem with this was, the improper installation had caused the rear of the trailer to settle oddly, which had caused the floor to warp. Depending on the time of year, sometimes you couldn’t get that door to open at all.

You were debating which door to go to first when a branch snapping behind you made the last of your resolve snap along with it.

The logical portion of your brain tried to reason with you for a second. It told you that there was actually nothing behind you, that you were just being paranoid. For one, you were alone at night in the woods, which your overactive imagination was having a field day with. For two, you were trying out a new strain of marijuana, which was probably causing most of this. While you normally didn’t get paranoid when you smoked your normal stuff, there was always the chance that any new strain might do that to you and your dealer had insisted you try this one, swearing it would help your anxiety better.

But try telling that to panic when it hits.

You took off for the trailer. There was no stopping your legs now.

The distance from where you were just a little beyond the tree line to the front door suddenly seemed five times as long. It was normally an easy run. You’d done it plenty of times before with Eddie chasing behind you, with him occasionally putting on a burst of speed so he could pinch you on the ass and make you go faster. But it wasn’t Eddie behind you now.

There was no doubt in your mind now that you were being chased. With each running step, you became increasingly sure of it. As your path seemed to stretch out ahead of you and time seemed to go in slow motion, you could feel a presence there. You couldn’t hear anything over your own heart pounding in your ears, your gasping breaths, and your own running feet, but there was no mistaking something was there now. All you could feel behind you was danger, and you could feel it getting closer, but you didn’t turn around to look. You didn’t dare. You focused on nothing but getting to that door in front of you.

You didn’t even try to stop running when you reached the trailer. You crashed into the door and frantically grabbed for the knob. No one was home since your mom worked nights, but the front door was never locked since the deadbolt didn’t line up with the warped doorframe anymore. Leaning away from the door, you pulled with all your strength.

It jerked opened a few inches, then wedged against a raised floorboard and wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck!” you screamed.

Letting go of the knob, you grabbed the edge of the door and tried to pull it open that way, which got you another inch of movement before it got stuck again. You slammed your fist against it and made a break for it to run around the trailer to the back door.

Right after you rounded the corner, something large slammed into you at speed from the side. It was so dark and happened so fast you didn’t have the chance to see what it was. Your body hit the side of the trailer with enough force you felt the tin wall shake behind you. All the wind was knocked from you on impact and your shoulder exploded with pain. A strong appendage quickly wrapped around your torso, pinning both of your arms to your sides. Before you could scream, a hand clapped firmly over your mouth. Long fingers gripped into your cheeks, bits of cold metal digging into your skin as your head was yanked to the side. You tried to struggle, tried to put up a fight, but whatever had a hold of you was so strong you barely managed to wiggle in its grasp.

Suddenly, pain sliced into side of your neck. You felt long, sharp teeth puncturing through your skin, sliding through the soft tissue easily. A scream rose out of your throat, blocked by the hand still covering your mouth. You squeezed your eyes closed, using one last burst of energy to struggle against your attacker. But it was no use. You were pinned against this monster. It had to be something from that place Dustin and the others told you about. The Upside Down, was it? Had to be…but you were sure now that you’d never find out.

The pain lessened slightly as you felt the teeth pull away, replaced by a mouth clamping down on your torn flesh, sending a fresh bolt of burning pain through you.

But then…you were gone.

The pain quickly shifted to a pleasurable sensation, rendering you limp in your assailants’ arms. It was beyond description, an almost euphoric relaxation that was like a combination of the high from really good weed and the high from a really good orgasm, but beyond either. All you could do was whimper as you felt the will to the fight off your attacker leave you and be replaced by wanting. That in itself should have been terrifying. The part of your brain still focused on self-preservation screamed at you in horror to do something, anything, to try to save yourself…

Then you realized you didn’t want too anymore. All of your will to fight was gone. You were well and truly fucked, and you knew it.

Tears ran down your face as your blood was drained from you. You felt yourself growing weaker by the moment.

The monster shifted its grip then, releasing your neck very quickly in order to turn you towards it, then slammed your back against the trailer. It dove right back into, squashing you against the wall as you felt the painful teeth once again in your flesh. It was quick and soon replaced by the same pleasurable relaxation.

With it holding you from the front now, your face was closer now and you could smell it. Your senses were overwhelmed with the smell of blood, sweat, dirt and something acrid, almost sour smelling that you couldn’t identify.

Your knees buckled. Your vision started fading. The only thing keeping you upright was being pinned between the weight of the monster and the side of the trailer.

As your consciousness was fading and your head fell forward onto the monster, you became aware of some very old, very vague smells hidden under the unpleasant ones. There was a hint of leather, a slight whiff of tobacco, a kiss of marijuana. And, finally, fainter than anything else, the trace of an inexpensive cologne you’d know anywhere.

Eddie.

Your heart skipped a beat in that old familiar way as memories of your lover rushed to the forefront of your mind. A slight smile came to your lips, the last of your inner panic dissolving into acceptance.

Eddie had come to you in your final moments, and you’d be with him again soon.

“Eddie,” you whispered without realizing it.

Before your vision completely faded away, the last thing you saw was a pair of glowing orange-brown eyes that seemed to widen as they looked into yours.

[mochibuni]

How to Support Your Favorite Creators!

This guide is largely based on my preferences as a freelance digital artist, but I think can be applicable to others. So let's chat about ways you can support your favorites, sometimes very free and very minimally with big results!

FREE WAYS TO SUPPORT

Like and/or comment - The easiest and free-ist way to help is simply to like or leave a comment on their work! Speaking personally, especially as someone who typically draws for others instead of myself, this is what keeps me drawing and sharing. Knowing that you're here liking what I make, finding happiness in it, or delightful shock and horror fuels me to keep creating, keep being inspired, and keep looking for ways to improve my skills. I just wouldn't be here drawing as much as I do without your likes and comments, and to me this is one of the most valuable avenues of support.

Watching Streams - If your creative also streams, just hanging out and lurking in their stream is super helpful. A lot of streaming platforms, especially Twitch, gate streamers based on their average viewership. For example, in order to be able to receive subs and bits on Twitch you need to be an Affiliate account, and in order to do that you need to reach a few different requirements, one of them being an average of 3 viewers over a 30 day period. You'd think 3 would be easy, but it isn't! If you can also interact in chat with the streamer, great! If not, lurking is absolutely helpful in helping your streamer reach the numbers they need for their next goal on the platform.

Reblogging and sharing links - This is perhaps one of the most impactful ways to support your faves without spending a cent, and that's because you're helping us reach new people who will hopefully like our work as much as you do, and will in turn also share our work to new people that will like our work and so on! As a small freelancer, growth is important to keep me going professionally as an artist, and reblogging and sharing my work absolutely contributes so much to that.

Referrals and Recommendations - A lot of my recent commission work is thanks to previous clients and supporters that recommend my work to others looking for art. Good reviews and word of mouth have helped me so much in my commission work and I'm so appreciative of this.

(A small aside to fellow artists, always try to be professional and friendly as it's your attitude and behavior that plays a part in others wanting to refer you, not just your art. Not advocating that you let anyone boundary stomp, but I know for a fact that my professionalism is what gives people the confidence to recommend me so strongly to their friends and fellow content creators. Use invoicing, stick to a schedule, be clear and consistent, and if there are issues be transparent and prompt in communicating them. If anyone would like me to go into more detail about how I handle commission work I can make a separate post.)

MONETARY WAYS OF SUPPORT

I just want to make it very clear that I do not expect anyone, especially in this economy, to give me money. However if you do have some extra cash and you'd like to give it to your favorite creator, here's how!

Tip them! - If they have a Ko-Fi or another platform for small tips and donations, use them! A few dollars may not seem like a lot and perhaps you feel bad or foolish to give so little, BUT DO NOT. With money being such a precious commodity, for me it means a lot when someone is willing to send a few my way. And if even a few are tipping a couple of dollars, that can easily add up. To put in perspective, even if just a portion of my supports decided one day to tip me or sub to my patreon one month, I could easily cover most if not all of our living expenses for a month. I'm not telling you guys to do this, but to understand that a few dollars can have a lot of power.

Sub to one of their platforms! - Since I use a few different platforms with this option, I want to discuss the pros and cons of each so you can decide which way you would like to support your favorite that may also have multiple platforms. Ultimately if your fave has a preferred platform I suggest using that one, but if not--

Ko-Fi - Has a 0% fee taken from donations received and do not charge supporters extra., and 5% from monthly memberships, shop sales, and commissions through the platform. The only downside to Ko-Fi is they immediately submit transactions to the creators payout method of choice which can sometimes be troublesome depending on said method. Patreon - A popular choice for creators as we can create multiple tiers of monthly rewards in exchange for your monetary support! The only drawback I think is largely for supporters as it requires a monthly subscription, but you could certainly go the route of a one time payment, catch up with what you missed since your last sub, and repeat. Patreon takes a 5%, 8%, or 12% fee depending on the creator's account. Twitch - For your favorite streamers, subbing to their Twitch is often the way to go as increased sub numbers directly benefit streamers in their growth on the platform. HOWEVER, Twitch has a pretty notoriously bad payout split of 50/50, so if your favorite streamer has a tipping platform or Patreon, it might be worth asking if they would prefer a sub or one of those other options.

Commission them! - If you have the funds and their commissions are open, request one! I know at least my commissions can be pricey so I never, ever expect anyone to request one, but I am so excited when someone fills out a commission request form and it lands in my email!

Some tips for commissioning art:

Read the artist's Terms of Service and fill out their request form, if they have one. If they don't then contact them privately, but if they have one please use it instead of DMs (especially on Twitter where DMs do not show up most of them time).

If you feel you can't afford their fees, just tell them you simply cannot afford them at that time. Do not tell them their skills cost too much or aren't worth their asking price. Custom art is a luxury, it isn't cheap.

If you want to use the final commission commercially, you need to purchase commercial rights from the artist. Artists retain copyright of their work, even fanart, and you are not permitted to sell it without permission or obtaining the copyright. Be upfront with your artist if you want to use the work commercially so they can price accordingly.

Provide references, especially for OC. If you have a certain pose in mind, even a poor doodle of it is helpful for your artist.

Be patient, give your artist some time to work and respond. Drawing takes time. That said, if your artist is taking weeks and months without communicating with you, absolutely follow up with them.

On the other hand, don't let your artist rush you either. I always tell my clients to take a few days to ruminate on questions and in progress updates. If I'm streaming your commission, I will never ask you to make confirmations during stream.

Understand that big changes, especially during certain parts of the drawing process, may incur additional fees based on how much work the artist will need to do to accommodate those changes.

Ask for a proper invoice, never do friends and family. An invoice is to protect you as much as it is to protect the artist because if you have an issue with the artist never delivering your commission you can use the invoice to assist in recouping your money. I personally use Paypal invoicing for this reason, despite all the issues with Paypal, because I want to make sure both myself and my clients are protected.

Pay on time! And if you feel your artist is underselling their work and they have tips turned on, tip them!

Those are the major free and monetary ways you can support your favorites! If other creatives would like to chime in with additional tips, please do so!

[astragreenwoode]

The Spitfire Curse - Chapter One

Next: Chapter Two • Masterlist • AO3 Version

Rating: Explicit(18+ ONLY)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC(Endgame), Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC, Steve Harrington x Fem!OC, Robin Buckley x Fem!OC, Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!OC,

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Non-specified Mental Illness, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Hypersexuality, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Genre: Adventure, Thriller, Horror, Slow-Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. Smut, Fluff, Slight Canon-Divergence, Fix-it fic

And a special thanks to my beta-reader @take-everything-you-can! Thank you so much for all your feedback and ideas, love!

Chapter One: Someone Who Loves You Wouldn't Do This.

Word Count: 7681

Chapter Warnings: Recreational Drug Use, Divorce, Implied Trauma, Language, Slight Smut, Domestic Arguments, Implied Mental Illness(not specified what kind)

Chapter Summary: Maeven looks back on the day her life took a turn, leading to her and her family down a painful path, and her life being relocated to the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

I used to make a joke that I was cursed. I was blissfully unaware as the clock stroke midnight and I welcomed 1983 with my friends and family the hard turn things would take. My life would go through a painful metamorphosis that wouldn’t stop for a while. Eventually, I learned that life was chaos and the best way to cope with existing was to be the calming breeze in the middle of the storm. Unfortunately, the best lessons are taught the hard way; through pain and suffering. It took becoming too acquainted with facing death and pushing through a secret dimension that is the closest thing to hell ever seen by human eyes.

For the longest time, it seemed that my life went in a loop. Too often, my livelihood would be torn apart, leaving me to struggle as I licked my wounds and tried to move on. And just when it seemed safe enough to get comfortable and happy, another knot in the chain of rot, ruin, and pain would be added. The cycle would start anew, leaving me to spiral down like blood in water circling the drain of the shower.

But despite all the bullshit I was put through, I wouldn’t trade my life in Hawkins, Indiana for the world.

. . .

February 1983

The year started off like any other. We spent those first few months in quiet anticipation of the new goals we had set for ourselves. My Dad made a vow to not work overtime at the University of San Diego as much so he could be home for dinner and kiss us goodnight. My Mom made a vow to work hard and earn a promotion in her job at the bank. Max made a vow to compete in a local skate contest and wanted me to join her. I made a vow with my friends that we’d collaborate for the Newport High Arts Festival.

None of those resolutions ended up being met. Max and I were too occupied by whatever pulled our parents apart to accomplish them.

That February, a week after I won a prize in the science fair and two weeks after Max’s twelfth birthday, we left the house for school with a deafening silence between us. My little sister and I fast walked toward the bus stop gripping each other’s sweaty hands like a vice. I clenched my knuckles tightly around the shoelaces of my skates slung over my shoulder as Max nervously tapped her nails on her skateboard clutched in her other hand. Normally, we’d have skate-offs to see who could reach the bus stop first. It wasn’t one of those days; Max needed her sister, and I needed mine.

Dad was supposed to drive us that morning. He even promised he’d get up early so he could make breakfast and watch the morning news with us and Mom. These things used to make up our regular morning routine, but Dad hadn’t been able to join us and be present the way he did before for at least the past six months. I couldn’t tell anymore, and I couldn’t remember exactly the last time I saw him awake before school. He would either be too tired after getting home from work or passed out from drinking too much. 

I was looking forward to it so much that the excitement caused me to wake up before my alarm clock went off. But when Max and I came downstairs all packed for school and eager for breakfast, we found him passed out on the couch with the T.V. still on and a cluster of beer bottles on the table.

That morning, our Mom and Dad had their earliest and most intense argument that we’d yet seen. The last thing we heard as I pulled Max along with me out the door was my mother yelling “Sometimes, I wonder if you even care about us at all!”

Up until now, they had usually been in the next room or so over trying to muffle their yelling between the walls. This was the first time they knowingly fought in front of us. I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn’t turn the doorknob three times before locking it like I always do.

We started walking slower as soon as we couldn’t hear the screams anymore and loosened our grip on our things and each other.

“Sooooo. . .what classes do you have today?”

I laughed at her timing and felt relief at the break in the tension that hung heavy in the air like a storm cloud. But as soon as I noticed Max’s lack of sarcasm in her tone and that she wasn’t laughing with me, the weight on my shoulders returned.

I didn't blame her for not wanting to talk about it. But we had to do it eventually. The elephant in the room was growing unruly and anxious. It threatened to tear the house apart.

“Are we seriously not gonna talk about what just happened?”

“You tell me," Max grumbled, staring at the ground as we continued walking. "You haven’t said shit this last month or so.”

I wasn't blameless in ignoring the situation. But up until this morning, I didn't think the tension between our parents would lead to this.

“It’s not like I don’t want to, Max. I’m still trying to process what Mom yelled back there.”

“Yeah. . ." she scoffed. "She’s sure one to talk, huh? It’s not like she’s never been passed out drunk on the couch instead of paying attention to her family, right?”

“You’re not wrong," I wheezed out at her.

Before getting her job as a bank teller, Mom had been working as a nurse at the busiest hospital in San Diego since before she married my Dad and had me. But the E.R. got busier and busier. The HIV crisis turned it grim. Mom and Dad ended up losing a few of their close friends from back in the 60s. It hit both of them hard, but Mom was the one who had to witness the disease rotting people from the inside out first-hand.

At first, her drinking wasn't anything serious; just one bottle every night at dinner to help take the edge off. But then, my uncle tested positive, and it was all suddenly so personal. He went so quickly before we even really got a grasp that it was happening. It tore Mom apart, losing her baby brother so brutally.

“Dad was there for her through her crap. Why can’t she do the same?” Max let go of my hand and wiped the sweat off her palms before gripping her skateboard in her arms. I wiped my palm, too.

“Hey. Be nice. She’s trying. It definitely wasn’t always easy for Dad to keep his shit together for her," I pointed out, lifting her chin gently to meet her ocean-blue eyes, a shade or two lighter than my own.

Mom was able to get sober with our and Dad's help, but she couldn't be a nurse anymore. The whole situation made the mention of the word "hospital" leave her sick with melancholy.

“Okay, fine. I guess you’re right. But it’s not just her, y’know? Ever since Dad came back, he’s been. . .different.”

As things were just getting back to normal, Dad was called back by the Army to help fight in the cold war. He was an engineer who helped fight in the Vietnam War and was absent for the first year and a half of Max’s life. After he played his part and came back home, he was different in the best way. Throughout our childhoods, he no longer took like for granted and spent his days making up for the time he wasn’t here with us.

 He didn’t go back to fight in the Cold War for too long, but that short time made a big difference in his personality. I didn't know much about what happened to him during his time fighting overseas. All I knew was that he was awarded a lot of medals for his service. Too often, Max and I would look at them and ask him what they were for. Max didn’t understand what all of them exactly meant, which Dad was grateful for. He wanted us to stay kids for as long as we could. But he couldn’t stop me from theorizing what orders he had to follow for him to earn those medals. My favorite was his Purple Heart.

He was even able to bring back his partner home to us; a retired military dog named Bullet. He got along nicely with Lucy, our other dog, and Nutmeg, our cat. They were immediately the best of friends. I could tell Bullet's presence kept Dad calmer.

“Yeah. He’s quieter," I said. But Max wasn't satisfied with me boiling it all down to that word.

“Quiet? Try distant," she snapped, the vibes in the February air turning sour. "I’m pretty sure he forgot it was my birthday this month."

My stomach sank. I remember when Mom was once too drunk to remember my birthday. It broke my heart. But Dad wasn't like that. He was different, right?

“He did not. He got your new board, didn’t he?”

“I heard them talking a week before my party. Mom had to remind him.”

If it was possible, my broken heart then shattered for my baby sister. I was angry. I couldn't believe Dad would get so bad that he forgot the day he had to coach my mom through childbirth in his parent's house. But that didn't necessarily change anything. He still kisses the picture of our family in his wallet three times a day for good luck. That had to count for something.

“You don’t believe it right?”

“Believe what?”

“What Mom said before we left the house," I reminded her. I was still trying to process the fact that those words came out of my Mother's mouth. They were laced with hatred, and I was angry at her for letting us leave the house knowing they echoed in our heads.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” As soon as Max's broken voice said that, my shattered heart burned up and the ashes blew in the wind.

“Hey. Don’t talk like that." I pulled her arm and stopped us a block before her bus stop. I crouched down slightly to be at her level, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Dad didn’t stop loving us, okay? And he never will.”

“You don’t know that.” Max started choking up a little, fighting to hold back the tears.

“Yes I do,” I told her, reaching my hand up to cup her cheek. But before our skin could touch, she smacked my hand away.

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him, Max. I just think there's something else going on," I said, pulling her along to reach her block. I felt her pull me back before I had the chance to look both ways before crossing the street.

“What, Maevey? What else could possibly be going on that he’d rather drink than come home on time to eat dinner with us?”

“We didn’t see him for months before he came back to us. I don’t know exactly all that happened when he was overseas, but I can’t imagine all of it was pleasant for him."

I was starting to lose my patience as I debated picking her up before crossing the street. But her friends were gathered at the bus stop. They didn't need to hear this.

“How are we supposed to know what happened if he won’t talk about it?”

“There's probably a reason he isn’t talking about it, Max. I don't think who he was forced to kill and the brutal war crimes he may have witnessed are ideal conversation topics."

Her face went from mad to concerned, and I could breathe easier knowing she understood a little more than before.

". . .I didn't think about that."

"It's okay, Squirt. C'mere." I pulled Max into a hug. Her embrace squeezed my ribs, but I didn't care. I wasn't too tall, but I was tall enough that her head was tucked comfortably under my chin.

"If they get divorced, do you think they'll split us up, too?" She mumbled into my coat. My heart was now completely gone from my chest. I looked both ways before eagerly pulling her along to cross the street and turned to face her again as soon as we were safe on the other side. She pulled me to the side behind the bushes, so the other kids at the bus stop couldn’t see or interrupt our conversation.

"They're not gonna get divorced, Max. Okay? And they sure as hell aren’t splitting us up. They've gone through rough patches before. This one isn't any different from the last ones," I explained, reaching out to hug her again. She pushed back a little too aggressively, but I couldn't bring myself to care. She needed to feel her feelings and I didn’t blame her for not wanting to be touched.

"Don't do that! Don't act like you know everything's gonna be fine!” Max yelled. “You don't know that, Maevey! You can't know that!"

Her breathing started to quicken as she began to hyperventilate. Like I had done a thousand times before, I put my hand on her shoulder and coached her

"Hey, don't yell. Just calm down, Max. Look at me, okay? Breathe. In. Out. Thats it.” As soon as her breathing was stable again, she pulled me back into the hug she denied herself before.

She was right. I didn’t know what was gonna happen. I couldn’t tell the future. I may read tarot cards all the time, but it wasn’t an exact science. I couldn’t guarantee what would happen to Mom and Dad. But I could guarantee that no matter where this whole fiasco would go, I’d have her back; we’d have each other.

"Everything's gonna be fine, okay? We'll get through this. We always do,” I murmured into the top of her head as her bus came into view.

"Promise?"

"Promise,” I said, pressing one last kiss on her head. I momentarily locked our pinkies together like we had done a million times before. She pulled back as we heard the high-pitched sound of the bus hitting its brakes.

 “I'll see you this afternoon, okay? I have Farming Club today after classes,” I explained as I guided her toward the line of children. “. . .so I'll be home at 5 instead of 3. We'll do something fun after dinner."

I could tell she was still worked up over Mom and Dad and annoyed once again by my packed schedule. But she agreed anyway. She needed the distraction. We both did.

". . .okay."

I tussled her hair and gave her one last quick hug. "Alright, Squirt. Gotta go. Love you."

". . .I love you, too. . ."

As I moved on my way to where I usually catch my bus, I heard my sister call back to me one more time.

"And I'm not a squirt, Maevey!" I turned toward Max to see her head poking out of the school-bus window. I let out a laugh. Ever since she could talk, we’d hold our own little competitions to see who could have the last word. We had lost count by now, but we didn’t care about that anymore. We liked the rush in our blood we got from the heat of the race.

"Compared to me you are, Squirt!"

“You’re not even that tall!”

“Bye, Max!”

I wouldn’t know it until later in the day, but when I told my sister everything would be alright, that would be the very first time I ever lied to her.

. . .

Every time I left Farming Club, I left with a little more dirt under my nails and a few more animal scratches. I had many passions; from music to skating to books to art. But I knew I wanted to work with wildlife and the outdoors since I was five years old. That was the day I made friends with a gentle raccoon and brought it inside the house. I named him ‘Oscar,’ because he loved trash. Later that night, my Dad gifted me with a field journal and helped me make my first entry on raccoons.

Mom is the reason Max and I loved the beach so much. She was the reason we loved bright things like the sun and rainbows. I took on her love of arts and crafts. But neither Max nor I was as girly as she would’ve liked us to be. Dad passed his love of science and research onto me. Max adopted his love of comic books and handy skills. We both inherited his stubbornness and rebellious spirit.

But I never thought his rebellion from my Mom’s nagging would end up like this.

That afternoon, I tied my rainbow laces tightly on my light-teal skates on the bus taking me home from club. As the door opened, I held onto the handrails on the steps and jumped from the top step and outside the bus, sliding my hands down on the way to support my weight on my wheels. All the bus drivers I had nagged me to stop that lest I hurt myself. They all eventually gave up. When a Mayfield is determined, good luck trying to dissuade them.

Like I had done in my life routines a million times before, I skated down the road back home. I nailed turning on the hard curves of the neighborhood that Max and I had conquered growing up. Ever since I was little, I loved repeating myself. I thrived on routine and found comfort in everyday repetitions. It took me a while before I became comfortable with accepting changes big and small. I still counted in groups of two or three. The sequences brought me a sense of control and comfort.

No matter how far I had come in going with the flow and controlling only what I am able to, I never wanted my little sister sitting on the curb of our driveway to escape my parents’ screaming match to become a part of my routine. We had spent the last couple of nights eating dinner outside on the back porch, skating until the sun went down, and watching the sunset before the sky filled up with stars. This was the first time during our parents' fighting that I saw Max cry.

She was sitting on the curb next to our mailbox with her board in one hand and the other stroking the top of Lucy’s head as she lay down with her head in her lap. Bullet was standing guard with Nutmeg between his front legs, cleaning her face with her paws. As soon as our pets saw me, they perked up to welcome me back home.

“Hey, guys. Hey.” I gave them each a friendly pat on the head before I skidded my skates to a halt and stood on my toe stops before kneeling down to cup her face in my hands. Max didn’t even seem to notice for a moment until I wiped her tears off her cheek. Before I could say anything, she desperately wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder.

“Max, what’s going on? What’re you doing out here?”

“They’re fighting again.”

I could hear the muffled yelling coming from our childhood home. Whatever went down in there while I was at club, it wasn’t anything good.

Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to allow my sister or myself to be spectators in the middle of their shitstorm any longer. After I aggressively unlaced my skates and let my backpack carelessly drop on the lawn, I stood up.

“Stay here,” I told Max. Only Nutmeg followed after me. I marched toward the house with anger lit in my veins the same way gas would light when met with a match. The freshly watered grass soaked through my socks and chilled my feet. It helped me keep calm and grounded.

As I reached the front door, I focused my hearing on my parents’ conversation. Nutmeg rubbed on my legs and meowed at me to pick her up.

“You can’t keep doing this, Norman! You can’t keep making promises and breaking them when it’s convenient for you! You can’t keep fucking up and then come crawling back to me like that’s somehow going to fix everything! You need to do better! Be better! You need help!”

My breathing quickened and shallowed as I hugged Nutmeg closer to my chest. She nuzzled her face into my shoulder as she sensed my growing anxiety, but her actions did nothing to stop it from spreading in my lungs and head. I heard my Mom scream before; sometimes she would get frustrated parenting me and Max. But I’d never heard her like this before.

“Do you honestly think that's what I’m doing, Susan?! Do you think I’d rather drink until I black out instead of coming home to you and the girls?! I’m sorry that I’m hurting you, but I’m not going back! I’m not gonna be interrogated by a shrink just so they can punch my crazy card again and throw me in a padded cell!”

I knew very little about my Dad’s mental history. I figured it had something to do with what he saw during his time in the military.

“Maybe you should! Maybe you are crazy, Norm! I feel fucking crazy watching you rot for over a month! I’m not gonna watch you do this to yourself! I don’t deserve to see that, and neither do our girls!”

Maybe Mom was right. Maybe my Dad was crazy, but that didn’t mean it was okay to talk to him like his state of mind made him a bad person. I never saw either of them as bad people, but that was starting to change. Slowly, but surely, my sweaty palms wrapped around the doorknob and I turned it one, two, three times before I opened it.

“Do not bring them into this! Do you realize how hard it is keeping my shit together in front of them?! You should! You did the exact same thing to us! Don’t act like you haven’t! I am trying my best to be better for them! For both of them!”

“Well, your best isn’t enough, Norm!”

“STOP IT!”

They were so caught up in the heat of the moment that they didn’t even notice me open the door until my outburst. Nutmeg jumped out of my arms and pranced up the stairs. I had never seen either of my parents look so broken before, Not even after Mom lost her brother or when Dad had to bury his father. It was scary, to see this side of them.

“Mae-Mae. . .I. . .I didn’t know you were back, yet.”

Mom wiped the tears from her cheeks and stifled her breaking voice.

“Yeah, clearly,” I said, slamming the door and shaking the house around us. Somehow, it felt louder and more intense than when they were yelling.

Mom sat in the chair by the fireplace and turned away to pull herself together. Dad let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair before adjusting his glasses.

“Maevey, I know how this looks. I know I haven’t been. . .present for a while-”

“Yeah, no shit, Dad! Neither of you have!”

“Excuse me?” Mom practically leaped from her chair. “I have been making you dinner, doing your laundry, and driving you to and from all your little clubs! You will not talk to me that way!”

Here we go again; right to the Martyr role.

“Yeah, but when was the last time you’ve actually been here, Mom? Huh? Do you even remember what clubs I’m in? Do you even remember what I won the science fair for last week?”

Both of their eyes widened like this was the first time they were hearing about this.

“Honey, you were in the science fair?”

“Seriously, guys?!”

They were there; both of them. But I was so caught up with everything else happening that night. I didn’t realize in the midst of everything that Dad was so antisocial that he just stayed on the sidelines and occasionally come to my booth. Mom only came up to my booth once, going around to congratulate the other kids on all of their hard work instead of my own. 

They both took off after I won the blue ribbon, leaving me with a hollow ‘good job, Maeven’ before going back to fighting in the school parking lot. Why couldn’t they put their fighting on hold? Just for one night? They were so preoccupied with their sudden hatred for each other that caring for Max and I had become a chore, rather than a necessity. My parents might’ve been there, but they weren’t there . They weren’t present.

Mom rubbed her hands together, fiddling with her jewelry as she looked for the right words.

“Mae-Mae, we-”

“Don’t you ‘Mae-Mae’ me, Mom!” I pleaded with her, looking up at the ceiling and wondering what it would feel like to spontaneously combust just to escape this conversation.

“Max and I have been putting up with your shit, both of yours, for all our lives! But, this? This takes the cake.”

“Maeven, I know it's been hard seeing us fight, but I promise you, we’re working through it, okay? You and Max don’t have anything to worry about.”

It always came back to this point. We had this conversation many times in the last few months. I was tired of going around in circles. I was tired of them acting like we didn’t need to know what was happening to their marriage. I wasn’t a kid anymore, and neither was Max.

Before I knew it, I combusted. The brutal words mixed with the finger-pointing and dramatic gestures came out without warning. I probably looked like I was having a classic teenage girl tantrum; I didn’t recognize myself. It was as if I was floating outside my body, no longer in control and puppeteered by the past month of built-up frustration.

“Oh, bullshit! This is not ‘working through it, guys! This is chaos! Now will you just fucking fix your marriage or get a divorce all ready so Max and I don’t have to suffer anymore?! Jesus H. Fucking Christ!”

By the time I was given control of myself again, it took me a moment to realize what happened. It was the first time I had blacked out, and it would be far from the last time. I didn’t remember going back outside to sit next to Max. It was a scary sensation, but my body, heart and mind were hyper-focused on other things.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

At the sound of my sister's voice and the feeling of my hands absentmindedly running through Bullet’s fur, my thoughts suddenly weren’t so loud.

“You kinda spaced out there for a moment,” Max said, her hand joining mine to double Bullet’s reassuring pats. I wasn’t sure whether it was more soothing for us or for him.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, tilting my head back to look at the night sky and letting the soft breeze cool down my heated cheeks. I almost wished Dad would come out and sit with us to look at the stars as if it was just a normal night.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.”

I mentally slapped myself. Earlier that day, we had preached to each other about how sickened we were to be in the middle of Mom and Dad’s fights. It felt so hypocritical of me; to blow up like that while knowing Max could most likely hear my yelling, too. Until I felt the sudden urge to start breathing again and sniff, I didn’t even feel like I was crying.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have exploded like that, God, . .I’m just like them. . .No, I’m worse.” My voice was broken up. I sounded so pathetic. Max scooched over and leaned her head on my shoulder. I moved my arm around her as she slipped hers along my hip.

“No, you’re not,” she said, still recovering from her own crying fit from before I came home. “They had it coming.”

I breathlessly let out a laugh as ‘Call Block Tango’ crawled its way into my head. Never before had I felt so relieved and yet so angry. It was as if I just finished a long hike in the mountains and finally let my shoulders rest and stretch without a backpack on. But as I packed up my camp the next morning, I was painfully reminded that I still had a long way to go.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. I just. . .I didn’t know what else to do. . .”

“Do you really want them to get a divorce?”

At this point, I didn’t care what happened to them. I couldn’t picture what I wanted for us in the future. I just wanted all this bullshit to end.

“Yes? No? I don’t know, Max. I just. . .I just want the fighting to stop.”

“Yeah. . .me, too,” she sighed, letting her shoulders fall as she tilted her head up and her eyes met mine.

“Do you still believe her?” I asked.

“What?”

“Do you still believe Mom when she said Dad doesn’t love us?”

Max pondered for a moment, her eyes focusing on the way my evil-eye necklace sparkled in the sunset barely shining over the neighborhood. She had the same look in her eye she got when planning her next move in a family game of Monopoly.

“No. I don’t think I even did before.”

“Good. Mom still loves us, too. Y’know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. . .I mean, God knows she tells us all the damn time.”

As much of a hard-ass our Mom could be, a day never went by where she didn’t tell us how much she loved us. Dad made sure to remind us, too, but had fallen out of practice the more time he spent away from us. He didn’t see us enough to tell us.

“Why don’t they love each other anymore?”

I knew that wasn’t true to a degree. Mom and Dad were no longer fit to be partners, but that didn’t erase the life they built together. Max and I were living proof of that.

“I wish I knew, Squirt.”

People fell out of love all the time. It happened every day. It just wasn’t as preached as much as the ‘happily ever after’ narrative. The divorce rate was currently skyrocketing ever since ‘no-fault divorce’ was legalized in the mid-70s. Until then, domestic violence wasn’t considered a valid reason for divorce. It wasn’t a bad thing that it was finally able to those who really needed it and then some. I just never thought my family would need it, too.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“Whose fault is it, then?”

Max’s question wasn’t one that could be answered simply. She was just starting puberty, just starting to learn that the world wouldn’t be simple from here on out. People shouldn’t be so romanticized. People were. . .complicated, to say the least. I guess that was why I preferred to find comfort in the study of flora and fauna. Everything else in nature made sense but humans.

“No ones, Max. They didn’t want to hurt each other, it just. . .happened.”

I barely believed my own words. I knew their fighting had nothing to do with us. But I also knew how easy it was to feel like it was your fault when you were stuck in the middle of it all.

“They seem to want to hurt each other right now.”

“Because they’re scared. I don’t blame them. I’m scared, too.”

“Yeah. . .what’s gonna happen to us?”

I was so naive to think everything would always stay the same, to think that my family was untouchable to tragedy. The only thing I was certain of was that I wasn’t going to let the impending divorce break what my sister and I had with each other. All I could do was give her a hug and be as truthful with her as she could handle.

“I. . .I don’t know. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

The divorce didn’t break us. Everything that followed afterward did.

. . .

19 Months Later

No matter how difficult it was hauling her entire life across the country, Maeven was probably the only one who saw the move to Indiana as a good thing. Of course, Susan and Neil were the ones who wanted it the most from the beginning. They had a chance to start a whole new life together, far away from the painful troubles and annoying inconveniences in California; far away from Norman Mayfield and the threat he posed to the newly blended family. Neil didn’t like the idea of being challenged that way. And he absolutely loathed the thought of his bride’s ex-husband still having a big influence on his new family

Susan wanted this for her daughters, too. The Mayfield sisters have always had trouble fitting in, of course. They both shared a tendency to not be properly labeled by others. Maeven had so many interests to keep up with, and Max practically danced on the spectrum of being a tomboy on one side and a ‘proper girl’ on the opposite. Susan hoped the move from the big city to small-town America would possibly. . .straighten them out, as she and Neil liked to put it. They all needed a fresh start. Maeven, especially.

The nineteen months that followed her parents’ divorce were a blur of unhealthy coping mechanisms, illegal activities, soul-crushing trauma, and a lot of therapy and pills. Her good clean reputation as an eccentric honors student had mutated into one carved with violence and pain. Repeating her Junior Year at Newport High after everyone witnessed her at her most vulnerable and angry felt like a death sentence. Maeven saw the move to Indiana as a clean slate, a blank canvas; a chance to find peace and start over where nobody had to know of her past sins.

Besides, she no longer felt like she belonged in California. There just wasn’t a place for her there, anymore. It was her home for such a long time, but it no longer felt that way. It now felt tainted and ruined, just like she had become. Maeven no longer felt like herself, and was convinced that she had to find herself again no matter where the road took her. All she knew was she wouldn’t find what she was looking for in California. Plus, the increase in population made her want to crawl into a hole like a wild animal and wait or all the chaos to die down.

Of course, Billy and Max objected to the move. Both of them had their own lives to live in California. It wasn’t fair to just uproot them without asking how they’d hypothetically feel first. It wasn’t fair to force them to uproot their lives so their parents could live a fantasy they never wanted a part in. The whole charade gave them another reason to hate each other; something they didn’t want but couldn’t help once Susan and Neil made up their minds. But Maeven? She had nothing that tied her there, apart from her friends, Dad, and pets; all the things Susan and Neil convinced her that she didn’t need in order to be happy.

The newly blended Hargrove/Mayfield family spent the second to last week of September moving east across eight states and directing a team of movers to move furniture and boxes into their new home. The house on Cherry Street was a few miles away from downtown Hawkins; a nice, upper-middle-class neighborhood tucked amidst the trees. Maeven was excited to explore the woods that lay across the street from them and discover the creatures who inhabited it.  She could already picture herself finding a particularly interesting tree, plant, or creature to fill her sketchbook with. The cicadas were still chirping, so they’d probably be the easiest to sketch. If she was quiet and lucky enough, maybe she’d cross paths with an owl or fox.

In between helping with moving boxes and furniture, Maeven and Max skated on their new driveway and around the neighborhood despite their mother’s protests. Billy dropped the sisters off closer to town in his Camaro after Neil practically forced him to. As they explored downtown Hawkins, they managed to find an arcade connected to a video rental place. Seriously. How bad could this place really be if it had an arcade?

Max spent the next two hours working her magic, adding her name to the top of the scoreboards on each game she had already beaten back in California. Maeven snuck around to the alley behind the building to smoke a couple of hits of a joint before going back inside to lose herself amongst the 8-bit shooting noises. She shoved her face with strawberry Fanta and cool-ranch Doritos, buzzed on sugar, carbs, and weed as she hyper-focused on topping the Galaga scoreboard with IRNMVN.

The first week exploring their new home felt like heaven to Maeven. It was really the first time she truly felt at peace in over a year. Despite the abrupt adjustment from city living to small-town America, and the strange vibe she felt from Hawkins, she found her new home comforting and charming.

The last nineteen months of Maeven’s life had been a hazy blur of school scandals, bullying drugs, fighting, and police mixed with pills, mental institutions, isolation, and trauma, just to name a few. It all blended together to make up a cocktail of ups and downs, misery and pleasure. She was once on the honor roll at Newport High School, well on her way to becoming the Valedictorian of her class. Now, Maeven would have to repeat her Junior Year at Hawkins High. Indiana was a chance for her to start over; a place where no one knew of her or her past sins.

She was tired in every sense of the word; physically, mentally, emotionally. All she really wanted was not to be the center of attention like she was before. Maeven just wanted to be normal for a while, even if she wasn’t. At the very least, she wanted to be as normal as she could be. All she had to do was follow a very specific set of rules; put in place to build herself back up.

(1). Don’t be a slut

(2). Act like the smart, athletic girl she was inside

(3). Be herself, but also blend into the crowd. Don’t stand out too much,

(4). Don’t be Weird.

(5). Don’t let them find out what happened to you in California.

The last rule was easier said than done. But Billy would help her just like he always did. He was always there for her.

Maeven and Billy knew each other long before their parents started dating each other. They were classmates since sixth grade but didn’t really talk to each other until High School when Maeven started going through her rebellious phase after her parents got divorced. After all the fighting and verbally humiliating the bullies and jocks, and the snarky attitude she had with both teachers and students during class, Maeven caught Billy’s attention.

He approached her at a party, one of the last weekend ones before the end of sophomore year. She was relaxed in a lounge chair by the pool, smoking a joint and staring up at the stars. Billy unintentionally startled her before asking if he could share with her. She accepted. In between passing the joint to each other, they talked about anything and everything they could until the cops came to shut the party down. They didn’t really have any other choice but to scatter off together.

Amidst all the panic, Maeven climbed inside Billy’s Camaro and they sped off together. They probably should’ve gone home, but somehow ended up going on a long drive to a point on the mountains that looked out over the vastness of San Diego. Although they never told each other, both of them secretly wished the night would never end. The longer they talked, the tighter the tension grew before it turned into a warm tenderness they found in each other’s bodies, hearts, and minds. Billy and Maeven stayed awake together until the sun started peaking over the horizon that early Sunday morning. He made sure to savor the moment, brushing the sweat and weed from her lips to taste her one more time before she walked into her friend’s house.

Up until that night, Maeven had never seen Billy as anything more than an asshole; he was a showoff and a bully, and proud of it, too. But he could also be charming and soft when he wanted to. And for some reason, he felt safe enough to be so around her. The fact that he complimented her sudden new ability to ‘kick ass and take no shit and look super hot at the same time.’ And apparently, her ass looked really good when she skated. Maeven thought she had all the jocks properly pegged, but she noticed how Billy’s baby blue eyes had a dark sadness behind them. He was carrying a pain in his heart and soul all too similar to the one she had just taken on; his parents were divorced, too. Although, the circumstances of his situation were much worse than hers.

His mother abandoned him when he was eleven, not able to deal with her husband’s abuse toward her anymore. Before his dad started raising his fist at her, Billy’s mother was a gorgeous, loving mother to her son. In some odd way, Maeven reminded him of her. Despite the freckles and the wild red hair, she was bright, warm, and full of unconditional love, according to his fond, yet fading memory of her. He ended up being a pleasant surprise.

Of course, Billy wasn’t someone Maeven would’ve normally hung out with. She felt like he got her. They felt like they got each other. He looked at her like she was the only other person in the world. She loved his sun-yellow mullet that reminded her of a lion’s mane and could rarely ever stop herself from weaving her fingers through it. He didn’t mind in the least. Billy didn’t care about Maeven’s quirks and fidgets or cringed at the gap between her teeth as he kissed her. He made her feel safe; a special feeling of safe that she hadn’t felt since her dad moved to San Fransisco.

The fact that he knew the exact right way to make her scream his name as he fucked her hard into the cushions didn’t hurt, either. He was fast and hard-edged like his Camaro; he meant business. Maeven was Billy’s dirty little secret, and he was hers. And they liked it to stay that way. But once they officially became family, things got a whole lot harder.

Max was suspicious from the start of how close they were. Billy didn’t seem like the kind of person Maeven would be friends with. He could be a dick, and she was definitely frightened of him and what he could do. She was already forced to witness him burning a dead cat and berating her on a daily basis, among other things. Maeven had yet to find out that he was the one who broke the arm of one of Max’s best friends in San Diego. Then again, Max wasn’t really certain she wanted her big sister to know. And despite everything, Billy was really growing on her. She liked the idea of having a big brother, even if it might take longer for him to properly fill the role and all it entailed.

Maeven took every precaution to make sure Max didn’t know about her relationship with Billy. Her little sister was already dealing with her life being uprooted and relocated away from everything she knew and loved. Finding out her big sister, her idol was fucking their new step-brother would be heartbreaking. She didn’t need more chaos in her life. Once Maeven found out last November the Neil dating her mom was indeed Neil Hargrove, she immediately broke things off with Billy. Obviously, they didn’t stay that way. And after what happened to her last New Year’s Eve, she needed him more than ever.

By the time the movers finished unpacking, the sun had set far west enough so that the sky was both warm and cool at the same time. As Maeven sat next to the woods across the house to smoke, the cicadas’ chirps rang throughout the late summer hair. Susan and Neil were fast asleep by now after an exhausting day of the finishing steps of their moving process. They were way too braindead to throw a tantrum over Maeven smoking to help with her anxiety and sleep disorders. She knew neither Billy nor Max would tattle on her. Neither of them cared. In fact, Maeven made sure to put her blunt out whenever her sister came within six feet of her. They wouldn’t narc on her for a drug ten times less harmless than what she used to use. 

Despite all the painful detoxing that she went through while in recovery, smoking pot had always remained Maeven’s best vice. The very act of it made her feel like she was drifting in a warm ocean, safely guarded by a pod of orcas and whale sharks. Weed was a hell of a lot better than snorting cocaine or popping pills like candy. How bad could it really be for her if it grew from the fucking ground? Besides, she knew better now than to even think about doing drugs that hardcore.

Before she left for Indiana, Maeven’s best friend and former dealer, Madison, gifted her an altoid tin filled with her legendary hand-rolled joints. They were famous around Newport High for how fat they were and how big of a buzz they gave the smoker. The matriarch of her family owned an off-the-grid farm in the heart of the Emerald Triangle. Norman Mayfield was a good friend of theirs and didn’t care if his daughter wanted to self-medicate at his house in California. After ashing her joint with the toe of her boot one, two, three times for good luck, Maeven went back inside. The voices finally managed to quiet down in her head enough for her to feel like she could get to sleep easily. Her stash wouldn’t last forever, though. Even if no one could replace Madison, she would have to investigate and find Hawkins’ resident dealer soon.

Maeven secretly envied everyone else in the house and their bodies' ability to rest without needing any extra help. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept without the assistance of 40mg of melatonin, some tea with honey, and a joint or two before bed. Thoughts of wanting nothing more than eternal sleep always lingered in her mind.

Her new room was barren of any personality save for the muted blueberry floral rug and her quilted bedspread with warm technicolored squares covering her full-sized bed. How soft the mattress was as she threw herself down face-first was all that Maeven had the energy for. She didn’t even bother trying to get under the covers properly. It was too warm that evening to curl up like that, but the breeze blowing softly through the open windows felt so nice on her bare skin.

Not feeling Nutmeg curl up on the bed by her feet or on her side was still strange. Maeven didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that, Nutmeg was with her Dad, along with Bullet and Lucy, back in San Francisco. Of course, Maeven and Max wanted to bring their beloved kitty with them when they moved. But Neil would never allow it. And after the incident with Billy setting fire to a dead cat’s corpse without hesitation, Max convinced her sister that she was safer in California. Maeven could understand the anxiety that moment must’ve given her, but Billy would never kill an animal in cold blood like that. Would he?

She didn’t even realize until the mattress dipped to her right and felt him curl his body to fill against hers that Billy managed to sneak in her room unnoticed. His sudden presence made Maeven flinch, but she melted back into his almost immediately as he ghosted his stubble-kissed lips against the nape of her neck to coax a giggle out of her.

“Hey, Dollface. . .” he whispered into her hair, sending a shiver down her back.

“Hey, yourself, Big Guy. . .” she mumbled, shifting in place to face him through her sleepy, probably bloodshot eyes. Billy pulled her tighter against him, gently gripping her knee to hook her leg around his hip.

“You feeling alright? Can smell the pot on you,” he asked, stroking Maeven’s bare thigh.

“I’m good, Billy, just needed to chill.”

“And you didn’t invite me?” he playfully accused, pressing his lips to hers as if to get a secondhand high off the taste of pot lingering on her mouth. Or maybe just because he trembled at the comforting taste of her body

“I thought you were sleeping. The house was so quiet,” she laughed, burying her hands in his golden-yellow locks. Billy’s hand traveled to her shoulders, tenderly kneading against the knots. Maeven let out a slight hiss.

“You’re so tense, Doll,” Billy whispered, nuzzling his face in the junction between her neck and shoulder, tickling her with his beard.

Maeven already knew where he was hoping this would lead. She knew him too long to not notice his telltale signs of arousal. She could already feel his erection growing as he rutted against the front of her underwear. He knew that smoking weed could make her libido rise quickly, always making sure to try and seize the open opportunity to relieve each others’ stress.

“Yeah, heavy lifting for a week will do that to you,” Maeven innocently answered, but Billy wasn’t one to easily pick up on hints.

“Think you can stay quiet for me, baby?” His hand on her thigh crept upward to squeeze one of her ass-cheeks

“Nuh-uh. Keep those hands to yourself. It’s too hot.”

“Mmm-hmm. . .and we can make things even hotter.”

As delicious as his offer was, she couldn’t. Maeven wanted nothing more than to lean into his sinful touches and let the overwhelming intrusive compulsions win. But she was tired. And even if an orgasm could help her with her insomnia, she had been doing so well compartmentalizing her dark thoughts and compulsions. 

“Sorry, Big Guy. I’m too tired. . .too sore.”

His hands stopped just above the waistband of Maeven’s sleep shorts before profoundly sighing. Billy was the one out of both of them who actually liked to give in to their impulses, but he always stopped when she wanted him to. 

Whenever Maeven blacked out, she had the tendency to obey every intrusive thought that poisoned her mind. She often entered a fight-or-flight state of mind, like a wild animal being hunted. In those moments, she wasn’t a person any longer. She was a monster; the one they always told her she was.

Billy sat up on Maeven’s bed and leaned over to the wooden side table, grabbing something she didn’t see him bring in before.

“Brought ya some water, thought you might be thirsty.”

He offered her now full water bottle that she didn’t even notice was missing from her room. Maeven sat up and took it, not realizing until just now how parched she was. She ended up drinking down half her bottle, just in case Cottonmouth got the better of her later in the night. Ever since she was hospitalized for dehydration, Maeven didn’t mess around when it came to water.

“Ever the gentleman,” she thanked him, closing her bottle before leaning over Billy to put it back on the table. She suddenly felt extraordinarily drowsy and dizzy, closing her eyes to escape it as she leaned on Billy’s torso for support.

“You sure you don’t need a massage, baby?” he asked, tenderly rubbing the small of her back.

She rolled her closed eyes at him, not wanting him to be right and also not fully trusting him to curb his lustful appetite. But Maeven would be able to sleep better without her body being so pent up.

“. . .okay, fine,” she murmured, rolling off of Billy and onto her stomach on the bed next to him so he could get better access to her back. Almost as soon as his hands started loosening the knots in her shoulders, Maeven moaned into her pillow as she felt her mind drifting away.

“That’s it, Dollface. Just let me take care of you,” were the last words she heard from Billy as his hands traveled down her body, sneaking their way across her hips.

When you look at someone you think the world of through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags are practically invisible. But Maeven wasn’t able to see them until it was almost too late for her.

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who showed love on the preview for this chapter! It's uplifting and refreshing knowing that people are actually interested in my work. Let me know what you think about the first chapter, what you like, and what you might wanna see.

Thumbs up to those who can name the songs where all my chapter titles come from. If you wanna be added to the tag list for this fic, let me know down below!

The Spitfire Curse Taglist:

@yaidothat

[kidnickgames]

KID NICK UPDATE I have recently been pretty silent about my games, both new and existing, even though my life has been substantially less busy over the last few months. I feel like I've been neglecting being "in the TTRPG community" to the small extent I already was, but I'm also happier and saner than I was when I was regularly checking in and occasionally commenting on TTRPG Twitter. Which is a trade-off I'll make any day!

NEW GAMES

I know it's an internet creator cliche, but I have several WIPs that I'm really excited about, and they're all at different levels of completion. It's Time is a GM-led dungeon crawl through an infinitely tall tower. It's my first game that really feels like it's about something and it's designed to make you feel certain ways and it's basically done save for some actual dungeon content. That'll probably stay as a digital-only game but should release soon! Card Hearts is a GM-led card-batting TTRPG set in a world where all conflict is resolved through trading card game battles. Players use playing card decks with cards that awaken into powerful unique trading cards at moments of tension and desperation. I've designed the card battling game, all ~200 cards for it, and have a framework of the rules, but I want this game to have stellar art and it's going to require a lot of it. Expect an artless "demo" version of this sometime in the next few months, maybe? It's the project I'm most excited about but it's daunting.

You Teach Me is a GM-less game for 2 players exploring the power dynamics and odd friendship of a trademark-agnostic master tamer and their battling monster. One player is the tamer, a human who issues battle commands to their best friend. The other player is the intelligent but speechless monster, who does the battling and receives that injuries but isn't the one who calls the shots. I have the framework for this one but need to fill it in- it'll incorporate some co-op strategy, as well. I'd like to have a physical release of this. Finally, while I do have other TTRPG projects that with some level of development behind them, I'm also working on a video game with a friend. It's in super early stages, but it is taking up a big chunk of my time. More on that to come, hopefully? EXISTING GAMES Did you know I put out a new game earlier this year? Probably not, because I put it out under a pen name for brand and vulnerability reasons. Well, to hell with that; please go check out Tabletop Foreplaying Game! Hometown Holiday and The NPC Phonebook are both available as physical zines through Indie Press Revolution! If you're going to Gen Con (like me! I'll be there!), you can go to the IPR booth and buy Hometown Holiday in person! And finally, all my games are available digitally, including the tumblr post-inspired, played-in-Smash-Bros TTRPG smallroom shorttimer bigquestions ultimate and the free Gawrsh Quest! Fun fact about Gawrsh Quest- I met Bill Farmer, voice of Goofy, at Gen Con last year and told him I made a horror game where everyone is a different version of Goofy. He seemed legitimately delighted to hear about it! STREAMING

Idk I miss streaming but my internet has just gotten worse and worse and it just hasn't been sustainable. Maybe one day soon I'll try again.

Thanks for reading this life and project update! Do me a favor and hold me to this- let me know if any of these projects excite you!

[screamqueenkrueger]

I meant to post this earlier, but the weekend really sucked the life out of me.

How do I begin something like this? I'm not usually one for writing story times about the things I do. Nothing seems interesting enough for that.

And maybe to a lot of people this isn't either.

But a dream of mine came true this weekend, and this is how it all went down

3 months ago my poor coworker thought he was bringing me exciting news, and he was! I was just not mentally prepared for it.

"Robert Englund is coming to Indy in August!"

"Fuck!" I started to panic, I almost cried, I scrambled to check dates. I was staffing another con at the end of August. Could I make it work? I hadn't saved any money!

Whew HorrorHound was the weekend before the con I staff, I could squirell enough money away for his signatures, now it was time to just stew in the intermitten anxiety for the next 3 months. Would I actually get to meet him this time? Would I make it? Or would I be too little too late again? Would he do another con after this one? Is this my last chance? I don't know the lay out, where he'll be. The VIP passes had already sold out. I got early entry, but would that be enough?

Sooner than I thought possible the time was upon me. I'd had art I'd draw printed out, ready for him to sign, and I had my fursuit head I wanted him to sign as well.

Only one problem. I had to go alone. The Husband had army obligations. The aforementioned coworker could only come with me on Saturday. I had to face this task on my own. Normally I'm a little ball of anxiety, but Robert was all I wanted. I could do it for him.

So Friday I get up, already buzzing with anxiety. Early entry doesn't open until 4 so I have some time to prepare, and as I have a fee errands that could be ran, and busy myself with that, instead of sitting around and staring at the clock. I take, maybe, a little too long. By the time I get to the convention center it's around 3:45 and the place is already packed.

Uh oh.

Well this is okay. As long as I hustle I can make it to Robert's line. It's going to be a long wait, but that's okay. That's what I'm here for.

Nothing else matters to me but getting in front of Robert Englund.

At exactly 4 the line starts moving in. They have a pretty organized and we go in one section of line at a time. As soon as I'm in the vendor hall I hustle my ass as fast as I can power walk to the back. I didn't run. I probably should have, but lord help me if I had fallen.

But there he is! His line isn't cut off! Maybe this is it! My heart is pounding. I love to stand to what I perceive as the back of the line then...oh no...staff are approaching me.

"Are you hear for Robert Englund?"

"Yes" I say, holding my fursuit head tighter to my chest. Please don't tell me I have to leave. I'll wait as long as I can. Is all I can think in that moment.

Thankfully he just gently ushered me and a few others out into the hallway. They were moving the line out there so that the vendor hall wasn't too crowded. I was relieved they would allow me to still wait, and I was near the front of this line! And so commenced the waiting.

I made small talk with a few of my line mates. It was going to be an eternity, so I figured it may be a good idea to make friends. And I do! The group in front of me really liked my fursuit head. I showed them a picture of what the rest of him looked like, and explained how he was inspired my Freddy Krueger, and that I wanted Robert to sign one of his horns. One of the women had actual stills from Freddy Vs Jason in a frame that she was going to have Robert sign. That blew me out of the water. How rad was that!

As a group, we settled in for the long wait. Every inch we moved felt like a mile, and once we were in the line at Robert's booth, it felt like we had cleared a giant hurtle, but the wait was just beginning. We passed the time talking about what we really enjoyed about horror movies, what scared us the most, and what obscure movies we had seen and really liked. It was hard watching those who had gotten VIP tickets wait a fraction of what we had until then, with a mile of a line still in front of us.

At some point, Robert had to leave for photo ops. Some people left, but a majority of us stayed. This group of people were some of the nicest I'd ever met, people were walking in and out of the line, able to come back because their line mates agreed to hold their spot in line for them. While he was gone we were told to get comfortable, so we did.

I think this is one of my favorite memories from this weekend. 3 of us settled down, aitting on the floor, I'd said if my phone weren't half dead I'd play a Nightmare on Elm St. for us. The woman beside me said, "Mine's at 90%!" So she turned on the movie and since I was in the middle I held the phone so that we could watch. At one point another woman peeked through the curtain.

"Which one are you watching? I heard the music!"

We told her the first one and we all laughed that she recognized the movie from the sound ahead of us in line, and that we were watching a movie while waiting to meet Mr. Krueger himself.

An hour later Robert was back, so we got back on our feet. Time was creeping closer and closer to the close of the convention. I was so close by now, about halfway, but I was beginning to get anxious all over again. What if it moved too slow? He had to stop signing at somepoint. There were still VIP people waiting to be seen, taking time away from us, the peasants.

I couldn't be too mad at them, though. I'd have been one of them if the tickets hadn't sold out. We were still moving, so I tried to focus on how close we were getting. The guy in front of us at one point turned around and said, "I think it's going to happen guys."

We were one line length away at this point and my heart was really pounding now. He was there. I could see him. Hear him speak. The friend I'd made in line was so sweet, rubbing my back, telling me I'd be alright. I didn't quite feel like it, but I knew she was right.

Then we were at his table. I paid for my autographs, watching the guy in front of me get his things signed, and knew this was it! He was right in front of me. My friend asked me if I wanted to give her my phone so she could take pictures. All I could say was "no I'm good! I just wanna be in the moment!" Truthfully I was shaking and so scared I'd fumble my phone and drop it. She took pictures on her own phone and sent them to me on Facebook. She was so sweet and I am so thankful for her.

IT HAPPENED.

5 and a half hours later I was standing in front of Robert Englund. I had the art I'd agonized over for months out and when I slid it in from of him I almost couldn't believe this was happening.

"I drew it myself." I told him, so giddy I sounded like a child. I was handing the love of my life my own art for him to sign, and I'd gotten a second printed out to give him.

"This is amazing work." He said, silver sharpie gliding his name across my work. I was on the moon. "This one is for me?" He clarified, sliding the second copy out.

"Yes," I told him. My smile was so wide it hurt. I set my fursuit head on the table after he'd carefully set aside his copy.

"Now this is a first." Did I make Robert Englund say that? I sure did! Light of my life! Man of my dreams!

He signed my fursuit head and handed it back. I said thank you, then wobbled off. My dream had coke true! I am just so thankful I got to meet this horror legend. This man helped shape the horror we enjoy today, and I am simply blessed to have been able to share this moment in time with him. I only wish I had been more maybe a decade or two earlier.