#and they found some magic stuff in their attic

[tristinian]

One of my early trans memories was when my mum gave me a book of short stories called “A Girl Named Francesca” and it was about a girl named Francesca. Anyways one of the stories was about one time she gave herself a haircut and butchered it so badly her parents had to cut it off. And because her hair was short now they were making jokes about her being a boy now and having to call her Frances. And god I think that did something to me because that was my favourite short story in that entire book because I loved the idea of having a haircut and being seen as a boy and being called a boys name. Totally cis behaviour

[ckret2]

I believe I remember a post you wrote once, as an answer to an ask maybe, where you mentioned that you forgot not everyone has a clear mental map of the Mystery Shack's layout as you do, and some people were confused about what floors existed and how you were writing characters coming from where. I wanted to check the post again since iirc you explained or described some stuff in there, but I can't find it >_< I was mostly wondering, does the Mystery Shack have a basement that isn't connected to the elevator, and is this where Ford's room is, or is it in the ground floor? I feel like I see people treat the shack like it has 3 floors completely separate from everything the elevator leads to but I might also just be confused

i'm not gonna put the effort into digging that post back up but you're in luck because the basements weren't addressed in that post so it wouldn't have helped anyway!!!

Yes, the Mystery Shack DOES have another room that appears to be a basement, separate from THE basement with the elevator where the portal is! We see it in Bottomless Pit:

We never see how this room connects to the rest of the shack so we can't guarantee that it's underground. But the concrete-looking floor, plain cracked walls, bare bulb, exposed pipes, utilitarian hot water heater & washing machine, and very high window all scream "basement."

I personally call this room "the cellar" to distinguish it from THE basement.

We never fully see the wall that would be to Soos's left, so we aren't SURE that there's no additional doors down there, but there's no evidence of any.

As to where Ford's room is, it depends on which of Ford's rooms you mean. If you mean Ford's room as in the one that was revealed in The Last Mabelcorn, it's part of the elevator basement levels:

But you probably don't mean that one since we see them taking the elevator down to it.

If you mean the one revealed in Carpet Diem, it's somewhere in the main house:

Both the room itself and the hallway outside the room have normal large windows, preventing the room from being underground; and the room has a tilted ceiling with sunbeams coming through, indicating it's directly under the roof.

A complication: we don't know where the staircase on the left goes and there's no sensible place to put it based on what we do know about the house's layout. But that's the case with several locations in the house.

Based on the map we have of the house, this room is likely the "study." Notice that the shape of the hall leading to the room (dead ending against an outer wall) and the fact that there's a hall on the side of it lines up with the study's location; even if the staircase doesn't lol.

The reason a lot of people headcanon the shack has three stories is because the first floor's fully accounted for with these blueprints, (the three unlabeled rooms are the entryway, kitchen, and office), there's nothing in the attic but an open floor and the kids' room, and yet there's multiple rooms we have no location for (Stan's bedroom, the storage room the wax figures were found in, ANY of the bathrooms). The doylist explanation is that the showrunners wanted the shack to be a little magical with a confusing layout (up until they dropped these blueprints) so it doesn't always make internal sense; but if you want a watsonian explanation for where those rooms were, "second floor" is the easiest.

[writefandoms]

Boo Boo

Adrian Tepes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After a small fight, you two make up in the oddest of ways.

Sculpted by the gods. That’s the best way to describe the dhampir, Adrian Tepes.

He always scoffs when you say stuff like that. But the pink that dusts his pale cheeks is enough to keep the compliments flowing.

Love is a powerful word to describe your feelings for one another. Too powerful- it makes you a bit clammy thinking about it. Four letters but enough to break a person's entire being.

Adrian isn’t as in tune with his emotions as he may like to appear. Either pushing them away, or letting them devour him completely. No in between. Not the healthiest individual, but neither were you.

That’s what makes this all the more terrifying. Working to better yourselves, for each other. Wanting to be a healthier, more open minded person. Together- for each other.

It’s kind of romantic, wanting to change for the better.

Baby steps at first, beginning with drinking more water and eating healthier. Adrian constantly nags you for all the junk you eat, so you allow him to cook whatever he deems “proper cuisine”.

For Adrian, he’s working on relaxing. As bizarre as that sounds, trying to wrestle the man down for an afternoon nap is almost impossible. Now for a half hour a day, he has to either meditate or nap. No reading, or eating, or whatever mindless hobby he’s picked up. Just sitting there, alone with his thoughts.

This little self help duo you formed has been going well for the most part. Up until he showed up.

It wasn’t a big surprise when newcomers came to the little village Adrian founded. Most of them are stragglers, wandering from town to town then leaving after a few nights. And sometimes, rarely, they even come to have dinner in the castle.

He said his name was ‘Owen’, but after the stunt he pulled you’re not even sure that was his real name.

It was your idea to invite him over for dinner, after he told you a sob story about his awful travels and the loss of his parents. Pity invite, but an invite nonetheless.

“Lovely home you got.” His eyes roamed the beautiful interior.

“Thanks but it’s not mine. Adrian’s father passed it down to him.”

“You don’t say.” Even then you should have noticed his wandering eyes.

Dinner went well, he talked about his parents and seemed like a genuinely decent guy. Someone who’s had shit luck and needed to see that there was still goodness in the world.

Well that genuine nature turned out to be a load of horseshit. He wandered off to “take a leak” and you both found him in the attic, trying to swipe some magic weapons. He panicked and grabbed a nearby dagger, swinging it at you. It only nicked you but Adrian beat him to a pulp. You don’t know if the man would be alive if you weren’t there.

After kicking him out and threatening him never to return, it’s been tense between you both. He’s clearly upset but refuses to say anything. Adrian’s always been a bit cautious about inviting guests into the castle, for good reason- Dracula’s castle is known by many.

Laying back to back in the darkness of your shared bedroom is not how you wanted to spend the night. He never lays on his side, claiming it’s better for blood circulation to lay flat on your back- so you know for sure he’s angry. Plus the small dramatic sighs he keeps letting out.

“Are you gonna talk about it or keep sighing all night?” The silent treatment was not part of your self improvement journeys.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Good night.” It's curt and full of attitude.

Sitting up quickly, you look at him. He feels you shifting but makes no move to face you.

“Adrian.”

Nothing.

“Adrian, talk to me.”

Still nothing.

“Fine.”

The feeling of weight lifting off the bed has his attention, as he peeks over his shoulder to watch you grabbing your pillows.

“Where are you going?” He’s sitting up now, watching you clutch your pillow on a journey to the door.

“Sleeping in the guest room.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Adrian you’ve been an ass to me all day. You’re acting like you’re the one who got attacked!”

He looks at your wrapped forearm, sighing and laying back down.

“If you had listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, so now you want to say shit.” Throwing the pillows at the foot of the bed, and crossing your arms. “As if you haven’t invited plenty of people over to the castle.”

“I have not.” The accusation has him sitting up on his elbows, furrowed brow.

“That couple from Lupu?”

“His wife was pregnant.”

“Those kids from Salo?”

“They were too young to be adventuring into the woods at night.”

“That cute guy from Hanna?”

“He was… very hungry.” Fumbling and struggling to keep eye contact.

“And cute.”

Adrian huffs in anger, the pout on his face would be upsetting if it weren’t so adorable.

“And now one bad apple comes through, after a couple dozen good ones.”

Crawling up the bed on all fours has him shifting up a bit. Almost like prey under a predator.

Finally stopping once you’re fully straddling his thighs, knees slightly bent making a perfect seat for your ass.

“You’re being a real arse to me, when I got a boo boo.” You hold up your arm like a wounded animal, giving a small pout.

He takes the bait and gently grasps your wrist, bringing the bandage to his lips. Ever so careful, his lips put barely any pressure on your wound.

“Perhaps…” Adrian pulls his lips away, “I have been a bit of a ‘jerk’.”

“Mmhmm.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

It’s a sweet request, pure even. He’s giving you a look filled with adoration and love. Mouth slightly agape revealing his pearly whites, two fangs one display. Cupping his cheek makes him gulp, the look in your eye making him equal parts nervous and excited.

“I can think of a few things.”

Leaning down, planting a kiss on his jawline, then along his neck, reaching his shoulder. No time to process what’s happening, you dig your teeth into the skin showing from his nightgown.

“Ah!” That cry wasn’t one of surprise, but pleasure.

“There, now we both have boo boos.” The joke doesn’t process with him, too busy panting - eyes not focused on anything.

“You okay?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him. Based on the hardness pressed against your panties, he’s more than okay.

“You liked that?” He only nods, words failing.

He’s too much, and not enough. The pink flush across his cheeks, twitching between his thighs, and soft pants- wetness already damping your underwear.

Hand creeps up his back, landing snuggly in his hair at the base of his head. One small tug and he folds, granting access to the expanse of his neck. Wasting no time, you sink your teeth into the unmarked skin. Not enough to bruise, but it leaves a ring of small crescents. But that's not enough, for either of you.

One bite turns into two, then three, soon his neck is almost as pink as his cheeks. The last bit is the hardest, even when he cries out in pleasure, you don't pull away. Instead giving a small suck to the abused skin.

“Oh- ahh…” He falls back, your weight on top of him. Back of his hand flies up to his mouth, trying to silence some of the cries leaving him.

“When we agreed to try new things, I never had this in mind.”

“Quiet.” He tries to be intimidating, but fails completely.

“Seems like you’re the one making all the noise.” All it takes is small thrusts against his dick to get him squirming again.

Reaching down to rub him through the nightgown, his cock leaving a small wet patch on the fabric.

“P-please…” he whimpers, and just the desperation alone has you throbbing. “Touch me.”

“I am, pretty boy.”

“Don’t be annoying.” he glares, at least tries to. The rubbing becomes full on jerking, making his leg kick a bit. Like he’s full of energy that needs to be released somehow.

Shifting off him, and laying beside him. Pulling the gown up to reveal his muscular thighs and dripping cock. Small veins travel up the shaft, leaking pink tip revealed, twitching and begging for stimulation.

“Wanna come?” These two words have him nodding eagerly, shame is the last thing on his mind right now.

Starting to jerk him off again, and his reaction is immediate. Nothing but a jumble of ‘yes’ and ‘more’.

But once your hand slows to a complete halt, his eyes snap open, irritated.

“I was close.”

“I know.”

Moving down the bed until your mouth is by his crotch, planting a kiss on his weeping tip.

“But I wanted you to finish in my mouth…” his dick twitches, but you still ask, “Is that alright?”

To which he nods so fast he might have pulled something.

Smirking as you bring your lips back to his cock, giving the shaft a few kitten licks, gouging his reaction.

“You wanna come for me, Adrian?” Sucking on his tip, saltiness filling your mouth.

“F-fuck! Yes!” His head tosses side to side, blonde hair splayed against the pillow. Such a lovely sight.

“Good boy.”

[sharenadraculea]

Fem!Primarch Au Ideas

Lion El‘Jonson: Is sligthly better at social stuff. Which might just be that it‘s more socially more acceptable on Caliban for a unmarried woman to refuse to speak to men. Officially spends most of her time telling Luther what to say and letting him do the social things. Unofficially has a crossdressing knight-persona to go out and do stuff. It took E like three days to figure out that that knight and Lion are in fact the same person. Might keep the knight-persona even after beeing found. Also she had a habit of sending all suitors on impossible quests in Caliban‘s forests where they would painfully die.

Fulgrim: Chemos has little to no genders. Either you can work or you are dead, what‘s in your pants doesn‘t really matter. Anyways, then Fulgrim get‘s discovered, introduced to the concept of gender and is now very anxious about performing gender expectations correctly. It isn‘t working very well. Guess who might not actually be a woman

Perturabo: Kind of got attic-daugthered by Dammekos, because of course all of that were his ideas, not the ones of a little girl. Perty is not amused by this. She later is in possesion of at least half the warcrime‘s squad braincells (the warcrime squad is a found family thing Angron, Sang, Perty and Konrad have going on), provides all the artillery support for them and is the main Konrad-handler (after Fulgrim of course). I haven‘t yet decided how much they are kissing.

Jaghatai Khan: Something, something crossdressing. Might kiss Morty. That‘s all my notes so far.

Leman Russ: I‘m really not yet sure what to do with Leman, because I could just do some purely cosmetic changes and it would be fine enough. But also I could do some really drastic changes… for example if I remember correctly in viking culture (which is what I‘m going off for Leman) magic was seen as a womens thing so you know ice-witch Leman would be fun

Konrad Curze: Still wondering if gender is something you can eat. Mostly cosmetic changes, but they are a bit more mentally stable due to the support of the warcrime-squad. I‘m considering giving Konrad a decently bad case of has-the-voice-of-a-little-kid, because that would be pretty creepy.

Sanguinius: I‘m going with the „Sanguinus was a slave as a child“-headcanon I‘ve seen in multiple fics and really like. So Sang had some pretty dark stuff happen to her and overall ends up beeing much less nice and more angry, the vibe is „Vampire warlord collecting the heads of her enemies“ and I love it a lot.

Angron: Is still Angron, no big changes here except she and Sang are kind of a couple

Roboute Guilliman: Had to spend a significant of time arguing over beeing allowed into politics directly (instead of doing the proper thing of marrying some old guy, puppeting him from behind the scenes and cashing in on the inheritence). Also Konor is still alive in this au, since Rob happend to be in the senate that day and carrying a hidden sword for entierly non nefarious reasons.

Mortarion: So Calas Typhon‘s mother was drowned for having a child with a overlord (presumably not voluntarely). If people start to suspect something similar happend to Morty, it‘s gonna be very good that Primarchs are very hard to kill. Especially if people don‘t take „there never was a child“ for a answer for where the nonexistent kid is, and start spreading rumors that Morty killed or abandoned it.

And I don‘t yet really have much or anything at all for the rest, so Rogal Dorn, Ferrus Manus, Magnus, Horus, Lorgar, Vulkan, Corvus and Alpharius Omegon, but feel free to give me some ideas

[sora-fish]

IVE BEEN TRYING TO DECIDE HOW TO WORD THIS FOREVER, BUT YAY MORE ISEKAI AU!! This time is Headcanons :333

Mark is actually a decent father figure here!! He works a boring business job that makes him leave town often, but he tries to make do with what he has.

Ashe and Mark moved out of their old house after Ashes mother passed away from sickness, kinda making the two of them distant as they move into a new house and Mark works more and more.

The way Ashe basically brings Dakota, Vynce and William to the real world is finding their respective medias in the new houses attic and bringing them to her room to look at later. Little did she know, this care for these old pieces of media kick started some sort of cool cool magic stuff that brought them to the real world.

How Ashe found out they were now real was finding them fighting in her kitchen while her father was out on a business trip. She may have passed out.

All of the three look more real now, but they still have “design features” from their OG piece of media. For example, Dakota has more action hero physics, Vyncent is 1. And elf and 2. Has just a bag of fucking holding, basically hammer space and William is probably the most obvious with having the 80s tv grime, you know the type where you look at a screenshot and just know it’s from that generation of horror? Yea. That.

William is actually really interested in all the tech stuff that is in the modern world, seeing how it potentially could have grown in his own world.

Vyncent is probably the least easily adjusted to this new world. The game he was apart of really didn’t have any modern cities or technology or anything, literally think baldurs gate. He tried to cast a spell on Dakota once. It didn’t work.

Dakota is probably the hardest to hide from Mark, cause sometimes there is literally text bubbles that appear and Ashe just has to go haha that’s a poster for a project!!!

Over all I love them so so dearly, holding them close to me. They are all so not well adjusted, even Ashe. But that’s obviously when your best friends are fictional characters.

Also, @wardensburrow here!!!! More talking about Isekai AU :]

[misseviehyde]

REMOTE REWRITE

Part 1 - Finders Keepers

Cindy laughed when she found the weird remote control in an old cardboard box in the attic. Someone had gone to a lot of time and effort to add new buttons and wires to it - sellotaping extra batteries and bits of random electronics onto the housing.  They had even changed out the original buttons and put new ones on that said strange things like, "Body swap" and "Memory transfer"

"What's that you found?" asked her boyfriend Jack as he walked into her room and saw her playing with the remote.  

"This?  Oh just some weird remote I found hidden in an old cardboard box.  I knew there was lots of old wires and junk in here and I needed some stuff for my science project."

Jack frowned, "Is that the same science project the teacher paired you up with Kenna for?  Did you speak to him about changing partners?"

Cindy's face wrinkled at the name of her bully. She'd tried to explain to Mr Brown that Kenna had been picking on her since she was little and to request someone else to work with, but the teacher had insisted she go through with it.

"Yeah, but he just said it would be a good opportunity to try and get to know her better.  Gah - I hate that bitch - she'll make me do all the work and she won't show any gratitude for it."

"Pity you can't work with someone else," he shrugged.  "Look on the bright side. Maybe she'll go easy on you for a while if you work with her."

"And maybe she'll just be an even bigger bitch to me cos we're stuck together," muttered Cindy still looking at the remote.  She experimentally pressed a button and to her surprise the remote lit up.

"Hey this thing has juice.  Shall we try it out? Imagine if we really could swap bodies.  It would be pretty fascinating I guess." 

Pointing the remote at Jack she pressed the body-swap button and it beeped. She was just messing about and she didn't really expect anything to happen of course.  But suddenly there was a flash of light and in an instant her world went dizzy.  There was a dull rushing in her ears, then a feeling of weightlessness. To her horror she could feel herself being dragged out of her body. For a moment she was moving very fast and being pulled sideways...  then WHAM, the world reoriented itself

"Cindy, what happened?" squeaked a panicked voice and she whirled to see her own body looking down at itself in horror.   "Oh my God, we actually swapped bodies.  The remote actually works!"

Cindy was stunned.  Looking down she saw that she was now in her boyfriends body.  She walked over to the mirror, staggering slightly at the unfamiliar way her hips now seemed to work, and she gazed at herself in astonishment. She ran her now larger hands over her new body, not quite able to believe that this was real and she was now a man.

"Oh my God Jack, this is incredible."  

Jack gulped and prodded his face.  He ran his fingers through Cindy's long black hair and shook his head in denial.  "This has to be a dream or something.  Body-swapping isn't possible."  He looked down at her chest and gulped.  "I... I have your boobs."

"Apparently body-swapping IS possible when you have a magic remote," mused Cindy. "You still have the remote in your hand, you'll need to swap us back."

Jack looked down at her hands then stabbed the controls. There was another moment of dislocation - a sense of disembodiment before the two of them were safely back in their normal bodies.

Cindy felt her skin prickle as she settled back inside herself and she patted her body and grinned.  Her heart pounded with excitement as she looked at her boyfriend who was looking completely bewildered by the experience.

"Oh my God," sighed Jack in relief, "I can't believe that really happened."

"Neither can I," laughed Cindy her eyes shining brightly as she held up the remote. "This device is going to revolutionise our lives. I just need to figure out how!"

    **************

Part 2:  Bullied

Cindy was nearly late for school.  She'd spent far too long gloating over the remote but at the last minute her Mom reminded her she was running late and she hurriedly got ready.  She quickly shoved the remote into her bag, deciding it might be useful at school - and ran to the bus stop; only just getting on board in time.  Panting for breath she quickly sat in her seat, hearing the sniggers from her classmates as they looked at her red face.  The temptation to take out the remote and zap some of them was strong, but she restrained herself.  The power of the remote was immense and she'd promised herself she'd use the power responsibly. Using the mind control button to make them all believe they were dogs or something might have been amusing, but it would have drawn unwanted attention.

It was hard to think about school when she had such an amazing secret. Her head was spinning with all the possibilities she could explore with the remote- but her joyous mood was instantly crushed as she found her new lab partner Kenna waiting for her and she remembered that she was partnered up with the bitch.   

Kenna looked amazing as always, though her uniform was hardly regulation.  Nor was her hair, makeup or nails - but unfortunately her Daddy had donated huge amounts to the school - which meant she got away with pretty much whatever she wanted.  Now Kenna was eyeing Cindy like she was a piece of shit on the bottom of one of her high heels.

"OMG - I can't believe that idiot Mr Brown put me with the biggest fucking loser in the class," snorted Kenna as she sat next to Cindy and eyed her with disgust.  "Why a freak like you should get to work with someone like me, I don't know."  Rudely ignoring Cindy, she turned her body 90 degrees so that it was clear she wanted nothing to do to her and promptly got out her phone and began to browse it. 

Cindy stared at the back of Kenna's beautiful blonde head.  The bitch was infuriating.  She was one of those irritating sluts who had it all.  Her Mom and Dad were rich and well connected... she had been born with natural good looks and athletic ability.  Sure, Kenna's grades were average - but she was no bimbo and with her Daddy's connections, she would definitely go to college.

For someone like Cindy who had, had to work hard all her life - sitting next to this pampered blonde princess was as frustrating as hell. It was true that Kenna was beautiful.  Other girls would kill to look like her, and the blonde bully knew it.  It was partly why she acted like such a bitch. Cindy grit her teeth as Kenna waved at Olivia and Madison her two best-friends and made a fake holding-her-nose gesture as if to suggest Cindy smelt bad.  The other girls dutifully giggled as the bully turned back to Cindy and twirling a piece of gum around her finger.

Seeing her friends were watching her, a malicious smile crept over Kenna's face and she winked at her subordinates.  "Hey Cindy, your hair could do with a wash," she laughed as she pushed the gum deep into Cindy's hair so it tangled and caught in the strands of her hair.

"What - you bitch!" screamed Cindy as she tried to pull the gum out and sobbed as she realised it had stuck to her hair.  She'd probably have to cut it out to get it off.  She sobbed harder as the teacher began to walk over.

Leaning over to whisper in her victims ear, Kenna hissed as she whispered, "You say anything and you're fucking dead.  Me and the girls will get you after school." She dug her claw-like acrylics into Cindy's leg as she spoke and looked up with fake concern in her pretty face.

"Mr Brown, my friend is upset about something. I think she needs to leave the class for today. Can Madison sit with me instead?"

Mr Brown sighed as he saw the weeping Cindy. "No Kenna, I told you.  You aren't working with your friends this time.  You and Cindy need to work as a team."

Kenna scowled and rolled her eyes.  "Whatever."

"If you need a moment to go to the bathrrom, you may do so Cindy," said Mr Brown and with a final sob, Cindy turned and fled.  

******

It was after class and a red-eyed Cindy had finally managed to cut the gum out of her hair with some nail scissors.  Feeling a burning rage inside, she realised she couldn't go through another three weeks of this hell.  She couldn't be partners with Kenna - it would kill her.

She was walking home from school dejectedly when Jack caught up with her.  He sighed as he saw her. 

"What's wrong?  Why didn't you wait for me. Ohhhh is it Kenna again?"

She nodded, a determined angry look in her eye.  "Yep.  Only this time the bitch doesn't know who she is messing with.  Not now we have the magic remote."  She told Jack about the gum and the bullying she'd endured in Science that day.  His jaw grew grim as he listened.

Jack nodded in agreement as she finished her tale.  "What a fucking bitch, we need to use the remote on her to get revenge.  But how?  Mind control her with the remote?"

Cindy thought for a moment.  "I guess the remote can force people to follow instructions - but it doesn't change how they are inside.  For instance you could tell someone to be nice to everyone they met, but inside their head they would still be mean. I want to force her to change. We need a better idea."

Jack's eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration.

"Hmmmmm, the thing that Kenna would hate most in the world is losing her beauty, wealth and status and having to slum it with the rest of us.  How about a body-swap? We could make her switch with me!  She'd hate it!"

"Really?" gasped Cindy suddenly nervous.  "You'd really want to swap with that slut?"

"It would only be for a few days. We swap bodies and set some instructions that means she can't tell anyone she's not really me or get any help.  After being me for a few days till she'll be desperate to switch back.  She'll soon have realised the error of her ways."

Cindy bit her lip uncertainly.  It sounded like a good plan, but there was something about it that made her feel uneasy.  Maybe it was the thought of her loving boyfriend being inside her worst enemy.  It was definitely weird.

"I'll even be able to work with you on the science project," grinned Jack.  "Come on, let's go find Kenna and make this happen."

****

Part 3:  The swap

Getting Kenna alone was easier than they'd thought.  She was constantly posting on social media and after triangulating her location via the photos and places she'd checked into - Jack worked out she'd been to the Mall with her flunkies and was heading home.  Kenna's house was a little further than everyone else's and sure enough she was walking down the road on her own with a load of shopping bags. 

Stepping out into the street, Jack grinned as he pointed the remote at Kenna.

"Eugh, what the fuck are you losers doing in my street?" sneered Kenna.  "What the fuck is that?  Am I supposed to be scared or something... did your dumb girlfriend Cindy put you up to this bitch-boy?"

Jack ignored the insults and just pressed the buttons.  There was a beeping noise and then both of them shook as the body-swap began.

Cindy watched nervously as both Kenna and Jack's body's suddenly went limp.  They remained standing, but arms and heads dropped forward like they had both been put into a trance. She caught the remote control just in time as it slipped from Jack's open hands and she stood back to watch in fascination.  

The transfer only took an instant, then both bodies jerked like puppets.  Groaning in unison and blinking rapidly, both bodies began to move again.  'Kenna's' was the quickest to recover - or at least Jack had been more prepared for what to expect. 

"Oh my God, it worked," he groaned as he looked down at his new body and saw he was now in a tight white top and short black skirt. "Quick, use the remote on the real Kenna before she works out what is happening."

Cindy whirled and blasted the startled and slightly horrified 'Jack' with the mind control button on the remote before he could react and a blank, empty expression appeared on his face.

"Okay listen up Kenna.  We've body-swapped you and Jack as a punishment and you aren't getting your body back till you learn some manners.  So here are some instructions.  One - you are physically unable to tell anyone what we've done to you, by any means - written, verbal or un-verbal.  Two - from now on you can only refer to yourself as Jack.  Three - you can't hurt, threaten or bully either me or Jack in your body.  Four - You have to do anything me or Jack in your body tells you to do.  Five - you can't touch or use this remote under any circumstances. Six - you can't do anything deliberate to hurt or embarrass Jack's body or reputation at school."

There was a beep as the instructions locked and the hypnosis deactivated.  The dazed look vanished from 'Jack's face and he looked down at himself in absolute horror.

"You... you fucking losers," groaned the new Jack in outrage - his eyes wild and the anguish on his face almost heart-wrenching to see.  "This is disgusting! Give me back my beautiful body."

The new Kenna laughed and shook her pretty blonde head.  "No way - not after the way you've treated Cindy today.  I'm going to stay in here until you've learned your lesson. Now stop being a brat and calm down.

"You freaks!  You'll never get away with this," raged 'Jack' as he fell to his knees in shock.  "This is like totally illegal.  I'm going to fucking sue you both once I get out of here.  My Daddy is going to fucking kill you both."  Jack's voice was several octaves higher as the possessing spirit of Kenna forced it talk in a ditzy way.  It sounded so weird.

"Jack - no one is going to believe that is you if she keeps talking like that.  She's got such a dirty mouth and she talks like a dumb Valley girl.  What are we going to do?"

Jack pursed his new soft lips,  "I suppose people will rumble me too unless I start talking like her, but I don't have the first idea of how to impersonate her.  Hmmm, maybe we can use the memory transfer to swap our styles of speaking?"

Cindy hesitated.  The memory transfer sounded a little dangerous to her.  The button allowed you to swap memories with another person - gaining their knowledge and experience - but the downside was you lost some of your own memories as they went into the other persons head.  Jack could use the remote to change his way of talking to be exactly like Kenna's, but he would lose his ability to talk like himself.

"It's okay, I can change it back before we swap back," he grinned taking the remote from Cindy and pointing it at the real Kenna in his body.  He pushed a button and groaned as his eyes rolled up slightly into his head.  

"Ohhhh fuck, that's like such a total fucking rush..."

Jack's pretty new hand flew up to his sexy mouth at the hot filth coming out, then he giggled and grinned. "OMG - I sound like totally like her!"

"What! I'm sure I do not sound like that," grunted Kenna from her male body as she put her hands on her hips in a super feminine gesture.  "Oh goodness, maybe I do?  Hey, why am I talking exactly like you?"

"Duuuuuh, cos we fucking swapped memories you dumb bitch," laughed Jack.  "And that's not all we're like swapping.  There's no fucking way anyone is like gonna think you're a boy when you're walking around all hips and hand gestures like that."

He stabbed the remote again and Kenna and him both groaned as their memories exchanged.  A life-time of experience of a female body posture was instantly transferred and Jack's uncomfortable posture in his new body faded as his body language became instantly feminine.

"Oooh that's totes better," he giggled strutting backwards and forwards effortlessly in Kenna's wedge heels.  "I feel like soooo much more comfortable in here already."

"No!  Give me back those memories," sobbed Kenna as she looked down at her now masculine body posture and the reality of what was happening struck again.  "Why are you doing this to me you bullies?"

Jack giggled again - the sound grating slightly on Cindy's nerves - and he tossed back his new blonde hair with an effortless gesture.  "Cos you were a total fucking skank who deserved to find out how it feels to be a nobody loser." 

Cindy was shocked at how mean her boyfriend sounded now he was Kenna, but she continued "What she... I mean he, is trying to say is that you're the bully, not us.  You've picked on me since I was little and now you're going to learn some humility.  A few days as Jack should teach you a lesson you'll never forget.  Now you're going to spend a few days as my boyfriend and at the end of it, if you can show us that you've changed - then we'll put you back.  It's not like you have a choice."

"Okay - fine," spat Kenna.  "I'll behave and be a good girl... I mean boy."

"You better bitch," giggled Jack. "Now like lets go look at Kenna's house. Now I'm inside her, we can finally get a look at her fancy mansion home.  I'll just tell her parents you're my friends come for a study session."

The real Kenna pouted, "Do we have to?  I don't want to go home like this."

"That's too bad loser," laughed Jack.  "Come on - it's only over here..."

******

Part 4: Home sweet home

Cindy's heart was racing as Jack used Kenna's key from her handbag to open the door and let them into the huge mansion she called home.  A beautiful woman appeared in the hallway instantly, eyes partly glued to a tablet as she casually looked up to take in the trio and without preamble launched into conversation. "Kenna I want you to tell me what you think of these dresses, I want to buy a new summer wardrobe. " 

"Mom," gasped the real Kenna in Jack's deep voice as the woman lifted a beautiful eyebrow in confusion to see the gawping boy.

"Excuse me young man, do I know you?"

For a moment Cindy felt panic, the real Kenna was going to blow their cover completely.  Then she remembered the instructions she'd put into Kenna and felt relief as her bully realised her mistake and the prohibition against revealing herself intentionally, kicked in.  "No, I'm a friend of Kenna's.  Sorry Mrs Jones."

Kenna's Mum snorted,  she was clearly as rude and self-absorbed as her daughter.  "Darling, who are these strays you've brought with you.  Where are Madison and Olivia?"

"Oh these are just some people from school, Mr Brown is making me work with them on a science project."

"Oh really," sneered Mrs Jones.  "Do you want me to get your Daddy to speak to the school.  I don't want my daughter being forced to associate with her lessers."

"No it's fine Mommy, we're just going up to my room to study."

If it was a problem that Kenna was bringing a boy to her room, her Mom didn't show it and Jack, Kenna and Cindy made their way upstairs to Kenna's amazing bedroom.  It was huge... with a massive bed and full length wardrobe space.  Expensive clothing and makeup were neatly arranged and there was an entire section of cubby holes for Kenna's sexy shoes.  It was like something a spoiled princess would have for a room.

"Oh wow, this is totally amazing," giggled Jack as he excitedly ran into the room.  "Look at all this fucking stuff, and it's all MINE!"

"Get real. You don't even know what half this stuff is," sneered Kenna folding her arms in a masculine posture.  "You probably don't even know how to use makeup to contour properly!"

"Like maybe I don't right now bitch, - but I totally will in a second," grinned Jack blasting Kenna again with the memory swap button.  "Oooooh yeah, all your memories of how to do makeup, how to dress like you and how to be a spoiled Princess are becoming mine. Mmmmmh, your memories are so fucking tasty Kenna.  Think I'll take all of them."

"NOOOOO!" screamed the real Kenna as she gripped her head and tried to remember who she was.

"Yessss, give me more of your memories bitch. All those years of being a mean, stuck-up bully.  All that experience of how to manipulate people, coerce them and make them fucking crawl to serve you are mine now.  Mmmmh I love it."

Jack's eyes were rolling in his pretty new head and Cindy shivered. It looked almost like he was having an orgasm and every time he took more memories from Kenna, he seemed less and less Jack and more and more like her.  By contrast, the real Kenna seemed subdued and calm... much like Jack normally was. 

Cindy frowned and took a step forward to her boyfriend.  "Don't you think you better stop swapping memories with Kenna.  Surely you have everything you need now?"

"You have no idea how delicious it feels to be Kenna" grinned Jack.  "I wanna suck out all her memories.  The more I become like her... the more I absorb of Kenna, the more I realise how superior and hot it feels to be her.  Mmmmh, it feels great to be the bully. I feel like such a hot fucking bitch. It's sooooo addictive. I want more!"

"Jack I think maybe you went a bit far, maybe we should stop this..."

Cindy reached out to try and take the remote from her boyfriend.  This was getting out of hand and she was starting to feel afraid.

"Oh I don't think so loser," giggled Jack nastily as he pushed a button on the remote and Cindy gasped as her entire body froze.  "I'm just getting started!"

Cindy squealed as she tried to move, but her entire body was frozen rigid.  She watched helplessly as her boyfriend advanced on the original Kenna quaking in his body.

"Yessss! No one can stop me now. I'm going to transfer EVERYTHING!  I'm going to take every remaining memory from your head Kenna. You'll forget you were ever the hot slutty bully and you'll believe you were always Jack. You and I are going to completely swap personalities and it's going to feel so fucking good.  Well for me anyway.  I can't wait to over-write the remaining parts of Jack's pathetic personality with your own.  Then when I'm fully ME again, I can deal with that bitch Cindy.  The remote is mine now and I'm going to have so much fun using it."

Cindy wanted to scream in her head, her boyfriend... her beautiful boyfriend had been completely corrupted by Kenna's evil memories.  She watched as he pressed a button and the remote beeped.

"OH FUCK YES!"

Jack shook in Kenna's hot body, his mouth wide open in a scream of pleasure as his eyes rolled up into his head.  Pink light surrounded him whilst in Jack's body the original Kenna thrashed and moaned as her memories were torn from her mind and everything that had once been her was transferred to Jack. 

As their identities fully exchanged, their sense of self shifted.  The new Kenna moaned as her corruption completed itself and the final remnants of Jack's personality and mind were ripped from her brain.  She was finally complete.  The memory and body transfer were finally complete.

"Mmmmmh, it feels so good to be whole," giggled the bully as she examined herself happily whilst the new Jack steadied himself against the wall.  "God, I can't actually believe that I was once a stupid nerdy boy.  So glad all those memories and thoughts have been deleted from my mind."

Pointing the remote, Kenna laughed as she froze the new Jack and looked at her two victims.

"Well, I think it's like totally time to wipe your memories of this remote and what has happened. Neither of you are gonna remember anything about any of this.  Haha, ohhhh and I have some great ideas for some extra programming to put into your minds.  Here we go!"

There was a blinding flash as Kenna pushed the buttons and both Cindy and Jack groaned as their minds went completely blank.

**********************************

Part 5 - New lives

Pulling back the sheets to her bed, Cindy blushed and sobbed as she saw she'd wet the bed again. "No, no NO!" she cried unhappily at the mess she'd created.  Why did this keep happening to her?  She'd never had problems like this before, but it was like something had changed recently and now she was a nervous wreck.  It felt like an evil voice was in her mind whispering into her subconscious and making her into a pathetic victim.

Maybe it was Kenna.  Since that bitch had stolen Jack from her she'd really struggled to cope.  She couldn't believe her formerly nerdy boyfriend had become such an asshole seemingly over-night. He'd lost all interest in his former hobbies and started working out down the gym.  Within a couple of months he'd been the most ripped boy at school and had turned into an aggressive, over-confident jerk.  Now he and Kenna were the schools power-couple - he'd dumped Cindy as soon as he possibly could and was dating that bitch instead.  

Meanwhile Kenna seemed more powerful than ever.  It was like she had some sort of increased power over everyone and she was twice as mean and evil as she used to be. She loved to flaunt her sexy body and spoiled life more than ever and anyone who got in her way seemed to have terrible accidents or develop strange nervous ticks, habits or interests.

If Cindy hadn't have known better, she'd have said Kenna had someway to mind control and manipulate people however she saw fit.  But of course that sort of thing was impossible.

Wasn't it?

THE END

[transman-badass]

Fill prompt for/inspired by this post by @unboundprompts. Saw it and knew what I had to write. Still got a bit away from me.

BTW if you see this, do me a favor. I'm gonna reblog this post with some links to my friend @actualblanketgremlin's stuff. Stella is the one who made Sadie and they're letting me borrow her, see. They've been having a really rough time lately so if you can spare some money or need to buy some pretty, handmade stuff [especially wood-burned boxes], check the links out? And reblog that version of the post if you can.

Okay it's Cthulhu Mythos time again here we go.

A terrible thing, silence. Unnatural, like things moving around in the dark skies over the city. Nothing but predators wandering in late hours. Laying in bed, Sadie waited, listening to the empty air. 

Chicago wasn’t like this. Chicago knew how to breathe at night. Chicago knew how to bleed. It even wept, sometimes. Of course it did. Everyone wept there, bodies piling in the streets in the street wars between smiling, scarred men in their expensive, wide-legged suits. Even now, after she left, the papers told it all - the country crumbling into pieces with the banks that failed them.

Arkham didn’t bleed, or breathe, or sleep. How did anyone get sleep in this town? Didn’t anyone feel it? Didn’t anyone know? Something had gone wrong. Something was alive, but not alive. Something was… dead, but not, and not in some strange in-between either, something she couldn’t wrap her head around… But should. In her bones, or beneath them, somehow, she should, she wanted to, she did not ever want to, understand.

Beautiful city, Arkham. Some of the buildings dated back to a few years after Salem’s founding. Walking through the city, you walked through the past. Someone’s else past. Her past. (Had she gone mad already?)

Laying in bed, curled up so safe under the blankets, she listened to empty air.

She waited, and listened.

Here, on the second floor, she could hear the young man in the attic quite well, when he walked around. Who he was, she didn’t know. A student at Miskatonic University by his uniform, dark hair, white skin. He avoided her. But the whispers from the other renters, they said he’d asked for the attic, because of its history.

A strange man, in a strange house, in a strange town…

Sadie closed her eyes, and listened. Why did I come here, she thought, why did I come here.

And above, a chair squeaked. Above a man stepped and stalked around the room. Above something mumbled and it wasn’t the man at all.

If she listened she’d understand the hissing, grumbling whispers. If she just listened closely enough, she’d understand. Sadie entwined her hands into her curly hair and clenched her eyes shut tighter with focus. Focused on the scratching scrambling clawing sounds that came between her breaths, focused on that faint masculine voice that dragged out between creaking, groaning, ancient wood.

Focused on it. Focused and listened.

The voice that was not the man who lived upstairs chattered and chuckled. Sharp claws dug into old familiar routes in the wooden walls. Cat soft footsteps. Creaking wood, creaking house, creaking doors.

Doors? She’d closed her door.

Sadie lay still in her bed, and did not move. Sadie lay there and listened to the clawing catlike footsteps. The breathing of a man that wasn’t. She listened to the words but had stopped. But now in the pit of her stomach and the base of her neck she knew, if the words began again, she’d hear, she’d understand.

Why did she listen?

She had to listen.

And when the voice spoke, she listened well.

“Goode be your name but not your blood, you are no child of Salem. Deeper stains run through your line than clever human magic. I smell it. She knows it. But do you?”

Within the darkness the creature laughed.

“You must. Would you listen to me elsewise? Poor orphan you are. Do you know the shell of which you’ve glimpsed? You fear the dark, for the horrors it hides, but it is the day which shelters the most dreadful of them all.”

Sadie opened her lips to speak.

“Be you wise and hear me now, Sadie Goode: you have not angered that which you have challenged, merely raised a terrible curiosity. You are known to him, our great master, as were your parents before you. It falls to you now, to decide your fate, and to decide with haste, for it was only a mistake that you escaped his sight.”

The voice deepened, darkened as the skies overhead.

“Your parents knew him. Do you think we could not tell the child of one of our own? No witch-child you are, but your parents served him well. How else would you be so blessed? But if they earned his wrath, and you follow in their steps, you will earn their punishment, three times three.”

And the darkness shifted and shivered with her body.

“Beware, Sadie Goode. Beware the mistress of this house, legend you may think she is. Beware the friends you keep, the enemies you make, the strangers on the street. And beware, my dear, beware yourself most of all -- for you have gained the interest of the Crawling Chaos, and you may gain more unmeaning. And there is no greater danger in all the planets in all the universe than to become a favorite of our god, Nyarlathotep.”

Sadie listened, and listened, and listened. And the claws sunk into wood, and the door hinged creaked, and the house breathed around her again. And she did not move, she did not open her eyes. Listened to the house shifting, and birds waking, and the strangers stirring in their beds unknowing, as the sun’s return brought Arkham back to life.

Tag list:

@slenders1ckn3ss @jacqueswriteblrlibrary @redacted-metallum @actualblanketgremlin @higgs-space @phantomnations @mushabumi @assistantdirector--janson @aldhidbah @sabtael @yourheartonfireblog @jade-island-lives @carnocus @cecuesta @darkhorse-javert @comicgoblinart @lizadomuch @minutiaewriter @izzyspussy @passthebeat-blog-blog @dragonedged-if @andromedaexists @cyanide-latte @suckerpunchfemale @late-to-the-fandom @eldritch-flower @cljordan-imperium @royal1asset-if @pineywitch @fragrant-stars @mynameis40and4 @starry-voids @wubsbian @divine-anarchy @elbritch-kit @tousled-birdmad-girl @pen-for-sword @noightwitchers @bee-barnes-author @amielbjacobs @dyrewrites @astras-rambles

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark: Chapter Three - Fearless

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Ao3 link

---

The grandfather clock chimed four times, the echo ringing softly throughout the dilapidated house, floating all the way up the stairs to Rose’s attic lair. The noise was soft, but she was already wide awake, legs twisted in the crumpled bed sheets, flipping her pillow for the hundredth time to find a comfy position to sleep.

Fuck it. 

She flung off the covers and tiptoed over the smooth, varnished floorboards, turning on her bedside lamp. Her eyes stung as the dark room flooded with light, the huge space with its vaulted, beamed ceilings and dormer windows bathed in shadow. 

The house had four large double bedrooms on its second floor, but there was something about the attic room that drew her to it when she, her mother and stepfather Jerry had taken possession of the crumbling place two months ago. The twisting little staircase up to the top floor, the spectacular view of the woods from both front and back, and the quirky, dramatic interior called to her. There was something oddly romantic about this room.

The place had since been dusted within an inch of its life, floor varnished, thick rugs laid upon the boards, and an old wrought iron bed manhandled up the stairs. When her posters were pinned up on the brick wall and her clothes and books found homes in the shelves and wardrobes, it began to feel homely. Hers .

Except for the piano. That had come with the house, stowed away in the attic room, a gorgeous old piece, out of tune and unloved. Rose had years of piano lessons from her mother’s elderly aunt as a child, and whilst it was not an all-consuming passion, she could play pretty well. The piano had been retuned, but it felt...strange. Rose could never forget that it belonged to someone else once, someone long dead. She didn’t know the story behind the murder that inspired its nickname Murder house on Morehead , and planned on keeping it that way; her dreams were troubled enough without sketching out and colouring in the gothic murder that took place in these walls. It was like something out of the Edgar Allen Poe stories they worked on in O’Donnell’s English class...like she’d prize open the floorboards and find a beating heart. Ugh.

But Rose crept about her room this morning with a bubbling excitement, looking forward to school and the strange new friends she made on Friday night in the drama prop room. Sad, wasn’t it, that her weekend was boring and unremarkable, and she longed for school.

She folded and hung the piles of laundry that occupied her Saturday night, then took out half her clothes and laid them on the bed, throwing together five different outfit options and hating every one of them. The overalls were too whimsical, the dress too frumpy, the blouse didn’t fit well anymore.

“Pull yourself together, you muppet,” she mumbled to herself, sitting cross legged in the middle of half her upturned wardrobe. “It’s just clothes. Since when did you give a shit about fashion? Not like anyone’s going to be looking at me. Unless they want to laugh.”

By the time the clock chimed six, she had chosen the least nauseating of her options, but also one that felt her. Okay, perhaps not her usual style, but the her she wanted to be. A green tailored pinafore dress with double breasted buttons, fancier and more form fitting than most of her casual clothes, with a pretty white shirt underneath. Doc Martens bought in Camden Market, yellow stitches standing out against the black leather.

Punk and fancy...an eclectic mix, maybe. But perhaps that suited her. And despite a very dull weekend trying not to fixate on the events of Friday night, the slightly flirtatious words of one particular Dungeon Master popped up in her head. You’re good most of the time, but you can also be very bad if you want to be.  

Forty minutes and half a can of Aqua Net later, Rose emerged into the kitchen, colliding with a figure by the stove, narrowly avoiding a stream of scalding liquid.

“Oh, Jiminy Cricket, that was close!” Jerry cried out, clutching unsteadily onto a porcelain teapot and hopping backward. 

Her stepfather was short, slightly rounded, with hair greying at the temples and a timid disposition that would border on pathetic if he wasn’t so bloody nice all the time. God, the man couldn’t even swear properly. Rose often thought it was like living with a character from a children's cartoon.

“Sorry, I was lost in my own head,” she murmured, fetching something to mop the scalding liquid from the floor, and also his now-splotchy tie. It was a novelty tie, of course, printed with colourful horse-shoe magnets with googly eyes and moustaches, as if they were alive. 

Jerry quickly set the teapot down, hopping about the wet patch on the kitchen floor. “That’s a-okay. I was hoping to have your tea all ready, but half of it’s on the floor. I did what ya said last week, I added an extra spoonful of leaves.” He smiled goofily, “One for each cup, and one for the pot. ”

Rose couldn’t help but smile as she blotted up the spillage on the floor. “You remembered that?”

“Of course, buddy. Gotta perfect those tea-making skills in a house full of English ladies, haven’t I?” He looked down at Rose, feigning surprise. “A teenager up before sunrise...has the world turned upside down?”

“Haha,” she said drily.

“And what’s that on your face? Is that lipstick ?”

She busied herself with teacups and plates, scavenging for some breakfast to go with the tea. “I wear lipstick sometimes.” Sometimes...when she snuck into the pub last summer, with an eye on the handsome young barman. 

“Oh, sure,” Jerry nodded along timidly, not quite daring enough to contradict her. They began their new morning ritual, one that had taken root over the last year both here and at home in England. He poured a cup, added a dash of milk, and passed it over for her inspection.

Rose breathed it in, cup almost hot enough to blister her hand, and took a sip.

“Well?” Jerry was on tenterhooks, waiting for the verdict.

“Nine out of ten,” she marked him, after a long pause. “Nice and strong, but there’s a taste I can’t quite recognise.”

Jerry turned away quickly, tidying up the clutter on the countertop. “Oh? Must be the milk, I think it’s starting to sour. I’ll pick up some more when I stop by the store today, I need to go to Melvald’s for some more varnish for the staircase anyway, and the grocery store is only next door.”

“Thank you.”

“I know this weekend was kinda quiet, with your mom and I out at the antique store in Carterville all day Saturday, but I thought maybe we could go to that Family Video rental place next weekend. I hear that the new James Bond movie is out on VHS already. Or maybe the record store? I know Duran Duran had that song on the movie soundtrack, maybe you could get the single on cassette.”

Rose groaned. “I would, but I've lost my walkman. It must be somewhere in this enormous museum of a house.”

That walkman had seen her through countless hours in hospital wards, waiting rooms, and at home when she became invisible to all her old friends. Yes, she could get a new one, but the lump of plastic was oddly important to her. 

A noise at the kitchen door heralded her mother’s arrival. “Careful,” she said to Jerry. “If you mention Duran Duran or Simon Le Bon she’ll combust on the spot. She has a little crush.”

Jerry cocked his head, confused. “I thought it was Simon the Skinhead from the pub back at home?”

“Right,” Rose stood up abruptly, deciding whether to flee or face the Balrog herself. Perhaps if she could face down a dragon with a bunch of unfamiliar teenage boys, she could do it. “I am eighteen, mother. Old enough to marry, go to war, to vote, and to drive. And in any civilised country, to get blindingly drunk. There will be no talk of crushes, Simon Le Bon, Simon from the Nag’s Head, or any other bloody Simons.”

Her mum simply clicked her tongue. But as she moved about the kitchen, Rose could see shadows under her eyes, and her skin had an unhealthy grey sheen.

“I’m only joking, mum,” Rose said quickly. “You don’t look well. Are you alright?”

“Me?” Mum smiled, but it was brittle. “Oh, it's nothing. Just had a few headaches, and a bad night’s sleep. Nothing a cup of tea and an early night won’t cure.”

Rose hesitated. “Are you sure? I’m at the hospital next week for ECG and scans anyway, maybe you could go and see someone whilst I'm being prodded and poked like a lab rat. Maybe they’ll put me on a wheel and tempt me with some peanuts.”

“It’s really nothing, Rosebud,” she said. “You have enough to worry about, with your first full week of school. I’m just glad that you’ve joined a little book club already. What was it called again?”

Rose winced. “Hellfire, Mum. And it’s not a book club, it's a fantasy game.”

“If you say so.”

Jerry coughed awkwardly. “Well, I'll make sure I bring home something nice for dinner so you don’t need to cook. Pizza, maybe? Have a great day, ladies,” Jerry said, pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek and fetching his briefcase. “And if the lights start acting up again, just ignore it. I’ve already called John the electrician. He’s on it!”

---

Butterflies hit her stomach the second she stepped into the parking lot, scanning the faces of every student hurrying into the school building; no Hellfire shirts, no friendly faces, no metalhead with the prettiest eyes and enough charisma to have her babbling and weak at the knees, only a sea of unfamiliar people. Except for Andy the meathead, of course. He nearly ran her over in a shiny red muscle car, a whole pack of basketball players bursting out its doors as it pulled into a space, laughing their asses off at Rose as she almost tripped to avoid the swerving car.

The hallways were no less intimidating than Friday, stuffed full of strangers who all knew each other, who spared not a single glance for Rose. It took five attempts to remember the combination on her locker, swearing under her breath the whole time, being nudged and bumped by unfamiliar people trying to retrieve their own books. The PA system blurted out cheery messages on this week’s homecoming dance, one which Rose had no intention of attending. 

History went by in a blur, math was painful but bearable, and before she knew it, lunch had come around again. This was it, wasn’t it? Unremarkable days, punctuated by crappy lessons and crappy food, with none of the friendship or wild experiences she had craved in all those months in hospital or at home, living vicariously through books and movies and music. Dull. Rinse and repeat.

Just like Friday, she entered the bustling cafeteria alone. She took a deep breath and surveyed the crowded tables, scanning over the jocks in their letterman jackets, the effortlessly cool party kids slouched elegantly over the hard plastic seating, wearing sunglasses indoors on a grey September day. Band kids carrying instruments. Then, something caught her eye. Hellfire. 

They sat at the same table as last week, but the guys were incognito today, not wearing the demon-emblazoned shirts they saved for campaign days. She could see the back of Mike and Dustin’s heads, along with another younger boy she had yet to meet; Gareth, Chris and Jeff were on the opposite side of the table, all three of them laughing and turned towards their glorious DM like flowers leaning toward the sun.

There he was, perched awkwardly on the back of the chair rather than sitting in it, a head above the rest of the guys. Big, frizzy curls, Iron Maiden t-shirt, smiling like he was feeding off his friends laughter, so comfortable in the spotlight, so happy being seen.

And Rose couldn’t deny it anymore, the little flame sparked on Friday night, one that only burned hotter after a long weekend playing and replaying the possible, hopeful , flirting during the D&D session. She fancied Eddie Munson, she had a great big crush on him after only three hours. 

Naturally, the thought of actually sauntering up to the Hellfire table and sitting down with her lunch tray was terrifying. Yes, they were welcoming to her on Friday, but didn’t that mean they wanted the random new girl to hang out during the week, did it?

Then he spotted her. Puppy dog brown eyes became alert and his whole body shifted from its awkward perch on the back of the seat towards Rose’s position. But the thin, flexible plastic had other ideas. It snapped, and he collapsed off the back of the damn thing, jean chain jangling and feet up in the air as he rolled over - to the cheers and laughter of the general population in that half of the cafeteria.

“Total wipe-out!” A blazer-clad, sunglass wearing party dude cried out. 

“Total freak- out,” another party kid returned, sniggering.

The Hellfire guys flipped him off and a minor turf war seemed to begin, in gestures and passive aggressive jeers. But Rose was kind of mesmerised; Eddie rolled over and leapt to his feet, spinning until he locked eyes with her and shrugging dramatically for her benefit, laughing off his own shame. She grinned back in return. Hell, he didn’t have any shame, he didn’t give a damn about the rest of them. Rose envied that with a sudden punch to the gut; in a hundred years, she didn’t think she’d grow that self assured.

Eddie settled in another chair further down the table, and waved at her, pointing to the empty seat by his side. 

She waved back gingerly and went to get some food, picking up a tray of something labelled tuna casserole. Upon inspection it seemed to consist of tuna, pasta and cream sauce, topped in cheese, which was so far from her understanding of a casserole that it boggled her mind for a moment. Clutching her tray with unsteady fingers, she honed in on Hellfire, picking her way around the crowd, past a studious table of kids studying, and another table of younger girls flipping through the pages of glossy magazines and squealing, until she saw it. The ghost table. The always empty table in the corner of the room, tucked away and obscured by a pillar, that she’d chosen to hide on her first day. 

Except the ghost table wasn’t empty. Robin Buckley slumped over its surface, head propped up in her hands, red-eyed and all alone. She toyed with her milk carton, picking the laminated carton into curly pieces, completely cut off from the world..

Rose had spent enough time crying in a corner to notice that same misery in another. So despite the lure of Hellfire, she turned away and walked up to the ghost table. Robin hardly noticed, not glancing up or stopping her slow dismantling of the milk carton.

“You know,” Rose began tentatively, “If you keep that up you’ll end up with a milk over your tuna casserole.”

Robin’s eyes snapped up, red-rimmed, cornflower blue. Up close, her face was smattered with freckles. Very pretty, despite the puffy redness. “Yeah, well...I think a good coating of milk will actually improve the food here. Might wash off the school-mandated funk.”

“Funk - is that what this is?” Rose gestured to the casserole with her chin. “I thought it was mac and cheese.”

“Well at least the school board is saving money on the lunches...expired military rations must come cheap,” Robin chuckled dryly. Her blank face morphed into a frown, and she looked up pitifully. “Listen, I wanted to speak to you this morning. I tried to find you, but I didn’t know which classes you had, or where your locker was.”

 “ I have no idea where my locker is,” Rose joked back. But beneath her flippant attitude she was kind of nervous. Robin’s tentative signs of friendship ended badly last week, and she didn’t know what to think of her classmate yet, not after the conversation in the locker room.

Robin stuffed her hands into the pocket of her classic bomber jacket. “I know I roped you into soccer tryouts, but I was a little surprised that you didn’t show up. I mean, i’d say I scared you off but you’re back, talking to me. Though i’d guess that’s more pity than genuine desire to join the soccer team.”

“There was some pity involved,” Rose admitted. She looked down at her black leather Doc Martens, almost squirming as she gathered the courage to say it. “I...uh...I heard you and your friends in the locker room. I just wanted to say that you don’t need to be ‘ all fake nice, and shit’ , or pretend to be my friend. I’ll do just fine by myself.”

Robin’s face fell, and she gasped through gritted teeth. “Holy shit. I did not mean for you to hear that...i’m sorry. I just wanna clarify I do not support what Linda said, she was a bitch, and I told her that to her face this weekend. It may have led to a serious breaking up, friendship-wise.”

Rose was oddly touched that a near-stranger would stand up for her, in any capacity. She sat down tentatively on the chair next to Robin, placing down her lunch tray. “Was it bad?”

“The worst,” Robin sighed, slumping on the table even further. “She said I was so different after the summer, and I was dragging down in her senior year. Apparently she can’t focus on college applications if she’s so bummed out by my miserable aura .”

Rose would feign surprise, but Linda did come across self-centred and, quite frankly, a bit of a bitch on Friday. “Bollocks. A good friend wouldn’t say that.”

“I don’t know, maybe you’re right,” Robin shook her head. “She was my best friend all through middle school. And I guess we grew apart over the last couple of years. You reach a point where you realise, you know what, everything we do or talk about is about her . I started listening to Blondie because she liked it, I played soccer because it was her favourite sport...I don’t even like soccer.”

“Neither do I!” Rose laughed.

That had Robin confused. “You were going to try out for something you didn’t like?”

“I was hoping to talk to some people, maybe make some friends. But I should have said that I hated it straight away, then I could have left you and your friends alone.”

Robin snapped to attention. “Hey, I didn’t just want to talk to you because of soccer. I hope you know that.”

Her stomach did a hopeful little flip. “Really?”

“Uh, shut up, dingus. You are totally cool. And it's nice not to be the only one with verbal diarrhoea for once.”

A little cackle came out of Rose’s throat. “Yep. That shit’s contagious.”

Robin’s shoulder shook with laughter, messy tangled hair bouncing about her face. “Oh my god, that is so lame. You sound like Dustin.”

“You know Dustin?”

“ You know Dustin?” Robin echoed right back at her. “Dustin Henderson? How is that even possible?!”

Rose grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Friday evening was kind of weird for me...it's a long story.”

The chaotic girl nudged closer. “Oh, I am so in need of a long story that isn’t about Linda’s college plans or Steve’s miserable love life. Hit me with it.”

Rose took a deep breath and prepared to explain how she came to meet a gaggle of teenage dungeon dwellers on a Friday night, but one fleeting look in Hellfire’s direction stopped her in her tracks.

Eddie was moping in his chair, casting a dejected look her way. As soon as she made eye contact he snapped away, as if burned, and turned back to the guys. The last thing she wanted to do was damage her tentative relationship with Hellfire - okay, with Eddie - when they had been so kind and patient with her last week. But at the same time, Robin was alone and in need of a friendly ear. Damn, the social hierarchy was brutal in this place.

“Can...can you give me a minute?” Rose asked Robin. “I just need to say hello to some new friends and let them know I haven’t forgotten them.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of this already,” she raised her fingers to her temple in a mock salute. “Permission to depart granted, Private McAllister. Return for duty at thirteen hundred hours. Wait...is that one p.m.? I have no idea.”

Rose almost skipped as she stood up and backed away from the ghost table, saluting her right back. “Yes, drill sergeant.”

Eddie caught sight of her halfway across the room, his entire demeanour brightening with each step she took toward Hellfire’s table. By the time she stood two feet in front of him he was lit up like a lightbulb, drumming on his ripped jeans with his fingers to a rhythm only he knew, flexing just a little bit in the artfully distressed Iron Maiden t-shirt.

God, he smelled nice. The scent of Old Spice was pretty strong even from two feet away from him, along with a tinge of cigarette smoke and something else she couldn’t name.

“Hi guys,” she said feebly, hands twisting together behind her back. 

“Hi,” Eddie returned, brown eyes soft as he looked up at Rose. All the Hellfire members turned to her at once, the separate conversations that were happening in tandem all trailing off into silence. There wasn’t hostility, but there was something more...a little surprise, maybe? They weren’t as confident in the school cafeteria as they were in the drama room. Less themselves.

“So,” she continued. “I hear this place isn’t as friendly as Eddie the Bard’s tavern, but it seems to be where the adventurer’s hang out.”

“Haha,” Dustin chuckled. “It’s like a tavern, but not. Because it's terrible here, and the food is kinda gross.”

“Incredibly gross,” Jeff agreed.

“Plus, no mead,” Eddie chimed in. “Maybe I could deal with O’Donnell’s English class if I were a little buzzed.”

Wait, what? Eddie had O’Donnell’s class too? Ah, now she remembered, there was an elusive Mr Munson she had sent to detention prior to Rose’s catastrophic arrival. Actually, thank god he had missed her embarrassing rant. For very budding, very obvious reasons she didn’t want to come across as an absolute loser. “If you find any, you’d better share it.”

He smiled. “Of course, Lady Rose. I...uh...admit I thought you might be too concerned with your social standing to dare talk to the freaks in daylight.”

Shit. He waved her over earlier and she sat with Robin instead...the man might be uber-confident, but he was still human , and maybe she had upset him. She had to put that right, no matter what it did to her social standing.

Rose looked around; a third of the cafeteria had eyes on the exchange. Whether their curiosity was more about the new girl, or the freak table, she couldn’t tell.

“You thought wrong, dungeon master,” she sat down in the empty seat by Eddie’s side, “I’ve no social standing left to lose. And even if I did, I don’t give a fuck about the opinion of a bunch of gorillas in letterman jackets, and the jungle they think they rule over.”

“Wait,” Eddie tapped the table with his ringed fingers, eyes swivelling about as if he were confused and searching for something. “We’ve gone from a tavern to a jungle? Sweetheart, if I'm gonna keep up with your impressive range of analogies I'll need notes. Maybe a lesson or two.”

She blushed again - goddamn it, the perils of having vampire-pale skin - and looked down. Her bare knee was inches from his, she could feel heat radiate from his body. “I think the workings of my brain would frighten off anyone.”

“Try me,” he leaned back casually, gesturing at himself. “I’m literally tattooed with bats and demons, if you hadn’t noticed. I’m not easily scared.”

“Oh,” she signed softly, eyeing the ink peeping from his shirt sleeves, “I’ve...um...definitely noticed.”

A throat cleared behind them, and Rose suddenly realised the rest of the guys were watching with expressions ranging from innocent puppy-like enthusiasm (Dustin), mischievous glee (Gareth), or mild interest (Chris, Jeff, and Mike). Plus confusion, from another one she didn’t know.

“Right, introductions,” Eddie said, “Rose, you know everyone except Sinclair the fickle-hearted, betrayer of adventurers, the newest member of the big-orange-ball team.”

“Hi,” the guy between Mike and Dustin waved. “I’m Lucas. I heard a lot about your session on Friday. Mike said it was awesome, I wish I could have seen it.”

“Congratulations on joining the basketball team. Oh, and whatever they said about me, it’s all lies,” she said nervously. “I’m not very good. I just happened to turn up at the strangest possible moment...everything else was Eddie.”

Mike and Lucas shared a strange look, an ‘ I told you so’ kind of look. It had her palms sweating.

Eddie turned back to her. “No lunch tray then, huh. Abandoning Hellfire so soon?”

“I just wanted to say hello and explain that I need to have lunch with Robin today. I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s not having the best day.”

He leaned to one side and looked beyond her to the ghost table. “Buckley? She’s a band nerd, right?”

“I guess so. I don’t want to jinx it but I think we’re going to be friends. And friends don’t leave each other when they are alone.”

Instead of disappointment or anger, something else flashed across his face. “Look at you, gathering your own sheepies. I can’t say i’m not disappointed, but I get it.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” She asked hopefully. 

He made a show of thinking about it, playing it up for her amusement. “Maybe, possibly, okay definitely . Wait!” He leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, looking around sheepishly. “There’s something I need to give you today. Kind of a slipper situation.”

Rose scrunched up her nose. “Huh?”

He shook his curly hair and waved dismissively. “Don’t worry, i’ll explain later. Are you around sometime this afternoon, after school maybe?”

“My Mum is picking me up again. The terrible price of not being able to drive.”

Eddie laughed. “You should really get on that. Or at least convince the Balrog to let you get the bus.”

Rose bit her lip. She didn’t want to wait until tomorrow; a fleeting few minutes at the lunch table was not a big enough hit of whatever this was, not even a little bit. “But I do have a free period after English class.”

His eyes lit up. “Really? Wait a minute...me too!”

Gareth’s elbows slammed against the table opposite them. “No you d-”

“No I don’t have plans for that free period, thanks for your concern, Gareth.” Eddie said very pointedly, shooting a manic look at his friend. “If you want to hang out after English I can explain this whole thing, maybe show you the parts of Hawkins High that weren’t on the formal guided tour.”

Eddie wanted to hang out with her. Alone, without the other guys...wait, this was without the other guys, wasn’t it? Or would they all trail after him? Somehow she couldn’t picture Eddie without his little misfit flock of sheepies .

“That sounds great,” Rose said, standing up, fidgeting with her hands. “See you after English, Eddie.”

She spun around before he could even respond, half-skipping back to the ghost table, heavy leather boots as light as a feather on the shiny floor. Robin was watching, squinting in her direction, fingers peeling at the milk carton in her lap again, absentmindedly.

“Context,” she fired off as soon as Rose sat back down. “I need context, stat. I have no idea what's going on right now.”

Rose smiled brightly. “I think I've joined a satanic cult.”

Robin gawped and grabbed the carton; the warped laminated cardboard split open with a pop and drenched her entire lower half with milk. It soaked her jeans, spilled a milky waterfall into her sneakers, and sloshed all over the floor. She made a loud, bleugh noise in her throat as she surveyed the damage, and looked up at Rose with an utterly defeated expression. 

“Your new Lord and master Satan, does he offer a cleanup service?”

---

Midway through Biology, nose-deep in the pages of a brand new textbook and speed-reading the section on neurological impulses in the brain, it hit her. She was meeting Eddie for a free period. As far as she knew, just the two of them. Did this mean he liked her as more than a friend? Or was this typical extroverted-Eddie behaviour? Just a casual, low-key hangout that somehow involved a slipper ? 

Robin quizzed her thoroughly in the cafeteria, but she was light on details. Yes, she came across Hellfire by accident, yes D&D was fun (no, it was not really a satanic cult), yes she seems to have joined. But the panic-inducing crush on its DM? She may have left that out, for now.

Rose was suddenly seized with the impulse to flee to the girls bathroom and check on her hair; yes, it was in far better shape today, natural curls actually teased out a bit and sprayed with some Aqua Net, but did it still look decent? Maybe she should get out the lipstick buried in the bottom of her bag.

“Oh, this is hopeless ,” she groaned into the pages of the textbook.

“I know, right?” A gentle voice sighed. “This neuroscience quiz is going to be the death of me.”

Rose lowered her book. Over the top of the pages hovered a cheerleader, elfin-faced, with strawberry-blonde hair, sitting just at the lab table in front of her. Rose thought she looked familiar from English, but she was quiet, like she too wanted to be invisible despite the green and white uniform. Her cream jacket emblazoned with a Hawkins Tiger swallowed her slender frame, and she looked downcast, like she wanted to burrow into it and never come out. She looked like the kind of girl to have a charmed life, but instead was forlorn, more sad than a biology test could account for.

A sudden rush of sympathy came over Rose. “Mr Kaminski doesn’t seem that...enthusiastic,” she admitted quietly.

In fact, the teacher was currently scribbling long sections of text  with no explanation or even discussion with the class. His balding head hovered close to the chalkboard, fingers and jacket collar dusted with pale chalk, arms moving in a blur as he raced to write out his lesson plan as quickly as possible.

“I suppose. Maybe it’s just my brain. I’m stupid, just like my mom says,” the cheerleader said, melancholy. Gosh, she had such pretty blue eye shadow, just the same shade as her eyes. 

Wait, should Rose be wearing eyeshadow? She didn’t think she’d ever pull off that elegant pastel look, it tended to clash with her hair. Though she might curse her own features sometimes - she always thought her nose was too large for her face - she did actually like her hair colour: red, but a slightly darker auburn red, not a carrot top as the kids used to call her at home, before her hair darkened.

Rose abandoned any thoughts of dazzling blue eye shadow, and decided to make an offer. “There’s no way you’re stupid. Oh, I made some flashcards whilst he was talking, you could borrow them, if you like?”

“Really, you would do that? For someone you don’t even know?”

“I’m Rose, you probably knew that already, from the forced introduction at the front of the class.”

“Chrissy, Chrissy Cunningham,” the forlorn cheerleader introduced herself. “Jason Carver’s girlfriend.”

Oh. Jason...king of the jocks, antagoniser of freaks, preacher of morality in English class. She couldn’t see them together, somehow.

Rose held out a thick wad of neon yellow cards, covered in her loopy handwriting. “So now we know each other, you can borrow the flashcards.”

Chrissy’s smile was dazzling as she took the notes. “You’re too nice. Won’t you need to use them yourself though?”

“I’ll make some more,” Rose shrugged. 

Turns out, when you spend half your teens in a hospital undergoing every scan on the planet and talking with specialists, including neurological examinations after the little died-for-a-while incident, this stuff came quite easy. Not that she had any ambition to pursue biology or medicine or anything vaguely health-related as a career - she’d had enough of the frailty of the human condition, thank you very much.

She was first out the door when the bell rang, books clutched to her chest, almost knocking over a boy in the crowded hall in her haste to get to English class. She speed-walked right past her locker, groaning and slapping her own forehead when she had to turn back and fiddle with the awkward little dial, messing up the combination and cursing under her breath as she tried to get the bloody thing open. When she eventually cracked it and pulled the metal door open hastily, her books collapsed onto the floor in a head, and she had to scoop them all up, chanting “fuck, fucking fuckity fuck,” and earning some serious side-eye from a girl with an enormous permed side-pony and a gigantic blue scrunchie.

So by the time she arrived at O’Donnell’s door, most of the class were chatting and taking their seats. Except this time, her desk at the back of the room was taken. Occupied by none other than Eddie, who seemed to take the rigid metal and wood frame of the desk and chair as a personal challenge, slouched in the chair at such a weird angle that he was almost lying down, feet squirming against the floor.

Miraculously, the desk to his left was free. And with no fear of offending Robin - who had used the milk stunt in the cafeteria and a very impassioned plea to Principal Higgins to get the afternoon off and go home to change - she slipped past the other students and took the empty desk.

“Twice in one day, McAllister?” Eddie quipped, leaning toward her. He put a hand to his chest in mock surprise. “Should I get a restraining order? Pepper spray? Maybe keep Dustin around as a highly ineffective bodyguard?”

She took out her new copy of Edgar Allen Poe’s short stories and poems, the gothic raven taking wing on the front cover, dropping it on the faded wooden desktop. “I’ve seen Dustin with a d20 in one hand and a sharpened pencil in the other, roaring like a tiger as he took down a demogorgon. He was feral. I’d put my money on him any day.”

It made him chuckle, eyes sparkling under the harsh fluorescent lights of the classroom. “Henderson is totally terrifying in his own way. Damn, sweetheart. Here I was, betting on you getting through-”

“Mr Munson, is that you?” O’Donnell’s nasal voice sliced right through whatever Eddie was about to say, jolting him to attention, his pencil bouncing on the floor. “I had almost begun to forget what you looked like.”

He took it like a blow to the chest, his quick-tongued, brash exterior slipping right into place. “You wound me, Mrs O’Donnell. Did our time together mean nothing to you?”

Rose looked around. Half the students including meathead Andy were laughing, the other were quiet, looks of apathy, or even hostility all across the classroom. Jason Carver most of all.

Mrs O’Donnell peered over the rims of her tortoiseshell glasses, her defeated stance obvious to the whole class. “On the contrary, I remember it all. Every expletive-filled rant about the curriculum, every complaint from another concerned parent who begged me to move you from their precious children’s class, every flunked test. In fact, I regularly pray for you to get your smart mouth in gear, put pen to paper, and finally get a passing grade so we never have to see each other again.”

Ouch. That hurt, even as a bystander. But it rolled off Eddie like oil on water; in fact, he seemed to feed on it. “I know, Irene. I’ve treated you bad. But we’ll always have those beautiful Saturday morning detentions, I'll look back on our memories fondly.”

Even Andy gasped at that one. One girl’s bubble gum dropped out her open mouth, stuck to the page of her open notebook.

“How Principal Higgins continues to let you on the school grounds and in a classroom is beyond me, Mr Munson,” O’Donnell fumed, the folds of her sagging neck shaking like a turkey as she vibrated with anger. “But I will not let you detract from the education of the other students. Save your theatrics for drama class.”

Eddie - for once - said nothing and let her cool off; she turned to the desk and took a huge shoulder-shaking breath before digging out her teacher’s copy of Poe. “Back to The Tell-Tale Heart, please class. Today we will discuss the physical manifestation of death and paranoia in the story, and how the house itself is a character, influencing the plot and bringing about the climax of the book. Listen up, for the themes here will be found in The Fall of the House of Usher when we study Poe’s other works after Thanksgiving.”

O’Donnell set to the lesson, and after a few minutes of settling the class and discussing the text, Rose finally spared a long glance at Eddie. He’d deflated, like the quippy defensive act with the teacher had truly taken it out of him. She didn’t like the look of it at all, that trace of sadness that lingered in his eyes.

He caught her staring. 

You okay? She mouthed at him, totally unfocused on the lesson, grateful they were at the very back of the class.

Eddie gave her a weak thumbs up, smile lines etched into his cheek. He was way over the pretense that he was reading the book, looking downward at the desk, taking something small out of his pocket and pressing it to the desk. But then he stopped, frowning and inspecting the tabletop with serious interest. Whatever it was, it was shiny and sharp, partly obscured by his unruly hair.

Oh fuck. Rose sat there last week; etched into that desk was a seriously cool-looking grim reaper, shadowed by a cowl, face unseen, wielding a scythe. She’d traced her fingers over the drawing and she’d drawn a severed heart in the path of the scythe in red marker pen, inspired by the beating heart that haunted Poe’s narrator and drove him to confess.

She must have made a pitiful noise of some kind, for when his eyes swivelled up, he knew . She could just tell. His ringed finger pointed at her then back at the desk, question written all over his own face. 

Casual. Yes, Rose could be casual about it. She shrugged, but it became a weird cringey motion and before she knew it she’d leaned into her own shoulder, muffling her own groan and hiding. Just wanting to be swallowed by the floor. Of course he could draw, of course the bloody grim reaper was penned by the Dungeon Master of Hellfire. It was so on brand, so in character...and she’d just doodled on top of his creation on her first day, like it was nothing.

Avoid eye contact. That will work. She kept her head down and listened to O’Donnell, focusing on her explanation of literary devices. Dramatic irony...fascinating.

Rose lasted thirty seconds. She snuck a glance toward him; Eddie immediately sprang to life, pulling a grotesque face with his tongue pointing down to his chin, eyes devil-wide and fingers feigning pointy horns on his head.

Rose spluttered, unable to stop herself. Her bark of laughter choked in her throat and became a humiliating cough, every person in the room suddenly swivelling to see what was wrong.

“Do you need a glass of water Miss McAllister, or can I get back to the class?” O’Donnell asked.

Tears stung the corner of her eyes. Eddie - the bastard - had quickly composed himself, pencil in hand, poised over his notebook as if he were diligently taking notes. Butter wouldn’t melt, puppy dog eyes. Only Rose could see the open page of his notebook was completely blank.

“Sorry,” Rose croaked. “My throat feels a bit dry, but i’ll be fine.”

O’Donnell narrowed her eyes, looking between the two of them. “Hmm,” her lips pressed together, and she launched straight back into the lesson.

Thus it began. Forty minutes of torture. Each time they made eye contact she was struck with an uncontrollable, side-splitting urge to laugh, bursting in her chest, threatening to spill out at any minute. It didn’t help that he committed to the bit with more vigour than a Shakespearean actor, pulling more faces, winking, mimicking O’Donnell by pushing non existent spectacles and peering over them.

By the time the bell rang her stomach ached, and she had learned absolutely nothing about the literary devices of Edgar Allen Poe. Couldn’t tell you a thing. Stupefied, sent into a dreamy daze.

When the bell screamed out, that stomach ache quickly turned to butterflies. Eddie shrugged on his leather jacket and denim battle vest, hovering by her side as she grabbed her leather satchel from the floor, pushing her books in clumsily.

“So,” Rose began, as they walked side by side out of class, shoulders bumping into each other at the door. “I’ve been dying to ask you about the slipper thing since lunch. Are we talking about a literal slipper, something I can wear on my feet?"

Eddie smiled bashfully. “Purely metaphorical, sweetheart. Though if you are into cosy footwear, you should go for it. Fly that freak flag high and proud, baby. I...uh... admit, i’m liking these boots though. Very Anarchy in the UK .”

Rose looked down and almost tripped, suddenly aware of her own clumsy feet. “Skinhead, actually,” she corrected. “I got them in Camden Market a few years ago. Though everyone seems to wear them since John Entwhistle went on stage in them a few years ago. He’s a guitarist-”

“The bassist from The Who,” Eddie cut in, nodding eagerly. “Oh I know who he is. He’s seriously good...so good they call him Thunderfingers. He experimented a lot with bi-amps and all these stacks of speakers so he could actually hear himself over the goddamn drummer, cause you know The Who weren’t known for being quiet, man,” he paused, grabbing the back of his neck and looking a little sheepish. “Sorry, I get a little crazy when it comes to music. The guys usually throw something at me to make me stop. Gareth’s broken a dozen drumsticks that way. In fact, I have to buy him some more from the music store in Cartersville before the weekend, or we won’t be able to practice.”

Really? Did his friends find this irritating? Because Rose wanted nothing more than to let him keep talking, revealing more about himself.

“There are so many questions I want to ask,” she said, gesturing with her hands, becoming more animated. “But most of all...you’re in a band? With Gareth? Do you play rock music? I figured it would have to be, with this entire look you have going on.”

They had wandered the corridors together. Eddie opened the door to the parking lot as she spoke, holding it open for her with a small bow, and following her outside. His limbs became looser, more free, with each step away from the school doors.

“Yeah, i’m in a band,” he flexed his shoulders, jean chain slapping into his thigh. “We all are, the older Hellfire guys. Gareth’s our drummer, Jeff is rhythm guitar, Chris is our bassist. But Corroded Coffin doesn't just play rock music, we’re a metal band.”

Rose followed him across the lot, no awareness of her surroundings. “Ah. The Iron Maiden t-shirt should have given it away, shouldn’t it,” she muttered, thinking herself foolish for not noticing earlier. “Wait, so if Gareth is the drummer, and Chris and Jeff are guitarists, what does that make you?”

Eddie had stopped, leaning against the panel of a beaten up old Chevy van, black with a white stripe across its middle. His stance was too casual for it to be someone else's, one of his sneakered feet braced against the panelling. His wicked smile spread slowly, dimples forming underneath the apple of his cheeks. “Lead singer, and lead guitarist, sweetheart. You think Hellfire is my baby? Wait til you see me on stage, wielding the mighty Warlock. There’s nothing else like it. It’s fucking intoxicating.”

Rose bit her lip. Eddie on stage, Eddie with a guitar...that was imagination overload, almost breaking her brain. “Your band is called Corroded Coffin? That’s gothic. Are you sure you haven’t been reading Edgar Allen Poe?”

Eddie looked flustered. “Ha ha. Yeah, it’s the best a bunch of middle schoolers could come up with. Eighth grade Eddie thought it was cool as hell.”

“It’s right up there with Black Sabbath. Wait...they are metal, aren’t they?” 

“Rose,” he said seriously. “If you start me up on the definition of metal, it will take more than a full free period to explain. Before you go all adorably ranty and ask me a million questions, I have to give you something.”

Eddie opened the drivers door of the van and leaned right in, jeans dropping at his hips until a stripe of plaid boxers were on show. He rummaged around in the cluttered front seat, throwing wrappers and tapes around until he cackled like a horror villain and grabbed something, turning around, hands hidden behind his back.

“What is it?” Rose said, on edge.

He whipped his arms around with a flourish. A very familiar silver walkman sat in his hands, headphones attached with a coiled little cord. 

“Thank fucking Christ,” she let our a deeply held breath. “I looked for that thing for hours, and turned up the whole house. Mum was tearing her hair out. I honestly thought I had lost it.”

Eddie handed it to her extravagantly. “You must have dropped it at Hellfire. I’m glad I could be of service to the fair Lady Thorn, nymph of Icewind Dale,” he squirmed and shuffled on his Reeboks, squinting as he looked at her. “I...uh...I have a confession to make though.”

Rose held the walkman tightly, against her chest. “Is this the part where you bundle me in the back of the satanic murder van and I become a gruesome story on the six-o-clock news?”

He gasped theatrically. “Shit, no way. Hellfire can’t sacrifice its own members, even satanists have to have some morals. You’re off limits.”

“Ah, so other students are on the table?” Rose asks.

His tongue ran over his teeth devilishly, and it did something feral to her, spreading warm, rushing feelings across her body, in particular places she shouldn’t be thinking about right now. 

Eddie’s eyes light up. “We prefer a nice ritual altar, but the lunch tables could do in a pinch.”

Rose snorted out a laugh, covering her mouth again, blushing furiously as she realised how inelegant she sounded. But she couldn’t be composed and cool when he was so lame and adorably funny. 

Eddie stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, his words spilling out in a rush. “I was serious about the confession though. I just possibly, might have, okay definitely and repeatedly listened to your mixtape.”

“What?!”

“Now i’ve said it out loud that sounds like a total invasion of privacy,” he panicked, hands pulled out, palms up in a defensive gesture. “But it was there...all tempting and seductive, whispering Eddie, push my buttons...play me.. .and I caved like a little bitch.”

Rose bit her lip. “It’s okay. It’s not like you read my diary or something. Don’t even have one.”

“Oh, thank Satan,” he sagged with relief. “Because I have so many thoughts about your taste in music. Dear god, I have never heard so much Duran Duran in my entire life. Hungry Like the Wolf was on there twice ...was that an accident?”

She was mortified, and it felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. She had a giant, unrelenting thing for Eddie Munson, rock god and frontman of a metal band...and he’d heard all her guilty pleasure songs, a tracklist she’d put together without any thoughts of being overheard by magnetic, weirdly, alluringly, handsome boys dissecting her music tastes. 

“Kill me now,” she mumbled. “Just tie me up and put me in the van, let Hellfire sacrifice me on the altar.”

Eddie blinked several times like an owl, head dipping low. “Wha- what?”

“Well, now you have seen my inner loser,” Rose said, laughing sarcastically. “You know what? I’m not ashamed. This is me, Rose McAllister, lover of shit music, that must be what you’re thinking. I like Duran Duran. And Queen. And...and...and I suddenly can’t remember who else is on the tape.”

“Bowie, Billy Idol, Flock of Seagulls...” he trailed off gleefully, taking a step forward with each musical act, until he was so close she could see the dark liquid amber of his eyes. “And i’ll admit, for a minute there I was confused. Yes, it’s eclectic. There’s some normie shit on that tape. But when I flipped that little sucker over and listened to the other side, White Room came on and I was floored. Cream? Come on, fucking Eric Clapton on guitar? That is awesome. Sunshine of Your Love too...and then Hendrix with Voodoo Child, and that sweet opening riff of Smoke on the Water by Deep fucking Purple ? That’s rock, baby. That’s some serious orgasmic fucking guitar work right there...and Deep Purple are the goddamn progenitors of metal. Well, I'm kind of shafting Sabbath here, which feels wrong. Sabbath is really the bedrock of metal, who am I kidding. But the point is, you might just be a potential metalhead.”

He was so passionate as he went on and on about music that he seemed to vibrate, like he would burst at any moment, head shaking side to side, frizzy hair with a life of its own. 

She took the lifeline, held onto it tight. “So i’m not a lost cause, then?”

“Lost cause? Fuck no!” He shouted the last two words and their little bubble popped when a teacher yelled across the parking lot, reminding them both that this was still school, even if it was a free period. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, holding up the walkman. “For returning it. This little thing got me through three long-term hospital stays, and Duran Duran and Cream and all the other bands, they kept me sane when I thought I was going crazy.”

His eyes softened. “You’re welcome, Rose. Can’t have you going crazy, we need that eighth player for Hellfire on Friday night. Gareth’s counting on you to do the girl voices.”

“Are there a lot of female voices?”

He leaned back casually on the van again. “Oh, we come across a few fair maidens on our travels. Sometimes other warriors, sometimes a saucy tavern wench we have to seduce to gain information. But...uh...we won’t make you do anything like that. Nothing creepy or uncomfortable. Just warrior maidens in this campaign.”

“Great,” she said, fighting off some serious nerves. The thought of being seduced by Eddie with words over the Hellfire table had her spiralling. Earth to McAllister, get your mind out of the gutter. She tried to change tack, before she blurted out something stupid. “So I believe I was promised a tour of the school. One that included all the parts the teachers won’t tell you about.”

Eddie flared to life again, slamming the door of this van shut and bowing for her again, ushering her toward the school building, where they walked in tandem, crossing the parking lot and going down the side of the building. “One tour coming up, milady. Can’t go back on my word now, can I. So these are the dumpsters that the lunch leftovers are thrown in each day. Smells divine, doesn’t it.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Just lovely.”

“I caught one of the teachers dumpster diving here once...that was a disturbing sight. Couldn’t look at them the same again. But quickly, we’ll move onto the athletic grounds, where the brightest and best of the monkey house fling faeces...I mean balls....up into the air to show off their masculine prowess and attract a mate.”

They approached a small outdoor field marked out with white lines, surrounded on two long sides by rickety metal frames of seating.

“The jock in his natural habitat,” Rose joined in, putting on a posh voice like the narrator of a documentary. “Threatened by other mature males, he peacocks, putting on a large helmet to increase the size of his head, and a jockstrap to appear more appealing to the female of the species.”

Eddie was in his element, joining right in. “And here, the bleachers. The mating grounds of the common jockstrap, where after the mating dance on the football field is complete, he attempts to lure the female with exaggerated claims of manliness, in a desperate attempt to procreate.”

Rose’s laughter trailed off as their hands accidentally brushed, and she felt as dizzy as a drunk coming out of a bar on a cold night, hit by fresh air. Eddie must have sensed it too, for he dropped the act and flexed his fingers like he didn’t know what to do with them. They took quiet, almost aimless steps across the grassy field, until he suddenly grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the treeline, jolting her forward.

“Come on,” he said cheerily. “Last stop’s this way.”

He dragged past the bleachers and into the , following a narrow, well-trodden path, where the beautiful golden leaves that made up the autumn tree canopy widened into an opening. Stray leaves crunched under Rose’s sturdy Doc Martens, but all she could feel was his hand, curled confidently around hers. Eddie was tactile with all the Hellfire guys, but friends don’t lead each other by the hands into secret spots in the woods...did they?

“If this leads towards a creepy ritual altar, Munson, then i’ll...” 

His head whipped around. “Don’t stop there, I’m intrigued.”

I’ll let you tie me up and do whatever you bloody like, Rose’s traitorous inner voice whispered. “Go for the eyes or the balls,” she said out loud. “Or if I was at home, crack you over the head with my hockey stick. I once saw a girl knocked clean unconscious on the hockey field.”

“That’s so brutal,” he grinned. “I would not have pegged you for a violent kind of girl.”

“I know i’m a clumsy, babbling idiot, but perhaps there’s more to me than people think.”

“Oh I am certain of that,” Eddie said with conviction.

When he turned back to the woods trail she spotted a black bandana tucked in his back jean pocket, and the huge Dio emblazoned on the back of his denim sleeves jacket. From his hair, rings, and the badges sewn all over his clothes, to the chain sewn clumsily into his sleeve where the zipper had broken, everything about Eddie Munson was unique, unapologetic about who he was.

They emerged in a clearing, dominated by a weathered picnic table and benches. It was a really odd spot for a picnic table, but Rose supposed the woods were pretty at this time of year, and the tree cover gave them complete privacy.

Privacy. Actually, this was the first time they had been alone, and far from the observing eyes of the Hawkins High student body. 

“Last stop,” he swaggered around the clearing, letting go of her hand and leaning on the picnic table. “The most dangerous spot in the school, where all the stoners go to score some pot.”

Rose chuckled and came to sit at the table, opposite him. “Which idiot thought this completely obvious spot would be a good spot for a secret drug deal? Let me guess, is it one of the basketball team?”

Eddie went quiet, eyes wide as saucers, waiting for something. She looked around, taking in the sights and smells of the forest, and looking down at the splintered table top. There was something etched into the wood, a bat...a whole series of bats, in the same style of the grim reaper from O’Donnell’s English classroom. Eddie’s grim reaper.

“Shit,” she exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Fuck. It’s you, isn’t it?”

His whole expression was vulnerable, watching her closely, warily. “Afraid so. Guilty as charged. I guess this is the part where you tell me to fuck off and leave you alone, huh?”

Rose didn’t expect it, she hadn’t really thought much about his life outside of school. She’d only known the guy for a couple of days, a few hours altogether. That rocker image he gave off was an outline, one she had yet to fill in with colour and shade, the complex reality of his life still unknown.

She turned introspective for a minute. She might have spent a lot of her teen years in and out of hospital - which was boring, filled with straight-laced medical staff and other sick children - but when she had recovered, she’d quickly tried to seek out all the elusive, wild experiences she’d dreamed about for years. Bars and pubs and alcohol, late nights with new people she’d hoped to call friends, but never really stuck around. There was a streak in her that she inherited from her father. It killed him in the end, led him to a cold, watery grave when she was thirteen and newly diagnosed, so drunk he’d swerved off the road into a small lake. So no wonder her mother watched over Rose like a hawk, melting down when she was home late, smelling of cheap spirits or beer, seeking out something to make her feel.

Life was messy. Hers had been, at least. So it should be no surprise that Eddie Munson’s was too.

“Motherf-” Eddie bit off his own curse, turning around slowly, sinking down onto the bench opposite with his back to her. He sat with his head in his hands, completely still. She’d not seen him that still in all the short time she’d known him.

She realised it had been a long time since he made his admission; she’d just sat there in silence, leaving him with no answer. And no answer probably felt like judgement or rejection.

“I see what this is,” Rose said, trying to keep her voice lighthearted. “You can’t sacrifice me to your lord and master Satan, but at least you can make a few bucks and convert me to the devil’s lettuce.”

“Don’t,” he murmured back quickly, still buried in his hands.

Okay, so joking didn’t land well. Rose leapt over the table - though it was more of an awkward scramble with a sudden realisation that her dress wasn’t that long so she should be careful of her leg placement - and dropped on the bench alongside Eddie. She couldn’t say why the hell she didn’t walk around, a momentary madness maybe, or copying the habits of the boy next to her.

“You can flee now,” Eddie said. “But i’ll walk you back to school if you want. Don’t know who else is out in these woods.”

“Why would I flee?!” Rose asked, voice high pitched.

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you’re in the woods with a fucking drug dealer. You must think i’m a waste of space. I would.”

She raised her hand, placing it tentatively on his back, wary they had not touched above the hand holding when he dragged her here. “I don’t give a fuck if you sell weed. I mean, assuming you’re not selling coke or heroin to the kids...”

“Fuck no,” he responds immediately, enough punchy anger in that statement to let he know he means it. “Just weed at school. Some bennies and ketamine too, but i’ve never sold them here. Mostly outside bars.”

“I’m not shocked. I was sick a lot, but I did have a fucking life, Eddie. I’ve done stuff i’m not proud of. But my opinion shouldn’t matter, what do you think about it?”

Eddie drew in a deep breath and sat up. He still couldn’t look at her; his face profiled from the side, staring at the forest floor. “What do I think that I can’t get an honest fucking job in this town, where the name Munson is synonymous with lying, cheating, stealing and wasting away like goddamn trailer trash? Because I am trailer trash by the way, I live with my Uncle Wayne in a one-bed unit off Kerley. Its just fuckin’ fantastic...I sell to kids who wanna get high at high school parties, living a little before they piss off to college and get white collar jobs or settle down and start cookie cutter little families. Whilst i’m a two-time super senior who can’t even scrape together enough credits to graduate from this shit hole.”

Eddie was gathering momentum, a dam burst behind the endlessly funny, confident demeanour he’d shown her. His knees were bouncing relentlessly, hands gesturing to punctuate the helplessness of his words. 

“I’m twenty years old, and the highlight of my fucking life is playing Dungeons and Dragons with a bunch of fourteen year old boys, or playing guitar with a garage band on the weekends and clinging onto the vanishing fucking hope that we might be good enough, that I might be good enough for something more than being booed off stage by a crowd of five drunks at The Hideout on a Tuesday. And knowing i’m gonna end up like my Uncle Wayne working twelve hour shifts at the plant with a trailer to come home to if i’m lucky, or even worse, like my old man...Al Munson, the two-time felon who tried to get me to mule fucking drugs for him...who left me to deal with the aftermath of a shootout without a second goddamn thought, leaving me to keep that cop from bleeding to death. So it's a factory or a jail cell for Eddie Munson. Glamorous, huh? Just the kind of guy you wanna be...you wanna be spending time with.”

Rose let the words echo around her. She laid her head back on the picnic table, the gravity of his words settled in as the russet leaves of the red maple tree swayed in the wind. “Come here,” she said softly.

Eddie snapped. “What?”

“Lie back with me.”

“This is a weird moment to be having a nap, sweetheart.”

“Just do it.”

He hesitated. Seconds later she heard a resigned gruff sigh and felt strands of his hair tickle her neck, heads laid side by side on the table.

“What are we looking at?” Eddie asked.

“Leaves. They’re pretty."

“Okaaay. I get it. I broke you, didn’t I. Fried your wires.”

“I want to spend time with you,” she began tentatively. “I want to be around you because you should be scary-”

“This isn’t a good start,” he interrupted.

“Shh. Just hold on. You should be scary,  you're covered in tattoos and chains and badges of heavy metal bands. You’re a bit obnoxious-”

“Wow.”

Rose swatted his hand, and somehow, his ended up tangled with hers again. But this time their fingers were entwined, the kind of intimate  hand-holding for those destined to be way more than friends. He held onto her like his life depended on it.

“Go on, Rosie,” he said, softer this time. “Tell me how obnoxious I am.”

Rosie. That was new. Well, it was better than Rosebud.

“Don’t be so impatient,” she chastised him. “I was saying...everything you do projects this big, fearless rockstar. Bold and scary and brave, shepherding these kids from the people that would bully them, their shield against the judgemental dickheads of the world. They think you’re tough because you don’t care for the opinions of normies. But you do care, and that’s exactly what makes you strong. You exist loudly, brilliantly, exactly as yourself, despite that fear. I’m not exaggerating when I say that in the two days I've spent with you, Edward Munson, I feel like a better person. I’m a little less afraid to be me. Maybe I can be fearless too.”

He squeezed her hand, until her fingers went numb. She squeezed back, until she swore she felt one of their knuckles pop, fingers so entwined she couldn’t tell where hers ended and his began.

“It’s Edgar.”

She sat up, blood rushing to her head. “What?”

Eddie’s hair was splayed about his face like a curly brown halo. He turned to face her, a slow smile turning the corners of his lips upward. “My full name is Edgar. I blame the old man, the asshole. I’m telling you this in complete confidence, the only person in school that knows is Jeff. If Henderson or the other kids find out...”

“ Edgar? Like Edgar Allen Poe?” Rose almost screeched. “Should I be following you around with a raven or a beating heart, reciting poetry?”

“Piss off,” he said, still smiling.

“Edgar Munson. Were you born in the Victorian era? I know you said you were a super senior but...wow. Should I get you a cane to walk with? A top hat? Shit, should I be calling you Mr Munson?”

“Seriously, McAllister. I’m gonna-”

“Mr Munson, esquire. I shouldn’t forget to respect my elders.”

Eddie tugged on their joined hands until she rolled into him, the full length of her torso pressed against his. Every cell of her brain deteriorated at once, the sheer heat of his body, the badges and zips pressing into her breasts, the immediate dismantling of the personal space that had kept them at a polite distance...and now they were in the same space, all pretense dropped, sharing breath, noses almost brushing. So close she had to look between his endlessly dark eyes to see them both, trying to determine what he was thinking.

“You were saying?” He said low; she could feel it vibrate through her chest, sending her into a daze until she had to remember to actually breathe.

“I...I don’t know,” she babbled, cripplingly aware that she was nearly straddling his lap, their thighs pressed side by side. Her lips parted, working up the courage to close the distance and kiss him.

Eddie reached out his free hand and held her jaw, stroking the skin of her cheekbone with his thumb. She would have sworn that literal violins struck up in the background, a chorus marching to the rapid beating of her heart, like she was in a period romance with the brooding hero. And when his hand slipped into her hair, raking through it, bringing her head closer, it was so perfect that it was almost...painful?”

“Ow,” Rose winced, her scalp on fire. “Ow, ow, ow!”

“Shit, what did I do?” Eddie cried out, face twisting into shock.

They tried to spring apart, snapped back by his hand caught in her hair. Rose felt a few strands of her hair torn out at the root. Eddie’s chunky silver rings had caught in the thick strands; the more he struggled, the more she cursed and hissed in pain. 

Eddie was babbling. “Oh my god i’m so sorry, what the fuck, i don’t wanna hurt you sweetheart please...i’m so sorry. Let me take them off, let me-”

“Fucking hell, Jesus Christ, I feel like i’m being scalped,” Rose mumbled back to him, tears springing in the corner of her eyes. She closed the distance again, needing to stay close to prevent the damage from worsening. Eddie’s face was right by hers, at one point their cheeks were pressed against each other and she fully ended up in his lap, as he wriggled the massive rings from his fingers.

“I’m sorry baby, i’m sorry,” Eddie said soothingly, his teeth gritting as he tried to delicately remove the last of the rings.

By the time they were all freed and his hand could untangle from her hair, they were breathing hard like they’d both run a marathon. Eye contact made, shock and panic shooting adrenaline through both of their veins, like she’d been drinking hard. She laughed, he followed. Sinking into mirth, the tense, romantic mood shattered into pieces, left with something funny, something still deep, something that was paving the way for serious, heart-stopping feelings.

“What is it?” Rose asked, seeing Eddie dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Is it the hair, do I look ridiculous?”

Eddie’s eyes were glowing. “My rings are all stuck in your hair...your hair is literally metal, McAllister. That’s so fucking weird.”

Her hands flew to her scalp and were met with four lumpy, cold chunks of metal. “Oh shit. What do I do? Will they come out by themselves? I don’t want to lose any more hair, I got chewing gum in my hair as a child and Mum had to cut it out, it took two years to fully grow out.”

Eddie nodded vigorously, taking off the ring on his other hand. “Just relax, I swear i’m not gonna do any more damage. At least, I don’t think so.”

Rose laughed again. “Are you sure it won’t hurt?”

Eddie thought of something, he dipped his hand into his pocket, bringing out a plain cassette tape in a transparent case. “I can’t promise, sweetheart. But I have a distraction for you. After I heard that beautiful mess of a mixtape in your walkman, I kind of made one for you.”

Rose felt more tears at the corners of her eyes, but not from the pain. “You made me a mixtape? After Friday night?” The subtext was clear: after one meeting, one session with Hellfire?

“Yeah. It’s metal songs that I thought you might like, after working out what music you’re into. Do you wanna listen whilst I try to untangle the rings?”

She nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak.

“Okay, here we go,” Eddie nodded. He switched out the tapes, clicking the walkman cover into place and putting her own tape into the case. He brushed the hair back from her shoulders gently, placing the headphones over her head, adjusting them carefully until the offending section of hair was free and the headphone cups covered her ears properly.

“You good?”

“I’m great,” Rose replied.

His bare hands looked different, fingers pale. He must wear the rings a lot . He pressed the play button and a guitar struck up, a kind of restrained introduction with a drumbeat slowly rolling in. It wasn’t heavy , not in the way she expected. It was...nice.

Raspy vocals kicked in, still relatively tame compared to her expectations.

I ride, I ride the winds that bring the rain

A creature of love and I can't be tamed

I want you, 'cause I'm gonna take your love from him

And I'll touch your face and hot burning skin

Eddie had wordlessly begun, fingers stroking her scalp, gently lifting away sections of hair until the rings were visible. 

No, he'll never ever touch you like I do

So look in my eyes and burn alive the truth

She closed her eyes and felt the music, and Eddie’s fingers, struck by the sheer intimacy of sitting so close to someone, fully trusting them to tend to you whilst you couldn’t hear a thing. She felt when one of the rings came free, just as the song’s chorus swelled.

I'm a wild child, come and love me

I want you

My heart's in exile I need you to touch me

'Cause I want what you do

I'm a wild child, come and love me

I want you

My heart's in exile I need you to touch me

'Cause I want what you do

I want you

Rose was nodding her head in time to the beat, losing herself in the music. By the time the first song had finished, Eddie was tapping her on the shoulder. She opened her eyes and found him watching with concern, as he carefully took off the headphones.

“I’m all done, sweetheart. Did that hurt?”

“Not a bit. Eddie, the song was great. Who was it? I’ve never heard them before.”

His answering smile was contagious. “That’s W.A.S.P. See?” He pointed to one of the badges on his denim vest. “They’re kinda recent, made a name for themselves in L.A. Really good showmen, their concerts are legendary. I’ve been meaning to go see them when they tour. But don’t lie to me, Rose. Did you like it?”

“Loved it. Play the next song,” she demanded. 

Eddie stowed his rings in his jacket pocket and put the headphones back on her. “This is Sabbath, but not Ozzy Sabbath, Dio Sabbath. Lady Evil is such a great song, I love this one.”

“Listen with me then,” Rose slipped them off straight away, inverting the earcups and pressing one to her ear, pulling Eddie close so he could listen from the other ear. Faces only inches away, sat side by side on the picnic bench, she felt as giddy as a thirteen year old with their first crush.

The music played again, and she could feel Eddie’s body move with the music.

“I can’t believe I've not really listened to metal before,” Rose admitted, caught up in the smooth vocals of Dio. “This is great.”

Eddie gave her an intense look. “You can’t start with full on thrash metal, sweetheart. You’ve gotta work it up, take it slow. Build up the intensity, until it’s pounding at your eardrums and you’re begging for more. Just wait, we’ll get you there. You’ll be listening to Metallica and Slayer in no time.”

Rose lowered her eyes and flushed again, feeling suddenly nervous that the man at her side had evaded the law, dealt drugs, and probably had vast and thorough experience to back up the clearly sexual innuendo behind his words. Whilst she had never gone beyond some frantic snogging and a bit of over-the-clothes groping with Simon the skinhead, the young barman from the pub at home, which her mother thankfully seemed to have no clue about. 

But as Black Sabbath launched into the chorus of Lady Evil and her little finger gently nudged against Eddie’s on the table, the slightest contact causing his breath to hitch and his cheshire grin to spread slowly across his face, she knew in her bones that whatever was happening was affecting them in equal measure. She might be able to live up to her little speech earlier; she might just be fearless. 

[obanais-koibito]

Telling Scary Stories With Your Boyfriend Sanemi

You were pumped and excited for Halloween and felt like getting into the Halloween spirit. You took the time while Sanemi was at work to decorate the house both inside and out, you threw on some comfy new Halloween themed pajamas, and put on a scary movie while you ate some popcorn and some of the Halloween treats you baked earlier. Sanemi came home from work and was about to question why there was so much stuff outside when he saw that there were decorations inside as well.

“Why are you dressed like that and why did you put up so much stuff? HOW did you get all this up so fast!?”

“I wanted to get into the Halloween spirit because it's a spooky month!”

You exclaimed as you paused the movie and gestured for him to come join you. He chuckled a bit before coming and sitting next to you.

“You know you act like a kid sometimes.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and bit into another spider cookie.

“You also baked while I was gone?! Do you secretly have the power to freeze time so you would have enough time to decorate the inside AND outside of the house, bake cookies, and go shopping for some new pajamas?”

He asked as he reached for one of the cookies and bit it.

“Mmm, this is delicious though.”

You giggled and shook your head.

“Nope, no magic or superhuman powers, I just have so much talent.”

You said, playfully flipping your hair and he chuckled again and kissed you on the cheek.

“Well, I’m going to go change and then I’ll join you-“

“Oh! That reminds me, I also bought you Halloween pajamas, they are in the bag on the table.”

He nodded, grabbed the bag and went into your shared bedroom and changed into them. A couple minutes later, he came out with the same pajamas you had so you were matching.

“Aww, you look adorable, now come join me and watch the movie with me! You can have some more cookies~”

He immediately walked over to you, sat down next to you, and snatched another cookie. He wrapped an arm around you and ate the cookie while trying to figure out what is happening in the movie. You both watched the movie and once it finished, you whined. 

“Aw man, it's finished.”

“How about we turn off the lights and tell scary stories since you wanna be in the Halloween spirit.”

You nodded your head eagerly and he got up and turned off the light before pulling out his phone and turning the flashlight on.

“I’ll go first and if it’s too scary, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“It’s a story, it won’t be scary.”

He smirked and chuckled.

“Whatever you say darling.”

He began telling a story about a man who lived alone with his dog in an old house. The man considered his dog his best and only friend since he didn’t talk to anyone, not even at his workplace. One day, when the man came home, expecting for his dog to greet him, the dog didn’t come running to him.

The man found this peculiar and looked around the house, calling for him. He then heard a creak up in the attic and went to investigate. He quietly went up the stairs, with a couple creaks coming from the stairs here and there and before he opened the door to the attic, he tried to listen for more noise but didn’t hear any. He opened the squeaky door and took a step inside and-

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Sanemi screamed which made you jump and start looking around.

“Why the hell did you scream?!”

You exclaimed when you saw nothing and he chuckled.

“You’d scream too if you stepped on a rusty nail.”

“I- what?”

“He screamed because he stepped on a nail when he went into the attic, that’s the point of the story, to scare the audience.”

“…I hate you.”

You said before pouting and he laughed before he brought you into his arms.

“I love you too honey…wanna hear another scary story for the Halloween spirit?”

“No, I think that’s enough Halloween spirit for one day.”

You said as he stroked your hair and smiled.

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Honey Bracket: Round 3, Poll 1

Rose illustration by @wraith_ly on twitter!

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Rose Thorburn Jr.

uhh. i can't actually give or read full rose propaganda because i haven't actually. Finished reading the book. and i guarantee she does some real heinous shit when she gets back that i don't know about yet. but rose fucking sweep. rose thorburn kill them with demons.

She certainly doesn't get *less* jerkish across the story, I can tell you that

Rose is literally responsible for multiple people getting CONSUMED BY DEMONS. She was LITERALLY designed to be a Machiavellian piece of shit and it’s only by pure luck that she has any kind of heart or compassion, greatest girlboss I’ve ever seen, bless her heart (she deserves hell)

Rose thorburn was given a sapient clone of her but if she was a better person (and also a guy) to use as a sacrificial lamb slash meatshield against the assembled magical and karmic forces attempting to kill her for her family's history of using demons for Evil Shit & in response she knowingly manipulated him towards those ends while selfishly seeking emotional comfort from him, e.g forcibly hugging him despite being fully aware that he has intense trauma around touch + finds it triggering. she is a cunt. she is an icon. she is knowingly allowing herself to be possessed by the literal incarnation of conquest because it's making her better at being a cunt. and that's just in the part of the obscenely long webnovel i have actually finished thus far

Dorian Gray

Look okay every film adaptation has gotten this wrong but in the original book Dorian has blond hair and blue eyes and is described as looking "like an angel." also his whole thing is that he ends up being a hedonistic brat and is canonically so mean to he girlfriend sybil at one point that she... uh... vacates the story with some poison. he also killed his totally not gay buddy basil after he found the portrait.

the original hedonistic brat. my son that i am always disappointed in. had two shots at love and decided to be a dick about it. has a haunted portrait that gets uglier each time he sins. what a guy, really.

Dorian drove a lovely young girl to suicide and I think that's worse than men dying

Dorian killed the man that was in love with him (Basil) because he found out about the painting and didn’t want to get exposed as being the horrible person that he is. Also all the stuff with Sybil (the girl he manipulated and drove to suicide) Also Sybil’s brother is so righteously angry at Dorian for the event that he hunts Dorian down to kill him. He doesn’t succeed cause dorian destroys the painting first. Like, even his last stand was a bitch move. Dorian was a coward to the end and died alone in an attic after pushing everyone that loved him away with his terrible actions.

[jakelandryshorts]

Ring of Change: Higher Ups

“So glad you could come over,” Mr. Johnson said. I was only helping my boss because I wanted to be put on some bigger projects. If that meant helping him clean out his attic, I was going to clean out his attic. I followed him up the stairs of his large house and he pulled down a sting that dropped a ladder to the attic. “Right this way.”

I nodded as I followed him up into the enclosed space. Though, it wasn’t nearly as small as I thought it was going to be. I could stand up at my full height and Mr. Johnson could almost as well. He was always a pretty big guy and could easily command a room with just his size. People would often stand up whenever he walked by just to show their respect.

“We’re just going to get rid of everything. Alright?” Mr. Johnson said. “Find something you like. You can keep it. I just don’t want anything up here anymore.”

I nodded and went for my first box. The bottom came undone and all the contents dropped out of it. Mr. Johnson looked over at me. “Sorry,” I apologized.

“It’s fine. Don’t know how old all this stuff is any ways…” he said as he grabbed a different box.

Putting the box to the side, I started to go through the contents. There were several old looking photos of what had to be his father. Maybe even grandfather. But all I could think was that he was an incredibly handsome man. I picked up the photo to put back in the box, but a gold ring fell out of the back. “Are you sure you want to get rid of everything?” I held up the gold band.

“Everything,” Mr. Johnson scoffed. “Don’t give a shit about any of it.”

“Alright,” I said. Then tried putting the ring on my finger. It was huge. Easily built for a man with a hand that could have been twice my size. Even around my thumb, it still hung loose.

“Find something you like?” Mr. Johnson asked. A bit of annoyance was in his voice as I was too distracted from the rest of the box.

“Uhh… Yeah,” I held up my hand with the ring dangling loosely around my ring finger. “Found this ring. It fits perfectly,” I joked. However, as I finished the sentence, I felt the band tighten around my finger. I stared blankly at it as I knew that it hadn’t fit even just moments before.

“Well, like I said, you can keep it if you want,” Mr. Johnson hefted up a box and then headed for the ladder back to his second floor. “Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” I said. My hands naturally went back to putting the items back into the box. Not because I wanted to, rather there was an almost compulsion to do so. ‘What the hell?’ I thought as I wasn’t even looking at the items any more. My natural curiosity seemed to have been overridden as I continued to pack the things away. “I’ll take as long as I want.”

Instantly, that magical pull stopped. I was able to move at my own pace again and I looked at the item in my hand. “So weird…” I muttered as I looked down at my hand. Something about the ring was stimulating the back of my mind. It was like it was calling out to me. I felt this weird pull to say something else.

“Mr. Johnson invited me personally to help him clean out his attic because he’s noticed how hard of a worker I am,” I said. A tingle in my brain activated a new memory that I hadn’t had. What had been a general email to the company, was now a personal invitation of Mr. Johnson coming to my cubical and asking me to help him out. “Woah…”

Mr. Johnson came back up and sighed. “Alex, I invited you over because I thought you wouldn’t dillydally all day. Don’t make me feel like I made a mistake.”

“Right. Sorry,” I said. I went back to packing up the box and picked it up. Mr. Johnson went down the ladder with a different box first. “How old are you?” it was an awkward question, I knew it, but I really needed to test something.

I could almost hear him scoff at the question as well. “63 next month.”

“You’ll be 43?! Wow! You sure have accomplished a lot,” I said.

He didn’t correct me. Instead, I noticed that his body was starting to change. Each second he seemed to be turning back the clock by nearly five or six months. Hair started to grow back on top of his head, even though it was cropped short. It turned from white to blond. Mr. Johnson stood a bit straighter as muscle returned to his aging body. His shoulders broadened and waist thinned.

He laughed, with just a bit of arrogance. “I suppose so.” Mr. Johnson added as he placed the box down by the front door. “Plenty of hard work. And knowing when to kiss ass.” He smiled and winked at me. I couldn’t believe how handsome his face was. Even when he was 63, there was this masculine strength to it, but without any of the wrinkles that naturally came with age, he looked so much more powerful.

“That must be why you like me so much,” I quipped back. Memories of my internship with the company flooded in of me working late with him and making sure to get everything the older man could possibly ever need. He’d come to depend on me.

“Don’t push it,” Mr. Johnson smirked. The formalness between us had dissipated as his hand rested on my shoulder for a second.

But I was going to. Something about this ring was changing everything. “I’m just surprised you always had time to work out. It seemed like you made sure to get a workout no matter how late we worked.”

“Yeah?” Mr. Johnson looked over his shoulder at me. The shirt he wore tightened against his growing muscles. His arms completely filled the sleeves while beefy pecs pushed hard against the supercharged cotton. “You noticed?”

“Of course. It’s a lot easier to notice when you’re not wearing a shirt,” I said. The covering disappeared, showing off his masculine body. “Is that because I’m helping you out or because I’ve done a lot more than just kiss your ass in the office?” The ring knew exactly what I was implying as those late nights at the office changed from only business to also some pleasure. I had the distinct taste of his meaty cock in my mouth.

Mr. Johnson’s confidence didn’t waver in the slightest as he smirked at me. “Well, you’re far better than that secretary I hired…”

I felt myself blush. Hearing the compliment from the deep, authoritative voice of my boss sent a shiver through me. A sudden worry that I was going too far rushed inside my head. But blood was rushing into my cock even faster. Especially as he stood next to me. Mr. Johnson was always a bit bigger than me. His former college football status made that readily apparent. But now I felt absolutely miniscule next to him. His wide shoulders and thick muscles made him look so much more appealing.

His hand gently rested on my shoulder. “How about we take a break. Eh?” he smirked.

“S-sure,” I nodded, suddenly feeling the difference between us.

Without another word, Mr. Johnson bent down and threw me over his shoulder. “Glad you feel the same.” He lifted me up and then carried me off to the spare bedroom. Despite never being here before, it felt oddly familiar. I could feel the memories wriggling into my brain as I realized just how many times I’d been there before.

Mr. Johnson tossed me onto the bed. My belly hit the mattress and he crawled up on top of me. The weight of his body held me down as his hands removed my clothing. He had nimble fingers, despite them being so large. I squirmed, suddenly aware of my nudity. And even more aware of his as his warm body braced against mine.

He squirted some lube onto his hand and massaged it onto his dick. Then stuck one of his fingers up into my asshole. I let out a gasp as I felt him tickle my insides. His big hand palmed the back of my head into the pillow as I continued to squirm underneath him.

“Awfully riley today, hmm?” Mr. Johnson taunted as his dick pressed up against my hole. I let out another gasp into the pillow. My sphincter twitched with excitement as I felt the head of his cock push a little bit more inside.

‘Oh fuck...’ I wanted to moan, but my face was buried in the pillow and only muffled sounds came out. He gave a self-satisfied laugh as my hands gripped onto the sheets of the bed even tighter. My body continued to writhe underneath his straddled position as more of his cock lowered into my asshole.

His grip tightened around my head as more of his weight rested onto my back. “I’m so glad you came over. I have so much I need to unload,” Mr. Johnson chuckled as he whispered into my ear. He kissed at my neck. The light bristles of his beard brushed against my sensitive skin.

Still, he was coming close. His kisses were becoming more erratic and breathing more haggard. With each thrust he let out a deep grunt. “Fuck,” he cursed into my ear. His grip tightened around the back of my head and I could feel his dick pulse. Then released inside of me.

I let out another gasp as I felt myself do the same. The sudden change of his weight as it softly rested on top of me was just too much for me to handle. He laid there a few seconds, trying to catch his breath before rolling to the side and holding me in for a hug. “I love it when you come over…” he whispered in my ear.

“Me too…” I mumbled out. “You’re so good at showing me a good time…”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

More stories over on my wordpress

[illfoandillfie]

Ornaments

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader

Words: 1,161

Warnings: Christmasy stuff, sappy married dorks.

A/N: Do you have any idea how hard it was to avoid the word bauble since I know you yanks don’t use it? lmao. I did steal the entire premise of this from a reddit post which I saw second hand on instagram. Also the artificial tree is v much based on the one i own, down to the complaints about the coloured bits.

Decorating was one of your favourite parts of the festive season. All the lights and sparkly ornaments, there was just something magical about it. By the time Christmas Day rolled around your balcony railing would be festooned with lights or garlands of stars and snowflakes, your desk would be home to a gingerbread scented candle and some decorative reindeer, and there’d be a wreath adorning your front door. But the first thing to go up, and always on the first day of December, was the tree. Of course, you didn’t have to do it all on your own. It was tradition for you and Pedro to decorate together, a tradition that had been going longer than your marriage. It had started in your first year of dating. Very occasionally you’d had to do the bulk of the decorating by yourself, particularly if Pedro’s work kept him away from home. But in those instances, he’d always found the opportunity to Face Time so he could keep you company and offer complements. And you always saved the star for him, even if he couldn’t place it atop the tree for over a week. Thankfully, this year all his projects had wrapped, and Pedro was free to join in the fun.

The first had fallen on a weekday so by the time you got home from work you were eager to get started. Pedro, having had an earlier finish, and knowing you wouldn’t want to wait a second longer than necessary, had already ordered some takeout and pulled the boxes of decorations down from the attic. You gave him a quick kiss as thank you and then dove for the box of tree parts while he put on a spotify playlist of Christmas music. The artificial tree was a few years old but it always took longer to put together than you remembered it doing the year before. Pedro worked on getting the base and central poles clicked together while you organised the individual branches into piles based on their little coloured ends. That was a somewhat challenging task since a few of the colours were similar enough to be hard to tell apart at first look, especially when they’d faded a little with age. It was hard to understand why the manufacturers would have chosen brown, yellow, grey, green and a very greeny-blue instead of anything more firmly contrasting. But you managed to sort it all out mostly on your own, once or twice asking Pedro to double check. And then, finally, you could assemble the tree, inserting the branches into the little grooves all along the central pole. First one colour, then another, moving from the larger bottom branches to the smallest ones around the top. You and Pedro made a competition out of who could get the most branches in securely, but in the end you both lost count and had to call it a draw. Each of you claimed a kiss as your prize.

You were just finishing separating all the little offshoots out, spreading them apart after they’d been pressed together in their box for months, so that the tree looked full and perfect, when the takeout arrived. It was the only thing that could have made you take a break, especially when Pedro produced a bottle of wine to accompany the dinner. You didn’t bother to move to the table or even to the lounge, deciding to just sit where you were, surrounded by the boxes of decorations. But your mind was firmly on the tree, and you only ate at a reasonable pace because you kept talking about decorating it.   “What colour theme should we go with this year?” “What’d we do last year?” Pedro asked between mouthfuls. “We went traditional last year, silver and gold.” “Well let’s do something brighter this year, all our most colourful ornaments.” You agreed, grinning.

Once you were done eating you could actually starting hanging the decorations. You’d been buying ornaments for years, struggling to resist picking up something new each year. Especially post-Christmas when all the unsold decorations went on sale. And then Pedro had added his more modest collection to yours when you’d moved in together. So there was a lot to choose from. The tinsel was first. Pedro (groaning as he got up off the floor) pulled a few different lengths from the box, comparing them to each other to assess their colourfulness. In the end he went with one that was mostly purple but with strands throughout in every other colour of the rainbow. He set to winding it through the branches as you were disentangling the lights. Once they were unwound and unknotted you plugged them in to make sure they still worked and, when it was clear they did, the two of you threaded them around the tree too. Even just having the bright spots of coloured light made everything feel more festive and fun.

But then came the real fun. The ornaments. Pedro sang along to the Christmas songs as he dug through the tub of ornaments to find the best ones, and it was impossible not to join in his singing. You only paused to take sips of wine or to step back and make sure there were no two ornaments of the same colour situated too close together on the tree. You couldn’t stop smiling. You were doing one of your favourite holiday activities with your favourite person. He made it all the more fun, joking around and laughing. It was almost a shame when it was done, both of you moving back to take in the multicoloured display. “The star!” you said suddenly, realising you’d forgotten it. The tree was too tall for you to reach, and besides it was usually Pedro’s job, so you held the star out to him, “Do the honour?” "I did it last year, it’s your turn,” he said with a shake of his head and then eh wandered off to grab a chair for you to stand on. He even held out his hand as support while you stepped up onto it.   With the extra height it was much easier to reach so you placed the star, carefully pulling your hands back, hoping it was balanced correctly on the point, “There, perfect.” Pedro hummed in agreement but when you turned to him for a hand down, you saw he wasn’t looking at the tree. “What?” “I am so in love with you.” Pedro smiled up at you, his hand rising to your hips. You would have sworn you’d melted like a snowman with the way your heart felt so full. You’d been together for so long. You were married. And yet here he was telling you not just that he loved you but that he was still in love with you.  You’d never felt so lucky. “I’m in love with you too.” The Christmas lights twinkled behind you as you leant down to kiss him.  

[clairethecutepup]

The Doe of My Nightmares... (Ch. 2)

Chapter Title: The Starting Steps of Madness’ Descending Stairwell… ---

Chapter Synopsis:

Time has passed, since Claire became a loved part of Alexis’ family and an important part of Alexis’ overall life. Unfortunately, Claire interacts with the doe’s husband and daughter, as much as she does Alexis herself: Steve starts to wonder more about his unrecallable past and overall being from their recent conversation, causing Alexis to realize the truth must be revealed-- and Claire is good practice in sharing everything and may even be helpful in making that backstory’s revelation easier. However, Claire’s reaction threatens to rob Alexis of what she wanted most in life, and the doe must do whatever it takes to maintain what she finally obtained…

----

Now, this is where it's REALLY important you at least read "Dreams Come True" beforehand... Spoilers for it, and "Billie and Seve's Adventures" in general, start to come into play. You've been warned...

If you wanna read elsewhere (or keep better track of the tale), here are the links, but click "keep reading" if you wanna read here:

https://www.furaffinity.net/view/58845382/

https://www.deviantart.com/clairevlcek/art/The-Doe-of-My-Nightmares-Ch-2-1122573089

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60306127/chapters/154708054

Naturally, Claire would learn more about the goats, just as they did with her. Claire’s curiosity first arose when recalling Alexis’ staff: a metallic rod with a circular top that contained a dark green gem within, which isn’t exactly what someone keeps “just because.” Claire also recalled how a few motions of Alexis’ hoof resulted in her feeling either sleepy or entirely calmed. Alexis found no harm in explaining matters, when Claire showed interest in the attic: the place where she recalled that staff, and some other strange things she saw, being stored. In fact, this could be a prime opportunity to see if Claire was well-versed in magical matters herself, possibly even opening the door to new spells shared between them. Alexis took her back into the upper room, smiling at the adorable wolf-girl’s close examination of everything: the runes, the quintessential table and bowl for a witch’s potion-brewings…

“So, what do you think?” Alexis grins, “... Maybe it even looks familiar to you, hmmm?”

Claire nods, a smile on her face. She pulls out the pen and pad for another conversation.

“Are you a Wiccan? My big sibling, Skyler, is one too!”

“Oh, is that what you call ‘witches’ back home?”

“No, Skyler says that they’re different: witches just use magic, while Wiccans follow a religion called, ‘Wicca.’ It involves lots of ‘nature’ stuff and sometimes involves ‘energy’ stuff.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything called THAT around here… I didn’t even know there were religions that centered around magic.”

“Skyler says it’s more about the earth than being ‘magical,’ ‘cause not all Wiccans use spells and other stuff.”

“What kind of spells do the magical ones use; did Skyler teach you any? I’d be happy to return the favor.”

“Skyler taught me ‘candle magic’: you use candles in it and you can control ‘energies’ with it!”

It was exciting to learn about a new form of magic, for both sides: Alexis began planning how she could incorporate the physical world’s “spiritual energies” into her practices, while Claire felt excited to possibly practice magic more akin to the viewed movies and anime back home. Unfortunately, carving the appropriate names and wishes into candles, then awaiting results after they burn down was a bit… lackluster for someone who could simply summon or transform things instantly, as well as perform a few other advanced tactics; and Claire didn’t seem to have much magical latency, not even for simpler spells of levitating a small stick or making an ice cube melt. That was certainly a shared disappointment… Claire especially, as she felt like she failed her dear Alexis as both teacher and student.

“Aww, it’s okay, sweetie…” Alexis stroked her hair, “I guess some people prefer a simpler style of magic, and you can learn to use the same magic as me someday. We just have to keep at it!” Alexis pats her head, “Trust me, if I can teach myself at just 15, I can definitely teach you now.”

Claire smiles again, her tail wagging and ears perking up. She then follows Alexis out from the attic, as Steve returns with Daisy from a playdate: Steve himself seems fine and greets the two, but Daisy is quiet and frowning in his arms.

“What’s the matter, sweetie…?” Alexis gently holds her face, “Didn’t you have fun at Jenny’s?”

“... Mommy, do you know why I have one horn?”

“Huh…?”

“It’s something Jenny’s grandmother said,” Steve explained, “I don’t think she meant anything by it, she just never saw a one-horned goat before…”

The older woman had also come by for a visit at little Jenny’s, surprised to see her granddaughter playing with another little goat-- who only had a single horn! The old woman even lowered her glasses and squinted her eyes at the odd girl.

“I’ve never seen anything like THAT before… Is it some kind of defect, like those lionesses who sometimes have manes?”

Daisy felt a little hurt at the remark, a toddler like her naturally taking it as doing or being something “wrong.” Steve, of course, ensured to inform Daisy she hadn’t done anything bad nor was so; but things can stick with children for quite a while… The buck could certainly empathize with his daughter’s plight, and even her mother recalled many moments of wondering why she’s one-horned when the peers of her new town bullied her over it.

“Oh, baby…” Alexis takes Daisy into a hug, “We’re all different from each other, sometimes maybe even a little more so… It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, though. Look at Claire here: she’s definitely different from the rest of us, but that doesn’t mean she’s not someone we can love or that there’s anything ‘bad’ about her.”

Claire offers a paw, something Daisy loved to hold against her face when distressed. Daisy smiled, feeling better thanks to her parents and big sister. However, the question of “single horns” sat within a majority of the household’s minds that night: even Claire shared Steve and Daisy’s wonderment, as she’d often see the family alongside the goat-people with a more common horn count. Claire never bothered prying, though, as there’s no real reason to know; but the curiosity was certainly growing… Apparently, it became too much for Steve to keep to himself, but he didn’t share it with Alexis and certainly not Daisy: Alexis always seemed uneasy with discussing his past, something he chalked off to witnessing a horrible accident’s results, and Daisy shouldn’t risk being upset over her horn again. With Claire lying on his stomach, as he lays his back upon the couch, he finally had someone to confide in.

“... It’s just… I dunno, something about it always felt odd to me,” he holds his horn, “I mean, were goats really meant to just be walking around with only ONE of these? It sure doesn’t feel that way, if everyone else is basically walking around with a whole pair of ‘em… Even in your world, right?”

Claire nods, never recalling any goat-hybrids (nor any hybrids) with just one point. Steve sighs.

“Lex always said it may have something to do with magic, like how unicorns are magical and they only have one horn… But I’m not some magical horse, I’m supposed to be your average goat, right? Call me crazy, but I think it’s safe to say that you can use magic, no matter how many horns you’ve got. After all, Alexis thinks she can teach you a thing or two, and you’ve only got THESE on your head…”

He chuckles at Claire’s wagging tail, as he holds and massages her big wolf ears. He stops and frowns again, prompting Claire to mirror his expression.

“I wish I knew why I cared so much… I mean, I should just appreciate that I have a fully functional body that can do some pretty cool things, instead of worrying about how it looks. I guess one reason I think so much about it is because… I dunno… It sort of feels… wrong on me.”

Claire tilts her head. Why would it be “wrong” on him, but not the does of this house? Claire thought they all looked nice with just one horn. In fact, Alexis made her prefer caprines having a single point, since they’d already be more like her.

“Yeah, weird, huh? I just can’t explain it, though… For whatever reason, it feels like I wasn’t supposed to have this up here. In fact, can I be even more honest with you? Sometimes, my overall self feels weird, too. It’s like, was I meant to be ol’ Steve here?”

“Is it like with Skyler?” Claire writes, “My big sibling is sometimes unsure about his body too…”

“No, no, not like THAT,” Steve smiles and pats her head, “I definitely know I was meant to be a big, strong buck,” he frowns again, “But was I supposed to be THIS big, strong buck...? Doesn’t help when I can’t actually remember much about myself... Y’see Claire, I came down with a case of amnesia a long while back; can’t remember anything before the car accident.”

Claire perks up, her pupils shrinking and ears stiffly up.

“Yeah, nothing too pretty, I’ll admit… My folks also died because of it. Lucky for me, Alexis and her folks were kind enough to let me stay in their treehouse after it. Ah, Lexi… I really am lucky to have found her. Or, she found ME, I guess. Ah, either way… I’m glad to see she continued the tradition of taking in those who need a little help,” he pats Claire’s head, “I’m glad we didn’t have to keep YOU out of the house, though, you make life here even better.”

Claire thinks for a moment, her eyes shifting, before she displays the notepad again. Steve reads it and raises his eyebrow, as he finally gives it more thought.

“... Yeah, they DID have me stay in just the treehouse. Alexis said something about there not being ‘enough space,’ and her parents were too busy to really talk with me at the time. … Y’know, I never really thought about it, but I guess it was pretty weird they didn’t also check on the kid they took in. Alexis also insisted I didn’t try meeting them myself, until we finally got our own place…”

The doe stops just before the doorway of the living room, halting her trip with the laundry basket. Oh no-- no, no, NO, if this continues…!! Alexis quickly throws herself and the basket onto the floor, crying out her loudest, “OOF!”

“Alexis?!” Steve quickly sits up and sets Claire aside, “Alexis--” he rushes over, “--are you alright?!”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine…!” she chirped, refilling the basket, “I just tripped over my own two hooves! I can be a real klutz sometimes. You wouldn’t mind if I have Claire help me, right?” she looks toward the girl, “How about it, Claire: you wanna be a ‘good girl’ for me?”

Claire hurries over and follows, carrying the basket for Alexis.

“Why don’t you go ahead and climb into bed, Steve?” the doe smiles at him, “I’ll be there shortly, and you look tired.”

“Alright, just don’t return to me all banged up,” he smiles back, before wagging a finger toward the other’s feet, “Got that? No more causing trouble for Lexi here with all that clumsiness.”

Alexis giggles at his silliness, before the buck leaves and starts turning in for the night. Claire follows the doe, when she finally decides to continue toward her original destination. Alexis’ expression then devolves into something of concern and fear…

“... Claire, what were you and Steve talking about?”

Claire taps the top of her head, then motions the finger up and down to “explain” it as Steve’s horn.

“... And you were also talking about his past?”

Claire only needed to nod that time.

“... That’s nothing YOU need to know about, Claire.”

The pup instantly tenses up, her ears hanging on her head and her apologetic blues looking up at the doe. D-Did she do something bad…? Alexis doesn’t look down at her, just continuing to stare ahead with those narrowed magentas.

“If Steve wants to talk about his past, he should come to ME…”

Claire’s ears burn and her lip quivers. Why was Alexis so upset…? STEVE was the one who started the discussion…!

“No more of that now, alright?”

Claire nods, now trembling again. Alexis finally realized the effect her words had, softening her expression the moment her gaze fell upon the remorseful pup.

“O-Oh Claire, I’m sorry…” she hugs her, “It’s just, t-that’s a really sensitive topic… I-It could upset Steve to think about it for too long, s-since he lost so much then… And i-it also upsets me a little, since I first saw his body-- his PARENTS’ bodies and I couldn’t just leave him all alone… Look, let’s just leave it in the past, okay, sweetie?”

Claire wipes her eye and sniffles, nodding in response.

“Good girl…” Alexis pets her, “That’s my good girl…”

Once again, Alexis managed to hide the truth. … Could she really do it forever, though? Every day she saw her beloved, the memories popped into her head-- and now he’s grown more curious of his past, after considering the oddities of his stay with Alexis’ family from his discussion with Claire. Alexis kept insisting her parents were “too busy” to really talk with him then; and she just wanted to finally be an adult, hence why she had them both focus more on moving out and less on Steve speaking with his future in-laws… But she wondered for how much longer he’d be satisfied. In fact, how much longer SHE could be satisfied with things remaining as they are. Part of her wanted to-- no, part of her knew she NEEDED to tell him someday… She lied to Steve and still did, and everyone has a right to know where they came from. It’d be insane to just blurt it out, though: he’d certainly be upset and maybe even suffer some mental effects from the truth!!

… But the guilt and paranoia began reaching their limits, and Steve’s newfound prying didn’t help. How is Alexis supposed to go about this? Wait, if she had to tell someone, did it really need to be STEVE first: could she start with Claire and work her way up? Claire loved Alexis to death, always eager to be by her side and do whatever made her happy… If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t judge Alexis. Yes, Alexis would start with the pup and get her help: both through moral support and coming up with an explanation that was sure to minimize any negative reaction’s intensity.

“Claire, sweetie, can you help me in the attic…?”

The pup wasn’t sure what it was about, but she stopped playing with Daisy and followed. Claire didn’t like Alexis’ demeanor: the doe moved slowly, and that smile spoke less of joy and more of someone about to have a possible breakdown. Still, Claire followed-- but stopped when Alexis did on the attic steps. After a few seconds, Alexis took a deep breath and continued leading Claire. Alexis shuts the door and sits before Claire: they stay there, legs crossed, until Alexis manages to steel her final nerve-- before she has a chance to lose it.

“Claire… D-Do you remember when I seemed upset about Steve’s past…?”

Claire turns pale, tensing up at Alexis’ uneasiness and aware this won’t be a pretty discussion…

“Th-There’s a reason I don’t want him thinking about it too much-- the REAL reason why… Claire, I… Steve, he’s… Steve i-isn’t the man you think, h-he’s… he’s the man I made-- the man I LITERALLY made!”

Claire tilts her head at first, still looking fearful, but then she remembers: Alexis is a witch, a witch who can do just about anything. Claire straightens her head to have her jaw drop and ears shoot up. How the heck did Alexis “make” him-- what did that even mean: did she transform him from a frog, did she just summon him into existence…?!

“... There’s a reason Steve has ‘amnesia’: he doesn’t have an actual past to remember, before I found him and placed him in my old treehouse. You see, I… I had another boy who meant a lot to me, but I couldn’t be with him instead: I had to move away, and… and he found someone else. I just… He meant so much to me, Claire, I couldn’t just move on; so I used my magic to create a clone of him from…”

Alexis shuts her eyes tightly, trying to find the strength to continue. She had to, though, it was too late to turn back now… Claire remained a statue, silently hyperventilating through her nostrils and gritted teeth. She knew she wouldn’t like however Alexis continued this…

“... I made Steve by taking a body from our local graveyard and transforming him into an identical twin. Steve is nothing more than a clone, just something I needed because I couldn’t move on… And I’m worried about how he’d react if he found out… But he deserves to. Claire, do you think you could help me-- Claire…?!”

Claire couldn't possibly turn whiter… Did Alexis really confess to disturbing the dead?! Claire recalls Skyler’s warning…

“Never practice black magic, Claire, you'll curse yourself as much as your targets. Stay away from anyone who does-- especially anyone who uses the dead for those purposes, ingredients or otherwise. If they won't respect the bodies and souls of those who passed, they'll treat the living even worse.”

Claire was willing to look past Alexis’ general use of the darker arts, her loyalty and attachment convincing her Alexis could be an exception because she's so kind and caring. What she cannot overlook is the use of a corpse for selfish gain: if Alexis had no qualms preventing a soul from possibly moving on or treating the dead like toys to enslave however she wanted… No, it didn't matter the reason, the raising and control of the dead is one of the forbidden TABOOS of magic. Skyler said so.

“Claire, w-where are you going…?!” Alexis stands, “N-No, please… Please, d-don’t look at me like that!”

Claire keeps backing away, still in a sitting manner. She's giving THAT expression: one Alexis knows all too well, thanks to her parents… They love her, they truly do, but she scares them also: her scientific and magical interests led her to partake in… certain actions that made her parents worry about the mindset of their child. Alexis will never forget when her parents discovered her dissection of a bat in their attic, in preparation for her “pet chimera” attempt via anatomical and biological familiarity: an excuse of a school “biology” project barely kept them from deeming their own daughter a psychopath, but the disturbed look they shared in her direction…

“Claire, sweetie…” Alexis feels tears well up, “Please, be a good girl and stop looking at me like that, okay…? After all, you still love me, right…? RIGHT?”

Claire's back eventually reaches the wall, her arms now against it as she stands. What did all of this mean for Steve…? Could his soul never properly move on now to reincarnate and otherwise, after being forced back into its body; would Steve be doomed to forever walk as one immortal but eventually left without purpose from his raiser’s passing…? And what about DAISY: what fate could possibly await Claire's poor little sister as the offspring of arguable necrophilia, on matters of soul and all else? Or, was she also just some stolen body Alexis modeled into her personal desires, thus of a similar fate to whatever awaited Steve? In fact, if all this came from Alexis’ need to make what she couldn't naturally have, then what would happen if her original lover came back to her: would she just “erase” her undead husband from existence and get rid of Daisy in a similar fashion?!

How could Alexis just not care about all of the harm she might cause in doing this…? She was always so kind and loving, but what if it's superficial: she only loved Steve because he could be a substitute, she only loved Daisy because she helped the illusion of having a family with her original lover…? What does that mean for CLAIRE then: is Alexis planning to or would plan to use her for something else selfishly sinister?!

“Claire, come here…” Alexis opens her arms, “J-Just come here, okay…? You don't need to be so scared all of a sudden, it's all--” she misses the dodging pup, “--Where are you going?!”

Alexis grabs her staff and summons chains over the door, before Claire could open it. That only heightened the trembling pup’s fears…

“Claire…” Alexis comes closer, “You’re going to take a deep breath and listen to me…”

Despite her stern tone, Alexis spoke through heavy breaths and teary eyes.

“I am NOT some monster, just because I had my own way of coping with things. You are NOT going to look at me and treat me like I am…”

Alexis couldn't have Claire become like the rest of them… She was tired of the childhood and teenhood memories of being shunned and mocked by peers, as the “creepy freak” and “weird unicorn.” She was tired of her parents’ silent judgment and fear that lingered beneath the surface of their alleged love, even to this day. She was tired of not having someone who’d go along with what SHE wanted and who’d favor HER, without the need to literally create a loyal follower or be “Mommy.”

She still loves her family, Steve and Daisy being her entire world now, but Claire was finally “it”: acceptance, unconditional love and loyalty, compromise or just general compliance even-- and all by her OWN accord… And she'd never leave Alexis for someone else. Yes, Alexis may have been the one to initiate the break-up with her first love; but perhaps she and the young buck could've gotten back together after he matured into someone less self-prioritized. Long distance relationships could work out, and the now-grown buck and doe would have the means to meet up eventually! … Well, had it not been for that OTHER doe, who officially made his heart unattainable for the witch…

Alexis couldn't lose what she finally had with Claire. She was NOT losing what she finally had with Claire! She sets her staff aside and grabs the pup’s shoulders, naturally met with the resistance of escape’s attempt.

“Just come here, Claire…! Give me a hug, okay? After all, there's no reason to be scared…!”

But there was, especially for Alexis: on top of losing Claire, Steve may come next when the pup will eventually tell him, no doubt… Alexis tightened her grip, her hooves pressing a painfully crushing force onto Claire’s arms. She thought Alexis would sever her limbs!

“Claire, be a good girl and stop resisting me…! I'm trying to make things better! Please--” she pulls Claire close, “--DON'T BE SCARED OF ME!”

Claire manages to swing her left arm free and thrust it forward. Alexis finally lets go and cries out, holding the right eye that paw's nails found. Alexis blinks a couple times, relieved the eyeball still has sight and remains unscratched. She can feel the sting of torn skin, however, and feel the blood passing down her face and around the socket. She looks at the red-coated hoof before her, her entire arm trembling and her breath still. Claire freezes, taking in the results of her actions. She hurt Alexis… Alexis was acting crazy and hurting her! But she still hurt Alexis…

“... Claire, BAD girl…”

The pup tensed up again, only for Alexis to hit her with a sudden sleep spell. Claire tried to fight it, squirming and otherwise, but Alexis is a witch of far too great skill. Even if Claire had magical prowess of her own, Alexis' abilities cannot merely be shrugged off. Alexis knelt behind her, hoof remaining raised as it continued expelling the sedating effect. Alexis also kept hold of the staff, just in case this somehow wasn't enough. She didn't want to risk her eye actually being destroyed this time nor herself being harmed elsewhere… Claire's terrified eyes soon closed, her body going still.

Now, Alexis just needs to wipe her memory a little and think of an excuse for the eye. Wait, was that really the most satisfying choice? It would just be THAT again: using magic and otherwise, so Alexis could force reality into what she wanted. It wouldn't feel like Claire's affection was genuine anymore… Alexis needs that naturality, to finally feel important and as though someone like her can be worth true love-- romantic, platonic, just natural and pure love from someone. Alexis then recalls that Claire seemed remorseful, even if for but a moment, after the strike: if Claire could earnestly regret lashing out, then there was still love for Alexis in there-- and the goat just needed to find some way to properly rekindle it.

Of course, she shouldn’t let Claire remain unrestrained, lest the girl possibly (and literally) go for the throat this time. Well, if Claire wanted to act like a feral animal, scratching and all… The wolf-girl later awakes, realizing the area looks rather blurry and her collar feels harder. Alexis took her glasses and swapped the blue neckwear with a shackle chained to the wall: no escape, and Claire’s left less efficient in offense and otherwise. Still, Claire can tell whom that unclear form is… She scurries backwards, shrinking in the corner and covering herself-- especially her face. She didn’t want to see that doe, blurred or otherwise.

Alexis just maintains her calm smile, the injury on her eye being healed shut but now scarred marks. Unfortunately, magic can only do so much, but it is a relief to finally patch herself up. She kneels before the pup, far more cautious than seemed and ready for any more aggression. Claire didn’t find it wise to resist her chin being guided toward Alexis, by the hoof underneath…

“Shhhh… It’s okay, sweet girl…” Alexis grins, “I know things got a liiiiittle heated back there, but it’s okay…”

Claire grits her teeth, shutting her eyes to avoid staring into that distorted set of smiling teeth and deranged magentas. Just stay still, don’t do any sudden movements-- don’t make her do worse than limiting abilities and freedom…

“There’s no need for that, Claire, I’m not mad…” Alexis takes her head into both hooves, “I know it might seem like I am, but I only did this to keep you from doing something else you’ll regret,” she nuzzles her head against the other’s, “You were sad about what you did to my face, weren’t you? I saw it… That’s because you’re a good girl, and I know you still love me. We just have to remind you why…” Alexis pulls her own head back, “We’re just going through a rough patch right now, that’s all; it’s not like fights are just for romantic relationships. Please work with me through it, Claire… I’ve always wanted someone like you, I’ve always NEEDED someone like you: someone who treats me so sweetly and nicely, someone who cares about what I want and not just what THEY do-- who always, ALWAYS will stay beside me and appreciates me as I am,” she hugs Claire, “Now, I can finally just have it, without having to create a lie… Don’t take it away, Claire; please, it means so much to me… YOU mean so much to me.”

Claire wants to push her off, but she fears worsening the situation in any way… She tries to lie that everything’s normal and this is simply Alexis confiding in her about something less terrifying. Alexis frowns when Claire doesn’t return the embrace, slowly leaning back and looking at her.

“... Okay, it’ll take some time, but we can get through this. We WILL get through this… I’m going to get your things, so you can have the proper necessities up here.”

Wait, she was keeping Claire up here: secluded, without any easy escape if she somehow got free…?!

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you won’t be lonely up here. You won’t even be all alone in your dreams,” Alexis removes the door’s chains, “I’ll use my corn powers to visit you in them. You always loved that, didn’t you?”

Claire can’t do anything but watch her leave. When Alexis finally departs, Claire curls up and sobs her covered head into her knees. Skyler was right… Claire should’ve been wary of Alexis, when she first admitted which type of magic she practices. Alexis wasn’t of an easier mind herself: now she needs an excuse for more than just her eye, like why Steve and Daisy suddenly have to leave Claire alone in the attic-- especially Steve. Oh no, speaking of…

“Hey Lex,” he walks up from the stairs, “I thought about ordering some pizza as a treat tonight, what did you want on--” his eyes widen and focus on her new scars, “--What the hell?!” he gently brings her head closer, “Alexis, what happened to your eye?!”

“I-It’s nothing…” she pulls away, turning from him, “It was an accident, that’s all…”

“Hey, tell me what happened…” Steve turns her around, “It’s pretty hard to do something like THAT by ‘accident.’ Even one of your projects literally blowing up in your face wouldn’t do that…” he squints his eyes at her marks, “... Wait… Did something ATTACK you? That looks like some kind of scratch mark.”

“No, it’s… I… It’s fine, okay?”

“No, it’s not ‘fine,’ I need to know what just attacked my wife,” Steve clenches his fists, “and if it’s something I need to finish…”

“I’m taking care of it, Steve, leave it!”

“Come on, why can’t you at least--”

“--Okay, it was Claire, but I’m handling it!”

Steve takes a step back, frozen in his stance of large eyes and a semi-gaping mouth. CLAIRE did that…? … No, Steve didn’t care who it was, anyone who hurt and almost blinded his wife was asking for his heel to crash down onto their skull! … Okay, perhaps he wouldn’t actually cave the pup’s brains in, but he’s not letting her harm anyone in his family without consequence! What if she decided to do something similar to little Daisy, after all?! Something like that could be enough to KILL the tot! He storms past, but Alexis runs in front of him and stops him.

“Hey, I said that I’m handling it!”

“Alexis, I am NOT cool with something like this, and she’s going to know it!”

“She didn’t do it to hurt me, Steve!”

“You sure as hell don’t claw people to be nice!”

“Steve, she’s-- she’s sick!”

“‘Sick’...?”

“Yes, Steve, she’s sick… I don’t know if it’s some ‘magical thing’ because she’s in a world she doesn’t belong in or some sickness her people naturally get, but she’s not herself. She was even afraid of me, and that’s why THIS happened…” Alexis taps her scars, “It was just her being delirious and unable to recognize me,” she lowers her hoof, “Please, don’t be upset with her, Steve… I’m not. I promise I can handle this too, I just need to study her a little and then I can make a proper cure. Of course, she’s obviously dangerous right now, so I’d appreciate it if you and Daisy didn’t go near her.”

“I can help keep you safe, though…” Steve places a hoof on her face, brushing his thumb over the scars’ edges, “THIS already bugs me enough, and it’d kill me if she ended up doing something worse…”

“I’ll be fine, Steve,” Alexis smiles and places her own hoof onto his face, “Trust me, your wife knows what she’s doing,” she lowers it, “I’ll take anchovies on my slices, by the way; I’m sure Claire would love the usual pepperoni and cheese, assuming she’ll be fine enough to eat something.”

“Alright…” Steve sighs and turns away, “Just… Be careful, okay? And tell Claire I hope she gets better soon-- and to definitely take it easy with those nails and teeth.”

Oh, he didn’t need to worry about anything… Claire would stop all this nonsense soon enough and indeed be back to her old self; and Alexis wouldn’t need to fear either the loss of Claire’s love, nor Steve discovering the truth prematurely and the consequences thereof. It shouldn’t take too long.

After all, Claire LOVED being Alexis’ “good girl”...

[End Chapter]

------------------------------

Well, that escalated quickly... Unfortunately, Claire doesn't have the understanding and personality of a white mage, unlike Billie did, hence her more drastic reaction to Alexis' confession. Also, interesting fact: when it comes to real world Voodoo (or Voudon) and other magic, it IS taboo to raise the dead. I believe it may have to do with necromancy's (and zombies') overall and seeming origin: slavery, where you could have someone's servitude past their period of life. Plus, there can be consequences for generally screwing around with spiritual forces, like pulling one's soul back from the afterlife; also, it's generally considered highly immoral and disrespectful to mess with corpses. So yeah, now you know why such magic is considered part of the "dark arts" and often villainized in media: if someone is willing to mess with the natural order and all for personal gain, then why not disrespect life still lived if they must exploit life now over?

To the "Billie and Seve's Adventures" series:

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3916882

[ghost-drfizz-au]

Welcome to the Ghost!Dr. Fizz ask blog !!!

This pinned is made to explain the rules for questions , the general story of the au , some general info abt Fizz himself , and general info related to this ask blog !!

Info about Dr. Fizz

Pronouns : He/It/They/She , all in order of most preferred to least preferred .

Gender : Trans Man

Sexuality + Romantic Attraction : Omnisexual (Pref. For Men) + Nebularomantic

Age : Adult . Prob in his 30s or so .

Any other information will be given as more questions are asked !

The General "Story"

(I put story in quotes bc there's not rlly much story wise)

This takes place a couple of weeks after the events of Box's Exit interview , which caused Dr. Fizz to die permanently after blowing his top from anger . He now currently lives in the attic of Purgatory Mansion , found a phone while he was looking around and just decided to use tumblr ask blogs to avoid going insane from a lack of social interaction . That's about it .

Rules !!!

Yes , this ask blog obviously comes with rules . Basic stuff you gotta follow if you want to ask questions . Any questions that do not follow these rules will be ignored and blocked .

NO NSFW QUESTIONS While Dr. Fizz in this au may be an adult , the runner of this account is a minor . This means no NSFW questions or comments of any kind . ("I want you" jokes and whatnot are fine though because I find them funny .)

NO SPAMMING YOUR QUESTION No one wants to deal with notifs blowing up because you want your question asked . Please send one at a time and wait for yours to be answered .

PLEASE KEEP QUESTIONS IN UNIVERSE Some questions may be things that Fizz in this au doesn't really know about (or know about yet) so please try to keep questions related to things that can be answered with stuff other than just "What ?" because it gets annoying after a while . Also I likely won't be taking questions ooc unless it's just small notes .

NO MAGIC ANONS / ROLEPLAYS Magic anons are asks that transform the character or change something about the ask blog for a certain amount of asks (ex : "__ Is now a cat for 5 asks" "The floor is lava for 2 asks .") As fun as these are , I do not know how to currently make this work in the au and therefore will not be taking them . This reason is the same with roleplays and hugging too . I'm sorry but y'all are just a bunch of people in a phone he found you cannot hug him . You'd phase right through him anyways .

General Info For the Blog !

Most questions will not have drawings . However , if I so wish to do so , some questions may have art accompany them (Don't expect any art for the background as I'm too lazy to do that .)

As I said before , I most of the time will not be answering questions ooc . BUT , if you do have a question / concern I feel should be answered ooc , I will do so .

This ask blog is inspired by a lot of tumblr ask blogs I've seen in 2019 and whatnot , but the main inspiration is ask-ii-drfizz's ask blog ! I would highly recommend checking their account out if you wish to ask the canon ver of Fizz questions !

Finally , here's a reference for Ghost!Dr. Fizz !

With that , Have fun asking !!!!

[isfjmel-phleg]

March 2024 Books

Norby, the Mixed-Up Robot by Janet and Isaac Asimov

This one was a lot of fun! I should track down the rest of the series.

The World's Greatest Detective by Caroline Carlson

I was very confused about what era this world was mimicking (are they Victorian? 1920s/30s?), but it was a fun story and I enjoyed the dynamic between the protagonists.

A Dig in Time by Peni R. Griffin

I remember liking this one, but it feels like I read it years ago and I can't remember everything. Time travel with a family emphasis.

The Promise by Monica Hughes

Like Sandwriter, which this is a sequel to, I initially wasn't so sure that I liked this one, and then it went in an unexpected direction that took the themes in a more complex place, and I appreciated that.

The Yellow Fairy Book by Andrew Lang

I generally like fairy tales well enough, but this one was rather a slog to get through, and I ended up skimming a lot of it. There were some familiar favorites, but a lot of the tales were of the variety that consist of an interesting set-up followed by a seemingly incoherent series of events, and I regret I don't have enough interest in folklore to get much out of that.

The Romance of a Shop by Amy Levy

Interesting from a historic perspective mostly, but I didn't connect much with the story.

The Secret Garden of Yanagi Inn by Amber A. Logan (reread)

Reread so it would be fresh in my mind before the presentation. You already know how I feel about this one.

The Humming Room by Ellen Potter (reread)

Same as above. I have a post in drafts with some thoughts on this one that may eventually see daylight.

The Making of May by Gwyneth Rees (reread)

Already discussed this one.

A Bit of Earth by Karuna Riazi (reread)

Beautifully written and very readable and develops its themes well. Does fall into the trap of making the story about grief (Maria's late parents were frequently absent from her life, and she resents this, but she did have relationships with them in ways that her counterpart in the original book never did with her parents, so it's a completely different dynamic). I found this Colin to be somewhat underdeveloped, but I did appreciate the concept of his being fearful about failing to live up to family expectation, which is a reasonable translation of the original character's source of shame.

Charley by Joan G. Robinson

I don't remember much of this one. Didn't have any problems, just didn't have as much impact as other books by this author have for me.

Greenwild by Pari Thomson

A very derivative example of the Child Learns That They Are Magical And Special And Enters A Fantastical World Where They Must Take On The Villain sort of story. I wanted to enjoy it, but everything felt trite.

Doctor Who: A Brief History of Time Lords by Steve Tribe

This was a gift from my brother. I am a very casual DW fan and haven't really engaged with the show in quite a while (really should rewatch and catch up on new stuff but that's a pretty big time commitment right now). I think I would have got a lot more out of this if I were more than passingly familiar with Classic Who and all the lore in general.

Not Quite a Ghost by Anne Ursu

I was interested in this one because it's a retelling of "The Yellow Wallpaper," and the concept of comparing the difficulties of getting difficult-to-trace chronic illnesses taken seriously and diagnosed in today's world to the mishandling of women's medical and psychological conditions in the late nineteenth century intrigued me. However, this book didn't really know what it wanted to be. The young protagonist's struggles with her mystery chronic illness took up most of the book, but there was also a plot about a literal ghost in the wallpaper of her new attic bedroom that needs to be defeated in the end, and neither of these things fitted well together. One or the other of them would have been fine, but the combination left me confused about the nature of this fictional world and the themes of the book in general.

Comics/Graphic Novels

Benevolent Sisters of Charity (Over the Garden Wall)

This is the only one of the OTGW comics that I wasn't able to buy before it went out of print, so I ILLed it and realized that it was for the better that I hadn't. The story was incoherent and pointless and the characters were OOC. The art was much better than the story deserved.

Wayne Family Adventures Vol. 3

I've read these as a webcomic already but wanted it in book form too. These are entertaining; you just have to go into it aware that this is The Fluffy World version of everybody and they are characterized accordingly.

The Flash by Grant Morrison & Mark Millar

Not on a level with Waid's work, of course, but the highlight of this one was the storyline in which Linda dies and Wally manages to bring her back (some good Bart content here) and a delightfully meta short story in which Mark Millar meets up with Wally to figure out what story about him to tell next...and Wally is given a co-writing credit in the end.

The Flash by Mark Waid Books Seven and Eight

An effective end to this run. Waid points out in his Afterword that he's still got another story on reserve, so...anytime he wants to give that to us, that would be great. I'll be waiting.

The Secret Garden on 81st Street: A Modern Retelling of the Secret Garden by Ivy Noelle Weir (reread)

You know how I feel about this one. (I whipped it out at the convention to show somebody who was talking to me about CEN in the present day through leaving one's child to technology that that concept was used in this retelling, and somebody nearby oohed about what a diverse retelling it was as I flipped through pages. Which is, you know, more important than effective storytelling. It should have done both! We could have had both!)

Stephen McCranie's Space Boy Omnibus Volume 5

I've read this in webcomic form already, but it's a pleasure to have a physical copy of the latest omnibus.

Sinister Sons #1-2 plus additional material establishing the backgrounds of Lor-Zod and Sinson

A sort of response to the series Super Sons (which featured Jon Kent at his proper age and Damian Wayne), by the same author. This is going to be about a teamup of Lor-Zod (son of General Zod, was Chris Kent in another continuity, has apparently been Zukoed in this incarnation) and Sinson (a young, apparently orphaned thief who believes that his father must be Sinestro, the Green Lantern's arch-nemesis). So far the boys haven't done much more than fight, but I'm interested to see where this is going. (#3 is in the mail now!)

Lor is a horrid little piece of work, but his parents' recent treatment of him puts him in a more sympathetic situation, and I am hoping he'll get a redemption arc that would move him closer to his original version. Sinson is no angel either, but he's just a child who really, really wants a family and is clinging to the only hope for one that he has--and if that means he's a supervillain's son, then he's ready to follow in those footsteps to gain acceptance.

(Also he drew a mustache on himself with a black marker to look more like his alleged father, and that's so ridiculous and kind of endearing.)

[geesebumps-stuff]

Doppelganger Au

Doppelganger au

This au could take place in the Reunion au (where Slappy stays with Stine and Hannah). 

If one Slappy wasn't enough for Stine, now there are other Slappys to deal with. However, they have other things in mind.

Slappy is living with Stine and Hannah and is trying to be on his best behavior. And he tries very hard, but he can’t help pulling pranks. Stine knows but tells him not to go too overboard with them. Slappy promises that he will restraint himself (although it was a bit hard for him if he wants to stay out of the book, he’s going to have to)

One day Champ was asking Stine about Goosebumps merchandise, and everyone became curious about how much stuff there was. Stine then agrees to show them everything as he pulls many boxes from the attic and lets everyone look over them. Slappy was not surprised to see a lot of merch of himself since he is the mascot. (He does mentally apologize to Curly, though, since they were good friends before) Slappy, however, did not exactly like some things.

Champ pulled out some VHS, and they agreed to watch some of the TV series. As they were comparing the books to the TV series, Slappy was not a fan of the TV version of him with his looks and thought that he was off. Stine explained that there were some things he didn’t have control over, but it didn’t make Slappy feel better. (Along with the fact that he looks like a certain redhaired puppet)

Hannah moved on with the comics, and Slappy couldn't believe he could get smaller than he was, but he thought this one was a clown. Also, why did his hair change to black with red eyes? It made no sense to him.

Finally, Zach brought out the rest of the merch with bags and figures. As they were messing around with some of them, they then found a bag with something heavy. Stine pulls it out and reveals it to everyone. He calls it the “original” Slappy.

Slappy stared at the version for a while and realized why it was called original. This one has blue eyes, freckles, and chipped lips. This was how he was supposed to look, the book version, but instead, he has brown eyes, no freckles, and more chipped parts. 

Slappy had a small identity crisis but made sure no one noticed. However, Stine did. After noticing Slappy's discomfort, Stine decided to put all the stuff away. 

Slappy then went to his room and straight to the window. He has a habit of going on the roof when he wants to be alone but still being outside and messing around with his magic. As he was leaning on an antenna, he heard thunder. A few seconds later, he heard his papá from his window ask if he was ok and to come back inside before it rains. Slappy tells him that he’s fine and he’ll be out a bit longer. Stine sighs but goes back in. 

A minute later, as Slappy decided to get up, lighting struck the antenna and Slappy. Slappy then fell off the roof into the garden. Stine quickly reappears through the window, asking if he’s okay, and says next time, listen to him. But goes and grabs Slappy and puts him on his bed. Since he got accidentally electrocuted while using magic, he also almost caused a blackout.

The next day, strange things happen. Things being misplaced, destroyed, or disappeared. It's being blamed on Slappy as he argues that he didn't do it. Slappy then forces Champ to help him, and they agree that something weird is happening when Champ knows that Slappy isn't doing anything. 

They both thought there should be no more monsters, but now they weren't sure, as Champ thought it might be one of Slappy’s siblings. Slappy wasn't thrilled with the idea, but another puppet would be a possible choice. 

They looked everywhere for clues, but they got nothing until they looked outside and saw a footprint in the mud. They noticed it was small but a bit bigger than Slappy's and the fact that no child had been here. Now they know it might be a puppet. The last place they look is the attic. As they look around the attic, they both get knocked out. Slappy and Champ wake up as they are tied up, but as Slappy was going to teleport out, he was stopped by Slappy....Slappy....and Slappy?

The three different versions of Slappy were standing right in front of him. The black-haired one, the red-haired one, and the one Slappy was confused the most, the blue-eyed one. 

Slappy was trying to figure out how it was possible to have more Slappys come to life without the typewriter. He concluded that when he messed with his magic on the roof and got electrocuted, it accidentally turned the others to life. 

They started trying to recruit Slappy to join them and get rid of Stine and Hannah so they could roam free. But Slappy doesn't want to. He had just returned to being part of the family again and didn’t want to ruin this. He told the others to go away and that he wanted nothing to do with knockoffs. The other Slappys did not like being called knockoffs and decided to get rid of him too. 

Meanwhile, Zach, who found a box on the table, decided to put it back in the attic. As he climbed up the ladder, he heard the other voices. He slowly looked as he hid behind boxes and was surprised to see what was happening. He managed to ambush the other Slappys and rescued the two. They ran to Zach’s house and told everyone not to go into Stine’s house. 

(I’ll be honest. I had a hard time with naming each Slappy thing and how it would work, so plz bear with me. I was too excited about a Slappy war that I forgot that we gave them names like TV Slappy and Book Slappy, and then I had no idea how this was going to work. ) 

The other Slappys are called TV Slappy and Comic Slappy, but when it got to Blue eye Slappy, he argues that he's the original Slappy and calls himself Book Slappy. They (Stine, Hannah, Zach, Champ) first call him OG Slappy, but it was true that Slappy took many forms in the book, so there's no original look now, but Stine admitted that he wanted to do a movie with him later on and for their sake, they just called him Movie Slappy. 

They thought about how to get the other back to their original place. For Comic Slappy, they needed his comic book that was in the attic. Zach knows where the box is. They all decided to go back into the house, but as distractions as Zach could run to the attic to get the book. 

Meanwhile, Hannah was trying to find an extension cord for the TV to carry it as close as possible to TV Slappy. 

As for Stine, they first went back to the school to retrieve the typewriter and rewrote Night of the Living Dummy and tried to exactly describe Book Slappy to make sure Movie Slappy doesn't go in instead. But he has that manuscript ready in case he shows up. 

And, of course, things don’t go as planned. Zach and Champ went to the attic, only to find it wrecked. Boxes and other stuff were everywhere. They immediately started looking, but it became harder because Comic Slappy was there to get it first to destroy it. 

As Hannah was desperately looking for the missing extension cord. Stine had to physically fight TV Slappy as he hung on to him. 

As Movie Slappy tried to help his papa, no one saw him get abducted by Book Slappy. 

Comic Slappy found the book first, but Champ tackled him before he could rip it. Zach took the book from Comic Slappy. As Champ held him down, Zach opened the comic book. Comic Slappy tries to hang on to Champ but manages to knock him off as Comic Slappy goes back into the comic book. 

TV Slappy was much stronger than he appeared as he threw Stine out the window. As Zach and Champ tried to help him, TV Slappy appeared out of nowhere, causing them to trip down the stairs. He then goes back to Stine outside. He started approaching Stine, still on the ground, trying to recover.  Stine struggled to get up as TV Slappy was too close to him. TV Slappy laughed as he told Stine that this was his last night but his beginning to reign terror. TV Slappy pounced but- SLAM!

A TV fell on his head. As the TV crashed to the ground,  it fell on its side, but there was no trace of the dummy. Just a broken screen. Stine, along with Zach and Champ, looked up to see Hannah at the second-floor window. She happily exclaimed that she found the extension cord but was sorry about her dad’s TV being a sacrifice. 

Stine signed but was relieved. Champ cheerfully exclaimed that they had one more to go. 

They stopped for a second. They haven’t seen Book Slappy at all. And Movie Slappy was also missing. 

Someone was about to ask about their whereabouts. They heard yelling on the roof.  

Movie and Book Slappy are fighting on the roof, but Book is winning. Movie Slappy falls on the floor and is pinned down by Book’s foot on his chest. 

Zach starts throwing rocks at Book whil Stine and Champ run inside to get to the roof. 

He managed to hit Book’s head. As he turns, Slappy manages to knock him down and get the upper hand. 

Champ is climbing through the window with the book in hand. He throws the book to Movie Slappy. He catches it and prays he doesn’t get stuck inside. 

The book takes Book Slappy in and now the Slappy War s over. 

Slappy is tired and slumps down on the roof. Champ goes to him and carries him to the window. 

He gives him to Stine who puts him in bed and tells him that it’s finally over. And that he should not feel bad and that he would always be the better Slappy than the rest. 

Slappy is relieved and tries to go to sleep. 

Stine and the others are trying to clen up the mess from the fight. Stine laments for his broken TV and Hannah laughs as she says that he can finally have a brand new TV that’s not +15 yeards old. 

Stine complains about liking old school stuff. 

*******

Slappy slowly wakes up. His vision is blurry and his room is dark. But he felt something else on the bed. 

He rubbed his eyes and snapped his hand for the lights to turn on.

Slappy gasped. 

In front of him, on hid bed, was an exact copy of him. There were no other marking to tell them apart.

I must be dreaming, he thought. After the war with different versions of himself, he must be having a nightmare. 

“Oh come on. There’s only enough of me that I can handle in one night. I don’t need to be dreaming about myself now,” he said. 

The other Slappy chucked. “This is no dream.”

“Huh?”

He looked around the room. He signed. “So this is here he decided to stay? Far away from Wardenclyffe, huh.”

Slappy’s eyes widen. 

Wardenclyffe is where his papa used to live. It was where he started writing his strories. He was there for most of the stories that he wrote but he knew that there were older works that not even he knew about. But he knows about this one.

“Would you look at that? Draft boy finally got out of his unfinished book,” he sneered. 

 “Unfinished!”  he whispered angrily. “I was left forgotten because of you!”

“Me? Haha. Look buddy, Papa already made me and what’s the point of finishing another me when I’m right here? Beside, you were an early draft where his writing wasn’t even that good. So of course you were forgotten.”

“I was made first! But then HE decided to use me as a blueprint to make you!”

“Papa write whatever he feels like writing. I had nothing to do with you. Now, how about you get out before I get Papa to actually finsh your book where you can stay forever.” 

The other Slappy chuckled. 

This makes Slappy uneasy. He could try to turn off the light to teleport to go start for his papa. But he has no idea what powers this Slappy is supposed to have. He remembered Stine talking to him about this Slappy years ago, but he doesn’t remeber what set them apart.

“I’ve been alone for years. You, however get have a monster family along with an actual family. Something that I always wanted.”

Slappy now remembers what this was about. His papa had parent issues in the past. He took his frustration and wrote about it to feel better. Slappy might have dad issues but this guy has different ones. 

“I won’t let you hurt my family!” Slappy growled as he stood up.

“Hahaha! I don’t want your family. But maybe the one next door might have room for me.”

“Wha-Leave the Cooper family out of this! Get a mama from somewhere else! Go far away if you have too!”

“No. Papa must pay. But,” he reaches his back and pulls out a book. “You first.”

“No!”

The other Slappy opened the book. Slappy tried to yell but it was too late. 

As the other Slappy closes the book, the door opened.

“What’s going on! I heard noises! Are you okay Slappy!”  yelled Stine with Hannah behind him with a bat.

The other Slappy hid the book behind his back. He stared at his papa. It’s been years since he’d seen him. And this mad him angry. But he can’t show this yet.

“I had a nightmare.”

Stine and Hannah sighned in relief. 

“Okay then. I’m going back to bed now. Night,”  said Hannah as she leaves. 

“Night.”

Stine walks in the room. The other Slappy gets nervous but stays put. His first plan was to get rid of the other Slappy. His second plan is to pretend to be him. No matter how much he would hate being the other him. 

Stine picks him up and places him in bed.

“Get some rest Slappy.”

Stine turns off the lights and walks back towards the door.

“Goodnight Slappy.”

“...Goodnight papa.”

The door closes. Slappy smiles. He hids the book under his pillow for now. He’s going to need a better spot later. Somewhere where they won’t be able to find him. However, for now he needs him just in case. 

He watched the others fakers try to take him out. He would have joined but he had other plans.  He waited until they were gone and for other Slappy to be vulnerable. Now he needs to gain that family’s trust.

This was a lot easier than he thought.