#undead x undead

[thepenultimateword]

Old Bones Part 7

| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |

Surprise, Vampire has a name now. It was feeling weird having one character named and the other not.

CW: Blood, death mention

Floryn took a long drag from their canteen, the spiced rabbit's blood settling thick and warm in the hollow of their stomach. Lav had insisted on preparing a fresh pot before they headed out into the snow, and while they'd argued against it at the time, Floryn was glad to have something to combat the chill.

They curled their toes in their boots, ignoring the blend of soreness and numbness that riddled their muscles. The violent thunk thunk thunk of their heart against their ribcage was harder to pretend away. They'd lived in this wood their entire life. First in Bellwatch, a village hacked into the south edge where the earth was fertile, like a scar in the tree line. The walls backed against the Wildern, the land untamed and unwanted, and the watchmen stood eternally atop the stone, watching the endless long grass and shadowed hills for danger. A simple place for a simple life. Until that vampire climbed the wall and killed them.

Then they'd ran. No sooner had they dragged themself from the grave, and they were skirting past the drawn and burned-out body of their sire and disappearing into the dark wood.

The larger, more populated Bellbreak had no walls. No guards at the border. It sat in the middle of a glen, untouched by the Wildern's claws. Floryn simply slipped into the crowd and disappeared. But now...well this was all different. Bellbreak had been a well-acquainted idea. The world beyond on the other hand was a deep, dark unknown.

Floryn readjusted the strap of their bag as it dug into their shoulder. "Can I come up there yet?"

"Just a couple miles more," Lav replied from several strides ahead. They had insisted on scouting a few feet ahead, kicking snow over any rice piles, or walking broad arcs around iron traps.

"You've been saying that for last ten. I'm getting tired of looking at the back of your head."

Floryn wasn't entirely convinced that that wasn't part of Lav's goal. Despite the positive ending to trauma of the last several hours, they hadn't faced them head-on more than maybe twice.

"Besides you haven't come across anything in two hours, and I don't think the townsfolk would've come this far anyway, so..." Floryn darted up to Lav's side. Lav grunted mildly, a sound of mixed disapproval and assent. Floryn snuck a peak up at Lav's new face, the square jaw clenched tight and russet brows furrowed.

"I didn't expect to get out this far so fast," Floryn said idly. "I guess you don't tire out so quickly when you're dead."

"Mm."

"I didn't notice before because I've always been running. No time to think. But it's nice going at our own pace, huh?"

"Mm."

Floryn pursed their lips, kicking a spray of snow into the air in front of them. The snow crystals settled back down against the drifts as if it never happened, the only evidence being a pit of powder that had floated back against Floryn's knees. They sighed quietly, and their gaze flicked to Lav's hand, swinging at their side. Large. Calloused. Flushed from the cold.

Floryn dug the point of their fang into their bottom lip, worrying it a moment so the underside filled with bland blood. It was still strange seeing the roughened digits in place of their old slender fingers. The more they looked the more their stomach churned, but that might've been the fault of what they were thinking about doing.

Slowly, slowly, their fingers outstretched, a hand length away, a finger, half a finger. Their knuckles bumped into the meaty palm, pinky twining around Lav's little finger.

Lav reeled back as if bit, jerking their hand against their breast and whirling on Floryn with wide, startled eyes.

Floryn blinked in dumb shock, a lukewarm blush rising to their cheeks. For a moment their throat squeezed too tight to get out a word, but eventually, they managed a choked, "Sorry."

Lav's face contorted into even harsher panic.

"No!" They thrust out their hands in front of them. "You didn't do anything wrong! I wasn't...I'm not..." Their fists clenched. "I'm feeling strange. New body. You knowing. I don't...I don't think it's a good idea to get too close. At least not so soon."

"Oh." Floryn wet their already-closing wound. "Right. Of course."

"It has nothing to do with you," Lav said, forcing their avoidant eyes up for a full second. Something dark briefly swam through the yellow pools. A lie.

"No, yeah, I know that." Floryn turned brusquely forward. "I just thought maybe you wanted...after everything...but I shouldn't have assumed."

"It's okay."

"Mm." Floryn pinned their lips together. Stupid. So stupid. Lav never said they wanted anything other than companionship. The reading, the care, the protection. You could do all of that for a friend. In any case, after everything they'd gone through that night, flirtation was probably the last thing on their mind, and Floryn had selfishly pushed it. Even more selfish was the fact that they were still scared of the new body. Maybe they'd thought acting close would help them accept it faster, help them focus on the parts of Lav they still clearly saw inside. But it could've just as easily made the situation worse.

"There's an inn a half mile from here," Lav said, breaking the quiet.

"A town?"

"No. The nearest settlement is Mudfield. About half a day away still. This a roadside inn. A business that relies on the patronage of lots of travelers who would rather not camp. Good for us since the sun is about to come up."

Floryn looked up through the gaps in the foliage. The long red fingers of dawn streaked the sky; they clutched their cloak a little closer.

"Let's go a little faster," Lav said, voice calm and smooth.

Floryn nodded.

It wasn’t long before the Inn came into view. It was larger than the cabin but not quite as large as what they’d always imagined in books. The thatching looked like birds had been tugging at it, loose twigs and straw sticky out at odd angles, and as they stepped up onto the porch the wood sagged and groaned under their feet.

A mixture pine needles, ale, and smoke floated on the air as they eased the door open. The room was filled with filled with barstools and tables, but they all sat empty. The best sign of life was a smear of something sticky on the bar counter.

“Oi! Trevon!”

Floryn turned toward the back of a room. A chestnut haired woman in a red apron swept at the floor under the tables like the world depended on it.

A low grumble quickly drew their attention back to the bar where was a broad, mustached man was stepping out of the back room.

“Early guests, eh?” He rubbed his hand down his eyes and into his mustache. “What can I do for yous?”

Floryn took a little step closer, opened their mouth, and…

Nothing came out.

They almost choked on the empty air. A hot feeling shooting from head to toes, liquifying the bones in their legs, and clenching their insides into a thousand tiny knots. The innkeeper narrowed his eyes. Did Floryn look like they were about to faint or did he know?

Suddenly Lav’s hand was on their shoulder, casually pushing them behind so they could step right up to the bar.

“Excuse the early hour,” they said, as honey smooth as the day they’d met. “Usually we wouldn’t impose at such an inopportune hour, but we’ve been traveling all night and hoped we could trouble you for a couple of rooms.”

The innkeeper stared at Lav for a moment, as if sensing the wrongness in him. But eventually he waved his hand flippantly. “We’re up this early every day. Got to get ahead of the tenants, eh?” He propped his elbows on the counter with a large yawn. “I only got one room. 15 coppers by the night. Will that do?”

“Perfect,” Lav said. They rustled in their deep coat pocket, producing a handful of small copper coins. Where they got the money after years in seclusion, Floryn didn't know. Maybe scoured off all the dead bodies and robbed graves.

The innkeeper scraped the coins into their hand and disappeared into the back. He returned a few moments later with a little silver key. "Room 8. Anything else?" he said, sliding it across the counter. "I can have Marri whip you up a hot breakfast."

From the glare Marri shot across the room, Floryn wouldn't have accepted the offer even if they could eat.

"Very gracious of you," Lav said. "But after a full night of traveling, the room is quite enough. Just up the stairs is it?"

"Even numbers on the right," the innkeeper confirmed.

"Very good." Lav's hand landed on the middle of Floryn's back, guiding them to the narrow staircase. The steps creaked and when they reached the hall it took some squinting to make out the half-rubbed numbers chalked on the doors.

Lav's hand slid away to unlock the door, leaving the spot on Floryn's spine tingling and empty.

Lav crossed the room in a few quick strides, yanking the curtains closed on the pool of sun spreading across the floor.

"If you're cold I'll light a--" They cut off mid-turn, only then noticing what Floryn had noticed immediately. Maybe they should be flattered Lav's first thought had been to keep them out of the sun, but the delayed reaction was somehow even worse than realizing their predicament simultaneously.

The single bed sat in the middle of the room, ropes hanging a little too loosely so that the straw mattress just brushed the floor. The bed hangings had also seen better days, motheaten and sustained from cream to light yellow--though to be fair, bed hangings in general were an unexpected luxury for this place. At the very least, the bed was full-sized; they wouldn't be pressed back to back.

Floryn shivered inappropriately at the mental image before brusquely shoving it away. A quick glance around the room revealed no other furnishings but a nightstand with a half-melted candle on one side of the bed and a chair and table, set with a pitcher and washbasin, on the other.

Lav cleared their throat uncomfortably. "I suppose the number of beds to a room was never specified."

"Well," Floryn said, trying to sound unbothered. "A bed is a bed." They slid their bag to the floor and plopped down on one end. "Can't complain there."

Lav nodded. "It's been a long night. You should rest." They dropped their own pack, quickly sifting out a blanket roll and spreading it out on the floor.

"We should rest," Floryn corrected. "Don't act as if you haven't had a long night too." They patted the space beside them.

"I'll be just fine by the hearth."

"I don't mind sharing."

"It's too much."

"For who?" Floryn said. "You never had a problem dozing off on the sofa. It's basically the same thing."

"It's different. And this body, what I am, all of it..."

"So? I can judge my discomfort myself, thank you. I'm fine." They met Lav's gaze head-on. "Unless I make you uncomfortable. In which case, we should flip a coin for the bed."

Lav clenched their teeth, rotating their jaw a couple times as their yellow eyes flicked from Floryn's face to the empty side of the bed, to the door. "You are so stubborn," they finally said, crossing the room and kicking off their shoes before sliding beneath the bedcovers. The mattress sank deeper towards the floor, but Floryn closed the bed hangings and crawled underneath the covers without comment. Despite their shoddy material, the hangings did make a cozy space. Even better because they blocked out any light that might have passed through the window curtains. The only downside was it made the bed feel narrower. A small but significant gap kept their and Lav's shoulders just short of brushing.

"You know you're making my gallant attempts at consideration very difficult," Lav said.

Floryn rolled toward them. "What do you mean?"

Lav matched Floryn's movement by turning onto their side, eyes glowing catlike in the shadows. "You do make me uncomfortable."

"Oh."

"Not because I don't like being near you," Lav said. "Because I don't deserve to be. I'm wearing the body of your attacker, I constantly make you afraid, and I'm a monster."

Floryn raised their hand to their cheek, eliciting a small shock. "Honey, you've never met a real monster."

Lav scoffed but didn't move away. "What am I then?"

They stroked a crooked finger down the ghoul's cheekbone "Yes, you're a monster in the traditional sense. So am I." Their other hand pressed to Lav's chest, the faux warmth of their skin soaking into their chilly fingertips. "But not in in here. Not where it counts. You don't have to be a ghoul or a vampire to be monstrous inside." The ragged rhythm of their heart beat into Floryn's palm, steadily picking up speed. "Maybe you have met monsters--the townspeople who sacrificed you, the people who chased you away from a normal life, my hunters--but don't think for one second you’re one of them."

Warm tears pricked Floryn's thumb, and suddenly, a pair of muscled arms wrapped around them. The air fled their lungs all at once and refused to be drawn back in.

"I care about you, Flor," Lav mumured into their neck. "My dear. My darling. My love."

"I love--" Floryn caught themselves, violently clearing their throat and bowing their face into Lav's curls. "I care about you too."

This ghoul was going to be the death of them. What did they mean saying "I care" and "My love" in the same breath? Their heart had already been stopped by an undead once, they didn't need a second demonstration.

Against their better wishes, they slid out of the embrace first.

"We should sleep. We need to put more distance between us and BellBreak before we can really relax."

"Rest," Lav murmured. "I can stay up if you're worried."

"Don't get noble. I worry about you too you know." They flopped the other direction. "If I wake up in a few hours and find out you didn't sleep, I'm going to be mad."

Lav chuckled. "Understood."

The covers rustled as they settled down deeper into the bed. The warmth of their presence tickled Floryn's back even from across the gap, but strangely, they weren't quite so anxious now. Perhaps they were simply to tired to worry anymore because sleep hit hard and fast. Seconds after closing their eyes they were engulfed in dark, dreamless sleep--a gift after so much nightmare fuel had been tossed their way today.

When Floryn woke next, the gap no longer existed.

Master Taglist:

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[is-not-a-bell]

Sleepy King

The Justice League Dark caught wind of a cult trying to summon the Ghost King. A being with power so terrible and great, that all of the chaotic Infinite Realms feared him. A true tyrant. Long ago it took the effort of ghosts equal to gods to seal him away into a permeant slumber.

And now this cult wishes to wake him and bring him to the living realm. It was a race against the clock to find the ritual site and all members were called on board, magic or not. Even Constantine looked stressed.

They did find the site.

But it was too late, the ritual was completed. The entire inner circle of runes glowed before being swallowed in a column of green light. The air filled with static and a ringing that made Supergirl crumble to the ground.

The light dissipated, but there was no great figure or being of pure evil. Instead there was a boy, a teenager. He laid on the ground curled up in his sleep. He was a ghost no doubt, dressed in regal clothing.

Despite this when he stirred, everyone froze. It seemed the cold hard ground woke him up. He got up slowly and yawned, revealing his sharp fangs. Once sat up he opened his bleary eyes to look around. He looked confused and tired, really tired.

"Where am I?" He mumbled. "I was trying to get some sleep." Constantine internally screaming, latches onto that last sentence. He glances over to Batman. He caught that last part too. Batman approaches calmly and crouches down in front of the boy king. Hardening his resolve, Batman takes on a gentle tone.

"Hey kiddo, sorry we woke you. Lets get you back to bed yeah?" The boy nodded in agreement. He pulled himself to his feet before looking around in a circle. "Where did my blanket go?" He asked rather sadly. Batman is quick to shed his own cape and drape it over him. "You can borrow my cape until we get you a new one." He nodded again, pulling the black fabric around himself.

John quickly summoned a portal door, while Batman led the King through it. John threw looks around at everyone. Everyone could tell he was mouthing the words. 'Find me a fucking blanket now'

Running on the logic of getting the king away from Earth, away from graves and the undead, that could give him power. The portal led to the Watch Tower.

Batman took advantage of the King's bleary state to send a base wide alert for all noncritical members to evacuate immediately. With a priority that death adjacent members leave first. "The stars are pretty." Bruce looked at the boy staring out the window in wonder. He almost looked like a normal kid, almost.

"Yeah they are, it's pretty late so we should get you back to bed." He nodded, going along with Batman's gentle coaxing.

He takes the boy to an unused bedroom. Making sure the room isn't dusty and that lights are dimmed. He glances back to see about a dozen different leaguers all holding blankets, one thought to bring extra pillows. The bed was pretty barren with only a single pillow and a thin bedsheet. So Bruce took a thick duvet, one of the fluffier blankets and a second pillow from his team before shooing them away.

The boy ended up keeping his cape, mumbling how it was warm. He tucked the boy in, before quietly exiting the room and turning off the light. He was pretty sure the King fell back to sleep before he even reached the light switch.

After the door shut, he made direct eye contact with John. "Constantine." They needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

[deathc-re]

your older!bf who has really opened your eyes to the world of mature men. who truly listens when have a complaint and works to fix it. who shows you that he adores you, even in his own strange way. who goes out of his way to spoil you and pamper you; who always makes sure you have the best of the best.

older!bf who literally is the best sexual experience you've had in your whole life. who does things you didn't even think were possible. who makes you feel levels of pleasure you'd only read about until this point. who pays such close attention to ever twitch and flinch and gasp and abuses ever spot that brings you pleasure. who reaches places so deep inside that you're surprised feels good instead of painful. who goes above and beyond with aftercare, making you feel so safe and secure. who makes sure you're well feed and clean, your favorite show or song playing as he cuddles you close.

older!bf who wastes no time to show you off and shower you in praise. who compliments every aspect of you, some you didn't even notice about yourself. who respects and knows you as a person. who is secure enough in himself and the relationship to know that even tho you're together, you're your own separate people and is fine with it.

older!bf who is protective of you and takes the extra measures to make sure you're safe in every situation he can, no matter what.

older!bf who loves you :(

LAW, corazon, sir crocodile, bakugo, aizawa, FAT GUM, sung-jin woo, andy, GETO, and my man <3

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: death, murder, severe grief induced depression, alcoholism

Undead!Husband!Ghost who stalks his way home just as soon as he claws his way from the damp, heavy soil on top of his coffin.

Pain in the ass. Doesn’t have his damned phone and he has no idea where this cemetery is.

Doesn’t have his keys, either, and it’s the middle of the fucking night. Finds a window open just a crack— his absence in your life shows. He would’ve never left you vulnerable like this. Kitchen is a mess of takeout containers. You haven’t been taking things well. Answering machine flashes a bright red number— 38.

He takes off his shoes and his jacket— like he’d only stepped out for the day, rather than having been dead and buried for months. Hates the fucking formalwear they buried him in. Ambles his way upstairs.

Sees some fucking stranger in his house. Sleeping in his bed. Right next to his wife. Bruises on your neck.

It was yet another self-destructive attempt at distracting yourself from what happened. The shitheel you picked up at the bar doesn’t even fully wake up before his skull is cracked against the hardwood of the headboard. You barely stir. Simon leans close and smells the liquor on your breath. He tilts your head gently so your cheek is to the pillow.

He digs through the dresser drawers for nearly half an hour before he finds the obscure little corner where you’ve hidden your wedding ring. You tell yourself it’s to make yourself seem available, but really you just couldn’t stand the sight of it. Whose gaze reflected back from the polished gemstone.

It’s slipped delicately back onto your finger. It’s looser than it used to be.

The body is dragged from the bed and deposited on the floor, blood already soaked down past the sheets and into the mattress. He doesn’t care. He’s still covered in dirt and rot and he doesn’t care about that either. He’s so fucking tired.

Crawls in the bed next to you, an arm loosely thrown over your waist.

When you wake up, he’ll cook you some real food.

[greenglowinspooks]

To be honest. DCxDP where the reason Danny meets the bats is Ace the Bat-hound

Like, just think about it for a second. Danny is in Gotham for college, or maybe he just moved out to find a city where having mad scientist parents isn’t actually that unusual.

He can see ghosts.

The ghosts know this.

Now he’s getting harassed left and right by spirits trying to get closure. Fine, whatever, most of them are a one-and-done type deal, and the amount of ghosts trying to get his help steadily decreases.

Except for this one very stubborn dog.

It just keeps showing up and leading him to crime scenes! He doesn’t know how many “anonymous tips” he can call in to the cops before they trace his phone! And this dog, this incredibly good boy, will not stop trying to help the city. He’s never met anyone with such a strong sense of justice, let alone a dog. Can dogs even have a moral compass?

And so Danny just accepts the fact that Ace isn’t going anywhere and becomes his reluctant sidekick/dedicated medium. He leans into the whole thing, dressing up in a mix of traditional magic-user attire and accessories that pay homage to the ghost dog.

He becomes somewhat well known. The psychopomp detective following around the shadowy figure of a German Shepard? That’s unusual! That’s weird! I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing in Gotham, sure, but he’s a new vigilante and he’s got a ghost dog that people can only see when it’s around him. Someone’s gonna notice.

Damian, as Robin, is the first to reach out to him.

Ace doesn’t know Damian but he does know a Robin, and while this isn’t his Robin, he’s still friendlier than usual. Danny’s panicking because oh god the bats are here and also is this kid gonna steal my ghost dog, Damian is absolutely delighted by Ace, and Ace is just happy to see a Robin again.

Damian decides that the psychopomp isn’t a danger to anyone, and there’s no reason to put this encounter into his reports, really, and perhaps Danny can help with some of his cases in the future.

Danny is sweating bullets because Damian basically tells him that he’ll keep him secret as long as he gets to play with Ace. Ace is happy that he’s finally getting some bat affiliated crime-fighting assistance.

And so, Danny is now both Ace AND Damian’s reluctant assistant. At least whenever he’s in trouble, he can always call a middle schooler to help him.

(Is Robin even in school? He’s out patrolling damn near every night, and he stays out late as hell. Does he have a bedtime? He should.)

Eventually it gets to the point where Damian is going over to Danny’s house. When he first sees it, he has a damn bitch you live like this moment, to which Danny responds that not everyone has the money to afford a nice place. Damian counters that he could at least take the time to clean up, and Danny replies that he’s working, going to school, and being a vigilante assistant to a ghost dog, something’s got to give.

Danny nearly has a heart attack when he checks his bank account the next day and sees that someone transferred him 10,000 dollars.

And so they get into a routine. Danny and Damian fight crime with Ace at night, and occasionally Damian stops by during the day to play with Ace and have Danny help with his homework.

(Damian is smart enough to do it on his own, but some of the instructions are written incredibly confusingly, and he would never admit to needing help to his family. Danny is just glad that the kid is in school and cares about his education, blissfully unaware that he’s basically emotionally adopted him.)

Damian is used to being in Danny’s company.

Eventually, when going over a case with the family, Damian absentmindedly remarks that he’ll have to ask Danny about some of the clues that they might be missing. Nightwing asks who he means and Damian makes a face like he just swallowed a lemon.

Cue shitstorm.

Who is “Danny?” Why is Damian willing to ask for help from anyone, much less someone outside of the family? Does he know who Damian is? Has Damian been compromised? What the hell is going on?

Damian now has to explain that Danny is the psychopomp with the ghost dog who he might have met hunted down while on patrol and conveniently not mentioned, but he’s not a bad person, really, and he lets him play with Ace, and he’s been quite helpful on certain cases due to his ability to talk to ghosts.

Bruce insists that the family meet Danny. Damian, hoping that he won’t just skip town the second he hears the news, relents.

Danny is surprisingly eager to meet the bats, considering his earlier fears.

Damian, blissfully unaware of what’s coming, sets a time and place to meet.

Once everyone is there, he gives Bruce the earful of a lifetime.

Robin is in middle school! Danny knows that there’s no way to stop the boy from going on patrol, but you could at least shift his schedule so he gets enough sleep on school nights! Does the Bat even know where he is half the time?! (No) And why isn’t he comfortable asking his family for help with both cases and homework? Did they ever even notice how much time he was spending at Danny’s house? If Danny was a bad person, he could have seriously hurt the poor boy! Shame on you!

Nightwing is mortified that Damian didn’t trust him enough to tell him about any of this. Red Hood is laughing his ass off, because yeah Danny is making good points but he’s also chewing out the literal Batman. Tim is recording the whole thing. Steph is delighted by the absolute gall of this Danger Twink™️, and already planning to add him to several groupchats. Damian is more embarrassed than he’s ever been in his entire life.

You, he points to Nightwing, did your academic life feel supported when you were a Robin? Nightwing is too stunned to speak. Red Hood, eternal shit-stirrer, says that oh, we all prioritized patrol over our education, that’s just how it is. Red Robin actually dropped out of high school to avoid distractions, did you know that?

Danny honest-to-god shrieks at this.

He finishes his angry rant and leaves, everyone too stunned to stop him.

And as it turns out, Tim wasn’t the only person recording the whole thing.

The entire internet is blowing up with Psychopomp The Danger Twink™️’s rant. People are taking sides. Things are getting messy. Red Hood literally admitting on-camera to previously being a Robin is somehow not the main focus here.

Eventually someone connects some dots from the video, as well as stories circling the internet about the psychopomp. A ghost dog named Ace, who is the literal only reason that the psychopomp is fighting crime at all, which seems incredibly fond of Nightwing and Robin.

A crime-fighting dog who wants constant attention from both the current and original Robin.

Oh my god, Ace the Bat-hound died and became a crime-fighting ghost.

And, somehow, that’s still not the strangest thing going on in Gotham.

[enigmaris]

Ive written like 20k words for my two dpxdc ideas but of course my mind is giving more ideas:

Ghost King!Danny gets summoned one time by a cult and is like 'absolutely not'. He is already barely scraping by in highschool with all of his ghost fights, if he can be magically yoinked at any time he can kiss graduation goodbye.

He asks his ghost friends and one of them tells him he will need a human magic user to create a ward for him, since its human magic thats summoning him the protection should come from the same source.

Now where to find a magic user that can

1) make a protective ward for a half ghost/ half tired teen

2) will do that when Danny has about 3 dollars in his piggy bank

Danny through whatever means are the funniest discovers the soul tax evading John Constatine and has an idea!

A few days later John finds out his soul has been bought by the high king of the infinite realms, who last he checked, was a homocidal maniac.

This isnt going to end well.

[annikvs]

Resentment. An underlying anger.

[ozziyo]

a look inside the union sleeping quarters

[flamingpudding]

Hotel Fenton

Red Hood stared at the building that seemingly appeared out of nowhere in Crime Alley. Below his mask his eye twitched at the very elaborated and very bright shining and blinking sign on the buildings wall spelling out 'HOTEL FENTON' though it looked like the word 'HOTEL' had only been added recently. The building in itself was also strange. Red Hood was pretty sure no one would actually willingly step into a building like that.

"Are you seriously expecting to investigate this shit?" He muttered into the coms, knowing perfectly well that his brothers were watching through the integrated helm camera.

"Yep. You lost the draw." Nightwing sang from the other end of the com line. Red Hood was going to glitter bomb his Appartement later. He grumbled something inaudible once more before taking another step towards that strange building. But froze before he even set his foot completely on the ground.

A scream echoed through the building. His hand instantly went to the gun buy his side. Then a crash. Wide eyed Red Hood watched how a chair came sailing out of one destroyed window. More shouting followed now clearer. Someone was complaining loudly and...

He took a step back from the building as fire sprouted out of the broken window but before he could even tell his siblings to send back up the fire got extinguished by a sudden block of ice growing out of the window. Red Hood blinked, muttering a half hearted "Did you guys see that too..." Into his coms before the slam of the entrance door to the Building caught his attention and he came face to face with a little girl that had obviously slammed the door she was leaning against.

They stared at each other for a moment before the girl dusted herself off and grinned.

"Hi! Welcome to Hotel Fenton the place to stay for Ghosts, Shades, Undead and More! We are a little preoccupied with a some of our current guests but I am sure there is still an open place for a fellow undead and halfa in the making!"

Red Hood's eyes narrowed under his mask but before he could ask anything, a fucking man that had vague similarities to Bruce crashed through the wall cool-aid way with a good damn Talon in his arms that was obviously trying to gnaw on the arm holding it, a second man followed close behind floating and shouting vehemently that "JACK THAT IS NOT PLAY FIGHTING YOU DUMBASS! IT'S TRYING TO MAIM YOU!"

There was only one thought went through Red Hoods head at that moment, his sibling perfectly echoed over the coms.

"What the fuck?"

[puppetmaster13u]

DP x DC Crossover where Danny gets de-aged more towards his ghost-age and got adopted.

But he didn't exactly get adopted by a batfamily member, or even any hero, or a villain.

Honestly this Talon who just found a literal toddler that surfaced in a runoff of the Lazarus Pit is rather confused. Like on one hand should they be killing it?? But the idea of killing the strange tiny talon-sibling seems so viscerally wrong???

Welcome to having the first mental breakdown of many funky golden-eyed man that Danny thinks might be more feral than he is. Oh well, at least this person isn't a fruitloop and speaks in sort-of ghost speak? And sometimes more gold-eyed people appear to help care for him? Like they obviously don't know how to do so, but they're trying their best and honestly he's pretty self-sufficient. Ish.

The Court of Owls have no fuckin' clue where a good third of their Talons have disappeared to or why they can't call them back.

[thepenultimateword]

Old Bones Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CW: Blood, violence, death/defensive killing, torture, captivity

Lav’s skin flushed a shade that would have been pretty if it weren’t also so warm—moist and piping pink like a cut of underdone pork.

“You’ve got a fever,” Vampire said, lifting the back of their hand from their host’s forehead.

“Only a little one.”

“Should you be getting fevers?”

Lav shifted onto their side, pulling their puffy covers to their chin with a tired exhale. “Sometimes.” When Vampire’s hand landed on their forehead again, they added, “I’ve put something off too long, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

They covered Vampire’s hand with their own sweaty one, briefly interlocking fingers.

A shock as electric and hair-raising as lightning coursed up Vampire’s arm, and they jerked back so sharply they bit their lip, sharp incisor piercing a shallow hole.

Lav’s hand hung in the air a moment before quickly tucking back beneath the covers. “Sorry.”

Vampire looked at the ground embarrassed by the overreaction. “S’fine.” It took them a moment to muster any more. “Can I get you anything?”

“Mmm..." Lav hesitated, flopping their cheek against their pillow and staring past Vampire at the rosehip hangings over their door. "A book? If you don't mind reading aloud for a bit that is.”

"Of course! One moment." Vampire retreated to the guest room, shaking the contents of their satchel onto their bed. Now. Which title to choose. A research text? A story? What was Lav's taste? After reading passages to them most nights, they should know by now, but Lav always acted equally interested in everything. That probably should have taken off some of the pressure, but this was different. They didn't want to be humored. They wanted to actually deliver something enjoyable. Something comforting. Helpful.

Their fingers brushed over a dark leather cover with dark silver lettering. Field of Flowers.

A romance. A sappy one but…well...it would be entertaining. And a softer story would probably be more welcome than a thick scholarly tome.

Vampire headed back to Lav's room, plopping down on the foot of their mattress. They made no precursor before starting into the first page. "Marian Sterling had only three things to her name, a yellow linen dress already worn and lightened from the sun, a pocket booklet of pressed flowers, and her mother's locket. The booklet had been a gift from her father before he left to sea, never returning. And the locket, well, she'd had that for as long as she could remember, with only the contents, a small couple's portrait from her parents' courting days, to know her by."

Vampire gradually painted Marian's tale, her tiring travel away from the cruel relatives who raised her, her close call with thieves along the highway, the humiliation of being turned away dirty and penniless when she finally reached a town with an inn, her fateful encounter with Lord Sebastian when he caught her plucking the flowers from his meadows, the recognition of her locket, the accusations of thievery and the eventual invitation to work in his home. Vampire read rabidly, glancing up once in a while to watch Lav's reactions or to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep.

They were proud to find Lav just as rapt as them, eyes dropped but alight with thought. It wasn’t until the first romantic scene that Vampire realized their mistake.

A hot blush crept up the back of their neck, the blood ringing in their ears so they could barely hear the words they spoke. "Sebastian took Marian's face in his hands, warm, calloused fingers stroking the tears off her cheek. "'Marian," he said, his voice soft, like the first roll of thunder in an approaching storm. His breath tickled her face and...um...h-his lips...his lips pressed soft..." Vampire swallowed. "You know, this part is a little boring, why don't we skip it."

"Boring?" Lav said, raising their eyebrows high over dark circled eyes. "Au contraire, I've been on the edge of my seat for Lord Sebastian's confession, please continue."

"You're sure...?"

"Of course, do not hold back on my account. I may appear tired, but I promise, I'm at complete attention."

That was what worried Vampire. This wouldn't have happened if they'd just chosen a book about frogs. Vampire swallowed again and took a deep breath.

"...firstothecurvehernecknextothesmoothlineofherjawandfinallytohermouthcatchingherbreathinherthroatlikewindinakitetakingherhigherandhigher. Dangerous. Thehighershedriftedthemorelikelytocrumpleifdroppeddoomedbyachangeofwind. Shepushedthethoughtawayfornowthewindswerefavorable. Herfingerstangledinhishairand--"

Lav burst out laughing, freezing Vampire's tongue against the roof of their mouth.

"Stop, stop!" They wheezed, coughs riddling their chuckles with halts and starts. An especially violent fit seized them, and they rolled over onto their side still grinning as they simultaneously clutched their bedcovers and chest.

Vampire blushed harder, fighting the urge to chuck the book at Lav's face and run. They won against the first part, but they shot off the bed before they knew what they were doing.

"Wait!" Lav's feverish hand grabbed the hem of their tunic. Vampire could have easily broken their grip. After all they were weak from the sick, practically teetering on one elbow, but Vampire held, book folded tightly against their chest. Lav swallowed the laughter but none of the warmth. "We can skip it. I'm sorry. You were so cute and awkward trying to get through it, I wanted to see a little more of it. I'm sorry."

Cute. Cute. Cute.

It repeated over and over in Vampire's head. Did it mean anything to their new friend? Or were they simply being familiar? Kind and playful as usual.

"You should probably rest," Vampire said, turning only to place the book on the bedstand. They avoided's Lav's predator gaze, burning so intensely into the side of their face. "I'll be back in a bit with lunch."

"I've upset you."

"No!" Vampire held out their hands. "I'm fine. But I've kept you up, and sick people are meant to sleep."

They snuck a look at Lav's face and found their expression somewhere between exhausted and distressed. "I don't want you to go."

"I-it's only for a couple hours."

"I don't want to be alone again."

Vampire furrowed their brow. Were they still talking about this moment? They probably weren't thinking straight with that fever. In a moment of boldness, they took Lav's shoulders and pushed them back against the pillows, drawing the covers up to their chin and tucking sweaty hair behind their ears. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Lav drew their lips into a pout, but eventually, begrudgingly, they closed their eyes, quickly drifting off into fitful sleep.

Vampire spent the rest of the afternoon between rooms, changing cold compresses, searching out the contents of the larder for blood tea, holding the teacup to a disoriented Lav's lips. Their host was losing their lucidity throughout the day, staring at Vampire in a confused daze whenever they woke them, then drifting off once again. By evening, the other undead seemed no better than they had in the morning. In fact, they seemed worse.

Vampire settled next to the hearth with uneasiness roiling in their gut. The larder held quite a bit of raw boar and rabbit, things Lav could eat, but blood was low. Not to mention a day full of compresses and dishes was using up what was left of the well water. It was fine for now, but a day or so more and they'd be out. And that would be it. Lav wasn't strong enough to leave, and Vampire... Maybe Vampire would have to brave the trip outdoors.

Their throat tightened as they sipped their blood tea, making it hard to swallow.

Everything's going to be ok.

They repeated it in their head like a mantra, until they were almost convinced it was true.

Then came a knock on the door.

Vampire flattened themselves against the cushions. They probably should have heard the footsteps outside ages ago, but they'd been too caught up in their own thoughts. What did they do? Lav was sick. They couldn't come to the door.

The knock came again, harder. "Open up!"

Were they planning to knock the door off its hinges?

Ignore them. Ignore them and they'll go away.

"I can see the chimney smoke, I know someone is at home."

Curse it!

"For the safety of the people, the town has voted in favor of home searches. It will only take a few moments of your time."

No, no, this wasn't happening. This was a dream. Maybe Vampire could slip out a window. Disappear until they were gone. But...then there was Lav. They were completely bedridden. And what if the villagers had become suspicious. Their eyes had grown more distrustful with each visit. The look of prey in the presence of a predator. And the contents of the Larder weren't exactly balanced. If they so much as suspected...they wouldn't be taking any chances.

"If you don't comply we will enter by force."

Vampire snatched a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around them like a hooded shawl, covering the points of their ears and much of their slender build. If they kept their head down, maybe they could pass.

They took a shuddering breath and opened the door, just a crack. Just enough to see three villagers on the porch steps, the same broad-shouldered redhead from the last few times up at the front.

“Hi, um, my friend is sick right now, so--"

Before they could finish the villager kicked the door, cracking the wood on the wall behind and sending Vampire sprawling.

Their shoulder slammed against the wood floor, hands loosening from their blanket cover. A succession of gasps filled the room.

"That's it!"

"There it is!"

"I knew the thing was holing up out here."

Vampire scrambled toward the the stairs, blanket tangling their limbs and felling them more than once along the way.

Heavy boots pounded on their heels, a thick meaty hand catching them by the scruff.

Vampire twisted and hissed. Something forced into their mouth, first cold and bitter and then suddenly burning. They shrieked, muffled against the iron bar wedged between their teeth. Tight leather straps came together at the back of their skull, securing the muzzle in the pace.

Vampire shoved at the bit with their tongue, raising blisters and numbing the metallic flavor.

“Look at those fangs!” admired one of the men. His pencil mustache curled upward with the sick grin beneath it.

Vampire summed up their undead strength, planting a rib-cracking punch to the redhead's abdomen. He released, falling back on his rear with a string of curses flowing off his tongue.

Vampire hit the ground on hands and knees. Something sharp immediately jabbed into their back. followed by the same searing pain in their mouth. Like being hit with a hot poker, and as they writhed they saw it was a poker, black and cold and iron.

Redhead slowly rose to his feet, clutching his side as he stalked toward them. One big boot flew into Vampire's nose with an audible crunch. Dark blood drizzled sizzling over the metal bit and into their mouth. "Cursed parasite. Samuel, get those ropes."

The third man rushed forward hesitating only a moment before snatching their hands and tying them behind their back tight enough to lose circulation.

“How did it stay hidden so long?” he said, stepping back from his work.

Redhead spat on the back of Vampire's head. "They say they can make people do things. Look'em in the eyes and you become a living puppet." He walked slowly around the perimeter of Vampire's shaking form. "Or maybe that recluse is a vampire too. Perfect cover, all alone out here." He crouched in front of Vampire. "You said they're sick?"

No. Leave Lav alone. Take me, but leave them alone.

Vampire flexed against the ropes, clenching their teeth painfully over their muzzle. The poker withdrew from their back and returned in their side. They wailed. Why did it hurt so bad? Was their flesh actually curling off the bones? Was that charred scent in the air real or just in their head? They flexed harder, and the ropes groaned.

"Secure it tighter!"

"Someone just kill it!"

"Idiot, we can't just kill it! We need to bury it!"

"Then stab it some more! I don't--"

Samuel slammed against the couch. A couple shouts split the air followed by the sweet scent of fresh blood.

Vampire's neck prickled, and they squinted through tears at the figure rising from Samuel's limp body.

Lav. But not Lav. Their Lav didn't have those hungry dilated pupils or that empty gaze. They didn't walk with that predatory slink, claws, and teeth born and bloody. They cock their head back and forth as if listening and measuring their prey's reaction. They didn't look like a monster.

The poker clattered to the ground, and Mustache backed toward the door. Lav trailed silently after until they stood directly over Vampire. Those burning eyes fixed on their muzzled and bleeding face, peeling the skin back layer by layer by layer, reducing them small and helpless. Vampire stared back unblinking, unable to look away even as they shrank against the floor.

"It's just another vampire," Redhead snarled. He pulled his own iron stake from his belt, raising it over his shoulder. "Come'ere you dirty, blood-thirsty--"

Vampire didn't even see them move. They just heard a shriek as both Lav and the redhead disappeared out the open door. A thunk of a body in snow, the muted sounds of thrashing. Mustache stood paralyzed, face going paler and paler.

The man made a run for it, stumbling boot steps fading in the direction of town. These were quickly followed by something heavier, faster. One last scream split the dusk. And then only silence.

Crunch...crunch...crunch...

Slow footsteps in the snow.

Lav slumped against the door frame, their front completely soaked in blood. They streaked a gory hand across their sweaty forehead before trudging back across the living room and dropping to their knees at Vampire's side. Their head lolled a little as they regarded Vampire, eyes no longer darkened, but still somewhat glazed. The way they reached for Vampire was almost puppet-like.

Vampire ducked their head, eyes squeezed shut, but then the belt was undone and the iron muzzle dropped to the hardwood with a clang. Vampire stared, testing their ragged tongue against the other raw parts of their mouth. Hot tears gathered in their eyes, but they fought them back with a stinging swallow.

Lav fumbled with the ropes on their hands for a moment before finally snapping them into pieces. Vampire slowly drew their wrists against their chest, rubbing the indentations. Lav's breath blew hot on their neck too heavy and too fast. The fight surely hadn't done them any good. Vampire wasn't sure how they were even still upright.

"Lav--" they began croakily.

"I'll be back," Lav said coldly. They trudged to Samuel's discarded body, grabbing the back of his collar in their fist and dragging it toward the open door. Vampire hadn't noticed before but the air in the room had iced over.

"Wait!" Vampire cried with a shiver. It hurt to talk. "Don't leave me alone!"

Lav stopped but didn't turn. Their fist clenched at their side. "Darling..." A piece of them broke through the cold mask, pained, "I'll be back."

The door slammed behind them, and Vampire knelt for a long time watching it. Just waiting for the moment Lav passed back through. Eventually, when at least an hour passed, they summed up the energy to drag themselves up to their bedroom. It wasn't until they'd tucked themselves shivering and fully dressed into bed that the tears broke loose. And once they started they couldn't stop. They cried themselves into exhaustion. In fact, it was the last thing they remembered doing when they woke in the morning.

Their head pounded from the sobbing but that was the worst pain. The wounds in their mouth and abdomen were still there since they'd been made with iron, but they'd reduced to a mild tenderness. When Vampire checked the stab wound in their side it looked like a bad scrape. If only the emotional wounds were so easily healed. They shuddered at the memory of last night.

The floorboards creaked downstairs, followed by the slosh of water.

Lav!

Dread and longing struck Vampire all at once. Their host's behavior last night had been horrifying, and yet, they'd saved their life once again. Vampire wanted nothing more than to join them at the table and drink one of their hot blood teas. To listen to them soothe and tease and smile that wolfish grin.

Vampire swung their legs over the mattress and slunk quietly down the stairs before they could change their mind.

They wanted to see them. They needed to see them. Whatever the renewed warning in their chest. In their spine. In the hairs on the back of their neck.

They passed the crackling hearth and tidied living room, the cracked door the only sign of last night's break-in. The kitchen met them warm and lavender scented, bubbles floating across the room from the great wash tub at the center, where a figure stooped elbow deep in soapy water, washing the metallic scent of blood from their clothes.

"Lav..." Vampire said. Why did it come out so quiet? So pathetic.

The figure turned, and Vampire froze.

Yellow eyes stared out from a ruddy, square face. Large hands wiped water onto high-rising trouser legs while a broad chest and set of shoulders stretched their shirt. A shock of red hair framed the sharp cut of their jaw and the smile curving up it. Something both hungry and familiar that sent a shiver down Vampire's spine.

Vampire stepped backward, and the figure mirrored it, beefy arm outstretched

Not Lav. Not Lav. That wasn't them. That was the redheaded villager from last night. And every fiber in Vampire's body screamed at them to run.

Part Six

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin

@ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotesthetoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @tauntedoctopuses

[4k-starbound-k4]

Yandere Headcannons

Ft: Childe, Cyno, Kinich, Sethos, Wriothesley

Trigger warnings: Fem!reader, Stalking, Noncon, Breeding, Blood, Somnophilia, Abuse of power, Bondage, Corruption, Degradation, Male Manipulation, Slave kink, Oral fixation (m!receiving), Prey kink

Childe

FREAK! FREAK FREAK!

He stalks you for hours on end, days even.

Leaving the store in your cute adventurers’ outfit it drives him crazy. Those ribbons around her thighs make his mind spin.

When a sneznayian merchant comes to make a trade deal he’s pissed when the man calls you beautiful and implying you’d make a good wife! He knows you will but you’ll be HIS WIFE!

He thinks of how clueless you are when people start going missing and how members of the fatui don’t bother you anymore.

He especially thinks when you leave your bedroom window open. Far too many nights has he climbed inside and curled up to you.

You only bury your face in your pillow when he buries himself deep inside of you. He’s careful to go slow and stretch you just enough for him to do this every night. His fingers abusing your clit as you writhe in a deep sleep.

Tsarita forbid you moan another man’s name while he takes you. He’d have to spend the next night getting rid of them — and that pissed him off.

So when you have an eventful meeting with the head of Northland Bank, and you're forced to walk home with damp panties from the man’s constant teasing...

He’s quite quick to follow you home after expelling anger on an innocent mililithe guard. He didn’t care that blood stained his clothes or his hands. He wasn’t going to let that bitch banker take you from him. You’re his prize, and he had spent to many nights cumming in his hand to spare you from getting pregnant.

Not tonight.

He knocked. How polite. So, when you open the door to a deranged Childe covered in blood, your first thought is: he must be hurt!

“Childe? A-are you okay? Do you need me to help you?”

His eyes train on yours before walking in, forcing you back into the apartment before he wrapped a hand around your neck with a voice almost deadly, “You stupid slut, I’ve been so good not cumming in you! I haven’t hurt you either. Yet you let that bastard touch you!”

“Huh— I—ack I don’t—“

He walks you to your bedroom before shoving you against the wall, pushing up your night gown, “You’re mine, I’m going to make sure of that. I’ll make sure my sweet girl doesn’t get used by bad men.” He purrs in your ear before biting your shoulder.

Cyno

As the General Mahamatra you’d expect him to never do anything so terrible, especially not to the woman he loves.

Well, um, fuck the police!!

You were simply a student at the Akademyia, working hard on your studies. You never did anything wrong. So when The General enters your house one night, under the pretense of hearing you were studying forbidden knowledge, he took count of how you only slept in a tiny pair shorts and a sheer baby doll dress.

Your teary eyes and breasts made his head fog. He knew you were innocent the minute you threw yourself at his feet, begging for him to realize it was a misunderstanding.

“Please sir, you have to understand! I’m just studying King Destraht and the disappearance of dreams. I promise I didn’t do anything wrong! Please believe me.”

“If that’s the case you should become a dream keeper and stop wasting our time with nonsense.” He gripped your hair, making you look in his eyes as he shamelessly soaked up the sight of your breasts and tears. A sick smirk on his face as he lets you go roughly.

That’s when he started watching you. How you ran around Sumeru city, books to your chest. He wondered how much he could get away with.

It started simple. Like how you would you help him with task. Then he started questioning: would you follow him? Would you change your outfit if he said it wasn’t his standard? He found your innocence a major turn on.

He often called you naive and sweet, always ending it with, “If somebody hurts you tell me and I’ll handle it.”

So you’re walking back to the desert late at night. He stalked you into the ruins of the temple.

He quickly blows out the torch leaving you in the dark, and he takes no time before pinning you to the ground. Your eyes can’t see anything, especially not as well as his.

He pushes up your skirt and pulls off your panties as he kisses your neck. You crying and trying to fight was so cute, before he started to finger you slowly. Your first time being taken in a dirty temple by a man you couldn’t see! Oh, it stung his heart to see you so scared.

But he didn’t stop, making sure to take his time with you. He wanted you so confused as to why your pussy was craving this. He was suddenly training you for his size as he gets rougher. He feels you cum several times before his stamina depletes. He himself cumming inside you three times, pumping it in and out, until your pussy was dripping, a frothy mess from his cum and yours.

He left you there, but waited from afar as you went home crying, cum dripping down your leg as he had stolen your panties.

He waited for you to tell him, and his prayer came a month later when you came to him crying on a rainy night.

“Can I- can I stay with you please? Someone — a month ago — someone they- they forced themselves on me. I was so scared.” You cry.

“Sure thing, come tell me what happened. In detail so I can help you.” He picks you up and makes you straddle him on his couch.

As you tell him the story, he begins getting hard. Grinding you suddenly on his cock, burying his nose in your neck.

“C-Cyno? What are you doing?” You whimper as he kisses your neck.

“Shhh let me make it better.”

“Wait, Cyno.” You shake your head as he pins you to the couch.

It isn’t until he’s inside, and you're crying, does it click that it was him. You sob, but the way your cunt squeezes him, he knows you're bound to forgive him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

You'll forgive him because you're just so nice.

Kinich

Kinich is such a good boyfriend.

There’s truly nothing to complain about. He kisses you as much as he can and he loves you unconditionally. His family was terrible and he swore to never be like his father. So, each night he cradles you and tells you how much he loves you.

It was a normal day as you help around the Scions of the Canopy. Before heading home to make sure Kinich has something nice for dinner after the night's war.

When the door opens, his arms quickly find your waist. He reaches under your shirt and grips your breast as he kisses your neck leaving harsh bruises trailing down your throat.

“K-Kinich… are you okay?” Your voice shakes and shivers at his rough touch.

“Hehehe, You’re such a slut. Look at you shivering just from my touch.” A familiar voice made you glance back.

It’s Kinich's body however his hair was yellow and green; his eyes were more like emeralds than topaz. He has horns and a tail.

Ajaw

“I’m so tired of him fucking you like a princess. You’re nothing but a fatui slut. So you’ll be my pretty slave. Right? Wouldn’t want to lose Kinich’s soul forever, would we?” He taunts pushing your legs apart.

“Wait-I.” you whimper as he grinds on your ass.

“Are you denying me?! The great K'uhul Ajaw,” He pulls you away from the table, and throws you to the floor, before pulling you up to your knees pulling out his cock, pushing the sweaty member to your face.

“Go on suck, slut. If you do well at pleasing me, I won’t hurt you.” He laughs pushing his tip past your lips and forcing you to deep throat him.

Deep, spastic thrusts, nothing like your loving boyfriend who let you go at your own pace and was ever so kind. He fucked your throat like it was the last high he’d ever achieve.

When he cums he’s thoughtful enough to force you to swallow half. Pulling out and jerking the last few ribbons all over your face and tongue.

He drops down and kisses you, claws shredding your clothes from your skin as he forces you on your back. Threatening to make you fall in love with his cock so that you’ll beg for his cock instead of Kinich.

He puts your legs over his arms and fucks into you, immediately bottoming out, coaxing embarrassing squishing sounds, making you tear up as he laughs.

“Fatui slut, look at you so wet for the great Ajaw! Stop pretending you’re a good girl, you like being pinned down and fucked like my prey.” He laughs and mocks.

“No-no I’m a good girl. Please, I’m a good girl, Kinich please.” You moan, fucked a little too stupid.

“Stupid slut! My stupid human slut. I’m going to breed you stupid, we have all night til the resurrection, I’m going to break you.” He growls.

Sethos

Lucky girl. That’s what you are a lucky girl.

He watches as you walk around Sumeru. His eyes trained on you like a moth to a flame. He’s so quick to get in your way and help you.

“Hi! I was wondering do you need help?" he asks.

You appear to be from the city a bit turned around in the desert.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to get to the jungle. I’ve been traveling from Natlan and I can’t seem to find the best way to the city?” You sigh.

“Well let me be your guide.” He offers his hand and starts the walk to the City.

He didn’t leave your side. Not when you had to find your mother. Not even when you were heartbroken to find out your mother was no longer in Sumeru. He even started leading you back to Natlan all for no charge.

He sat beside you on the cool morning in the desert sand. The both of you staring at Natlan in the distance.

“Hey? I mean I know you didn’t find your family but if you want you can um… stay with me?” He offers.

“Haha, don’t worry I have people waiting for me back in Natlan.” You smile sweetly at him.

“Oh yeah? Friends?” He scoots closer to you.

“Yeah, and a boyfriend. He was supposed to come with me, but he was busy with work.” You explain as his smile falls.

Cut to an hour later, him pushing your face into the wall of some ruins as he snapps his hips, making you cum and shiver. Your pretty eyes filling with tears as he grits his teeth, pulling out only to pick you up.

His hand firm on your throat as he pulls you back down on his fat cock, “You’re so lucky I saved you. Mmm baby don’t cry, you’re. So. Fucking. Uh-Lucky! I’m going to fucking keep you. Don’t worry I’ll give you a nice big family.”

Wriothesley

OH THE DUKE

When he caught you walking around with the hearth children, his heart almost exploded, gazing attentively as he watched you care for the kids.

He figured he could handle seeing you occasionally, but when he learned from Lyney that you left for Sneznaya often, it pissed him off.

He thought of ways to keep you but each time, he missed mark. He tried talking but it was taking long. He was an awkward guy after all, what would girl like youvwant with him?

Thats when there was an opening. Unwanted Fatui actives opened way to a court case. And you were brought to the fortress for questioning. The sight of you in hand cuffs makes his stomach sink and flip.

He can't help but watch you squirm and glare at him. He kows you would hate him if he tried anything, but you keep making it so hard.

“I’ll let you out, but only if you agree to my terms.” He orders, narrowing his eyes at you.

“What do you want! I told you I haven’t seen anything.”

“Due to your individual crimes, as well as your part in Fatui matters, you’ll stay here under my watch. When you prove to be a model citizen, I’ll let you free.”

“You want to monitor me?!”

He nodds and watches as you shake your head in a silent agreement, expecting to be out in days.

-

Now, almost a year later he's splitting you on his cock for the 4th time today. His cute little office slut, forced to drip his cum whenever he decides.

He revels in your muffled moans from the muzzle he keeps you confined to. Your hands bound in hand cuffs whilst fucks into you sporadically.

When he’s done he pulls out and takes off the muzzle, “Do you want to go back on the surface?”

You merely shake your head, leading him to bury himself within your cunt again. He allows you to sit on his lap as he does paperwork.

[michaelinprogress]

Thinking about how this must have felt...

Being able to freely move his body again, to feel some semblance of life after over a century of lying in that grave rotting. Up to this point, he's been so stiff, lumbering around arduously. But this is where he becomes more man than corpse.

And the first thing he does with his newfound life?

He dances with Lisa.

He knows there is a piano inside. He could go in and play it for her, he could finally play music after nearly 200 years without it. But he dances with Lisa.

With his new life, all he wants to do is be with Lisa. To touch her, love her, make her happy. He has all this energy and he gives it all to her. Everything is for her.

[monstersholygrail]

I have an idea but can’t put it to words please help me.

Skeleton bf X Human reader

You sit on the couch, back straight as a rod, and on your third official date with your hopefully soon-to-be Skeleton bf. You had been set up by a mutual friend who thought you two would be absolutely perfect together. You trusted your friend and you were coming to trust the man next to you. Enough so that you felt comfortable going over to his place to have dinner and watch a romantic movie.

Skeleton Suitor was fascinated by humans and what they could do. He doesn’t remember much of his own time as a human and now as an Eldritch Linch his life is obviously very different. You actually thought it was quite sweet, to see him experience casual human interactions for the first time again.

Kind of like now, for instance. You can see Skeleton Suitor’s eyes boring into the television as you watch the film. Usually, you’d probably be a little freaked out if a guy was watching a make-out scene so intensely. But with him you simply found it endearing. His yearning was plain to see and it made your heart race a little.

“W-what does it feel like? This human form of connection?” He suddenly asks and you jump in your skin as his voice breaks through the quiet atmosphere.

Your cheeks tinge pink as you try and explain. Mouth parting and closing, sputtering to attempt putting it into words. No one had ever really asked you that. What it felt like to be kissed by someone you liked. Your cheeks grow hotter as an idea crosses your mind.

“Would you like to find out? With me that is,” you quickly offer in a bashful manner.

Skeleton Suitor’s head whirls around to look at you, jaw dropping a little. His glowing eyes glimmer a little more brightly and your smile widens, realizing just how much you truly want to kiss him.

“Yes, I believe I’d like that very much. With you,” he responds, so formally you almost question if he actually does. But then he moves.

His tentacles reach you before his hands do. You jump a little, gaze darting to them. Their smooth slick texture wraps around your arms and your full waist and he pulls you to him with ease. A short gasp leaves you as you’re drawn along the sofa, your hands landing on his surprisingly firm chest as you reach him.

“Are you sure you would like to kiss me?” He asks in a nervous whisper. Your eyes flicker between his and his mouth, nodding eagerly.

His hands rattle, revealing how bad he’s shaking. Yet as his hands come up to cup your cheeks they grow more sturdy. You melt into his touch, conveniently leaning closer to him as well. Skelton Suitor inhales shakily.

He glances at the tv once more as if checking with himself how it’s meant to be done. Then his attention is on you and you know you’re currently occupying every single one of his thoughts. Both of you lean in slowly, the tension growing and simmering more the less distance is between you.

Just as your lips reach his smooth mouth, a tentacle that acts as his tongue reaches out and swipes along your bottom lip. You inhale sharply, your belly bubbling with arousal. He takes the chance as your lips part and slips his tongue inside your hot mouth. Your hands tighten on his shirt, a soft moan leaving you as you meet his passionate kiss.

You easily get swept up into the kiss, not expecting a kiss with a Lich to be so fucking hot. But the way he expertly devours your mouth with his tongue has your toes curling and your holes clenching around nothing. You try and keep up, finding yourself not wanting to break away from the kiss even as you quickly run out of air. Fuck, you feel so hot. Your body burning for more of him.

Eventually you have to force yourself to rip your mouth off his and suck in harsh mouthfuls of air. Your body tingles with a heat you’ve never know and your mind screams at you, begging to pounce on him again. You look at him, eyes blazing with lust and they meet his to see mirroring expressions of need.

“Why does my body feel so hot?” You ask breathlessly, your skin itching and crawling to touch and touch and touch him all over.

“It’s my tentacle, of course. The one in my mouth is naturally covered in an aphrodisiac in order to enhance the sensation of a Lich’s partner.” He says like you’re already suppose to know all of this. When your eyes widen at his explanation his face drops. “Did you not know?”

No, no you did not. And it looks like you’ll be doing a lot more on this third date than you had planned for…

[inafallsaway]

Watched undead unluck kinda unironically made the best romance I’ve seen in a while like hello?

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”