#visit McKinney

[collincountymagazine]

Krewe of Barkus Dog Parade McKinney Texas

McKinney TX

[lifesver]

@meatriarch said: [ FIVE CALLS ]  send for five times the receiver nearly calls the sender and the one time they do. | ( could be post-house calling mama ginny maybe c: )

one. the last time leland remembers them all being together was at jesse's funeral. even though most of them were still numbed out from maria’s service — only a couple days ago — everyone had come out to support mrs. jones today. it was only right. he'd only been to one funeral, before. in the span of a week, they had buried a close friend.

today, it's a boy that couldn't be much older than he was.

at least the rain was polite enough to hold off.

it's difficult to be still. his tie felt too tight. he hated this vaguely cigarette-smelling coat he'd borrowed from his dad's closet. only half-listening to the pastor speak, leland couldn’t help but stare into the flower-framed photo of a smiling boy with bright blonde hair, and wonder if it was strange, and sad, getting all dressed up like this, for an empty casket. while a bitter little voice in the back of his mind whispers; if any of these strangers around him had really cared, someone would have helped mrs. jones bring her son home. someone would have helped them find maria.

after it was said and done, leland had pulled away from the dispersing mourners. out on the too-green cemetery lawn, mrs. jones had met him, and stood next to him quietly, for a while. she took his hands in hers, giving them a comforting squeeze. and then she handed him a little slip of paper. folded his fingers over it with a look only a mother is capable of. it made him feel a little less cold, as the sky opened up, and began spitting rain down.

she would only be a call away, she said, if he, or any of them needed someone to talk to. don’t hesitate, baby. he felt shellshocked by the gesture. on probably the worst day of her life, she was still thinking of them — some college kids she hardly knew. today, she didn't even have the body of her son to bury, and she was checking in on him. because she was a good mother. he wanted to say that jesse was lucky, at least, to have had someone who cared so much for him. who fought so hard to find him. but he couldn't get any of those words out, in the end. he dragged in a shaky breath, and tried to smile back at her.

❝ … thank you, mrs. jones, ❞ he managed, voice raw, and small. she wordlessly pulls him into an embrace, and he hugs her back twice as tight.

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two. he's had some bad nights, since then. the types of dreams that'll tear you from sleep screaming — waking up the whole damn house, dad complained. running hot and cold, and swearing to god he never left that fucking basement cell. that freezer. feeling a hand crushing down on his throat. hearing screaming, always the screaming of his name, down a pitch-black tunnel.

every night was the same. he's getting better at managing, though.

just now, he has mrs. jones’ little slip of paper, laid out on the kitchen counter under his hands. truthfully, he had almost forgotten it, tucked safely in his wallet most days. didn't ever intend to bother her, after everything. but sometimes he thought about it.

if you ever need someone to talk to, he can still hear her saying.

maybe he does, but that was a tough pill to swallow, wasn't it? he's staring at himself in the kitchen window, and taking in the dark under his eyes. the healed, jagged scores across his face, that will never go away. not ever. it's still hard to reconcile with that unfamiliar reflection, and suddenly — it felt a bit harder to breathe.

the yellowy overhead light tries to warm the space, but to leland, the quiet of a sleeping house no longer felt comforting. instead, he only became more aware of the creak of floorboards, and the the tap of a tree branch on the windows.

right now, he felt claustrophobic. tap, tap, tap, drag. taunting laughter, sound of knife striking, striking — the wall of the slaughter house. drip, drip. blood slipping down his temple, landing on the freezing concrete —

eyes squeeze shut, dizzied. hand drags through hair. one, two, three, four, five — nails dig into palms hard, and he paces the length of the kitchen. six, seven, eight, nine — remember the breathing part. he stops in front of the phone, clutching the receiver, only to freeze. ten. he remembers to breathe.

he reminds himself of a couple things; not to call mrs. jones, because she'd been through enough. not to call ana, because she needed time alone. not to call connie, because she doesn't want to know him, anymore.

no one needs your shit.

leland takes his hand off the receiver, and he swallows down the sick feeling. he walks himself back into the empty living room, and falls asleep in front of the tv instead.

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three. leland mckinney wasn't the type of boy that was supposed to get in fights. he wasn’t raised like that — is what his mother had said, as she fussed over his bloody nose.

what he'd learned, though, was that even after a year, he was still the type that heard his heartbeat like gunshots in his ears, whenever someone sounded a little too close to that low, taunting drawl from his nightmares. that his anger was a hairpin trigger, every time someone tried to start in with a hey — ain't you that kid from the paper?

he should have minded his business, in that bar. should have known better. now he has to listen to his parents arguing over his head. until he felt like he just wasn't there, anymore.

head still pounding badly, leland abruptly gets up, catching them both off guard. pulling away from his mother's touch, and worried tone. he sidesteps cecil mckinney in the kitchen doorway. can barely hear him start up again, talking to him — at him. raising his voice, when that doesn't work, he gets stopped by a strong hand around his forearm, as cecil turns him back around.

— well. didn't matter, what happened, really. his dad ripped a stripe off him, like he always did. because it was easy;

what the hell's the matter with you, lately? doing nothing with yourself, sulking around the house all day. now you’re getting into fights?

and a lot of bullshit, about god, second chances. you could have died, but you didn’t. that most people would be a little more grateful to be alive, after something like that.

— wasting your damn life, leland.

he's heard this speech before. usually lets it roll off his shoulders. only this time, it strikes the last frayed nerve.

leland says something he shouldn't have, right back. that he didn’t ask for this. that sometimes, he sure as hell wished he was dead, too. didn't really know if he meant it. just knew it'd shut everyone up.

it does. the backhand lands sharp across his cheek, and stuns out any other thought process. and then it’s just white noise pitch in his ears after that. numbly, his hand comes up, to hover over the bright sting of where he’d been struck. leland’s eyes flutter with a tell-tale burn. which makes it worse.

( you gotta toughen up, lee. quit crying at every little thing. that's why those boys picked on you, you know that? )

you don't ever, let them know you're hurting.

leland's head pulses. he drops his gaze, and he shuts his mouth. his old man doesn’t stop him from leaving, this time. out the door. getting in his car and just driving, mindlessly out in the dark. well out of georgetown.

for maybe an hour, before he finally stops, at a dimly lit gas station on the edge of town.

what did he think he was going to do, now? he couldn’t go home. but maybe he should call dan, or ana. they'd probably pick up.

he leaves his car by the pump, slipping into the phonebooth outside the gas station building. brain on autopilot, he shuffles in his pocket to retrieve his wallet, rooting for change and feeding it to the payphone.

absently, leland thumbs at the transparent pocket of his wallet, until a little over-folded paper slips free. when he opens it, mrs. jones' looping, clean cursive greets him again.

leland wonders what she would be doing, at this time of night. if she was much like his mother, probably watching johnny carson, or getting ready for bed. if he would be bothering her too terribly, and if her offer to talk still stood. if she remembered him at all.

he lets it ring twice. and wonders what he should say. maybe sorry? leland closes his eyes, forehead pressing to the glass. he lets it ring a third time, before he loses his nerve, all at once. leland drops the receiver down hard, like it had burnt him. shoulders shake with something choked out and quiet.

fuck. fuck this. you're fine. you're okay.

he sinks down to the floor of the booth, and he buries the sob in his hands.

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four. on holidays, he thought about mrs. jones. and hoped she had other family to spend them with. he couldn't imagine facing days like that alone — like thanksgiving, or christmas, when a spot at the table was always going to be empty.

in the spin-cycle of his thoughts, he imagined a bedroom similar to his own, left untouched, with the door left firmly shut. a museum of someone's life in photos, and baseball cards, and high school yearbooks. leland wondered, if it was just easier to leave some things in their boxes.

he never did unpack the moving boxes, from his dorm. they stared at him in their little corner, by his closet. most days he forgot about them. the idea of going through that shit set off something visceral in him. an unfair bitterness, or shame that would climb up out of him, every time he tried to face his old letterman. or one of sonny's books he'd forgotten to return. or a teddy bear, from connie, from his birthday. or maria's photo album. the one she would have given him personally, if she were still here.

— but it's been a few years, now, since he'd thought about the little handwritten note in his wallet. a few christmases. but it's easy to remember virginia's phone number — for how many times he's folded, and unfolded that little slip of paper.

leland can hear the hum of his mother's relentless shirley temple christmas album, from the other room. he shoulders the phone to his ear, and leans against the wall. casting a smile to willa, as she crosses the hall showing off the new jacket she got as a gift, before disappearing. he hears sadie and april’s enthusiasm in ooh’s and ah’s from the dining room.

against his ear, the line rings, rings, rings. and it's almost a relief, when only her voicemail answers.

there's a few seconds of silence, and then leland remembers to speak.

❝ hi, mrs. jones. it's... leland — um, mckinney. i don't know if you remember... ❞ a long beat. what did he think he was going to say, exactly? hey, i know you haven't heard from me properly in years, but i've been having a lot of nightmares, again. i guess i feel scared, in my house, outside, in the dark. and i've been missing everyone i've ever lost. so i was wondering, you know, if you ever find a way to get through it? like, how do you move past it? how do i stop feeling like there's a hole in the middle of me that everyone can see? how do you keep going? how —

— leland sucks in a sharp breath, gives a soft, vaguely unsteady laugh. his voice feels incredibly small. ❝ sorry i — don't know why i called this late. you're probably with your family. i'm. doing okay. i just wanted to say, merry christmas. and, i... hope you're well. that’s all. ❞

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five. the others — his old friends that had showed up already, were fast asleep. jules and dan were flying in in the morning, they said. sonny would try to take a couple days from his job. said it would be nice to see everyone, at least.

leland hadn’t realized how quiet his house was, before he had people in it, again. or how small his life had become, over the years.

connie's on the couch, covered in a few quilts, with the dog resting by her. ana was in the armchair with another blanket.

the movie they'd been watching is rolling credits to a jaunty cowboy tune, and he's the last one up, now — sitting in the dull light of his kitchen, surrounded by the reason for all of this, and balancing his phone against his ear. news articles and old missing posters are scattered on a circular table.

it looked fucking crazy. he sounded fucking crazy. keeping tabs on a town he should have left behind a long damn time ago.

maybe some part of him didn’t think any of them would agree to this, to begin with. to something so stupid. maybe he sort of hoped they wouldn't. maybe he thought someone would tell him no, convince him to stop reliving the awful shit that happened to them, all those years ago.

but they had all picked up, every single one of them, when he called. twenty. twenty fucking years, and they all still think of, dream of, that fucking farmhouse, too. but jesus — twenty years. twenty years to have a real conversation with some of them, again. he ought to be ashamed.

anyway — this was the phonecall he was dreading most, somehow. he hadn’t wanted to let mrs. jones know what they were doing. what he was planning to do, until dan chewed him out for the very idea of leaving her in the dark.

❝ hi, mrs. jones? ❞ his fingers clutch in the curling wire. self-soothing. until a soft voice greets him on the other end. there's a pause, and then a gentle warmth as she says his name. age more apparent in both their voices, now.

she speaks to him like no time had passed at all, though. tells him she thinks just virginia is alright, now.

it was kind of funny, how some part of him still felt like a kid, talking to her.

they talk about how things have been, for a little while. it's nice — even if it's the kind of small talk you have to struggle with, when you don't really know someone, anymore. it didn't feel much different, than sitting across from his mother at the kitchen table, as a kid. talking about his day, or how practice had been.

until eventually, a comfortable silence falls between them.

and she asks him kindly, then, why he had really called.

for leland, there’s the ever-familiar tug toward lying. but what the hell was the point of that, now? he’d been lying for years. hadn't done him any favours.

❝ … i think — i think, i'm going to do something i shouldn't. ❞ leland begins, evenly. he stares at the newspaper clippings. the faded picture of maria flores. the old headlines, over the years — unexplained incidents around the town of newt, texas.

he couldn't ever get away from it. and now he's insisted on dragging his old friends down with him into this mess, too.

his eyes land across the sleeping bodies in his living room. there’s something, then — that feels like the closest thing to clarity he’s had in years. ❝ i guess... i was looking for advice. how do you know if — if something is right — if you’re doing something, for the right reasons? ❞

[thisisyourbrainonhyperfixation]

When I tell you I screamed. It was the first note tiktok tell me your emo without telling me your emo.

[sffgtrhyjhmnzdt]

Understanding Prenatal Visits and Prenatal Care Specialists

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Prenatal Care Specialists

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Comprehensive Prenatal Care Services

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Initial Prenatal Visit: The first prenatal visit typically includes a comprehensive medical history review, physical examination, blood tests, and possibly an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy and estimate the due date.

Routine Checkups: Regular prenatal care checkups are scheduled throughout the pregnancy. During these visits, healthcare providers monitor the growth and development of the fetus, check the mother's health, and address any concerns or symptoms the mother may have.

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[spnscripthunt-inactive]

We're doing our last fundraiser for RIP Medical Debt and our goal is to raise $5,000 so we can erase $500,000 in medical debt here in the USA.

Just one $10 raffle entry erases $1,000 in medical debt with no tax burden to the recipient.

If you want the John Oliver segment to explain how this works:

All the details, including direct donation links to RIP and the link to submit your receipt to enter the raffle:

Raffle closes on November 5, 2023 at 11:59pm (EST)

Update 11/02/2023 @ 6:14 PM (Eastern): "$7,179.50 of $5,000 goal"

We added a separate tier of X-Files scripts and added a question on the Google form so we can pull those entries out for a separate drawing:

2X05 Duane Barry (Blue)

2X25 Anasazi (White-Full)

4X05 The Field Where I Died (White; Blue-Pages only)

4X14 Leonard Betts (Salmon-Pgs; 2nd Blue-Pages only)

5ABX19 Folie a Deux (Blue-Full)

🚨FOUR MORE RAFFLE PRIZES ADDED🚨

Supernatural: the complete blu-ray box set, donated by HanmeiCui (Twitter)

12.19 "The Future" (pink draft) signed by Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins donated by Kreespa (YouTube)

Curse Box (7.5") made by @thegreencooler

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done essay collection donated by @fangasmspn and signed by J2M, Gil McKinney, and Meg Donnelly.

Necklace made by @thegreencooler "Hey, Lunatic" - Amethyst flakes like a shattered bunker wall with a steel Men of Letters pendant. Adjustable: 17.5 - 22 inches.

[intothedysphoria]

He practically lived in the laundromat.

Steve saw him frequently. Not in like a creepy way. In a sad and lonely way. Because that’s what Steve was. Sad and lonely.

He wore denim and leather and drove an electric blue Camaro and an ornate cross hung from his neck and he was very obviously gay.

The surname was something Steve couldn’t pronounce. Irish. Not anglicised. It had used to be Hargrove apparently. It wasn’t anymore.

The first name was so ordinary though. William. Billy.

Steve sometimes said hello to him, in between watching Rick and Morty on Netflix. Billy would say hello back. Fairly uninterested but polite.

The conversations were usually limited to complaining about professors or the industrial washing machines.

“Alright man?”

“Yeah I’m ok. That new history assignment is a bitch to complete.”

“Damn. See you in next weeks seminar.”

If Steve had half the balls he had in high school, he’d ask him out for a drink. Beer, coffee, hot chocolate. Anything really.

Instead, he gave an awkward thumbs up as that perfectly tanned back walked into the distance.

The next time they met, Billy’s bag split.

There was a significant hole, books struggling to escape as Billy stood, looking crestfallen. And Steve had an idea.

“I could fix it for you. If you want.”

The look on Billy’s face said that Steve could have personally hung each and every star.

The benefits of being a drag queen.

It wasn’t a hard fix at the end of the day but it really was a charming satchel. Pins of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Pokémon sat proudly at the top. He really was a fucking nerd.

Billy hugged him when Steve handed the bag back. It felt soft and warm and genuinely affectionate. None of those things were about to be complained about.

He turned up at Steve’s next drag show. A gay bar Billy never frequented. He was usually at the one which was full to the brim of guys who really liked leather. Not Steve’s one with its terrible 80s night and constant inter club bickering.

Billy told him he liked the show afterwards. The one where Steve had done a cheer routine to Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. He’d make sure to visit again with what Steve thought might have been a wink.

Maybe. He wasn’t 100 sure. Maybe he just had a severe squint.

Billy would now come to sit right next to Steve in seminars. Notebook filled with calligraphy and tiny doodles. Steve’s hopelessly dyslexic handwriting felt exceedingly ugly in comparison. Billy just told him it was unique.

That was one way of putting it. Billy was very kind. And probably went after guys like McKinney or Munson or Tommy. Not Steve.

It didn’t stop Steve from giggling like a schoolgirl whenever Billy gave him a compliment. Which hopefully Billy had chosen to ignore.

Robin set him up on a date after Steve came over with an entire pint of strawberry milkshake and cried on her sofa. Given the amount of time Steve had been on testosterone, he could not just blame it on his period. His period had ended for good like last year.

Jonathan was funny. He was a bit of a nerd, loved old horror films and in any other circumstance, Steve would be enamoured. This was not any other circumstance.

Not when Steve was thinking about Billy being on a date with any other guy. Someone who wasn’t him.

Steve ditched the date halfway through then spent the rest of the evening thinking about how he was a horrible person. Surprisingly, that didn’t help his situation.

Billy asked if he was ok. Of course Steve was ok. Why wouldn’t he be. Nothing wrong here.

Carol asked if he wanted a live laugh love mug and a pink sweater. Steve took the hint.

Telling Billy in theory was easy. Telling Billy in practice was fairly difficult.

He told Billy in the laundromat. Painfully unromantic. Just asked him out for drinks. But Billy was grinning like a six year old.

“Sure. It’s a date.”

Was Billy bouncing on his feet?

When Billy immediately started signing off their texts with hearts and kisses, Steve thought it was.

It is pretty much my two year fandom anniversary give or take a few days and this fic is for @shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @thatgirlwithasquid @oopsiedaisiesbaby @robthegoodfellow @bigdumbbambieyes @thissortofsorcery and @harringroveobsessed for putting up with the incessant messaging and asks and random brainworms I get at like 5AM

[strangerthingfanfic]

*reblog please*

I wanna talk about Patrick McKinney and death and race

White cheerleader only in one episode gets full Vecna visit and death

White newspaper kid who was creepy and only in a couple episodes gets full Vecna treatment and death

Patrick, who is black gets none of it.

I mean literally he was the only one of Vecna’s victims we didn’t see anything about his pain only him mentioning an abusive parent in passing.

And to add to this I constantly see videos that leave him out of the vecna killings.

No one can say it was only because he was a new character or not in it long because Chrissy and Fred we're new and in less than Patrick.

If you can't see the way the Duffers have treated their black characters like crap then your blind.

So just remember if you're a Billy hater for being racist towards Lucas don't forget to add in Mike and The Duffer Brothers

I don't condone the racism from any of them

[creepling]

odd one out - j. slaughter & l. mckinney / 3k

synopsis: reader has been with her boyfriend leland since college started. they are your cookie-cut couple destined for love. that all comes to the flip-side when reader's friend from back home, johnny, pays a visit.

tags: fem!reader x johnny x leland. smut - MDNI. porn with plot. pining!johnny. cuck!leland. cuckholding. fingering (fem receiving). mild knife play. teasing/mocking. oral (male receiving). masturbation. vogeurism. use of 'girl' as pet name. manhandling/roughplay. fucked dumb. emasculation. possessiveness. doggystyle. mating press. breeding kink. unprotected sex.

“Is someone there?” Leland called into your house, holding your hand and standing in front of you protectively.

You had just returned to your dorm with your long-term boyfriend. The two of you have been inseparable since you met in college. And now, he is trying to protect you from the perpetrator who opened the mini fridge in the kitchen.

“It’s probably just one of my roommates, Leland. It’s cool,” You say, soothing his tense arm.

“Your roommate would have answered by now,” He said, standing guard.

The fridge-raider finally shows themselves, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Johnny – your friend from back home – leans against the door frame with a beer bottle in hand. He points it up in greeting, a sly smirk on his face.

“Johnny– what are you doing here?” You say, forcing a smile through your confusion. He had not said anything about visiting in your letters and didn’t leave a message. It was a surprise.

Leland was not so fond of the surprise visit, loosening his tension but crossing his arms over his chest. He never liked your friend, Johnny. He could tell a mile away he was a sack of shit. Everything about him made his skin crawl and bawl fists with anger. He never subscribed to the idea of him being a good friend for you, yet he also did not want to be one of those controlling boyfriends who tell you who to hang out with. Leland prefers to keep his wits about him when Johnny's around.

“I was in the city, thought I’d stop by,” Johnny leaned in to bring you into a hug, holding in his chuckle as he felt Leland’s eyes burning into his skull.

You hug back, clocking the beer in Johnny’s hand. “Well, it seems like you’ve helped yourself. You want something to eat or-?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Leland interrupted, making Johnny’s head turn. You look at Leland, wondering why his face is so stern, but you nod and excuse yourself. You take Leland to your room and shut the door, waiting to hear what he says in private. 

Leland paces the room, which he does when he’s agitated or stressed. You knew he never got along with Johnny. They’re opposites of each other. Something like this, pulling you aside, will only make the chances of them becoming friends impossible. You wished Leland had trust in Johnny, like he has faith in you.

“Don’t you find this a little odd? Him turning up out of nowhere, without calling or anything? You send letters every week, and he never mentioned coming to the city.” Leland voiced his frustrations, waving his hands in the air.

“Maybe he had to go last minute. He always comes in to fetch things for the yard, so no, Leland, I don’t think it’s weird,” You shrug off.

“He should at least have the decency to call you. How many phone booths are in Austin? Thousands!” He sighs out the tension built in his body, feeling guilty about complaining. “I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“I know you don’t see eye to eye. Johnny has his ways. He likes surprising me, and I like seeing him. That’s all it is. He didn’t mean to turn up unannounced.” You wrap your arms around Leland’s neck, looking at him with kind eyes.

“Where’s he gonna sleep?” He asked, convinced by your kindness. You always had a way of calming him down.

“The couch will do him just fine,” You giggle, giving Leland a peck on the cheek. Leland leaned down and kissed you, mentally cursing Johnny for sabotaging his alone time with you. He hides his vexation with a soft smile.

Johnny was sitting on the couch when you entered the standard room, smiling at the sight of you. You ask Leland to fetch more beers from the fridge, cosying up on the armchair across from the couch. Leland obliges and opens the fridge door, greeted with the empty sight. “All gone,” he called over.

“Dang, musta had the last one,” Johnny tutted, waving the empty beer bottle.

No shit, Sherlock, Leland thought.

“I can go to the store and get some more?” You suggest.

“No, it’s too late for you to be alone. I’ll go,” Leland said, pulling his jacket back on.

“Such a gentleman,” Johnny remarked, mockingly smiling at Leland, earning a hard stare from the brunette.

Leland went to the store before you could tell him off for glaring. Once Leland was out the door, Johnny looked back over to you, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

“Don’t call him that,” You tell Johnny, smiling at his so-called ‘playfulness’.

“What?” Johnny chuckled, acting dumbfounded.

“A gentleman, it’s patronizing,” You laugh, finding Johnny’s chuckle and charming smile contagious.

“I didn’t mean to offend him in any way, and you know that. I’m happy for ya. A pretty girl got herself a pretty boy,” Johnny badgers on, “a match made in heaven.”

You laugh it off, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, peering out the window for the sight of Leland coming back. Johnny flicks the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, carefully examining your features. You only got more beautiful as you got older, and if your strict family did not make you off-limits to him, he would have had you sooner. You could've been his fine-looking woman instead of that college boy rut getting the privilege to enjoy you. The thought of Leland acting all ‘boy-next-door’ to please your family sickened him. At least Johnny stayed true to who he was. Except Johnny was always the bad boy who was too old for you, a bad influence on you. He would corrupt you and take you down a destructive path. They were right about that, but Johnny cursed his inability to manipulate you. Once you looked back from the window, Johnny relaxed his face and kept his cool, as if the thoughts in his head were nonexistent. 

“How’s college treatin’ ya? You still the brains of the operation?” Johnny asks.

“Oh, y’know, I like it, but there are people here smarter and got more chance,” You shrug. Johnny slowly shook his head in disagreement.

“I mind you being a pretty face with brains. That’s a rarity. There ain’t no one like you,” The compliment made you smile bashfully, your mind not fully accustomed to the philosophy.

You never knew how to reply to Johnny at times since most interactions with him are compliments – flirtation, but he had a good way of hiding it. Maybe that’s why Leland can’t appreciate him. He senses the intentions. To you, it’s all just fun. Johnny could have any girl he pleased and took pride in that. When he flirts with you, you think nothing of it. Johnny wants nothing more than just flirtatious banter.

What you thought wasn’t the truth. To Johnny, you are the girl he wants. The forever girl, the one he wants to settle with. Even killers have wives, the one women they tokenise. How could anyone suspect him if he’s occupied with the Southern bell of Newt? It is his one-way ticket to displaying reformation.

“Yer man’s taking an awful while,” Johnny muttered, tutting.

“The store’s quite a bit away,” You say.

Still, it’s time for Johnny to buy. He watches you stand and excuse yourself to your bedroom. “I’m gonna go change. I won’t be long.” You say.

Johnny timed it in his head, counting the beats of his heart. He slowly rises from the couch and takes off his jacket, slinging it over the sofa. Before entering your bedroom door, he fixes his hair and sucks on his teeth.

*

Leland frowns at the absence of you and Johnny, the bag of beer cans dangling from his fingers. His heart began to race, expecting the worst. His mind convinces him of a better solution as he places the bag on the table and removes his jacket. Johnny’s finally left, and you’re away to bed. That’s all it is.

He heard moans coming from the bedroom, your moans. His heart sank. They got louder as he stood there, taunting him in his fragile state. Rage burrowed within him and began to come to the surface. He stormed to your bedroom door, planning to swing it open and start the confrontation. But his hand trembles as he lingers on the door handle. A lump forms in his throat, and all he can muster is slowly opening the door. The door creaks as he shuffles inside, forcing his eyes to witness the atrocity.

Johnny had you bent over his knee, your clothes hanging by a thread on your body. His fingers were toying with your cunt as you mewled into your hand. Leland eyes are blown out wide, and he balls his hands into fists. Johnny smirks sinisterly.

“Get your hands off-” Leland protested, but he was cut short at the sight of Johnny holding up a knife.

“I guessed you would try that, so I suggest you don’t. Or I’ll cut her up bit by bit,” Johnny threatened, “You like it anyways, don’t ya, darlin’?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat closed, shame shivering over you. Leland fought the urge to scream, tears collecting on his waterline. “Please… just don’t hurt her,”

“This is what we’re gonna do, pretty boy. I’m gonna fuck your girlfriend, and you’re gonna stand there and watch,” Johnny ordered, keeping his knife tight as he ran the blunt end up your spine. You gasp at the cold feeling on your skin. The breathy tones of your moans petrified Leland. Were you enjoying this?

When he sensed Leland would comply, Johnny returned to touching you, collecting your arousal in his fingers as he ran along your glistening slit. You bit your lip, glancing at your boyfriend with lulled eyes. “It’s okay, Leland. I’m okay,” You reassure him, humiliated by his dumbfounded expression. A moan runs from your lips as you feel Johnny enter a finger inside you, slowly pulsing into your warmth.

Johnny never takes it slow, but he wanted Leland to soak up every movement he made. Prolong the experience as much as possible until it breaks him. Leland backed into the corner of the room, leaning against the wall to hold himself up. Johnny chuckled at the sight of the boy’s hands shaking.

“She’s real tight,” Johnny drawled, “you must not fuck her enough. If it was me, not even a crowbar could pry me off her,”

Leland shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek, wishing he could beat the shit out of him. Nonetheless, he knows better than to get violent. Your life was on the line as Leland carefully watched where Johnny placed his knife. His breath hitched when its sharp end hovered and glazed your skin.

Johnny slid another figure inside you, quickly grabbing your hair with his other hand and pinching his knife between his fingers. His lips lean to your ear, his deep chuckle fogging your concentration.

“Look at him, just standing there, not doing a thing. You really date this pussy?” Johnny taunted. You press your lips into a frown, but your moans are audible, shattering Leland’s ears.

Johnny slips his fingers out, smacks your ass, and orders you to kneel. You comply, gazing at Johnny’s figure towering over you, his hand stroking the bulge in his jeans. “Gonna be a good girl for me?”

Thankful your back was turned from Leland, your lustful eyes look to Johnny in awe. In compliance, you nod your head. Johnny unbuckled his jeans, mesmerised by your eyes and forgetting Leland was in the room. Johnny cusps his hand behind your head and reveals his cock, guiding your lulling, drooling mouth towards him.

Leland silently winced, his lips in a grimace. At the sight, but more so of the feeling coursing through him. Gawking at your arched back, your head bobbing, your lips firm and perked on the tip of Johnny’s cock. He yearned to see your face, the way you look up at him when you suck his dick. Going steady with determination – for your nose to graze his snail trail. Leland sighs, hovering his hand on his crotch, feeling his jeans tighten. That should be him giving pleasure. Johnny captivates you, his cock a few inches bigger than his own, his member filling your mouth until you gag. Leland detects a twitch from his erection, pining for the touch of another.

Johnny changes the mood from across the room, shooting Leland an analytic side-eye. His lips tuck up a smirk at the sight of his hand slightly on his tightening jeans.

“Would you look at that,” Johnny awes mockingly, “Yer man’s starting to like it.”

Leland avoids eye contact with Johnny, focusing on your hushed eyes, trailing down to your craning neck, your movement eager and hungry. Leland unbuckles his jeans, shame overtaking him like a cold sweat.

“Say Leland, you like seeing ya girl sucking good dick?” Johnny taunts further before drawing his attention back to you, readying his hips to buck his cock deeper into your throat.

Leland strokes his cock, collecting his precum and warming the tip, biting his lip. The sounds of your struggle, mixed with greedy drool, send him into a spiral.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, girl,” Johnny groans, fucking your face into oblivion. Leland suppressed his whines, squeezing his eyes shut and bucking into the warmth of his hand. Sweat drips down his goosebumped neck, and he shivers from the mix of hot and cold sensations. Fear and arousal consume him, the tinge of anger lingering in his manner as he hastily pleasures himself.

Johnny slides his cock slickly out of your mouth. You gasp for air, a string of drool connecting your bottom lip to his tip. It drips on the floor as Johnny motions you to the bed vigorously, prompting your knees at the edge of the bed, pressing your cheek against his as his hand grips your neck. His manhandling sends a shiver down your spine. He whispers flattery into your ear, anticipating the warmth of your pussy, massaging your breasts and pressing his dick between your ass cheeks.

Knife tossed to one side, Johnny reigns your hips with his callous hands, the immersive size of his fingers squeezing your tender skin. His dick teases your entrance, motioning your hips to beckon him inside you. Leland attempts to suppress his pathetic moans as you beg Johnny to fuck you. Please. Please.

Johnny curses under his breath, the lustrous power controlling his instincts and satisfying him like a drug. His obsession transfers into his body as he clings onto you, pushing his cock slowly into your slick cunt, sighing in satisfaction at your breathy moans.

You perk your hips to adjust to Johnny’s size. He was bigger than Leland, his girth acting as pressure against your firm walls, encouraging the pulse of your heat to welcome him. “Johnny,” You whine, “Fuuuuuck.”

Leland could cry on the spot. Forced to succumb to the pleasure you felt from another and clouded with a carnal giddiness, gratification drowning your thoughts. He was a fly on the wall, sensing your love and passion poisoned by primitive arousal. His primal instincts conflicted with him. His heart now shattered, but his cock twitched, and he touched himself with more robustness. 

“That’s it, take it all in,” Johnny sinisterly encouraged. He advanced against your firmness, burrowing his cock deep inside you, finding your sweet spot as you gasped in satisfaction. His eyes-lids droop at the feeling of you tightening around him, your cunt salivating in anticipation. Johnny bucks his hips and graduates into thrusts. His breath hitched as he picked up the pace.

You surprised yourself when your stomach fluttered at the animalistic nature of Johnny’s technique. Your knees buckled under his muscular frame, your hands gripping the sheets. Johnny takes his strong arms to hold up your fragile weight, pressing you against his chest. Whines pour off your lips as he smacks your ass and bites your neck. You thought about telling him to slow down, but the majority outvoted it – you didn’t want him to stop.

Passion and sweetness were absent as Leland leaned harder onto the wall, unbuttoning his shirt as sweat dripped down him. His abs glistening and absent of your touch, he spits on his hand and wraps the moisture around his aching cock, wishing for warmth. Leland observes Johnny’s thick arms entangling your body – all those nights of passionate lovemaking gone to waste. If he knew you liked it like this, he would have given you what you wanted and acted on the dreams he wished were reality. Now, he witnesses the result of his procrastination and watches Johnny fuck his girlfriend better than he ever could.

Johnny’s stamina does not come close to faltering. His pace is consistent and rigid. He only slows down when he feels the build-up in his stomach, stalking his climax to prolong the moment he has manifested for so long. “You know how long I spent thinking about you?” Johnny husked into your ear, “About fucking you, having you as mine? It’s been too damn long. Yeah, I’m going to enjoy this.”

You whine as Johnny’s cock slips out of you, but he quickly turns you around and pins you down on the bed. His hands manhandle your thighs, pinning them down as his eyes hunger on your pulsing cunt. He latches his mouth on your plump lips, and your tongue welcomes his, letting the roughness of his tongue explore your mouth. His mass towers over you as his cock aligns with your entrance. Johnny enters you again with another deep thrust, his length more profound than before. It causes you to yelp, his tip kissing your hymen.

“Not used to a dick this big, darlin’?” Johnny teased, smirking against your lips. His dark eyes pour into yours, and you get caught in a trance. You let his stare overtake your vision, moans bubbling in your throat as he propels deeper into you. 

“You’re mine now. After getting fucked this good, you’ll never wanna see Loverboy again. Ain’t that right?” Johnny growled, his hands gripping your thighs. The reality of his words pierced through your cock-hungry mind. You glance over at Leland, biting your lip at the sight of him pleasuring himself. His eyes locked on yours, his groans audible as you whine as Johnny’s cock pummels into you. As Leland was close to climax, he squeezed his eyes shut, breaking contact. You look back at Johnny. His gaze fixated on your bouncing breasts before staring back at you.

“I wanna come inside you so bad,” Johnny’s words escaped. You look down at his cock fucking into you, your high rising. Johnny’s affirmation wanders in your mind before you moan in defeat, pleading it to be reality.

“Come inside me,” You squeak, your mind overstimulated and hasty. “Fuck. Please, Johnny.”

Aroused by your words, Johnny plunges your pussy, picking up the pace and gripping your neck. His forehead pressed against yours, and your shaking breaths harmonise with the vibration of his growls. The muscles tensing in his neck and the flex of his arms are enough to let your body surrender to him and prepare for his seed.

“‘M gonna fuck my cum into this little pussy. That’ll be enough to make ya mine, eh darlin’?” Johnny mumbles into your ear. You grow lightheaded as his harsh drills bring you to your climax, your bottom lip and legs quivering simultaneously.

“That’s it, girl. Come all over my dick. I’m so close, baby. So close,” Johnny grunts, “I’m gonna fill you up so good. Gonna make ya mine.”

Strings of hot seed fill your insides, and Johnny gasps and growls into your neck, his teeth scraping down your flesh. From the corner of your eye, you witness Leland moan and finish in his hands, his cum pathetically dripping off his knuckles and onto the hardwood floor. It was no match to Johnny’s broad frame pressing against you, his scent mistifying your senses. His dick slowly slips out of your sensitive walls, basking at the rutting sight of you with a smirk.

He had fucked you dumb, and the lust in your eyes was enough to beckon a second round. As Johnny tried to catch his breath, he glanced at Leland in his submissive state. He was now sitting on the floor, looking sadly at his mess. Johnny couldn’t paint a better picture if he could, and he enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

“Don’t think she’ll want you after that, pretty boy,” Johnny mocked, laughing at Leland’s defeat. “She’s better off with me, anyways. Don’t you worry, I’ll be sure to show her a good time – but you already know that.”

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 3: Best Friends

Word Count: 756/Rating: M/Pairing: None/CW: canon-compliant, bullying, violence/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, Jason Carver, Andy, Patrick McKinney, Lucas Sinclair, Gareth's POV, canon dialogue used throughout

Divider credit to @silkholland

Eddie Munson is not a punctual person, but he’s always on time for two things: Hellfire Club meetings and band practice. 

So when he’s nowhere to be found nearly fifteen minutes after practice is supposed to start, Gareth can’t help but worry. 

“Maybe we should just start without him?” Jeff offers shyly, unsure if it’s the right call or not. 

Grant shakes his head. “We’ll give him another five minutes. Maybe he got pulled over again.”

Gareth nods, but his insides churn. Something is wrong. He can feel it. 

That sense of dread is confirmed when Jason Carver, Patrick McKinney, and Andy Shay make their way up to the garage. 

Gareth notices them first, bringing his drumming to an abrupt end. Jeff and Grant go still when they see what caused him to stop playing. 

Fear catches in Gareth’s throat. He’s never had a pleasant interaction with any of them. Every conversation has ended with mockery or the jocks shoving him to the ground. 

That was how Gareth had met Eddie—the former had been pushed into a locker by Andy, seeing stars as his books fell to the ground. Eddie stopped to help him, saw his notebook filled with angsty song lyrics and DnD-inspired doodles, and the rest was history. 

“Who’re you?” Gareth asked, finding his balance to stand up. 

Eddie just grinned. “Your new best friend.”

Now, Gareth ignores the hammering in his chest as he steps out from behind his drum set. 

“A little early, fellas,” he says, hoping his confident stride hides his nervousness. “Show’s not till next week.”

“Oh, that was music you were playing?” Andy smirks. 

Jason wastes no time in explaining the reason for their surprise visit. “We’re looking for Eddie Munson,” he says sharply. “He’s in this band…if that’s what you can even call this.”

“What d’you care?” If Jason is looking for Eddie, it certainly isn’t to form some jock-freak truce. Not with the fire blazing in Jason’s eyes. 

“That’s our business.” Jason snaps back. 

Before Gareth can answer, his eyes lock onto a familiar, reluctant face. 

“Lucas? What’re you doing with these douchebags?”

Trepidation washes over Lucas’s face. “We’re just trying to find Eddie, man.”

“Well, you have eyes, don’t you? He’s not here.” And I’ll be damned if you get any information out of me, he thinks. If the roles were reversed, Eddie would shield Gareth from whatever wrath the jocks wanted to unleash. 

Jason nods, the information processing, and Gareth lets himself relax. Okay, he’ll leave now. Whatever crusade they’re on, it’s—

Knuckles connect with Gareth’s cheek, stunning him. He wills himself to stay standing, aided by Jeff and Grant propping him back up. 

Jason’s fingers dig into the fabric of Gareth’s vest. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

There’s another frustrated punch, this time to his stomach. As he doubles over, he sees that Andy and Patrick have cornered his friends. 

I gotta help them; I gotta stop this—

A muscled arm wraps around his neck, pulling him into a headlock. He fights to get out, the two grappling for dominance, but Gareth knows it’s all over when Jason flings him into the drum set. The cymbal echoes, an ironic bit of finality. 

Pain sears through his hand as Jason’s sneakered foot presses it deeper into the carpet. He keeps one hand on Gareth’s head, holding him in place as he bellows, “it’s gonna be hard to play those drums with a broken hand!”

Gareth lets out a guttural scream. Eddie wouldn’t crack, he knows. Eddie would protect him, come hell or high water. Eddie had protected him. 

But it’s too much, and he can feel his bones aching under Jason’s foot. It hurts—it hurts—it fucking hurts—

“DUSTIN!” Shame courses through Gareth’s veins as the name leaves his lips. 

Confusion seeps through Jason’s rage. “What?”

“DUSTIN HENDERSON! DUSTIN HENDERSON!” Shut up stop talking but it fucking hurts… “He was callin’ around, looking for Eddie.” You coward, ratting out your best friend. “Maybe he found him. Maybe he found…”

Jason lets out a soft scoff. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He steps off of Gareth’s fingers, but it does nothing to alleviate the weight of Gareth’s guilt. Pathetic. Eddie’s your best friend. He would never cower like you did. You let him down. You let everyone down. 

The jocks say something else before they leave, but Gareth doesn’t register any of it. He can only hope that his gutlessness won’t come back to haunt him—or his best friend. 

--

[jaminster]

RATED [E]

Fandom: Left 4 Dead 2

Characters: Ellis McKinney, Nicholas Dillon, Mentions of Yolanda Dillon (Nick’s Ex-Wife, Original Character), Kat (Minor Original Character)

Tags: Sequel, Plumber Ellis McKinney, Divorcee Nicolas Dillon, Porn With Plot, Porn With Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Prompt Fic.

Word Count: 3,500

Summary:

It's been nearly 4 weeks since Ellis McKinney, a plumber, visited Nicolas Dillon's house to fix a clogged toilet. Since then, a lot of things have happened with Nick, mainly him finally filing for a divorce with Yolanda. But unfortunately, the war isn't over yet, so he's decided to get some fresh air and pay the local pub a visit, which seems to be the right decision.

[adaptacy]

Hello! I absolutely adore your Leland and Johnny fics (they keep their respective tags afloat imo). I was wondering if you could do a Leland McKinney x Reader (gn or fem preferably) where the two meet at one of his wrestling meets. Maybe the reader is working for the yearbook at a different school and takes pictures during each match. I don't have much to this other than that. Or, maybe you could even do a Leland McKinney x Sawyer!Reader. Reader takes a liking to Leland and keeps him alive while the others are being hunted by the rest of the family. That, or Reader has been dating Leland and brings them down to the Sawyer house, get the reactions or something. (I have even less ideas on this little blurb cause I came up with it while writing the other idea).

Hii! I love lov lov lov writing for leland so any fluff i will absolutely pump out <3

hes such a pretty boy disclaimer: im not a sports girlie i was a theatre girlie so i have no clue how wrestling works LMAO

(GN)reader kinda got the rizz ngl

Highschool!Leland but all characters depicted are 18+!

Holding up the camera to your eye, you squinted, kneeling down as a brunette rolled off of his back, tangled up with a slightly smaller blonde, sweat building on both of their bodies despite the gymnasium being well-conditioned. You snapped a picture, and the brunette glanced in your direction to shoot a cheesy grin, but his moment of cockiness resulted in the blonde beneath him rolling him back onto his back.

"One... two... three!" The coach called, and a sharp whistle rang in your ears.

You stepped back, watching as the two boys on the mat panted, and the blonde released the brunette and stood up. The brunette frowned, but eased up and pulled himself to his feet as well, dusting himself off and wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

"Take five, you guys go get some water. Next rounds will start soon," the coach directed, and both teams nodded, returning to their huddles as they discussed the outcome of the rounds so far. The school you were visiting was currently in the lead, but your school had been steadily catching up.

Truth be told, you were beginning to believe the just-beaten brunette was unbeatable, he'd been doing spectacularly so far, but it seems his confidence was getting to him. Not that you were all that into sports, but you were responsible for taking and putting the photos into context for the yearbook, so you tried your best to pay attention to what exactly was going on.

For the time being, though, you needed to get a second roll of film, as you were running out. You'd left your things out in the hallway, so you turned, letting your camera go slack against your chest from the band it hung from, and headed out of the gym.

"Gonna go, uh- get some water, I'll be right back," you heard a boy say, and it wasn't long before there was a familiar face by your side as you pushed open the gymnasium doors.

"You lost your streak," you remarked, and the brunette wore a small, almost hurt smile, giving a scoff.

"You were distracting," he replied, following you to where your bag sat on a small bench. "You don't go here, do you?"

"No, I don't, I'm visiting with the team. Yearbook duty. How'd you guess?" You chuckled, picking up your camera and fidgeting with it until you opened a slot for the film.

"Definitely would've remembered your face if you did go here. Guess that means we're rivals, huh?" He smirked, reaching out a hand. "Leland."

You looked at his hand and reached forward, shaking it before returning your attention to your camera. "Don't group me in with the guys in tights. I'm not your rival, just a spectator," you laughed softly, inserting the new roll of film into your camera.

"Awh, but rivals is so much more interesting than strangers," he responded, soon motioning towards your cameras. "Did you get some good angles?"

"Of you, or of the matches?"

"Both."

"You're hard to get bad angles of, so, I'd say so. I sure hope I got some good angles of the matches," you flirted, and Leland gained a small blush over his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck. "You gonna go get your water, or did you step out just to get me alone?"

"To get you alone," he confessed, shrugging. "You're cute. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about wrestling," he offered, and then when you blushed, he realized how that could be interpreted, and he immediately waved his hands and laughed nervously, shaking his head. "Not- not like that, I mean, unless- No, sorry, not in that way, I just meant-"

"It's alright, I know what you meant," you giggled, dropping your camera against your torso again. "I could use the help. Gotta write captions for the pictures, after all. Plus..." You glanced him up and down, a small smirk forming. "I wouldn't be complaining if I got some more in-depth tutoring done."

Leland smiled, and then his eyes widened, and he laughed nervously again, biting the inside of his cheek. "Sure, I can... definitely make that work. Wouldn't mind helping you out, even if you are a rival," he teased. You could hear a whistle from inside the gymnasium, and both of you glanced over.

"I'll give you my number after the matches, yeah? Don't want you getting too distracted," you chuckled, and Leland rolled his eyes, pushing open the gymnasium doors.

"Little late for that, sweetheart. You just keep takin' those pictures. I'll win for you, yeah?" He smiled, and you gave a small smile.

"Yeah, right. We'll see about that. Get in there, tiger."

He shot you a wink before turning and heading back over to where both teams and the coach were waiting for him, and he offered a half-genuine apology. You chuckled to yourself, finishing up your film change before heading back inside to keep taking pictures.

[val-from-lawrence]

Cause there's no better love (that beckons above me)

by citrusmuppet

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Carol Perkins/Nancy Wheeler

Character: The Party (Stranger Things), Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Wayne Munson, Mielikki (Dungeons & Dragons), Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Chrissy Cunningham, Patrick McKinney, Fred Benson, Barbara "Barb" Holland, Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Joyce Byers, Jonathan Byers, Argyle (Stranger Things), Death (OC), Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Susan Hargrove, Carol Perkins, Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons)

Additional Tags:

References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Steddie but if they were cursed by the gods, Hurt/Comfort, Eddie Munson in the Upside Down, Eddie Munson awakens an old god with his music, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Vampire Eddie Munson, Dungeons & Dragons References, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Soulmates, Apollo Being an Asshole (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Vikings, Slow Burn, Eddie Munson as Kas the Betrayer (Dungeons & Dragons), Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, druid Steve Harrington, Blood Drinking, Fix-It of Sorts, Virgin Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunninham had an eating disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Undeath, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, Bisexual Carol Perkins, Bisexual Nancy Wheeler

Words: 108,689

Chapters: 19/30

Summary

Her gaze caught Steve’s, “Apollo visited you already.” Every muscle in Steve’s body grew taut, “How-” He began, only to be cut off by a shriek of laughter from Eddie. “Apollo? The Greek God of the Sun?” Why would Eddie know about Apollo? “It wasn’t a dream, Steven. It was a memory. Apollo always offers you the same deal.” She intoned, and Steve’s mind was in a whirlwind of chaos at her statement. Because if that wasn’t a dream, if it was a memory then that would make…he swung his head around to look at Eddie and this time…this time he really looked because that would make him- Steve’s soulmate. Eddie should be dead right now. By all accounts, this was the end of the road for them. The kaleidoscopic feelings and memories began to fill in Steve’s mind and he knew. Knew that under other circumstances that what they’d had up to this point was all they usually got. OR Eddie awakens a sleeping goddess with his guitar in the Upside Down and changes the course of their fight with Vecna and the Mindflayer.

[writingquestionsanswered]

I just recently came across your blog but I love it so much!! I’ve always wanted to write and have always had a passion for it. One of my bucket list items is to write a novel. Do you have any suggestions on how to come up with story ideas? I feel like I have a few ideas but they’re more suited for short stories than novels

Tackling "Bucket List" Item of Writing a Novel

Introduction to NaNoWriMo/Coming Up with Ideas

Actually, you've picked a great time to tackle this bucket list item, but we'll get more into that in a moment...

September: If you have ideas that would work for short stories, use the rest of this month to start writing them. They don't have to be perfect (or even good)... the point is to try, because good writing takes practice, and practice means bad writing leads to good writing. You can also start Filling Your Creative Well which will help make your mind a fertile ground for new ideas. You can also do writing prompts (you can find them here on Tumblr, via Google, or in creative writing prompt books.) And, read some books--or at least start reading book blurbs in genres you're interested in.

October: Happy Preptober!!! Now is the time to start gathering up ideas for your novel. You may also want to familiarize yourself with some basics like Literary Fiction vs Genre Fiction, Plot Driven vs Character Driven Stories, and Understanding Goals and Conflict. My posts Guide: How to Turn Ideas into a Story, Guide: Starting a New (Long Fiction) Story, and How to Move a Story Forward might also be helpful. You might also do a Google search for "Preptober Workbook" as many writers and writing coaches offer free or low cost workbooks that will help you develop your ideas into a novel. And why are we doing this in October???

November: Time to write your novel! Happy NaNoWriMo!!! NaNoWriMo (short for National Novel Writing Month) is a 24-year-old writing initiative that challenges people to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days or less. Although NaNoWriMo is just about getting a story down on paper (it doesn't have to be stellar), many popular and successful novels were drafted during NaNoWriMo, including Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus, Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants, Marissa Meyer's Cinder, and L.L. McKinney's A Blade So Black. NaNoWriMo is completely free and has a great web site where you can track your progress, and forums where you can chat with other participants. While there's no reward for "winning," there are usually a lot of great offers from sponsors, such as huge discounts on writing programs like Scrivener, so it's worth participating and trying to reach your goal.

You can learn more on the NaNoWriMo . org web site, and in my previous posts about NaNoWriMo:

NaNoWriMo: Picking an Idea Staying Pumped Until NaNoWriMoNaNoWriMo: Necessities for PlannersPacing Yourself During NaNoWriMo

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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The Importance of Prenatal Check-ups: A Mother's Guide

Embarking on the incredible journey of pregnancy comes with the responsibility of prioritizing both the mother's health and the health of the growing baby. Prenatal visits in Frisco, a vital aspect of prenatal care checkups, play a pivotal role in ensuring a smooth and healthy pregnancy. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the significance of prenatal visits, highlighting the crucial role of prenatal care services and the expertise provided by prenatal care specialists. This guide addresses common questions and concerns that mothers-to-be may have throughout this transformative experience.

Early Detection and Intervention:

Prenatal visits, a core component of prenatal care services, allow healthcare professionals to monitor the baby's growth and development from the early stages. These regular prenatal checkups help identify any potential issues or complications, enabling timely intervention and management. Early detection, facilitated by dedicated prenatal care specialists in mckinney, can make a significant difference in the outcome of both the pregnancy and the baby's health.

Monitoring Maternal Health:

Prenatal care checkups encompass a holistic assessment, focusing not only on the baby but also on the well-being of the mother. These prenatal visits provide an opportunity for prenatal care specialists to monitor vital signs such as blood pressure and weight, ensuring the mother is in optimal condition to carry and deliver a healthy baby.

Educational Opportunities:

Prenatal care services, offered during prenatal visits, are educational opportunities for expectant mothers. Prenatal care specialists use these appointments to provide information on nutrition, exercise, and lifestyle choices that contribute to a healthy pregnancy. Mothers-to-be can actively engage in discussions, asking questions and gaining insights into the various stages of pregnancy.

Screening for Genetic Conditions:

Prenatal care specialists conduct screenings and tests during prenatal checkups to assess the risk of genetic conditions and birth defects. These prenatal care services in Frisco provide peace of mind or, if needed, help parents prepare for potential challenges. Understanding the baby's health status early on empowers parents to make informed decisions about their pregnancy.

Emotional Support and Guidance:

Pregnancy, both a physical and emotional journey, benefits from the supportive environment fostered during prenatal visits. Prenatal care specialists not only monitor physical health but also address the emotional well-being of mothers-to-be. Open communication during these prenatal checkups helps alleviate anxieties, providing a positive and confident mindset.

Preparing for Labor and Delivery:

Prenatal care services extend to discussions about birth plans and preferences during prenatal visits. Prenatal care specialists guide expectant mothers in understanding the labor and delivery process, reducing stress and contributing to a positive birthing experience.

Prioritizing prenatal visits, which encompass prenatal care checkups in mckinney facilitated by dedicated prenatal care specialists, is foundational to a healthy pregnancy. By embracing the guidance, support, and early detection provided during these appointments, expectant mothers lay the groundwork for a smoother pregnancy journey and a healthy start to parenthood.

[serpentinesheldonserpentine]

Attitude. Duende. SWAGGER.

Pete Hamil and Jimmy Breslin. When giants walked the earth.

"Back in the day, I mean, you would buy the paper to see what Jimmy Breslin's saying. You know, what Pete Hamill [says]. I mean, those guys were like superstars.”– Spike Lee.

For the better part of four decades they roamed the city, talking to regular people and pounding out hundreds of thousands of words on deadline, becoming as noisy and funny and infuriating and integral a part of the city as the subway. What Breslin and Hamill did not do was wait around in hallways to be handed the official version of events. — Chris Smith writing in Vulture, 2019

Our friend @culturaloffering lamented the absence of swagger in today’s newspaper writers. While Breslin and Hamill were columnists, not newspaper beat writers, they both worked at major dailies and on deadline.

Today Breslin never could have an exchange in the pages of his paper with the at-large Son of Sam Killer, complimenting him on his use of a semicolon and asking him to surrender. “Too risky, an editor would advise. Legal says we might get sued”.

And Hamill? Oh, my. Adam Gopnik captured Pete perfectly: "A storyteller and man of the world, civil-rights activist and music critic, Brooklyn-bred but Manhattan-bound (as the Brooklyn-bred were for so long), Pete was the kind of figure who could be called, on the morning of his death, and in the Daily News, no less, “the Bard of the five boroughs”—called that straight up, no chaser, without the least trace of an ironic wink."

In Philadelphia we had Pete Dexter, a guy who appeared seemingly from nowhere, actually from the Dakotas and later, Florida. Dexter was a must read in a tabloid of must-reads. I remember the erudite and wise Chuck Stone, former aid to Adam Clayton Powell and tireless advocate for civil rights. Many on the lam Black criminals surrendered to Chuck, fearful of the notorious Philly cops. Jack McKinney, friend of boxer Sonny Liston. Jack would go away to The Troubles in Northern Ireland and write what he saw. Or to Latin America. Or the Greater Northeast ( a Philly neighborhood). He also hosted radio and TV shoes where he specialized in making everyone feel seen, heard, respected. He was a giant.

Where did I come in? Oh, yeah. Dexter. Pete Dexter wrote columns that delighted and infuriated people in equal measure. Pete was so good that he was beaten, almost to death, by a crowd of unhappy readers. It happened in a Grays Ferry Bar Pete visited to further explain his viewpoint from a recent column. Rather than complaining to the paper Ombudsman, the patrons locked the door and went at Dexter, some swinging rebar. They rarely missed.

I have a short honor roll of columnists I read as a man in my twenties. Breslin. Hamill. Dexter. McKinney. Jim Murray, the baseball sage from California. His column about losing his vision still produces a catch in my throat: "I lost an old friend the other day. He was blue-eyed, impish; he cried a lot with me, saw a great many things with me. I don’t know why he left me. Boredom perhaps.”

I don't think the Soy Boy Eunuch crowd at what passes for "the papers” as we called them can stomach reading these greats, much less trying to emulate them.

Great writing is always in short supply, but my God has it deserted the dailies?

[nerdragenewvegas]

Fallout fics I've gone and done

Outing myself as Cantique the Ao3 gremlin here I guess. These all contain smut.

A Well Timed Scandal - Cooper Howard/Female Reader. Pre war (will go into the post-war timeline.) No current content warnings but I'll be tagging as I go. Will be multi chapter. Johnny places his cigarette in the carved out groove of the ash tray, leaning in and resting his elbows on the desk, like he’s leveling with you. “You wanna know why we cast Gilda in Empire on the Nile?” He asks. “Because there was one too many rumors about Keith McKinney being a fan of ‘Greek stuff’ for us to contend with. Now, originally, we just wanted them seeing each other,” he admits, “but I’m not gonna complain with the results.”

“So you want me to marry Cooper Howard?”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Marry? No, no, lets play that by ear,” he seemingly assures you. “What we want — need — you two to do is make it look like you’ve been having an affair.” You must look like you’ve seen a ghost. This is insane. “Explains his divorce, gets people talking about you two as a pair, gets eyes on this movie you’re filming together — now, don’t go outright saying it, of course. We just wanna’ make people read between the lines, get them curious enough to get them into the theater to see the chemistry on the screen.” 

--- Kinda Like a Cowboy - The Ghoul/Lucy, contains spoilers, porn with plot. Please read the tags for CNs but there are definitely CNs. Unhinged stuff involving guns. Currently two chapters but I'm cooking a third.

"I’d be real careful with that line o’ thinkin’,” he warns, raising an arm and bringing it to brace against the wall beside her head, all but pinning her to it. They may not be physically touching, but they’re so close to it and he’s looking at her like she’s a meal (which should be concerning because she knows he literally eats people) and she really, really wishes they were touching right now. “Because I can be nice. Real nice.” His free hand reaches up to her face, and she’s so focused on watching his expression and how close his face is to hers that she doesn’t even realize until his thumb brushes over the barely-healing split in her lip. “…But I don’t think nice is what ya’ want, is it?” More under the cut, they're New Vegas fics fyi~

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Doctrine & Covenants - Joshua Graham/Female Courier with some Vulpes/Female Courier and Boone/Female Courier. Extremely longform (48 chapters, 286,349 words and still going) fic that I've been working on since 2022. It's imperative you read the tags and heed the content warnings as it does contain some noncon. First chapter is a little rough and I'll rework it one day but the rest is fine. Tells the story of Courier Six confronting her own trauma when she visits Zion in Honest Hearts thanks to Joshua not so much teaching her about God (although he tries) but teaching her about forgiveness and love despite sin. Lowkey a bit of a personal one for me as I'm an ex-mormon myself and it's been a nice avenue for me to kinda work through my own feelings while deconstructing.

“I will not judge you – I understand better than anyone else what it’s like to be willing to do anything to escape your own history,” he explains, “but you are a good neighbor to us. The tribe cares for you, Follows-Chalk and Waking Cloud care for you, and I care for you.” He holds her gaze as he says this, speaking firmly, as though there’s no room to budge on his statement. “And as someone who cares for you, I want to let you know that this is something we can help with if you wish.”

Six doesn’t say anything, her jaw tense as she casts her eyes downwards, and Joshua worries that he’s lost her.

“And as for whatever has happened before you came to us,” he says, “I want you to know that it is forgiven in Zion.”

Six shifts uncomfortably, her eyes glancing up at him, but only momentarily. “I’m not religious, Joshua,” she says. “That’s sweet, but I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he says plainly. “I’m not speaking for God, though. I am speaking for myself.”

“But you don’t even know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t need to. All I need is to know who you are now.” ---

Raze It, Raze It - Joshua Graham/Female Courier. Oneshot, there's smut in here. Honest Hearts bad ending but the Courier is an enabler and basically encourages Joshua to keep going until he's started a holy war. Make sure to read the tags for CNs.

“Bring me Vulpes Inculta alive and I will give you a child.”

He gazes up at her when she says this, in awe of her naked form as she takes him so well, his fingers digging into her supple thighs, the light that pours in through the seams of their tent illuminating her from behind. She is divine. Remarkable. A miracle. And she offers him a child, an opportunity to have the eternal family he had been sure he had lost all right to. At first, he had thought they would go without. He has two decades on her at even his most conservative of guesses, and she is so young and healthy compared to him that if not sent to him directly by God, he’d be sure this was perverse.

But despite his age and despite his burns and past and all that he is, here she is; the most feminine of all forms, joined with him at the flesh, offering to grow and bare his child. All of her, this perfect creature, here, for him and only him.

“Anything,” he finally says. He reaches a hand up to cup her face and she nestles into it, her cheek so soft against his own burnt and scarred palm as she rides him. Oh, she’s so beautiful. He watches her on the battlefield, striking down Legionary after Legionary, a true Holy Host. If Joshua is the sword, she is the arrow.