#how to sell a haunted house prompts

[stardustprompts]

how to sell a haunted house - grady hendrix sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ; death , alcohol , language , mental health

‘you need to sit down.’

‘what did you do?’

‘jesus, i’m sorry I’m not doing it the right way. i’m sure you’d be perfect at this.’

‘I find knowing these details makes it easier.’

‘you should have a drink, too.’

‘i’m not going to die. not for a long time.’

‘just because we shared a bathroom for fifteen years doesn’t mean you know a thing about me.’

‘my yoga instructor knows more about me than you do.’

‘I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d show up and start telling everyone what to do.’

‘look, I know you need to be in charge, but I’ve taken care of this.’

‘stop telling me how to deal with things. things are dealt with. I dealt with them.’

‘you can’t argue with someone when they’re upset.’

‘I don’t know what got into me, but I overreacted and I’m not proud of if it, and it wasn’t fair to you.’

‘you always needed everyone looking at you.’

‘I didn’t do it for attention. I did it because I was upset.’

‘I don’t like coming in here anyways. it’s got bad vibes.’

‘you can’t put a price tag on love.’

‘being here is really bad for my mental health.’

‘I know you don’t like me because i’m not successful enough for you.’

‘i’m actually happy with my life.’

‘if we aren’t related, if we met today, we wouldn’t chose to be friends.’

‘I don’t think we should be in here at all. I think my plan was better.’

‘don’t you feel the vibes?’

‘this is happening too fast. we need to slow down.’

‘your house is haunted.’

‘every single time I give you the benefit of the doubt, or I try to help, it comes back and bites me in the ass. every! single! time!’

‘our house is not haunted.’

‘i’m telling you there’s weird vibe. I can feel it in my gut.’

‘methinks thou doth protesteth too much.’

‘ghosts don’t exist.’

‘there are true things and there are false things, and there are no in-betweens.’

‘there are facts, like houses and car accidents and cremation, and there’s bullshit like ghosts and vibes and exorcisms. and if you start getting the true things mixed up with the false things, you’re fucked!’

‘reality is not a consensus!’

‘when you don’t like the way a conversation is going you deflect with personal attacks.’

‘you’re like some kind of emotionally abusive octopus entangling everyone in your word tentacles.’

‘even I know that you don’t go back in a haunted house after dark.’

‘the only things here are memories, and those can’t hurt us.’

‘you’re very threatened by new ideas.’

‘I offered to stay tonight because I thought it would be good for you. i’m hoping it gives you some closure.’

‘why are you so mad at me? is it because you feel guilty?’

‘i’m sorry you remember it that way because that must feel terrible, but that’s not what happened.’

‘stop telling me what I remember!’

‘no one ever says no to you, (name) because we’re all scared you’re going to lose your temper.’

‘oh, fuck you. nice try, (name), but fuck you.’

‘no matter what you did, I still don’t want anything bad to happen to you.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star.’

‘everything has to be a big production and you’re the star. all because you can’t face the fact that your life is sad and empty.’

‘it’s a little late for you to start being my brother now.’

‘you blew my mind. it felt like we were the only two people left in the world.’

‘no matter what, I don’t want to ditch you here with a bunch of ghosts.’

‘right now what you need, for once in your life, is to listen to me.’

‘the way you’re laughing is actually really, really scary.’

‘none of this is real.’

‘stop being scary.’

‘I don’t think I’m well. I think something is really wrong inside me.’

‘don’t you fucking laugh at me. for the first time ever, my life finally makes sense.’

‘I don’t think I know what’s real anymore.’

‘my explanation is logically consistent. yours is all magical energy.’

‘it was absolutely terrifying.’

‘how much trouble are you in?’

‘look at me. you’re not crazy. this really happened.’

‘don’t make this funny.’

everything you’ve seen tonight, i’ve seen it too.’

‘i’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.’

‘it was easier to pretend nothing happened.’

‘my entire life I’ve always known something was wrong with me. i’ve spend my entire life scared that if didn’t do everything exactly right, reality would unravel around me and I’d lose myself again.’

‘I forgive you.’

‘I hope you feel better. i’m fine.’

‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘get out of here.’

‘all the things I did, I want to forget.’

‘i’m not doing it! i’m not doing it again!’

‘you need to get out of here right now.’

‘it won’t hurt me, but it’ll hurt you. you have to go right now!’

‘don’t let him do this again. don’t let him take over.’

‘I need a beer.’

‘an apology would go a long way.’

‘can you keep it down? I had to lie about what happened to a lot of people.’

‘are you seriously upset with me because I saved your life?’

‘you need to accept reality.’

‘you’ve become such a grouch.’

‘I wish you’d let someone take care of you.’

‘do you agree that there are forces greater than this world and we are helpless in the face of them?’

‘we don’t have time to fuck around.’

‘i’d like to say this the weirdest shit that’s ever happened to me but I have a bad feeling it’s about to get a lot worse.’

‘I told you this was a bad idea.’

‘I think we’re fucked.’

‘this is wrong. what you’re doing is wrong.’

‘let’s talk about something that’s actually interesting.’

‘it just hurts a little. and by ‘a little’ I mean ‘a lot’ and also ‘all the time.’’

[dee-writes-angst]

The Crushing Burden Of Those Before Us (Eris Week Day One)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x reader

SUMMARY your wench of a mother makes a bargain with Eris's father when they were young, next thing you know, you've got a bargain tattoo on your wrist that matches Eris's and you're being forced down an aisle.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of dead parents, harsh language?, angst into fluff (kinda), short little teaser ig??

AUTHORS NOTE happy first day of @erisweekofficial! hope you all enjoy this one, prompt was bonds/bargains.

How was it that your mother’s choices were still coming back to bite you even after her less-than-satisfying death? 

No matter how much you tried to rid yourself of the ghost of that awful woman—selling her house, discarding her possessions, donating all her money—she still found a way to haunt you. It was as though her malevolent presence had seeped into every corner of your life, determined to make you miserable from beyond the grave. 

And now, the wedding invitation you held in your trembling hands was yet another cruel reminder of her lingering influence. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had imagined meeting the man of your dreams by chance—maybe at your favorite coffee shop, at a lively party, or in some other serendipitous way. Instead, you were being forced into a marriage with Eris Vanserra, bound by a ridiculous bargain made between your mother and High Lord Beron when they were still young and foolish. 

The letter, written in the cold, formal script of your parents, spoke of a bargain sealed in the throes of what they claimed was love. But you were far more inclined to believe it was a political maneuver. Your mother was far too heartless and calculating to have ever genuinely loved anyone. She was simply using the promise of marriage as another pawn in her cruel game. 

According to the letter, your mother and Beron had agreed that their firstborns would marry, an arrangement to be honored upon their deaths. When your mother died, you were just shy of eighteen, and the bargain’s true nature was revealed through the appearance of matching dove tattoos on both your wrist and Eris’s. A sick reminder of your grim fate. 

The letter had also stipulated that the wedding must take place in the same year you turned eighteen. It was as if your dead parents had taken a perverse pleasure in being both specific and cruel. And so here you were, standing in the cramped, barely habitable confines of your apartment, staring at the invitation as if it were a personal affront. A month—just thirty days—was all the freedom you had left before you were shackled to the new High Lord for life. The prospect was suffocating, and the invitation, a stark symbol of your impending confinement, was almost too much to bear. 

It wasn't that you disliked Eris. In fact, from the rare political gatherings you’d been forced to attend as a child, you knew he was far more complex than he let on. His eyes held a depth of kindness that rarely surfaced around his father, and you had no doubt he would have made a fine husband under different circumstances—if not a particularly present one due to his lofty position. 

But none of that mattered now. This was not the future you had envisioned. You hadn’t dreamt of meeting your soulmate in a flurry of serendipity only to have those dreams shattered by a cruel legacy. You didn't want to give your mother one final, bitter victory. You had hoped for a love that was truly yours, a partner who would share your journey, not one thrust upon you by an old bargain. And yet, the harsh reality of your situation left you powerless. 

When Eris had called you to the forest house after receiving the letter, he had assured you that he would search for any possible way to evade the marriage. He had promised to explore every avenue to find an out before succumbing to the wedding. But the invitation in your hands was a bitter confirmation that his efforts had been in vain. The deal was sealed and unbreakable, and there was no escaping the inevitable. 

In just thirty days, you would be bound to the High Lord, your life altered forever by the dictates of a long-forgotten bargain. The realization was suffocating, each tick of the clock a reminder of the freedom slipping through your fingers. The future you had hoped for was slipping away, replaced by a reality that felt more like a cage than a union. 

You stared at the invitation, its ornate script mocking you with its elegant cruelty. The embossed seal at the bottom, a symbol of the Autumn Court, seemed to pulse with the weight of the bargain it represented. It was as if the letter itself was a living, breathing entity, savoring your despair. 

The forest house, where you had been summoned, loomed in your memory—its grand, secluded setting both beautiful and intimidating. Eris’s promise to find a loophole in the bargain had seemed sincere, even hopeful. Yet here you were, holding the invitation that spelled out the end of that hope. The reality of your situation was inescapable. 

The only solace you could find was in the fact that Eris was as trapped by this bargain as you were. He had tried to fight against it, to find a way out, and that small glimmer of solidarity was a small comfort. You wondered if he felt as trapped as you did, if he too was grieving the loss of a future untainted by duty and politics. 

The days that followed were a blur of preparations and forced interactions. Your apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a gilded cage. You were inundated with wedding plans and endless consultations with advisors who spoke in hushed tones, as though discussing the arrangement was a betrayal in itself. The very air seemed to hum with a sense of inevitability. 

Eris appeared at the house often, his demeanor a mix of frustration and resignation. Each time he arrived, his eyes met yours with a flicker of shared defiance, a silent acknowledgment of your mutual predicament. There were moments when you caught him looking at you with something other than cold detachment, a hint of empathy or perhaps a begrudging respect, but he had yet to speak with you outside of advising meetings. It was these fleeting glimpses that made your situation even more complex. 

In the quiet moments between the chaos, you found yourself contemplating the nature of the bargain. Was it truly as unbreakable as it seemed, or was there a hidden loophole, a forgotten clause that could free you both? You began to dig into the history of the bargain, searching for any shred of hope that could salvage your future. 

As the days dwindled, your desperation grew. You sought out old family records, consulted with seers and scholars, and even tried to uncover any magical artifacts that might hold a clue. Every lead turned out to be a dead end, and each failed attempt only intensified your frustration. 

The evening before the wedding, you sat alone in your apartment, staring at the moonlight streaming through the window. The soft glow illuminated the dove tattoo on your wrist, a constant reminder of the bargain you were bound to. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not just a marriage but a binding of destinies, a convergence of paths that had been set in motion long before you were born. 

You didn’t know what the future would hold, but as the sun rose and your wedding day approached, you resolved to face it with whatever strength you had left. If this were to be your fate, you would meet it head-on, unwilling to let it completely crush your spirit. And perhaps, in time, you might find a way to turn the forced union into something more, or at least to reclaim some measure of control over your own life. 

The day of the wedding arrived far sooner than you had anticipated. It was surreal—standing in the mirror, draped in the finest silks the Autumn Court could provide, staring at your reflection as if it were someone else's life you were witnessing.

Your gown was stunning, that much was undeniable. The deep, rich colors of the Autumn Court—burnt oranges, golds, and reds—were woven into the fabric like fire captured in silk. The dress hugged your body in all the right places, the intricate patterns of leaves and flames embroidered into the material seemed to glow in the light. It was a work of art, one befitting a queen. And yet, you felt nothing but cold dread beneath it all.

Around you, the bustling noise of preparations filled the air. Maids and attendants flitted about, making final adjustments to your veil, ensuring every detail was perfect for what should have been the most important day of your life. But it felt more like the prelude to your execution.

You could feel the weight of the dove tattoo on your wrist, like a brand searing into your skin. The mark of the bargain, ever present, seemed to pulse in time with your own heartbeat, a reminder that this day was not truly your own. Your marriage was a contract, a binding agreement forged between two families for reasons you could barely comprehend.

And Eris? He was likely standing somewhere in the grand hall already, calm and composed as always. He had played his part in this just as you had—trapped by the same cruel fate. You had shared a few moments of conversation in the days leading up to the wedding, but they had been brief, formal exchanges. He was polite, almost distant, though you couldn’t blame him for it. Neither of you had chosen this.

A soft knock at the door broke your reverie. One of the attendants stepped in, her face pale and anxious. “It’s time.”

The words sent a shiver through you, but you nodded, steeling yourself. You could feel the pit in your stomach growing as the moment drew nearer. With a final glance in the mirror, you turned and followed the attendant out of the room, down the long corridor toward the grand hall where your fate awaited.

The hall itself was nothing short of magnificent. High, arched ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of leaves and flames soared above you. Golden light poured in through stained glass windows, casting vibrant hues across the polished floors. The Autumn Court’s finest had gathered, dressed in all their splendor, though their faces blurred together as you passed them.

And there, at the far end of the hall, stood Eris.

He was every inch the noble High Lord, dressed in rich autumnal hues that complemented his fiery hair. His presence was commanding, and yet, as your eyes met his, you saw something unexpected—a flicker of something softer beneath the hardened exterior. A shared understanding, perhaps. A silent acknowledgment that this wasn’t the life either of you had wanted.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached the end of the aisle, standing before Eris. The High Priestess began speaking, her words a blur as the ceremony began, her voice like a distant hum in your ears. All you could focus on was Eris and the crushing weight of the moment.

When the priestess instructed you both to clasp hands, you hesitated for the briefest second, but then his hand found yours. His grip was steady, warm. Despite everything, it brought a strange sense of grounding, as though for the first time, you weren’t completely alone in this.

The priestess continued, speaking of bonds forged in ancient magic, of unity and duty. Each word felt like a chain, slowly wrapping around you. You couldn’t help but glance at your wrist, where the dove tattoo seemed to glow faintly, reacting to the magic of the ceremony. When you looked up, you saw Eris doing the same.

Then, it was time for the vows.

“Do you, Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, accept this union and pledge your loyalty, your protection, and your heart to your bride?”

For the first time, Eris hesitated. His golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he nodded.

“I do.”

The weight of those two words settled in the air, heavy and final. The priestess turned to you next.

“And do you, Y/N, accept this union, pledging your loyalty, your protection, and your heart to your groom?”

Your mouth was dry. The room seemed to close in around you. This was it. The moment that would bind you to him forever. There was no way out, no escape from the fate that had been sealed long before your birth.

But as you looked into Eris’s eyes, something in you shifted. Perhaps it was the way he stood, resolute yet not unkind. Perhaps it was the realization that, like you, he was just as bound by this as you were.

You took a breath, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside.

“I do.”

The words left your lips, sealing your fate. The moment the final syllable echoed through the hall, a surge of magic washed over the room. The tattoo on your wrist flared with a brilliant light, as if acknowledging the completion of the bond. You felt the magic settle into your very bones, a binding force that linked you and Eris in ways deeper than mere vows.

The ceremony concluded with the priestess' declaration: “By the power vested in me, and by the will of the Autumn Court, I pronounce you bound in marriage.”

A roar of applause erupted from the crowd, though it felt distant, hollow. You stood beside Eris, hand still in his, both of you bound by something neither had chosen, staring down a future that was suddenly uncertain and terrifying.

As the celebration swirled around you, Eris leaned in, his voice low and quiet, meant only for your ears. “This doesn’t have to be the end of everything you’ve wanted.”

You looked at him, startled by the unexpected softness in his tone, but before you could reply, he pulled away, his expression once more unreadable. The crowd descended upon you both, offering their congratulations, but your mind was still reeling from his words.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this wasn’t the end.

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

5. 𝓕𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓪𝓽𝓱

The estate gave off an aura of cold, darkness, and grandeur. Its many rooms and labyrinth-like pathways created an intricate and intimidating structure. The ground floor, beyond the imposing entry hall, boasted a dining room, a resplendent ballroom, lavish bathrooms, and the kitchen, which was connected to the quarters where the servants resided. On the second floor, there was a grand living room, and the master bedroom, along with an opulent bathroom and a study, was adjacent to (Y/n)'s room, which also had its own bathroom. Guest bedrooms adorned the opposite side of the second floor. The estate was equipped with a grand library, another ballroom that opened onto a balcony overlooking the entrance, more bathrooms, and a small reception room. An unassuming door on the ground floor led to a cellar.

The mansion was encircled by imposing fences and gates that remained perpetually closed, effectively isolating it from the outside world. By the same logic, it kept her in. The verdant gardens that stretched around the estate, bathed in the moonlight, held an eerie beauty. A nearby stable housed a few horses.

(Y/n) had to concede that the estate was undeniably magnificent, but her nocturnal existence within its gloomy halls only served to accentuate its gothic allure. It was a place of solitude and coldness, where even the servants, who were, like her, human, would cast fearful glances her way. Their wary gazes made her feel even more isolated. She often wondered what compelled them to stay in a household where they had at least some inkling of the master's unnatural nature. Yet, they remained, and they didn't seem to like it. They didn’t seem to like her either. Anyone capable of catching this monster’s attention must be as dang as him in their mind. She could not muster any form of bitterness towards them, since she understood their resonance.

It took her a while to get accustomed to her new sleep schedule. Sleeping in the day and living throughout the night was certainly not something she was used to. She had not glimpsed the light of day in weeks, as the heavy curtains remained perpetually drawn. She spent her nights trying to stave off the loneliness that haunted her. The absence of anyone her age to converse with was not entirely novel, but during her life with her parents, there had been opportunities to socialize when they ventured into town to sell their harvested produce.

She clenched her jaw and fought back tears, resolute in her decision not to cry. Mourning her parents would serve no purpose, and their murderer would respond to her grief with cold indifference. In this foreboding place, no one would offer her solace. No one would care.

The vampire continued to spend a significant amount of time with her. Their interactions were not always filled with conversation; sometimes, they simply coexisted in silence, as he engrossed himself in reading while she sought to fill the empty hours with activities. Her loathing for him remained unwavering, and resentment festered within her, burning brightly. Yet, her loneliness drove her to accept the limited interaction he offered. The girl took whatever she could get.

Tonight was one such instance. They sat in the study, where the vampire occupied a red velvet armchair, engrossed in a book. (Y/n) reclined on a plush sofa of the same pattern, her fingers idly fidgeting with a porcelain doll, arranging and rearranging its dress. It didn't really interest her much, but it helped to keep her occupied.

As she gazed upon the doll’s neck, the sudden recollection of that fateful night prompted (Y/n) to place her hand on her own neck, as if searching for a mark that should have been there but never was. She couldn't fathom how she had managed to forget that detail. The memory returned vividly now – the bite, the paralyzing sensation, the drowsiness that followed. She knew she wasn't a vampire; her pulse still throbbed, and her canines were just as they had always been.

"You bit me," she voiced her realization, her hand still lingering on her neck, even though she knew the wound was no longer there.

The vampire, his attention momentarily diverted from his book, nonchalantly acknowledged, "I did."

A surge of curiosity and confusion led (Y/n) to question further. "I'm not a vampire," she stated, running her tongue over her normal-sized canines. Her heart continued to beat steadily, and there was no insatiable thirst for blood. "How?"

He put the book down, seemingly willing to indulge her curiosity. "Becoming a vampire isn't a random occurrence, doll," he explained patiently. "The process begins with the vampire drinking the blood of a human, allowing the venom from the bite to spread through the mortal's body. The human must then die shortly after from the poison from the bite. They will eventually return to life, but to complete the transformation, they must drink the blood of their sire. And all of this must occur during a Blood Moon."

She tensed upon hearing about the Blood Moon. "What's a Blood Moon?" (Y/n) inquired, a hint of fear in her voice. She needed to understand the vampire's plans for her and how to avoid them.

"It's a phenomenon that occurs only once every three months," he explained. "During a Blood Moon, the moon takes on a red hue, which not only strengthens a vampire's powers but also turns their bite venomous, capable of transforming others. The paralysis and drowsiness you felt on the night I brought you home were the effects of a typical vampire's bite when its powers aren’t strengthened by the moon."

Her face displayed her discomfort as she recalled the night she had felt powerless and vulnerable, completely at the mercy of a killer. She couldn't hide her unease any longer and sought further clarification. "And is the ice power something common among vampires?" She remembered the eerie sight of ice forming on the vampire's hands.

"Each vampire possesses a unique gift," he replied cryptically. To illustrate, he picked up a glass of water from the table beside her. As he touched it, the water gradually transformed into ice, right before her eyes. Her expression shifted from unease to genuine astonishment. "You will have one too."

Her smile dropped, fear settling in once again. She had allowed herself to forget about that part for a fraction of a second. She chastised herself mentally for that mistake. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down here.

[alwaysurvalentine]

tastes like autumn - st fic

Written for Day 15 of @steddie-spooktober - prompt: baking - wc: 1.7k - cw: some cussing

enjoy! 💛

Autumn has painted Hawkins in hues of orange and red, trees dropping their leaves any time the wind blows. It’s cold enough that Steve’s taken to only wearing his sweaters instead of his favorite polos. He’s got his own place now and he’s even more grateful for it this winter when he remembers how awful it was to prepare the pool for the winter. Nothing worse than deep cleaning a pool when it’s cold and windy outside. His place isn’t big by any means, a tiny apartment above one of the shops downtown, but it does the job. It’s got one bedroom, a kitchen, and a massive living/dining room. 

The big living room was a big selling point when he moved in, wanting to have enough space for everyone to come over for a movie night or more recently, a D&D session. When it’s just him he likes to open all the curtains and windows to let the sounds from outside to filter in, mostly cars driving past but sometimes he’ll catch snippets of the conversations of people walking below. Sometimes Robin will join him on the couch in front of the window so they can people watch and make up lives for everyone they see. 

Today’s a quiet one though, one where he doesn’t have any work and no one’s planned on coming over. Which means Steve gets to bake. After the last and final round with the Upside Down, he’d finally been open to going to therapy. As soon as he’d agreed, Owens had given his information to Vanessa, who ended up being a good match and now they meet once a month. It’d been a long process, first having to meet up every week to catch her up with his personal involvement with the Upside Down. Soon it turned into her helping him with more mundane things, like why he hates the sound of a completely quiet house. Didn’t take long for her to suggest getting out of the Harrington House and into his own space. 

Now on quiet days Steve isn’t haunted by the memory of his parents disapproval when he moves room to room. No, now he gets to focus on things that he actually enjoys doing. One of which happens to be baking. He’s been looking forward to making this recipe from a magazine since he found it, but Eddie’s been staying over the last few days and he wants it to be a surprise. Plus, he knows better than to think Eddie won’t distract him from making sure he doesn’t burn the loaf by accident.

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bread stares at him from the torn magazine page and Steve smiles before pulling out the ingredients. There’s a radio sitting on his kitchen counter that he reaches over to click on, letting the sounds of Blondie fill the room. Since no one’s here but him, he shimmies his shoulders as he washes his hands, singing along as she belts about calling her anytime. 

It’s easy to sink into the methodic motions of baking. Dry ingredients get placed in his orange mixing bowl, clouds of dust and cinnamon causing him to sneeze and fan at the air before continuing. Steve hasn’t gotten around to buying an electric mixer yet, instead relying on his only whisk or his hands if the dough is particularly thick. 

Today he opts for hand mixing, rolling the sleeves of his yellow sweater up before reaching in. The pumpkin puree is sticky and thick but the eggs make everything feel slimy so he pulls his hands out almost as soon as he reaches in. Sometimes the feeling of dough in his hands makes him think of urging Eddie’s heart to start beating, reminds him of how he nearly dropped the metalhead multiple times on the way to the gate, blood making him almost slip out of Steve’s faltering grasp. A quick shake of his head and Steve tunes back into the radio, a song by Queen now filling his kitchen instead. He leans against the counter for a second, counting his inhales and exhales before trying again. This time Steve reaches in and doesn’t have to pull his hands out until he goes to add the chocolate chips. Normally the recipe calls for semi-sweet chips, but Steve’s gotten dark chocolate since those are Eddie’s favorite. 

~

The house smells like pumpkin, cinnamon, and chocolate. It brings a small smile to Steve’s face as he sits in the living room waiting for the loaf to cool. He’s feeling pretty confident so far, it didn’t rise too far out of the pan and when he stuck a fork in it the prongs came out clean. After the Biscuit Incident, Steve only tests out new recipes alone. No reason to give the party any more reasons to rag on him since they all act like glorified younger siblings anyway, knowing just the right buttons to push to get him riled up. Once he knows the best way to make a recipe, that’s when they’re offered to the party – soft cookies and moist cakes that melt just right in your mouth when you take a bite. All the dishes are next to the sink drying when he steps into the kitchen again. 

Steve edges a butter knife around the edges of the pan, urging the loaf away from the edges in hopes that it’ll come out of the pan easily. He places a plate on top of the loaf and flips the pan; luckily when he lifts it, the pan is empty and the loaf is resting in the center of the plate. Some of the chocolate chips have left melted streaks in the pan and he runs a slow finger through one of the trails for a taste.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice startles him and the pan in his hand finds its way to the floor with a loud clatter. “You okay?” Hurried footsteps bring Eddie to the doorframe of the kitchen, eyes wide as he takes in the scene: pan on the ground and Steve clutching a hand to his chest like he’s had a heart attack. He’s managed to get one shoe off but the other sits untied in his haste to identify the noise. “Glad to see your heart’s working.” It’s a joke that Steve’s heard Wayne make when he spooks Eddie coming around the corner of the trailer, it’s a way to let the other person catch their breath when they’ve just been scared. Steve takes the break for what it is and shakes his head fondly.

“Yeah, didn’t need you test it for me.” Steve fights back his own grin when Eddie smiles and winks at him, stepping forward to grab the pan from the floor. With the pan resting in the sink, Eddie kicks off his other shoe and then leans into Steve’s space. Chapped lips press against his and Steve leans in for another kiss before Eddie can pull away completely. When they do part, Steve can feel the grin stretching across his face. It’s nice having his own space that people can drop by unexpectedly but Eddie is supposed to be busy today.

“What happened to practice?” Eddie’s more focused on the plate behind Steve, already taking a step towards the counter to investigate. “Excuse me.” Brown eyes cut to Steve’s when Eddie registers the slightly bitchy tone Steve’s decided on. Steve’s smile gives away that he doesn’t really mean anything by it, just trying to get his boyfriend’s attention. Plus, there’s no way he’s going to let Eddie try it before he makes sure it actually came out correctly. 

“Gareth’s sister got sick, so he was stuck with baby sitting duty. What’d you make?” Again, Steve’s lost his boyfriend’s attention, Eddie going as far as to reach towards Steve’s loaf with a ringed finger.

“Hey! Don’t poke it. I made something new, which means-”

“Which means I don’t get to taste it until you do, yeah, yeah. Let’s cut a piece.” It’s hard pretending to be frustrated when Eddie knows him so well. With an eye roll and a playful huff Steve bumps Eddie’s hip with his before grabbing his butter knife again. 

“Go put your shoes up, then if it’s good you can have a slice.” It’s like watching Wile Coyote run off a cliff with how quickly Eddie swoops his battered Reebok up and darts into the living room. The butter knife passes through easily and a small trail of steam rises from inside the loaf. Steve can tell he put in too many chocolate chips already, the inside mostly dark instead of dotted like he expected; he figures Eddie won’t mind it either way. Gently, Steve tears off the corner of the slice, crumbs falling onto the floor when he brings it up to his mouth. It’s clearly not set enough to eat quite yet, but when Eddie’s found something sweet in the house it doesn’t take long at all for him to be digging in. Steve never complains because it just makes his kisses that much sweeter. 

The dark chocolate was a good call, blending in with the nutmeg and clove spices. It’s nice and moist too, melting in Steve’s mouth. Eddie’s come around the corner again, eyes hopeful when he takes in Steve’s relaxed expression.

“Good to eat, then?” And then he’s swooping in to tear off his own piece from the slice Steve made. As soon as he closes his mouth Eddie lets out a happy hum and closes his eyes in happiness. “You are a baking genius. This is delicious! What is this?” Another bite, and then a kiss placed on Steve’s head before Eddie starts to cut another slice. 

“It’s Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bread. You mentioned last week not getting to the bakery early enough to get any of their seasonal stuff. And Mrs. Henderson let me have an old recipe magazine book so.” Steve shrugs and runs his hand through his hair before turning away. It’s embarrassing now, thinking about Claudia’s knowing look when he’d asked her if she knew any good recipes for fall that wasn’t pumpkin pie. 

“Baby, this is so good. And you put dark chocolate in here too, right?” All Steve does is nod, hands busying themselves with refolding his dishtowel that’s hanging on his oven door handle. “You spoil me.” There’s humor coloring Eddie’s words and Steve looks up to see a soft smile on his face. ���Wanna spoil me some more?” He doesn’t have a moment to be confused, Eddie already closing the space between them and cupping Steve’s face. 

When Eddie kisses him this time, all he can taste is chocolate and cinnamon.

[steviewashere]

Always Need You

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Vague Suicidal Thoughts Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Hand Holding, Eddie Munson Overthinks A LOT, Reference to Hamlet, Steve Harrington Takes Care of Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Smart Steve Harrington (Because He IS), Perceptive Steve Harrington, Water Imagery, They Go to The Beach, They're Going to Plot Against Steve's Parents For @steddieangstyaugust Day 7 Prompt: Moonlight Though, I will say, I went more with moon rather than moonlight, but there's still a little bit in here about the actual moonlight.

🌕—————🌊 The sand is wet, squishy, and sort of grainy under his toes. At the edge of the water, there’s not enough of it to come rushing between his toes, but he knows he’ll walk back from here with soles painted brown. Little bits and bobs of gritty sand in the fine wrinkles of his feet. Probably catch some of the drier stuff, too. The ocean roars again; a big, cold, eye-catching wave crashing into his shins. Thank god I rolled up my sweats, he thinks.

It wasn’t his idea to come out here. Not out here as in right now, but out here to the beach in general. He’s never been. Doesn’t think he could survive if swept away into the ocean—though, maybe he’s alright with that thought. Passively and not, he’s okay with it.

Steve’s idea came one late night when his parents told him it would be good for him to get out of Hawkins for a while. Neither in an act of kindness nor grace, the Harringtons don’t do that. Him and Steve think it’s one big notion to follow through with the motion of selling the house—the estate he had joked once, empty silence following it that still haunts him to this day.

That alone had to be reason…18, he thinks, of all the reasons to come contemplating out here.

Out here. Out here.

Only thirty yards away from the beach house they rented for the foreseeable week. He’s having a good time, at least he believes so anyway. Hanging out with his boyfriend—which, shit, that’s the least plausible thing he’s ever heard in his short life—making s’mores around a screen-perfect campfire, holding each other close under a heavy and hot comforter while the cold breeze outside comes flittering through a cracked window, having sex for the love and no longer the thrill. There’s no thrill if they can’t be caught and there’s no thrill if they aren’t dancing around each other anymore. There’s a thrill to it, though, that makes him excited just to get his shoulder touched, but that comes from the lonely years that prehistorically predated all that he has now.

Thirty yards away from the safety zone. Or is it a buffering zone, he asks himself. It doesn’t matter. Steve’ll probably correct him on it for the fiftieth time and they’ll giggle like it’s funny, but sometimes he thinks he gets on Steve’s nerves after a while. Can’t even get your stupid brain to remember what he loves. What kind of boyfriend are you?

Out here, he doesn’t have to worry about Steve stroking his forehead and complimenting him all soft like. Because he can’t be read on the face in the dark. He can’t be picked apart in that silent, persistent, perceptive way that Steve knows how. Sometimes he wonders if the roles are actually reversed—maybe Steve is the freak, maybe he’s been stalking the entire time. Because how in the hell does he just know most days? The self loathing and the wandering thoughts and the kick to his own ribs…he’s picked up and carried by Steve’s hands after it all. It won’t be the last time, he knows that, but maybe the last time won’t be so far away.

The ocean waves crash into him again. This time, he staggers with the force. Hands plucking on the sides of his pants, trying to get them to stay rolled up. Toes clenching for purpose in the wet sand. 

He wonders if, when and how he falls, if he’ll survive the ocean. If it’ll be like surviving his brain the last few years. Bobbing and weaving and then getting caught on something and then drowning in that pocket for a while. He wonders what drowning feels like. 

Steve told him it burned. Steve told him that it was like an icy fire was making home in his lungs. Steve told him he’d never been more afraid of anything else in his life. Steve told him to stop asking, teary eyed and frightened. So he dropped it. He listened like an obeying dog.

Though, he wonders if, how and long he continued to ask, if Steve would’ve told him what it felt like to be heavy in the cold. If the imminent death that seemed closer and closer was easy to come to terms with, or if he wanted to kick his legs harder to propel away.

He shakes himself and rights where he stands. The wave recedes. Low tide soon, maybe—that’s more something that Steve would know, not him. Sometimes when he gets too big, he needs to feel small for a long while. He thinks the low tide is going to be soon. Sooner, if he continues to stay out here.

Now that the waters have lessened their work, a mercy cry, he hears more of the world. The cars driving by late night on the road just beyond the beach houses. Clicks of lighters and that first slow inhale. A far away boat, one long horn.

A stride of heavyset feet on dry to wet ground. The struggle, he thinks, of them trying not to eat it on the sand dunes. But the stampede gets closer, closer, closer still as he continues to stand. Eyes out on the vacant, abyss horizon. Water kissing the insides of his ankles. A calm, deep nothingness around him—he wonders if it would be easy to slip into it, or maybe he’s already there. I could live out here, he thinks.

“Hey,” a familiar voice pants on his right, “hey, Eds. Found you.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the water. Doesn’t blink. “Didn’t know we were playing a game of hide & seek,” he murmurs, but it’s more of a croak. It sort of hurts. Maybe it’ll stay this way, for his sake. But he doesn’t get what he wants, even when the mere thought manifests. He knows he won’t get it because he’s already melting with Steve’s warmth around him.

Steve chuckles deep from his chest. Shoulder bumping Eddie. Bare skin from elbow down on Eddie’s own. He’s warm. “I came out of the shower to an empty bed,” he murmurs, too. 

“Sorry,” he responds on reflex.

“Don’t need to be,” Steve brushes off—that perceptive way of his. “I saw you from the window. Thought I’d come join. Maybe the breeze will help dry my hair.”

Eddie gives a noncommittal grunt.

Almost in his ear, Steve copies him. “You’ve got that look on your face,” he whispers, “what’re you thinkin’ about, Eds?”

You’ve caught me, he wants to exclaim, you know me! How the hell do you know me?!

A million things, he then wants to say, a million pointless, probably concerning things.

He thinks about that Hamlet speech:

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more.”

The Hamlet speech that made him pass theater class. The Hamlet speech that he clung onto years after because it just made sense. For once, with this skillset and his wandering imagination, he could focus his brain front and center on Shakespeare’s words. It was the first time that Shakespeare ever made sense. Even as there’s a million interpretations, much like his thoughts, there was a certain way he read it that could only cover how he felt. A passive question he always asked himself. And yet, it was a non-passive question—he knew what it meant for him.

He’s thinking of the time he saw a murder of crows protect the limp, sodden corpse of a stray cat he once fed, now turned to roadkill. Of how he wandered close to them. Of how they didn’t ignore him, but rather let him pick the cat up and bury her in the soft dirt across the street. How they watched him pick weeds that resembled flowers enough to count as something. Like he did for his mom whenever he visited her grave, too young to have a job and couldn’t afford the big, fragrant bouquets that he saw others wander by with. He’s wondering if they both appreciated it, or if they pitied him like the fool he is—maybe they saw that he was trying too hard to make things right, as if it was his whole responsibility to mend the holes.

He’s thinking about the first time he had Steve’s hands on his body. Applying pressure to wounds that weren’t superficial in the slightest. But Steve had believed he would survive. He was the only one to believe it. He wonders if the rest of their crew looked at Steve the way Eddie’s mother probably looked at him when he visited. Pity, like he was a fool, too. Maybe love makes fools of all of them, pity or no—even in the good relationships, like he has now.

He’s thinking about how, even though he has a lot of good things, all of it doesn’t outweigh the terrible he experiences back home. It’s safer by the cold, crashing ocean than it is walking through the back ways of Hawkins. That says something, not poetic, he thinks.

“I don’t know,” he eventually says, “probably too much for what’s supposed to be a vacation.” Eddie swallows. There’s nothing in his mouth but words and teeth and his own tongue. 

He wants to be honest.

A moment later, he admits softer, “Thinking about dying. About…about if I’d survive being swept into the ocean. Probability points to a zero percent chance because I don’t swim that good.”

It’s quiet again. The way it was before Steve got here. Cars beyond and clicking lighters and small crashes of tiny ocean waves. So quiet, he thinks he hears the squelch of his feet in the sand. The squelch of him grabbing onto something before he drifts too far away.

“I used to think that, too,” Steve breathes. “Used to wonder about it all the time. If I’d survive the impossible. A car crash from any side, the drop over the quarry, Lover’s Lake and the ocean.”

Eddie looks away from the water, finally. Not a side glance at Steve, but something contemplative at his own feet. “What made you stop?” He asks quietly.

Steve shrugs, feels his shoulder brush. “I don’t think I stopped until Vecna fucking ate it,” he confesses in a low murmur. “Until I knew I was safe.” His hand, cold and slightly damp reaches out for Eddie’s wrist. Fingers wrapping around, not clenching or squeezing, just loosely grasping for purchase.

“I wish I felt like that,” Eddie sighs. “Maybe it’s just not in the cards for me.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, so clearly thinking. Probably mapping out all kinds of routes in that wonderful brain of his. His whole arm slips through the gap of Eddie’s, linking them together. “Did you know that the ocean wouldn’t be what it is without the moon?”

He looks to Steve at that. Questioning eyes and words bubbling inside. Can’t help himself, he laughs. “What?” He gets out between fits, “where did that come from?”

A smile adorns Steve’s face. A soft, thoughtful one. “It’s true, though,” he speaks, quiet and traversing, “the…uh…there’s gravitational pulls that come from both the Moon and the Earth. And these forces kind of work together. The pull on the Moon makes these bulges in the ocean, both where the closest side is to it and the farthest side. These make the tides go high, those big beautiful waves. And when the bulges are low, low tides are created.

“Without these forces, without the Moon, the Earth’s ocean would be only low tide. That means a lot of the smaller animals that survive off of these tides would cease to exist, the ecosystems would be absolutely destroyed. The ocean kind of carries the things these animals need to survive. And, well, without them and the Moon…poof…no more.” Steve’s smile doesn’t leave his face, but it’s stronger now that it’s pointed directly at Eddie. All of his teeth a muted white in the light reflecting off of the water. And his eyes glistening, dark in an abyssal way. His skin a dusty white-blue.

For once, he doesn’t know what to think. Or how to think. It’s as if the currents that activated all those burbling worries just ceased to exist. He’s a lot thankful for it, but he won’t say that yet. Steve’s got this look to him that reads more. More in the best way.

“How do you”—

“Science class. It was, outside of gym, the subject I was best at.”

Eddie probably could’ve figured. Steve’s always had this way to him that reads: diamond in the rough. Things waiting to be excavated. So he’ll go with it. “And…where is this”—

“You’re the moon to me,” Steve says easily, “you do this really wonderful thing to me, y’know? Make my heart race every time I look at you or touch you, even when I just hear about you. And makes my day sort of…worth it? Think it would destroy me if you weren’t here. If, after all this wonderful time with you, we got nothing together in the end.

“I don’t know…I don’t know where your brain is tonight or what you’ve been thinking exactly, but I can assure you right now you’re much needed. Not just for me, you know? Dustin looks to you for guidance all the time. All the time. He’ll come bug me at work, say something about Hellfire, and is usually saying: ‘I bet Eddie would know. He always knows.’ And it’s the same with the other members, I can tell you right now.

“Wayne would be…I don’t want to even imagine what Wayne would be like.” Steve’s eyes glisten impossibly more. Swallowing hard—probably consuming all that flickers through him, what those things are, Eddie knows better than to ask about them. “I don’t know what I’d be,” he whispers, “if I had to only wonder what you’d think or what you’d say when something happens. If I had to wonder because you weren’t…” His fingers are still wrapped around Eddie’s wrist, but now they tighten. Hard enough Eddie begins to feel the bite of his nails. Another swallow. Clarity. “My point is is that you’re a much needed presence in everybody’s lives and all those shitheads from Hawkins who don’t like you, because they can’t see the person you actually are, they can go suck a fat fucking egg.”

All the air in Eddie’s lungs leaves him, wheezing out of his mouth as he laughs something so loud and unexpected, he thinks it could rival the sound of crashing waves. “Wow,” he marvels, “you have such a way with words.” He squeezes the hand in his, fingers tight to Steve’s. “And for the record, sweetheart,” he says when he can fully catch his breath, “I wouldn’t actually do anything, y’know. It’s just…I wander, I guess. Especially out here. When it’s like only quiet and pretty and…The best part about this beach not even being close to Hawkins is that nobody here knows me. And I can just be. Though, I guess just being makes me think too hard. About life back home.”

Steve hums. Smile still stretching across his face. And with him, Eddie knows he’s safe. In their hold they have, in the light they share, in the warmth they’ve created. He can admit anything out here and Steve won’t stare at him strangely.

“Maybe we should find somewhere else to go,” Steve quietly suggests a moment later. “Now that the world isn’t ending. And we know that it’s all done for for good. We should go find a reclusive place to be. I’ve heard that Oregon’s got some great beaches. Washington and California, too.”

Eddie snorts. “I don’t want to laugh at your idea, but how on Earth are we going to be able to afford that?”

“Easy,” Steve says, “we goad my parents into giving me money. Maybe I…I’ll come up with some lie that I heard that they’re selling the house without giving me notice. Because I know that’s exactly what they’re doing. And I’ll threaten to like…I’ll expose them, that’s it! Ruin their reputation if they don’t agree.”

“It’s alarming that you’ve got a mastermind plan already building in that head of yours,” Eddie states. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. You always know how to get things done. What to say.”

A flattered expression washes over Steve’s face. But he doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s words. A discussion for another time, then. Instead, he goes on, “I’ll get Nancy in on it, Eds. She’s been waiting since high school to take my parents down a notch. This is her chance. And this is going to be our chance to get away.”

“I’m with you so far, but I’m hung up on what I’ll do without Wayne.”

“Bring Wayne,” he says immediately, “he’ll have his own room and everything. We’ll figure it out.” And Steve’s eyes are squinted with his smile, his body lax and easy. He knows, in his own perceptive way, that they will.

“Okay,” Eddie gives in, “we’ll figure this out.”

Steve swings their arms back and forth for a moment. “Let’s go to bed, baby. I want to show you all the ways I love you.”

He can’t stop himself from letting out a giddy giggle. “Okay,” he agrees, “let’s do that.”

“And the ways I need you. Because I’ll always need you, Eds. Even when your brain goes elsewhere, I’ll need you.”

“I need you, too, Stevie.”

And as Steve pulls him along the dunes, sand sticky to the soles of his feet, Eddie takes in the roaring quiet again. Wondering, the only thing he can wonder, what it feels like to live in Steve’s heart the way he does in Eddie’s. He’s warm. He’s excited. And he knows, perpetually and no matter where they are in the world, they’re safe with each other.

Much like the moon will always be with the ocean.

🌕—————🌊

[medusapelagia]

10 - The Tower of Terror

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: "Where were you?”) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: enemies to allies) and @aug-kissed (prompt: Blow a Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Witcher AU, violence, blood, injuries Words: 1626

(An AU inside an AU?!?! Yes 😂)

When Steve’s mom dragged him to Kaer Morhen as a kid, Steve didn’t know that she was selling him to the mages to make a witcher out of him. He just thought it was a funny adventure. They rode in a little carriage together with some cabbages, and then they crossed the woods and started the same long path that now Steve is walking down, holding Roach's bridle with one hand, guiding the stubborn girl down the steep slope.

Steve never knew how much the mages gave his mom. He hopes they gave her a lot, she still had other five kids at home and he was just another mouth to feed: too young and weak to be really helpful working at the farm.

Now his mom and his brothers are long gone, but Steve is still there, doing what he was raised to do: killing monsters.

At the end of the winter, he says his brothers and their father goodbye, and gets back on the path, ready to kill monsters and humans alike. Because sometimes, the worst monsters have human skin.

On his back are his two faithful swords, silver and iron, that he keeps in tiptop shape, cleaning and sharpening them every night before resting.

He doesn’t stop at the first few villages, he wants to leave them to his brothers, but he keeps walking toward the farthest towns, looking for little villages that definitely need a witcher, even if most of them can’t really afford him. But Steve was never too high-maintenance: if the people are nice to him and they really need help, he will help them, in exchange for some food and a comfortable place to sleep. 

He would probably help them for free as well, but even witchers need to eat and sleep.

That’s how he finds out about the Tower of Terror. An old tower that’s all that remained of a big castle up the hills and that was destroyed during a strong earthquake.

He’s eating some bland soup, the only thing he can afford at the beginning of the hunting season, when a man, wearing fancy clothes, sits next to him.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away? The white hair or the yellow eyes? Maybe the two swords on my back?” Steve asks sarcastically, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with rich men, they are the ones that always try to fuck him up and pay him less than the agreed amount.

“Snarky, aren’t you? I thought all of you were grumpy and scary men.” 

“Met many witchers?” Steve asks without even turning.

“A couple. When I was a kid. Anyway, I have a job for you. I want you to go to the Tower of Terror and free the place from all the monsters that inhabit that place.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, “Did they attack the village?”

“Not yet. But they are monsters! We can’t live under the threat of those monsters coming for us if we want to become a bigger village. You see? At the moment all we have are just a few houses, but the road that leads to us is the quickest route to get to Hawkins. If we manage to kill every monster in the Tower of Terror, we will be finally able to attract more travelers and become a bigger city.”

“And make more money.”

“And make more money.” The man agrees, “The tower is full of gold and jewels, you could take anything you want once you clean it from the monsters. So what do you say? It’s a pretty big deal.”

“What kind of monsters haunt the tower?” Steve asks, squinting his eyes, pensive.

“How the fuck would I know! I never got there.”

“I don’t take jobs if I don’t know what I’m facing.”

“Oh. Too bad. Well, I guess I’ll ask the other witcher.”

That catches Steve's attention. What other witcher? He concentrates, trying to find a slow heartbeat like his but finds none.

“Oh, he’s not here yet, but we sent a messenger a few weeks ago and he promised to come soon. In the beginning, I thought it was you, but the messenger told me about dark pitch-black hair, so…”

There’s one witcher crazy enough to accept a job without knowing what the fuck he’s going to face. A witcher on his back has two swords and a lute. A witcher that’s crazy like all the witchers from the Cat School. 

Eddie.

Steve takes his bowl of soups and gulps it down in one go, slamming it on the table, “Good for you.” he says, leaving the tavern.

He’s not even halfway through the village when he hears a familiar voice singing a stupid song, he turns in time to see Eddie get off his dark horse and put away his lute.

“When the tavern owner told me a grumpy witcher with white hair came to the rescue I couldn’t believe my luck.” He grins, getting closer to Steve who is still riding Roach.

“Not here to help you. Just looking for a job.”

“Are you saying to me you’re allergic to money? Because, my dear Steve, that castle is full of gold and jewels. So full that you won’t have to hunt for at least ten years.”

“And became old and fat in the meantime? No thanks.”

“Come on! It will be fun! You and me against the world!”

“There’s no you and me. There’s you. And there’s me. And our paths won’t cross again.”

“Oh, you weren’t so adamant when I was fucking you against the tree in the middle of the woods a few summers ago.”

“That was a one-time thing. And we were drunk.”

“Were we, Stevie?” Eddie asks, licking his lips and showing the little cat fangs.

“We come from different schools.”

“Doesn’t mean we are enemies. I'm pretty fond of you, actually.” Eddie says, blowing him a kiss and then winking at him.

“It does,” Steve replies, deadpan, before hitting Roach in the stomach and pushing her to gallop away.

“Tomorrow, at first lights! I’ll be there, waiting for you!” Eddie yells, but Steve doesn’t even turn.

***

Steve doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t even meditate. He just tosses and turns, thinking about that only night he shared with Eddie years before. How good it felt to be adored and loved even if it wasn’t real.

Finally understanding he won’t get any more sleep he sits near the ember of his fire, trying to remember everything he knows about the Tower of Terror. He has definitely read something about it but now all he can think about are pale hands wrapping his sex while a horny voice whispers dirty things in his ear.

If Eddie is really going to get into the Tower alone he will die, and those hands will never touch Steve again with reverence and desire.

It’s not Steve’s problem. If Eddie wants to die he’s free to do as he wishes.

Roach turns her head, glaring at him from the tree she’s tied to.

“Ok, I get it. I get it.” Steve sighs, dismounting the camp and preparing himself to fight.

***

It’s the smell of blood to guides him through the stupid tower, not the greedy, as Eddie insists when they meet in a maze of corridors.

The dark-haired witcher is holding his side, a deep wound gushing blood through his fingers, but Steve doesn’t have the time to take care of his injuries, because the monsters with no eyes are attacking them again, their shriek so loud on Steve’s sensitive ears that he has to fight with himself not to drop his sword and protect his ears with his hands.

With a slash, he cuts the arm that’s reaching out toward his head and when the creature loses its balance, Steve’s sword pierces him from side to side. He doesn’t even have the time to retrieve the blade, when another creature, smaller than the first, attacks him, making him fall on his back while he tries to keep the monster’s mouth away from his face. Steve kicks it in the stomach and the creature yelps, recoiling just enough to give Steve the time to grab the dagger from his belt and cut its throat.

The dark and warm blood falls on his clothes and his face, and Steve curses, kicking the dead beast.

“You should think about dyeing your hair.” Eddie chuckles, spitting some blood, “Black maybe it’s a little too dark fir your skin complexion, but I think chestnut would be perfect for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve replies, trying to determine how bad the injury is.

“Where were you? I thought we agreed to be here at dawn.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“I heard you growl, distinctly. That’s not how your school expresses agreement?”

“Fuck you.” Steve says, fishing some vials for his bag, “Take this.”

“Swallow? How magnanimous of you.” 

“Just drink it and let’s get out of here.”

“Can’t.”

“Come on Eddie. Not even a cat can be so stupid to risk his life for some jewels that were probably stolen ages ago.”

“Have you ever seen monsters like these?” Eddie asks, pointing to the two dead creatures.

Steve squints at the monsters without eyes. He doesn’t remember having read anything about them in the book he studied, and he definitely hadn’t met such creatures before.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you come with me we could find something more than gold and jewels.” Eddie drinks the potion in one go and gives the vial back to Steve, “Can we be allies, for once?”

Steve stares at the other witcher who slowly gets up, one hand still protectively in front of his wounded side.

Allies.

Just for this time.

They shake hands, and then their medallions start to shake like crazy.

(Should I start working on a Part 2???)

[obsessivelyloved]

Day 1: Monster

The prompt is from this list. Hope you guys enjoy!

__________________________________________________

There were scratch marks on your porch this morning—big, deep ones. You called out of work. You called animal control. There was nothing they could do.

A set of large footprints circled your house. They wrapped around it over and over, as if something was pacing. They stopped, deep, in front of your bedroom window. There were claw marks on your windowsill.

You had slept with your curtains open.

“Sorry,” The man from animal control had apologized, wringing his hands. “More than likely, it was a curious bear smelling food from your house. It’s long gone into the woods. But if you hear anything at night, hide up in your attic and give us a call.”

You numbly nodded your head. “Will do, thanks for- thanks for your time.”

The man left and all you could do was stare down at your porch, at the large footprints, with fear stuck in your throat. It wasn’t a bear. Bears didn’t have such large claws or feet like a coyote. Or the kind of feet bunnies have, whatever it was.

You didn’t want to stay home but you had nowhere else to go. You had recently moved to this dreary part of England, a little away from the city. It was in your grandmother’s will for you to inherit the house; you couldn’t turn it down. It was completely paid off, all you had to pay was the normal stuff like electricity and water. But now, well, maybe you should have waited until you your friend's lease was up. You would have been dealing with this stress better with someone.

Trees lined the back side of the house, but your grandmother had never been worried about animals. She didn’t even have a backyard fence, not having too many neighbors out here.

“I should go see if the hardware store sells cameras,” you say to yourself.

With a shaky breath, heart still hammering inside your chest, you gather what you need and head out. Thankfully, there’s a couple of stores ten minutes away. They’re mostly the necessities, anything but the basics and a few variety items, you have to drive to the city for. It’s a tad annoying but it’s nice to be able to own a house. Something you thought was going to be impossible in this day and age to do.

You feel as if you're in a fog, entering the small parking lot. Watching through a camera as you enter the hardware store.

Fuck you were so scared that the thing was going to come back. What if it turned out to be the Rake? That thing had haunted you for years. Stuff like that has always scared you even though you know it’s not real. Or, hope it’s not real.

“Hi! Need any help today?”

The cashier snaps you out of the fog a little, but you’re still freaked out.

“Hi,” you say, your voice cracking a little. “Do you guys sell cameras here? Like, the ones for outside?”

The lady, Jess, her name tag helpfully supplies, hums a little. She looks off to the side as she thinks.

“I um, have an animal problem,” you add. “The animal control services think it’s a bear, but I’m not sure.”

Jess lit up. “We should still have some trail cams leftover from hunting season. They’ll be right this way.”

She led you through the small store, the small aisles feeling suffocating. The cameras were on an almost completely bare shelf, the words 50% in bold hung on a banner above the shelf.

“Now that hunting season is over, we can’t really sell these. This-“ she grabs a black camera off of the shelf, “-model is the last we have. I’m not going to lie, it kind of sucks but it’s better than nothing if you really need it.”

You take a deep breath. The panic sinks in a little harder. “How does it suck? I actually really need something. I-I want to be prepared to call animal control if the bear comes back tonight.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile.

“It has a three minute delay. Most hunters hate these since their prey tends to scatter by the time they’re caught on the feeds, but this should work for you since bears aren’t too fast when they have nothing to do. I’d recommend trying to set at least one up further from your property, so you can catch the bear quicker.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Of course! Let me know if you need help with anything.”

Jess sets the box back onto the shelf, leaving you to your thoughts. Even at fifty percent off these were expensive…..

In the end, you could only afford three. Jess rang you up and wished you well with your bear problem.

You didn’t want to go home. Somehow, you did. One moment you were sitting in your car, staring blankly at the woods, then the next, you were setting up the cameras as best you could.

One was set as high up as you could get it onto the trees behind your house. Another went next to your porch light. And the last, you put above your back door.

After you set them up, connecting them to your laptop, you waited. You waited and waited. Restless, pacing the house with your laptop plugged in and open. Night falls and you distantly think you’re going to be sick. You don’t make dinner. You hardly drink. All you can do is wait.

Eventually, you move your things up to the attic. You turned all the lights off in the house before moving some blankets and pillows upstairs. You’re so thankful there were plugins in the attic. Your laptop dying would have stressed you out more.

By 12 a.m., you start to relax a little. Nothing has triggered your cameras. Whatever it was probably won’t come back. Nothing of worth laid outside your house.

You blink and 1 am glares at you from the corner of your screen. You curl into your blankets and drift off to sleep……

Your laptop beeps.

You bolt awake, scrambling to pull your laptop close. The furthest camera caught movement. Something big was making its way past the tree line. Next, your back door caught it. The night vision didn’t help you at all in trying to figure out what the hell was out there.

If it didn’t have horns above its head you’d thought it was a bear.

Fear crawled up your chest as it sniffed the back door, pawing at the wooden steps. As it moves towards the side of the house, your brain starts to work again.

You scramble around for your phone, desperate to call animal control. But…. you left it downstairs.

Tears prickle your eyes as your laptop beeps again. The porch camera caught it.

You press your hands tight against your mouth. Tears and whimpers escape as you can only stare at the screen.

Sharp purple horns jutted out from its head, dark purple scales lined it’s body. And it’s face….. It had sharp teeth and one black eye.

.

.

.

.

.

It was inside the house.

[cha-melodius]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thanks to @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @kiwiana-writes, and @orchidscript for tagging me for this one. I'm also going to say thanks to everyone who tagged me in the ao3 wrapped or other round up type things; I've been putting off doing my annual writing year-in-review because I always post it on the 30th or 31st. This one is new to me and I figured why not, I'll do it now. I published 31 fics this year (so far!), so safe to say I'm putting this partly under a cut to save your dashes.

JANUARY

How’s About Cookin’ Something Up With Me? (TMFU, T, 4k) Teachers AU, Napoleon helps Illya bake cookies for a holiday party.

Love is a Deserter (TMFU, T, 3k) Post breakup getting back together fic.

True Hollywood Romance (Lokius, M, 8k) Actors AU, fake dating, Mobius and Loki have a PR relationship that turns real.

It's Been a Bad Day Lately (Lokius, T, 17k) Time loop, Loki has to try to figure out how to defeat a deadly Kang variant and save the man he loves all at once.

FEBRUARY

All for a Taste of the Honey (RWRB, E, 6k) FBI Agents AU, Henry goes undercover as a stripper and Alex has a lot of feelings about that.

MARCH

All Comes Crashing (TMFU, E, 5.6k) Illya has one night left to live and is forced to admit the feelings he's been holding back.

Nova, Baby (RWRB, E, 67k) CIA/MI6 AU, forced to work together by their respective agencies, Alex and Henry take on high-stakes missions and fall in love.

APRIL

Kiss Me Like You Mean It (Firstprince, Napollya, Lokius, T) Various T-rated ficlets featuring kisses.

MAY

All the Old Showstoppers (RWRB, E, 20k) Canon-divergent AU where Alex and Henry compete in the Great Celebrity Bake Off.

The Sky is Open (RWRB, E, 5k) 1970s Pan-Am pilots AU (with a twist!).

Just a Shot Away from You (TMFU, T, 4k) Five times Napoleon and Illya were ordered to kill each other, and one where everyone decides they’ve had enough.

JUNE

Tiny Little Movies (RWRB, various ratings) A drabble collection based on drabble prompts from the Brownstone discord server.

JULY

Always Where I Need To Be (RWRB, T, 5k) Alex's new roommate has a puppy with a penchant for stealing his glasses.

AUGUST

Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood (RWRB, E, 20k) Couples Therapy AU, Alex and Henry are workplace enemies and accidentally end up in couples therapy.

Black Moon (TMFU, E, 6k) For All Mankind AU, Napoleon and Illya are astronauts living on moon bases.

That's My Trouble (RWRB, M, 6k) Detective/ME AU, aka 'Rizzoli and Isles AU', Alex shows up bleeding on Henry's doorstop.

Theory and Practice (RWRB, T, 4k) My 100th fic! Grad students AU, former hookups turned enemies to friends to lovers.

Getting Clinical (RWRB, T, 2k) Non-famous AU, Alex and Henry meet at a sexual health clinic.

Cold Light (Lokius, M, 4k) Human AU, Loki and Mobius meet in Norway and their relationship grows under the northern lights.

Step Into My Office, Baby (RWRB, E, 2k) Office AU, friends to lovers, three scenes in a corner office.

The Harrowed and the Haunted (TMFU, T, 3k) Paranormal investigators AU, Napoleon and Illya visit a haunted house.

SEPTEMBER

Will You Brie Mine? (RWRB, T, 6k) Non-famous AU, Henry sells cheese at Harrods Food Halls and Alex is his best customer.

Lessons in Foreign Diplomacy (RWRB, E, 5k) Post-American Revolution AU, Alex and Henry are ambassadors to the court of Versailles from their respective countries.

Something To Be Proud Of (RWRB, M, 3k) Non-famous AU, Alex volunteers at Edinburgh Pride and Henry makes an embarrassing email typo.

Enemies of the Ocean (Lokius, T, 3k) Human AU, Loki and Mobius are stranded at sea on a life raft together.

OCTOBER

Falling Down the Stairs of Your Smile (RWRB, M, 4k) Canon divergence AU, Alex stays another night after the hospital trip and their relationship gets a jump start.

In the Dog Days (RWRB, T, 6k) Modern magic AU, Alex is jealous and suspicious of Henry's shapeshifter boyfriend, David.

NOVEMBER

Taste the Way You Bleed (RWRB, T, 4k) WWDITS AU, the Super Six are all vampires living in the same house, and Alex and Henry still hate each other (until they don't).

DECEMBER

This Hell of a Season (RWRB, E, 21k) currently posting Nova-verse missing scenes and sequels, 3 times Alex & Henry spent Christmas on missions and 1 when they didn't.

[Redacted] (TMFU) My fill for the annual TMFU winter holiday gift exchange.

WHEW. Ok, tagging! @cricketnationrise, @heytheredeann, @mirilyawrites, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @dewdropreader, @celaestis1, @myheartalivewrites, @14carrotghoul, @clottedcreamfudge, @indomitable-love, @dumbpeachjuice, @indestructibleheart, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @inexplicablymine, @sherryvalli, @iboatedhere, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @leaves-of-laurelin, @three-drink-amy, and anyone else who wants to play.

[hufflefluff-stuff]

102 is quite a line 👀

Maybe an Ominis line 👀

tho I'm lost on a scenario, you got free reign on that!

Ooooo yes!! This reminds me of some angsty audio I heard on tiktok with Ominis saying "it's rotten work [about himself]" and MC replying "not to me" so that's the vibe we're going for.

MAJOR spoilers for endgame stuff ahead!

102) "I am damaged."

[Request more Angst/Horror prompts here!]

........

"I am damaged..."

That's the first thing you heard Ominis mutter to himself when he thought he was all alone in the Undercroft.

He hadn't realized you were there as well, quietly studying your books and trying to feel like a normal student for once.

Ever since you attended Hogwarts as a late bloomer, things were anything but normal from the get-go.

After saving the school (and more or less the entire wizarding world) from certain doom at the hands of Ranrok and Rookwood, you hoped to end this year on the best note possible. It was hard given all of the friends you've lost along the way, but a lot of good came out of it, too.

Ominis was one such example. Despite the rocky start you both had when he caught you sneaking out of the Undercroft that fateful day, you managed to make amends and grow closer together.

You never thought that same snobby blind boy who threatened to report you to the headmaster would be the one to confess his feelings for you.

It was in the days following you winning the house cup for [House], and when you finally had a moment alone to talk to him, he finally made his move. His way of courting you was so sweet and eloquent--fitting for the Slytherin from such a privileged class.

Of course other students had eyes for you, too, but Ominis loved you for who you are and not for your ancient magic and reputation as a "hero". Going on different adventures with you and Sebastian made him realize what kind of person you truly were:

An unreliable "acquaintance" of his best friend who reeked of distrust in the beginning, turned to a kind person who was always by his side through thick and thin in the end.

Now that you two have officially become a couple, you managed to coax him into accompanying you on more excursions both inside and outside of the castle.

Although he couldn't see the beauty of the world and all its magical creatures, you described it to him how ever you could--whether it's a Thestral resting underneath the ribcage of some enormous beast's skeleton, or the charred corpse of a spider you've just slain with Incendio. He loved how you spoke of them regardless of the scenario.

On top of that, you've taken up to helping more people in the local hamlets and villages, with Ominis reassuring them that he's not some cruel and mean Slytherin from the Gaunt family, and that he genuinely cared for their concerns.

However...your latest mission ultimately had taken a turn for the worst, and you had some serious regrets on taking your boyfriend along for the ride.

It seemed to be just like any other poacher camp you've shutdown. But the locals informed you that this one in particular was in charge of trafficking beast skins...or selling beasts to butchers.

You urged Ominis to discreetly free the creatures from their cages, taking out the nearby guards with Petrificus Totalus, while you ambushed the poachers on the other side of the camping grounds. But you both failed to realize that some of Rookwood's goons were among their midst, seeking to avenge him and make it very clear that you'll never be safe again.

He had every intention to murder you; you were just protecting yourself against his Killing Curse, though of course his gang wouldn't understand that. They just saw you and began throwing whatever spell they had at their disposal.

You took most of them down with ease, while Ominis finished freeing the last purple toad and rushed to assist you in the fight.

But then he stopped upon hearing three distinct things that would forever haunt him: A dark wizard shouting "Crucio", the sparks of electricity crackling in the air...

And your brief, yet painful, screams.

Despite his wand detecting only you and the one ashwinder casting the curse, he was frozen on the spot, unable to bring himself to move forward and save you. It was like somebody had casted Petrificus Totalus on him.

He could have taken them out right away, but...he was terrified.

Suddenly he felt like he was back in the Slytherin Scriptorium, where Sebastian had to cast the same curse on you in order to proceed forward--something Ominis had tried in vain to protest against.

He knew he wasn't there, it was all in his mind, yet all he could think about were your screams.

Then he thought about the screams of those innocent muggles he watched his family torture...before he remembered his own screams after they tortured him for refusing to use the curse, not giving up until he finally relented.

The rest of that moment was a blur, but at some point you managed to yank out a Mandrake from your bag and stun the ashwinder long enough to use Expelliarmus and lacerate their legs with Diffindo.

While that shrieking plant made Ominis briefly deaf, too, it snapped him out of his trance, bringing him back to reality as you rushed over to him. You fled the campsite together on Highwing's back, drinking some wiggenweld on your way back to the castle, not speaking until you were safely on schoolgrounds.

That all happened yesterday...and he was still quite distressed. He didn't seem comfortable talking about those events too much, and you couldn't blame him. So you left it be, apologizing for the stress you caused, and tried making it up to him with a trip into Hogsmede.

However, this morning you didn't find him in the Great Hall or anywhere in the Slytherin Section. Not even Sebastian knew of his whereabouts, assuming you "lost" him; fortunately there weren't many places that your boyfriend frequented.

The Undercroft was your next best guess.

Yet it was empty when you arrived, much to your annoyance.

You figured Ominis will eventually turn up here, so you transfigured a sofa out of some pile of armor and decided to catch up on your studies. But obviously it was hard to focus on the texts when all you could think about was him..

At some point he finally arrived, and you nearly jumped up to ask where the hell he's been...until he started mumbling rather concerning things to himself, apparently unaware of your presence.

Then you noticed he didn't have his wand in-hand, feeling the walls and eventually sitting down on the floor, leaning against one and curling up. He certainly knew the Undercroft's layout well enough to not need it constantly, but his behavior was still extremely concerning.

Especially his remark about being "damaged", which had you gravely worried about his physical well-being.

"Ominis, what do you mean by "damaged"? Are you hurt?"

"MC..?! Oh, Merlin..d-didn't realize you were here." Although startled at first, he quickly calmed down upon hearing your voice and approaching footsteps. "I'm alright. I was just...th-thinking up some poetry. You know, Thakkar has been giving me some really good advice-"

"Wow, you're a worse liar than I ever was," you chuckled lightly, kneeling down in front of him. "You know he's away on a family trip, right?"

"......."

"....Ominis?"

His silence worried you greatly, especially as he suddenly hid his face in his arms, now unwilling to look at you for some reason.

"If you wanna hide from me, love, Disillusionment is more-"

"D-Do...I even deserve to be called that anymore?" He mumbled in a trembling voice that made your stomach sink.

"....huh? Of course you do." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's going on? You can be honest with me. If...I did something to upset you recently, I'm sorry-"

"No. You...d-don't have to be sorry about anything. It's me who should be the sorry one."

"Darling, what do you mean-?"

"Stop. Please. I-I think the proper term is "bloody stinking coward". I could have stopped that ashwinder f-from using the Cruciatus Curse...he was right there and I could have done something! But I didn't!" Ominis began to ramble, unable to stop his voice from shaking and rising in volume. "I-I stood there like a bumbling half-witted mooncalf wh-while he tortured you!"

You frowned slightly, gently setting your hands on his arms as you finally understood why he was so distraught. "Ominis, you were occupied in freeing all those beasts. You can't be in two places at once, and I'm not angry at you for that. And besides, the curse didn't hurt me badly this time. I know it scares you, but...."

However you trailed off as he lifted his head, and your heart cracked in two upon seeing the tears streaking down his face like rivers of salt water.

Only now did you realize what he meant by feeling "damaged"---and it wasn't in the physical sense. But the emotional.

"That's exactly my problem...I was too scared to do anything." He shuddered. "Wh-Who just stands by and...and lets their fears of the past consume them?! And nearly gets the love of their life killed because of it?!! That's something only a broken person does, MC...someone who's far too damaged t-to stand up for-"

"Don't say that. Nothing about you is "broken" or "damaged"." You pulled him into your arms, feeling him fall completely limp against you. "You are the furthest thing from either of those."

For a few moments, he was silent as he absorbed your words. But when he tried to respond, all that came from his lips was something between a gasp and a loud sob. He choked out an apology for losing his composure so quickly, though you just hushed him.

"Shhhh, it's okay." You held him tighter than ever, keeping one hand on the back of his head. ''Just let it all out. I'm not going anywhere, my love. And I mean that..I still love you."

With trembling hands, Ominis grasped onto your cloak, tears soaking into your shoulder as he allowed all of his emotions to spill. His sobs echoed freely in the Undercroft, not caring about anything anymore; not even if Sebastian were to walk in right now.

After all that's happened this year, it was just too much for him to keep locked inside: he lost his oldest friend to the Dark Arts, Anne was likely never going to reach out to him again....all that he really had left was you.

Yet he felt like none of his experiences made him any stronger, unlike you--who also lost so much and, at the same time, gained great powers that allowed you to protect those dearest to you.

But who would be there to protect you?

That's where Ominis came into the picture, wanting to fight for you after everything you've done to save Hogwarts. His worst fear was losing you forever anytime you went off on a dangerous mission. So he actually insisted on going out with you more often to put his mind at ease..plus he wanted to be sure you're not doing something too reckless.

But if he was only going to freeze up every time some dark wizard merely spoke the incantation of a certain Unforgivable....then how could he ever hope to save you when you needed him most?

He felt pathetic and useless, essentially forcing you to figure out how to escape that situation yourself while he stood there like some idiot.

What if you didn't conveniently have a Mandrake tucked in your bag? What if you had been in too much pain to grab it?

What then?

At that point, he felt like he was too broken to be with someone as strong as you. This relationship was done for, he believed, and sooner or later you'd grow tired of his cowardice and resent him for not stepping in.

He thought you were going to break it off for sure now that you see how "difficult" he was being.

But that was far from the truth. You didn't shun him or demand an explanation for why he acted the way he did. Instead you let him cry in your arms--something that no one in his life offered when he was at his lowest--staying here in this safe haven together and reaffirming your love for him.

He didn't know whether to feel grateful or selfish.

"I-I tried, MC..I..I really tried to help you." He wept, his face now buried in your neck. "But I guess I'm...just doomed to hurt everyone around me. That's all I'm good at."

"You're not doomed to live that way, Ominis. You haven't hurt me at all, and I know damn well you'd never hurt anybody on purpose."

"Really? T-Tell that to my family...we were monsters who tortured and killed muggles for fun-"

"They did that for fun, not you. You're not a monster like them. I know this because you refused to follow in their footsteps. And by Merlin, I'm glad you were a stubborn child..even after all they put you through." You softly spoke, kissing his head as you felt his arms tighten their hold around you. "All I see now is someone who's even stronger than them, with a good heart that would've won him a spot in Gryffindor for sure."

"....w-with Prewett, Weasley, and all those twits? I don't think so.." He chuckled lightly, sniffling as he rested his head on your shoulder and fell quiet. He felt a lot calmer than before, sighing tiredly. "..I'm sorry. I-It was never my intention to burden you with this, love. You already deal with so much. I just wish I...could've been just a bit stronger for you."

"Don't worry about me, okay?" You smiled. Even though he couldn't see it, you hoped he'd at least imagine it. "I saw how sneaky you were around those poachers. You petrified them before they even knew what hit 'em."

"Of course. I had to do something, right?" He huffed, although he smiled a little bit.

"You did great, darling. If the beasts could talk, I'd say they'd be thanking you over and over. You saved their lives. They probably think you as their hero."

"I thought it was that Hufflepuff girl's job to be the "hero of beasts"...but I don't mind that title, too."

A calming silence fell over you two, save for Ominis' light sniffles. But eventually he was the first to let go, his hands reaching for the sides of your face moments later, wanting to ensure you weren't injured at all.

You helped guide him there, your skin growing warm at his touch. He felt around for any recent scarring or bruising across your flesh, being grateful that he found nothing of the sort.

Meanwhile, you kept smiling as you observed his own face. Although he looked like a complete mess after all that crying, he still managed to appear quite handsome in your eyes.

You knew he desperately needed that outlet, and you were happy he finally confided in you.

At the end of the day, you'll love him no matter what.

[rpf-bat]

FLUFFTOBER 2024 RECAP

So, I wasn’t able to finish the challenge this year. But I posted something on 25 out of 31 days this month, and I’m proud of that!

The last time i participated in Flufftober (2022), I only finished 23 stories. So, this is an improvement! It was my social calendar that killed me this time. 😅 I went to 2 Halloween parties this year (on the 25th and the 28th), and I just got too busy to catch up.

Anyway. I decided to compile the 25 stories I finished, into one masterpost:

💚= Story Is Rated G 💛 = Story Is Rated T

Day 1: Can You Feel The Rain? 💚

Olli/Aleksi. 1,130 words.

Prompt: “Lost Pet Meet Cute”

Summary: A lost dog wanders onto Olli's doorstep, and he decides it wouldn't be right, to leave her outside in the rain. But, soon enough, her dad comes looking for her. And oh no. He's hot.

Day 2: Words I Thought I’d Never Speak 💛

Samy/Taz. 1,076 words.

Prompt: “Written, But Never Sent”

Summary: While helping his boyfriend move some furniture, Taz discovers a two-year-old love letter, from the beginning of their relationship. Samy never had the courage to send it, but he meant every word.

Day 3: I Missed Your Skin When You Were East 💛

Samy/Joel. 798 words.

Prompt: “Favorite Scent”

Summary: If sniffing your boyfriend's hoodie when he's away on tour is wrong, then Samy doesn't want to be right.

Day 4: Of Goat Cheese & Guitars 💚

Joel/Joonas. 1,084 words.

Prompt: “Market Day”

Summary: School is out, and Joel is (reluctantly) spending his summer vacation at the farmer's market, helping his mother sell cheese. One day, he spots an attractive looking busker on the other side of the marketplace.

Day 5: Birds Of A Feather 💚

Samy/Arttu. 579 words.

Prompt: “Acorn, Chestnut, Pinecone”

Summary: Samy wants to make a bird-feeder out of pinecones. Arttu thinks that sounds like a bird-brained idea.

Day 6: It Ain’t Me, Babe 💛

Johnny/Middy. 639 words.

Prompt: “Mistaken Identity”

Summary: Johnny is Archie's boyfriend. But tonight, he's apparently too drunk to tell which blonde he's snuggling up to....and Middy isn't resisting like he should.

Day 7: Fell In Love At The Rock Show 💚

Joel/Aleksi. 763 words.

Prompt: “Hoodie Weather”

Summary: Aleksi gets cold at a music festival, and Joel offers him his hoodie. Is he flirting with him?

Day 8: I Still Burn For You (Like The Sun Burns In The Sky) 💛

Johnny/Samy. 1,421 words.

Prompt: “Chopping & Piling Wood”

Summary: Samy crashes Santa Cruz's midsummer camping trip. He ends up feeling hot and bothered, after watching a shirtless Johnny chop wood for their campfire. He tries to drown his unrequited feelings in alcohol...but what if they're not actually unrequited at all?

Day 9: Neon Gravestones 💚

Samy/Niko. 1,584 words.

Prompt: “Gravestone”

Summary: Niko is perplexed, when Samy invites him to a picnic lunch in the middle of the cemetery. But, he quickly realizes that his friend needs a hug.

Day 10: Bet On Losing Dogs 💚

Aleksi/Joonas/Joel. 944 words.

Prompt: “Bet, Game, Contest”

Summary: Tommi is certain that Joel and Joonas are dating. So certain that he's willing to bet actual money on it. But, Olli disagrees. His money is on Aleksi being the guitarist's new boyfriend.

Day 11: I Put A Spell On You 💛

Johnny/Middy. 1,269 words.

Prompt: “Ingredients & Spells”

Summary: Johnny is a witch, and he knows exactly how dangerous magic can be. So he’s more than a little concerned, when he hears that his dear friend Middy is planning to cast a love spell.

Day 12: Autiotalo 💚

Tommi/Olli. 620 words.

Prompt: “This Is Spooky”

Summary: Joonas dares Tommi and Olli to spend the night alone in an abandoned house. The house is allegedly haunted by a witch’s ghost, but Tommi isn’t particularly worried.

Day 13: Basement Eyes 💛

Samy/Arttu. 1,575 words.

Prompt: “Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room”

Summary: A mischievous Mirko locks Samy and Arttu in his parents’ wine cellar. He’s not planning to let them out, until Arttu tells Samy the truth.

Day 14: Two Princes 💛

Johnny/Samy. 1,586 words.

Prompt: “Fantasy AU”

Summary: Johnny is a prince, and his family wants him to marry a princess. He would rather die than be with a woman he cannot love. And so, he flees his castle, and disappears into the woods. In the middle of the enchanted forest, he meets a mysterious and sexy stranger, with a shocking secret.

Day 15: Little Black Dress 💛

Joel/Joonas. 924 words.

Prompt: “It’s Laundry Day!”

Summary: The last thing Joel expected to find in his building’s laundry room at midnight, was Joonas Porko in a dress.

Day 16: Check Yes, Romeo 💛

Joonas/Niko. 1,320 words.

Prompt: “Yes, No, Maybe”

Summary: Joonas needs to know if his crush likes him back. And maybe a passed note in class, wasn’t the best way to ask him. But teenage boys don’t always make the smartest decisions.

Day 17: All We Need Is The Sun 💛

Samy/Joel. 1,225 words.

Prompt: “Only One Bed”

Summary: Joel asks Samy to take a vacation with him, somewhere warm and sunny, and far from home. The hotel room isn’t what Samy was expecting.

Day 18: Anywhere That You Go (You’re Gonna Make It Glow) 💚

Arttu/Mirko. 1,585 words.

Prompt: “Bewitched”

Summary: Johnny gives Arttu a bewitched coin, which glows whenever the person holding it, is standing next to someone who is in love with them. Arttu thinks it’s too good to be true.

Day 19: Needle And Thread 💚

Joel/Niko. 1,016 words.

Prompt: “Yarn”

Summary: Niko picks up a new hobby during the Still Panicking Tour. His boyfriend, Joel, isn't quite sure how he feels about it.

Day 20: Please Meow Back 💚

Niko/Aleksi. 1,250 words.

Prompt: “Paw”

Summary: Aleksi is a receptionist at a veterinary clinic. He thinks his job is boring…until a handsome stranger runs in just before closing time, and begs him to save his cat.

Day 21: My Fire (The One Desire) 💚

Olli/Aleksi. 1,013 words.

Prompt: “Bonfire”

Summary: Olli attends a party at his university, hoping to run into his crush.

Day 22: I Would End My Days With You 💚

Samy/Niko. 918 words.

Prompt: “Heirloom”

Summary: There’s a ring in Samy’s pocket, that once belonged to his late father. And there’s only one person on earth that he’s willing to give it to.

Day 23: Your Hot Whiskey Eyes Fanned The Flame 💛

Joel/Aleksi. 1,109 words.

Prompt: “Stormy Night”

Summary: It's storming outside their hotel room, and Aleksi can't sleep. To pass the time, he asks Joel to play a game with him.

Day 24: Love Is Stored In The Potato 💚

Samy/Joel. 1,089 words.

Prompt: “Comfort Food”

Summary: Joel's relationship ended a week ago, and he's crushed. Samy thinks he's found the cure, that will fix his friend's broken heart. It's fried potatoes.

Day 25: Blanket Thief 💛

Tommi/Aleksi. 748 words.

Prompt: “Getting Revenge”

Summary: Aleksi just spent the weekend at his boyfriend Tommi’s place. Tommi hogged the blankets the whole time. Now, it’s time for a little payback.

[darlingfoe]

Yet another lyric prompt

Send a set of lyrics to my inbox with a pairing/characters and I will write a scenario or dialogue based on the lyrics. Alternatively, send just the lyrics and I will randomly apply it to characters of my choice!

I am not a woman, I'm a God

You carry my fears as the heavens set fire

God can't save me now

Keeping us down is impossible

Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy

I'll tell you all about my lies

You're nothing, nothing but a blind spot

It's like you had me under a spell

Hard and heavy whiskey goodbyes

I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to somethin'

Don't let this be the end

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I

I used to know you well, but now you're a ghost

Oh, your love is sunlight

Yea, I'd let you bleed

I'm good at letting go

I can make your life a living hell if I wanted to

They won't remember me

Take my heart, and set it on fire

You don't ever cross my mind

We need a bit more time

Can you hear my cry, an old lullaby drifting through the sky?

I will haunt you in your sleep

Our common goal was waiting on the world to end

You'll take a ride from anyone

We should kiss like real people do

Is it okay I'm not okay?

I really don't know why I'm like this

I know I was born for this

We are the warriors who learned to love the pain

All your gods are false

I bet that if we never met that you'd still haunt my soul

I wish you well

So you wanna be immortal?

You've never met someone like me

Goddamn right, you should be scared of me

I've seen that look in your eyes

Love is not enough

Why am I the bad guy?

You say, the only thing I'll ever be is your pain

Stay for the night, I'll sell you a dream

Make me an offer, what will it be?

Everything comes to an end

I don't know if I'm dreaming or if I'm gonna die

I can only handle you in doses

I'll learn my lessons from my scars and mistakes

I can feel your heartbeat

Weren't you prayin' on your knees for me?

Tell me everything is alright

[thevikingwoman]

FFXIVWrite 2024 - Prompt 27

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 687

Meryta Khatin (wol) x Tansui | no spoilers Rating: Teen. Echo, the past, Tansui's background, thoughts about echo and consent, traumatic past, comfort and romance

Memory

Sometimes, the echo is useful. When she learns things that are helpful or insightful, when it reveals something she needs to know. Other times, it’s an annoying interference, rendering her unable to fight and leaving her with a headache. And sometimes it feels deeply wrong, when she learns things she shouldn’t know.

Meryta is currently watching a tiny child, not more then 7 or 8 years old, hide behind a rickety cupboard while his parents argue.

“There’s nothing else to do!” A woman, clad in plain Hingashi clothing, worn and beached from the sun.

“There must be!” A man, tall with short cropped dark hair and short beard, frowns and slams his palm on the table.

“Ssssh Hiroshi. The children will wake.”

“Better they don’t.” He runs his hand across his scalp.

“Half the rice rotted in the fields this year. Either we all starve, or we do this.”

“I’m not selling my daughters.”

“It’s now or later. We have to many mouths to feed.”

The child behind the cupboard whimpers, and slams his hand over his mouth. Meryta knows it’s Tansui, and her heart aches for him. The adults do not hear him.

The scene fades, and shifts, the same small house but it’s early dawn, dim light creeping through the small shuttered windows. The child – Tansui – is sneaking past his sleeping siblings. He looks determined but his eyes brims with unshed tears. He is writing, complicated Hingashi letters. She can’t read it, the powers of her echo doesn’t grant her that, but she can guess. It’s a farewell note.

True enough, with one last look back at his home and his sleeping family, he slips silently out the door. He carries nothing save his ragged clothes. She can feel his emotional turmoil, sadness and anger and fear, through the echo. She wonders how he survived, where he went –

With a rush, the real world comes back, everything sliding into place. Tansui’s kitchen, the stove and table and himself, a concerned look on his face. Her head hurts.

“Meryta, what happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I just – the echo. I’ve told you about it, how I can see past events. It always make my head hurt, but I’ll be fine.”

He reaches for her, comforting pat on her shoulder.

“So, what did you see?” He grins. “Ghosts of pirates past? Kami roaming the lands?”

“No, it’s more related to a person than a place.” She reaches for him, now, her heart aching. He was so young. “I’m sorry, Tansui, your family – “

He snatches his hand back, his whole body tensing and eyes narrowing.

“What did you see?”

“You. Overhearing your parents, the trouble with feeding everyone –”

“You have no right!” The anger rolls off Tansui, as he steps into her space and grabs her shoulder. “My family is here, on these waters. I have no other family,” he hisses.

“It’s not like I can control it.” She didn’t want to see it, she doesn’t need to know things without being told. But now she does. She can still feel his fear, feeling small and alone in the world. “Tansui, I’m sorry. No one should go through that.”

“I don’t need your pity!” He lets go, shoving her, though she simply regains her balance, and he storms off, out of his own house.

Meryta gives him ten minutes or so, and then she goes look for him. She knows his usual haunts, and finds him between the sands and rocks, sitting against a tree.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. And I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She crouches down in front of him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” A sour face, but he reaches for her, and she crawls into his lap. She wants to comfort him, but mayhap the closeness is enough. “Yes. Maybe. Maybe I should explain – but… frankly I prefer not to dwell on it.”

“Okay.” She hates that she forced it from him, and curious as she is, she simply kisses his cheek. He holds her tighter.

[shutupeiffel]

4, 8, 12 for the bookworm asks?

Thank you for these prompts!

4 - Favourite sci-fi books: This is going to be a very abbreviated list because otherwise i could go on for days but some of my favourites are:

The Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers - hopeful and character driven sci fi that weaves some amazing anthropological world building in and also convinced me after a reading slump that actually I didn't hate books, I just needed to read the right ones

The Locked Tomb series by Tamsyn Muir - there's nothing I can say about these books that hasn't been said by twenty thousand other people. They're amazing, they're the perfect blend of sci-fi/fantasy, go read all three and then suffer with the rest of us in anticipation for book 4

Dreadnought by April Daniels - Trans girl inherits the powers of a superhero, including giving her the perfect body - aka transition speedrun, aka my personal dream. A really interesting look at superheroes and what it would actually be like to be thrust into that world - if you want to know more, The Hidden Bookcase did a great episode on it!

8 - Favourite Queer Fiction Books: Again, too many to count, but here are some highlights

The London Calling series by Alexis Hall - The gay rom com we all deserve. Starts off with fake dating, ends with a book dedicated to the complicated relationship queer people have with marriage and the experience of reaching that weird age where all your friends are getting married and you don't know what to do with yourself. Will make you laugh, sob, then laugh and sob simultaneously

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters - don't let the title put you off like it nearly did me, this book is not weird TERF stuff. Instead it's an incredibly powerful look at trans experiences, motherhood, loneliness and, yes, detransition. Every character is messy and flawed in a way that trans people - especially trans women - are very rarely allowed to be, and honestly its so refreshing. 10/10, would not recommend to cis people unless they're really chill with trans people.

Infamous by Lex Croucher - Found this in a bookshop for £2.50, took a chance on it since I recognised Croucher from their YouTube days, instantly fell in love. Croucher has an absolute gift for writing complicated female protagonists, deconstructing the 'not like other girls' mindset from within and exploring the dangers of being caught up in that idea of yourself and the kind of superiority complex you get. Also it's Regency and it's lesbians, which are two things almost guaranteed to get me into a book.

12 - Favourite Horror Books:

How To Sell A Haunted House by Grady Hendrix - Absolutely gripping horror - I spent the entire book trying to work out if I was enjoying myself or genuinely terrified, but my god did I finish it. All the best horror is secretly a metaphor for something else, and this one is no difference. There's some amazing explorations of generational trauma and the impact of keeping secrets, even when you don't even know you're keeping said secrets because you've just repressed the memories so incredibly hard. Also - terrifying murder puppets.

A House With Good Bones by T Kingfisher - Apparently I love a creepy house/tale of generational trauma? I found T Kingfisher through her fantasy book Nettle & Bone, so was apprehensive about horror, but this book was amazing. Also has some great Suburban America Horror and a really solid mystery running through, which is absolutely essential for me with horror - I am, at heart, a murder mystery boy who happens to also vibe with ghosts, especially rose based ones

[suzy-queued]

Hi deena! I LOVE your art, it’s so fun and interesting and I really enjoy seeing all the different styles you’re able to do.

What’s your opinion on AI art? I know there’s a lot of conflicting opinions in and out of the art world and was curious to know how you feel about it.

Aw, man, this is such a hot button issue. My husband and I discuss it almost every day. He and I are both creative professionals. He is an advocate for AI, and I am on the fence. I absolutely in no way support someone using AI art and passing it off as something they created themselves (my hubby doesn't either). If you take two minutes to type a prompt into a field and then slap your signature on the generated and sell it, there's a special place for you in the afterlife. I also hate that AI generators take art samples from hardworking artists. I'm glad that people are inventing ways for artists to mask their work so that AI bots can't scan them. But the digital world needs to get more proactive about their transparency. If an artist opts in to allow their work to be scanned, that's one thing. If AI uses everything I create without my consent, that's piracy and it hurts my bottom line. However, I do support people who use AI tools to assist them in creating their art. For example, if I need to know how a shadow might fall across a man's body, I can use an online 3D modeling generator to put a figure in a pose and light it the way I want. I use Photoshop to make mockups of every picture I do, assembling stock photos and pics of characters. I sometimes use AI when I'm brainstorming, like I might say, "show me some funny haunted houses" in order to get my gears turning.

Lots of people use digital tools to create, and the piece becomes a hybrid of the computer and their own hand. I am cool with that, because the artist is actively creating something that didn't exist before, and they're putting their own time and imagination into it. It's an ongoing struggle that we're just on the verge of understanding. And it's so EASY, which makes it a challenge to fight. My hope is for greater awareness across the board, so that consumers, purchasers, and artists can all be better informed and empowered to use AI in a way that isn't hurting creators.

[medusapelagia]

02 Creel’s House

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Ghost) and @au-gust (Prompt: Colorless) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve & Robin, Steve/Eddie if you squint TW: AU, Major character already dead, body horror, monsters, ghosts, homicide, spiders Words: 1688

Homicide suicide.

That's what every newspaper titled the article about Eddie Munson's death. And they weren't totally wrong. Someone actually killed someone else and then killed himself, but both the police and the newspaper assumed it was Eddie who killed Chrissy before killing himself. The truth was the contrary.

Maybe it could sound unrealistic that a cute blond teenage girl killed a young man, but they didn't know that Chrissy was possessed by an evil creature. A creature that even years after his death, Eddie is still hunting down.

He has done his best to keep everyone away from Creel's house. He has screamed in the night, turned on lights and electronic devices, and left messages on the fogged glass of the shower. And it has worked every single time! For almost forty years nobody has stepped inside Creel's house, which is why the entire building is decrypted and full of mold. Totally unsanitary. But this doesn't seem to worry the young couple that just made an offer to buy the place.

They want to renovate it and sell it even better, and in the meantime, they'll take temporary residence in the living room, the only room that still maintains the appearance of a room because it's the room where Eddie and Chrissy died, and Eddie is still waiting for the monster to creep through the wooden cracks and makes his appearance.

Eddie never saw the monster that took the girl he loved so deeply, but he saw the effect he had on her, puppeteering her like she was a toy and not a person. He remembers her white empty eyes and the low growl that came from her mouth before she hit him with a poker in the back of his head. After that he has no idea of what happened, his memories are blurred, and all he knows is that he woke up in a colorless world and quickly found out that's true what they say about ghosts: you become a ghost when you have some unfinished business, and Eddie's business is find the monster that took Chrissy. Exorcize him if he has to! No idea how, but he knows he'll manage somehow.

It takes Eddie a couple of days to understand that the young couple isn't a couple at all. They are joined at the hip but they don't share any physical contact, like Eddie and Chrissy.

It makes Eddie sad remembering Chrissy, but he finds comfort in knowing that at least she's not there, trapped between life and death, so her soul must be resting somewhere else.

The young man, Steve is his name, is really good-looking, totally Eddie's type if he wasn't a ghost. Eddie spends hours studying him. Right now Steve is kneeling in the basement, trying to get enough water pressure for Robin, the girl, to take a shower. Little does he know that Eddie broke all the pipes years before.

Eddie chuckles, amused at Steve’s stubbornness, and Steve turns toward him.

For a little moment, Eddie wonders if Steve can see him, they are eyes into eyes and he’s stepping closer enough that Eddie could touch him if he was still alive.

Steve's hand reaches out toward Eddie and he freezes, staring at the hairy arm… that passes through him to grab a screwdriver from a metal shelf.

Eddie screams, angry and frustrated, and the entire house shakes. Once the earthquake stops, Steve runs upstairs, screaming Robin’s name and dragging her out of the house.

They’ll find out soon that the mysterious earthquake was only at their place and that everyone knows that Creel’s House is haunted.

***

After the basement incident, Eddie decides that it’s time for Robin and Steve to leave, so he tries his old scheme: noises in the night, flickering lights, and whispering in the night. Surprisingly, neither of the two of them seems to be scared by Eddie’s efforts. Instead of running for their life, screaming from the top of their lungs, they start filming the weird things that keep happening in the house and post them on their socials. They get a great number of followers, that’s a new word Eddie just learned, that quickly transforms into a pilgrimage of curious people who want to live the experience of meeting a ghost.

Eddie never shows himself when those outsiders come to Creel’s House, but every single one of them swears they felt his presence. 

The bright side is that finally, after almost forty years, the presence of so many people in Creel’s House attracts the monster Eddie was waiting for. 

It starts with a cold feeling that both the humans and the ghost can feel even if it's August.

Robin says it's the old wall, but Steve seems not convinced. He keeps filming around the house, finding spiders crawling from under the wooden floor and moving toward the attic, the only room Eddie never managed to explore and whose key was lost ages ago.

Finally, the two humans are starting to feel scared.

"I think we should leave. Like right now." Robin says, looking at the creepy row of insects that keeps marching toward the attic.

"Ok. Wait for me in the car," Steve replies, but Eddie can tell that something is wrong. His body language is different, and when turns toward Eddie he seems to have the same white empty eyes Chrissy had when she killed him.

"Hello, Edward." Steve says with a voice that's not his, but it's Creel's.

"Did you say something?" Robin asks, turning just in time to see the empty look on Steve's face. She starts to scream, running toward him, but Eddie concentrates all his energy and manages to push her out of the house, closing the door behind her.

The woman keeps screaming Steve's name, punching the door with desperation, but Eddie won't let her back inside, no matter what.

"Forty years and you never left this shit hole?"

"I was waiting for you!" Eddie snarls back.

"Oh, do you think I didn't have any other place to be, Edward? Your energy is attractive, but the world is full of people whose lives a living nightmares and who are an easier prey. If it wasn't for this young man here I would have never set foot back in here and you would have waited for eternity." The creature with Steve's face cackles.

"Leave him alone!" Eddie yells, trying to shake the possessed body.

"Why should I? His desperation is so tasty. He hides it under a fake smile but his life is a mess. He's lost and I can make all of this end. I'm a savior."

"You're a fucking killer!"

"That's just a consequence. When I feed from them I free them of their demons. Sadly. They die. Humans are so fragile, you know?" Creel says, snapping Steve's arms like it was a toothpick.

"Let him go! Let him go or…"

"Or what, Edward? What are you going to do? Huh?" Creel's voice asks, amused.

Eddie tries to hit the creature inside Steve's body, but his punch passes through Steve's body without hitting him. Still, that gesture isn't completely futile because for a fraction of a second Eddie sees the inside of the attic, a room made of reds and blues with a huge pumping machine. He doesn't really know what he saw, but Eddie knows it is something important because Creel freezes.

"No!" he screams, but Eddie is already sprinting toward the attic, taking a few shortcuts through the walls that Steve's body can't take.

The sturdy wooden door is still standing in front of him, like an impenetrable wall, but there's a tiny hole the little insects are using to get inside. Eddie never tried to change his form before, he just used to run through the walls, but he concentrated, making himself small enough to finally break through into the attic.

On the other side, Creel, still in Steve's body, is trying to break down the door, but Eddie's eyes are pinned to an old body, almost mummified, connected to so many tubes, and lying inside a sort of pentagram.

A body trapped between life and death.

Eddie stares at the fragile body with pity, and finally, he remembers why Chrissy and he went to Creel's house all those years ago.

All the kids in town knew the story of the crazy Doctor Victor Creel who made experiments on homeless people to cure his ill child and Chrissy wanted to write an article in the school newspaper about it. She has done tons of research in the public library and all she needed was to get into the house and take a few pictures to add them to her article, and for doing that she needed Eddie's lockpicking skills.

But they never managed to get any pictures. Chrissy was attacked by Creel as soon as she got inside, she killed Eddie and then she killed herself, all because of the creature lying on that rusty bed.

With a last push, the wooden door finally yields and Steve's body falls on the ground, one arm broken and the other badly bruised. Creel stares at Eddie, and then he leaves Steve's body to get back to his own and protect himself, but this time Eddie is determined to put an end to the murderous story of the family.

He gets into Steve's body, something he never did before, and uses his good hand to erase the chalk pentagram from the floor.

The body lying on the rusty bed writhes and shrieks, staring with his white eyes at Eddie, cursing him one last time, before dying.

For a moment Eddie remains in Steve's body, enjoying the feeling of being alive once more, but then he sees Steve's memories. Creel was right, the young man's memories are full of pain and sorrow, but also of joy and friendship, and Eddie can rob him of his own life.

"I hope I'll meet you in the next life," Eddie whispers, and for a moment their soul connects and that's enough for Eddie to be sure that he'll find him again soon.