#wanted to get this done before halloween. success!!

[abrielarnold]

chapter 1

The whole vast space felt hollow. It was empty save the large central carpet, fouled by stains, dark spots of long dead and dried rot that he was sure soaked straight through to the wood below. Vash stood unmoving in the center, back to him.

“Hey Spikey?” Wolfwood approached slowly, his heart beating faster at the scene. “You good?”

Vash glanced up, his face clearing from grim to pleasant in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. All good.”

chapter 2

“You believe in ghosts, Needle-Noggin?”

He paused mid-chew at the question, swallowed slowly, then broke into an evil grin.

“Of course! This place is haunted for sure,” he raised his hands into claws and leered menacingly over Wolfwood, who scowled. “It’s probably watching us from the shadows right now, just waiting for- hey!” He’d leaned just a little too close, and Wolfwood took the opportunity to shove him off his perch.

chapter 3

Vash stepped past him to take lead and they ducked under the floor, following the lights down beneath the foundations. Wolfwood felt it again, the foreboding that surrounded the house, that had kept away bandits and townsfolk alike for three years. His unease grew the deeper they went, an instinctive desire to run that he had to fight every step of the way. He refused to slow, matching Vash stair for stair as the pit wound its way downward. Once, he thought he saw a flash of movement from below them, peeking out before darting off again just where the curve of the stairway disappearing beneath itself.

and we must wait by @caffeinefire

Perfect Fic. Perfect characterisations. Incredible. (It's so so so well written. Genuinely had me on the edge of my seat. Gunsmoke ghost story my beloved.)

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a scare on my husband?

EDIT: For those of you coming here from my brother’s post (X) to shit on me, you look like idiots. Try to have an original thought and really contemplate who’s telling the truth after hearing both sides.

I (32f) am one of three siblings. We come from a very well off family. My dad is a former Cryptid and he pioneered the Hook Man in the 70s, so he still gets residuals off of that. We grew up very comfortable and with the ability to do anything we wanted in life. My older brother went to a very prestigious school and my dad gave him the money for tuition. Because my older brother got scholarships, he was able to save some of that money. Right now he works in human tech (very lucrative), but his long-term plan is to use the money to start a Cyber Spook business once he is satisfied with his knowledge foundation.

I ended up taking a gap year before going to community college, but I never felt anything click. I worked part-time jobs spinning out scarer costumes and even did some part-time work as a slasher before deciding it wasn’t for me. I finally found my calling when I offered to help cater for my high school reunion, and now I run a fairly successful catering business.

When it came time for my younger brother, “Steve,” to get his money, he didn’t tell anyone what he was going to use it for. He was working as a Slasher at a small firm in town. We all assumed he’d either go to Scare School or invest the money to start a business like our older brother did.

So when Steve showed up to Halloween dinner one day, six feet taller with extra joints in his arms and legs, we were all shocked.

Dad was furious. He gave us all the same talk about the scare industry when we got our first part-time jobs documenting missions at his company. He told us that scare work was hard and backbreaking. We couldn’t buy our way into it or use his connections to become successful. If we were interested in it, we had to work our way up from the ground like he did. If we didn’t, we’d more than likely end up dead at the hands of a final girl.

He especially emphasized that mods had to be considered carefully and were NOT a substitute for skill.

Steve thought they were. When his company didn’t pay him back for his body modification AND didn’t promote him from Slasher to Regional Nightmare, he quit. But the surgeries drained his cash and he couldn’t afford his apartment anymore. He had to move back in with Mom and Dad. As always, Mom totally coddled him. She said that he didn’t have to pay rent and agreed with whatever he said when he’d go on these long tirades about his former company.

I could tell Dad wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he’s never been able to go against Mom. So he mostly kept his mouth shut though he did try to get Steve a job at his old company. However, last I heard, Steve was set against anything corporate and was spending a dozen hours a day driving around using the app SlashDash to find jobs.

About a year and a half ago, I was over for dinner with Steve, Mom and Dad. Steve was talking about work. He said SlashDash wasn’t working out for him and was taking too many fees out. I offered advice since I’d done Slashing in high school. I recommended sites like Scarework and Midnighterr to get more gigs.

Mom told me I interrupted Steve. She gestured for him to continue and tell me about his exciting new setup.

Steve told me he was beyond the sites I recommended. He said he’d bought a scanner so he could listen to broadcasts of active corporate missions. When those fail, he arrives on scene to kill any straggling humans before the scare company in question can send a cleanup crew. And since he’s a Slasher on their scene, they have to give him emergency pay for doing it. It’s a total ambulance-chaser, bottom-feeder move.

Dad was just staring at his plate, not saying anything, but I could tell he was ashamed of Steve. Steve was bragging about being a vulture in the profession Dad helped build.

I asked Steve if he was proud of himself for living off of leftovers. Steve blew up at me, but so did Mom. She chided me for not respecting my brother’s hard work and that his idea to get a scanner was genius, not predatory.

After that dinner, Steve and I rarely talked. Most of the news I got about him came from our older brother bitching about Steve badgering him for scare connections or Mom bragging about Steve killing and “meeting quota.” She would get very cold with me when I told her he was finishing a quota someone else started and not doing his own work. She told me if I couldn’t respect Steve, then I was welcome to not come over while he lived with her.

(Yes, Steve’s always been the golden child.)

I stopped interfering with Steve and focused on my own life. Shortly after, I met my wonderful fiancé “Reginald” while catering an event at Dad’s old company. Reginald is the head of sanitation and he’s the one who gets sent out to clean up any unexpected events during a Scare (like any magical residue or body parts that can’t be explained away through human means). He used to want to be a Cryptid, but he’s got a heart condition that prevents him from working in the field. He says that he’s happy being the “janitor” and happier being with me 😊

Reginald and I got engaged after only eight months of dating. Dad always says that when you know, you know. I invited everyone in my family to an engagement party. Steve didn’t bother answering the invitation. Even though Steve and I weren’t on good terms, I was still hurt when he didn’t show.

When I confronted him about it afterwards, he said that he’d been promoted to Regional Nightmare and he was patrolling his territory, and that’s why he couldn’t come. I asked him what company he was working for, and he said he was still using the scanner.

I pointed out that he couldn’t be a Regional Nightmare without a state license since only the state can assign territories. He started going on and on about being his own “Monster” (and let me tell you, extra joints DOESN’T make you a Monster, those guys are way more committed) and that he had passed the state exam.

When I told Reginald about my brother calling himself a Regional Nightmare, he was concerned. He works closely with the legal department, and he said that Steve is opening himself up to lawsuits by declaring public slashing grounds as his “territory.” He offered to talk to Steve.

We went over to Mom and Dad’s house together to confront him. Dad didn’t know he was calling himself a Regional Nightmare and he went pale when I told them why we were there. Reginald explained to Steve and Mom that being certified was different than being licensed. Legally, Steve is a Slasher even if he can control shadows now (which is a VERY expensive talent to acquire if you aren’t born with it. I think Mom may have paid for it).

The conversation didn’t go well. Steve said a lot of nasty things about Reginald not hacking it as Slasher and claimed he was just jealous. He picked on Reginald’s health which I had me seeing red. I asked Steve what there was to be jealous of since he still mooches off of our parents? Mom got involved and it went downhill from there.

All this to say that I didn’t expect Steve to show up at my gender reveal party less than 5 months later.

Reginald and I weren’t planning on kids this early, but we knew it was meant to be as soon as I got that pregnancy test back. We decided to put off our wedding so that our baby can be part of the ceremony that makes us a family. That being said, I did still have a lot of things ordered for the wedding so I turned the day into a baby shower/gender reveal instead.

That brings us to the party my lovely brother wrote about. First of all, he wasn’t invited by me. Mom invited him, and when I found out, I wasn’t happy with her, considering he never apologized to Reginald after our last fight.

Reginald was stuck at work (some idiot brought together a whole summer camp of final girls and the aftermath was brutal) so I had to force myself to be a good hostess. It was mostly fine. We have good friends and my older brother was very kind in helping me with some of the baby games we were planning to play when Reginald finally got there.

Steve, however, was NOT helpful.

He was annoying the whole time. He messed with the kitchen and he hounded the guests. I’m PREGNANT and the smell of raw meat triggers my gag reflex. He took the meat off the heat without me noticing and basically prevented me from eating lunch with everyone else.

Additionally, Steve claimed in his post that the party was dying??? Reginald and Dad have a lot of friends in common so the party did NOT die. They were all interested in talking to Dad. Dad’s voice is very quiet and raspy from strain over the years, so everyone was being quiet to hear him better. Steve was the one practically screaming over him to talk about his scummy job. The new Hook Man who succeeded Dad was there and Steve basically treated the poor man like a novice even though he’s a Cryptid.

Reginald finally got home and I could tell he was exhausted when I met him at the door. He still put on a smile for me though and said he didn’t need to miss out even when I told him it would be okay. He wanted to be there in our big moment to celebrate our family. He went upstairs to change.

I went back to the guests to tell them that we would start the games soon. That’s when I heard Reginald scream and fall down the stairs.

I’ll never forget the look on Reginald’s face. He was lying at the base of the stairs and looked like he was dying. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. I was terrified his heart was giving up. I asked Hook Man to call an ambulance.

That’s when Steve started laughing.

I lost it. I screamed at Steve to get out. He told me to calm down, he’d just scared Reginald a little bit as a joke. I told him he knew about Reginald’s heart condition and that it was incredibly disrespectful to scare my fiancé in our own house.

He said he didn’t mean to scare him that bad, but that he was just better at it than he thought. His scares were too powerful. He seemed smug and was still laughing.

I accused him of intentionally hurting Reginald because of the licensing versus certification argument we had. I said he was a bully and an idiot.

Mom jumped in and said it was an accident.

Dad FINALLY said something. He shadow-walked (the first time in YEARS) up the stairs and hooked Steve by the neck. He dragged all twelve feet of him down the stairs and told him to get out.

Steve said, “For what? It’s not my fault that weak-hearted son of a bitch can’t take a joke.”

Dad lost it. He told Steve a REAL scarer wouldn’t use their abilities like that on their own families. He told Mom and Steve it didn’t matter if he meant it as a joke. The fact is he used his scare tactics on a layperson, and he could get blacklisted from the profession for it.

Dad kicked Steve out and told him he wasn’t welcome back into the basement until he got a REAL job. Steve kept arguing, but the paramedics arrived then and I lost track of the rest of it.

I went with Reginald to the hospital where Reginald insisted we both get checked out. The stress wasn’t good for the baby and doctor told me it might be best to go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. Reginald is also going to be taking a leave from work. He had a heart attack because of my brother.

Things could have ended worse, but they didn’t end well. I told my parents that I refuse to have Steve at my wedding or even to see my child after they’re born (and now I STILL don’t know the gender! Only our older brother knows since he got the gender reveal cake).

Mom started to protest, but Dad said he understood. He said that both he and Mom just wanted me to be happy and healthy and that they would take care of Steve.

So now I leave it up to you. Having read both of our posts, who do you think is the real asshole? My brother for being “proud” of scaring my fiancé into a heart attack at our baby’s gender reveal party? Or me for never talking to said brother again for the health of my future family?

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and/or see these stories a week before I post them here, please check me out on Patreon (X)!

See you next week!

This week's story is based on this (x) prompt from Writing-prompt-s:

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[twilightkitkat]

Poolverine but they dress up as each other for Halloween. I'm not just talking about swapping costumes—they go all in. They get those facial prosthetics to get each other's skin textures right, Wade goes in with makeup for detailing, and Wade wears a bodysuit while Logan wears slight platform shoes and shapewear to roughly match their builds.

They put on each other's suits and make sure the proportions are as accurate as possible. Wade even goes as far as to call in a few favors to get voice-changing abilities.

Then, Halloween, they pretend to be each other. They try to match each other's personalities and mannerisms and see if anyone can notice.

At first, you'd think it'd be obvious that they switched. But here's the thing: they know each other. Wade knows how Logan moves and talks and acts and fights. Logan knows how to predict Wade's moods and reactions and decisions. They're incredibly self-aware and in sync.

They both show up to their friend's Halloween party dressed as each other. The crowd is incredibly large because everyone invited all the people that they know, which includes Vanessa's new friends and the majority of the X-mansion.

The only person who knew off the bat was Laura. There was no hiding it from her with her sense of smell, but they didn't intend to. She was in on the joke and came to watch the shitshow in action.

When asked about their costume, "Wade" says that Deadpool is what all the kids want to dress up as for Halloween, and he was just following the trend! Besides, no need to waste money buying a costume when he has the best one right in his closet. He's the scariest to be, obviously, because Deadpool is such a fearsome name.

Logan matches Wade's pitch immaculately, curling his voice into a whine before going back to talking cheerily as if nothing happened. Nobody bats an eye, classic Wade behavior.

Any slight imperfections are hidden by the flashing lights and relaxed atmosphere and large crowd. It's hard to pick out their friends in a crowd, let alone tell the differences between their carefully crafted copycat plans.

Laura gets closer to "Logan" and asks him how "Wade" has been lately, playing along. He responds with a grunt and an exasperated but fond summary of Wade's newest hyperfixation, acting as if he didn't know any of the terminology for it.

She has to hide a shit-eating grin when some of the people who knew Logan from the X-mansion came up to greet him and ask him how he's been. Plan successful.

"Logan" reaches out and pats a few heads, lingering just long enough to show he cares but pulling away soon enough to avoid deep intimacy. He answers questions with the same gruff tone as the actual Logan, giving just enough information to satisfy their questions.

Miraculously, the night continues and they haven't been caught. This is quite frankly hilarious because the two had done their rounds with each other's friends and acquaintances and apparently knew enough about each other to answer accurately. It's a pretty big feat, and even Laura has to reluctantly admit she's impressed by how well they know each other to pull this off.

The two draw together near the end, bickering as usual and using each other's tactics. Wade has to stifle a giggle at Logan imitating his out to not break character, and Logan has to hold himself back from burying his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

The real challenge is when Vanessa comes in to greet "Wade," with her new boyfriend in tow. Because Logan knows how Wade should act: vaguely uncomfortable and awkward, cagey toward the new guy, with an undertone of yearning and regret.

He knows this, but it stings. It hurts to know that while Wade and him are living together, a part of Wade will always belong to Vanessa. He knows it's irrational and that he's the main person in Wade's life, but the thought of them together makes him feel vaguely nauseous.

But he promised Wade he'd try to do this with him. They'd made bets and everything about who would find out and who wouldn't. He didn't want to ruin his fun.

So Logan grits his teeth and shifts into character, acting a little tense but also relieved to see her. Acting a bit more closed off and tense when the new guy introduces himself, and a little embarrassed to be seen with "Logan." Guilty, almost, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

But Vanessa's expression isn't remorseful or awkward. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, crosses her arms, and asks him what's wrong. Tells him that something's clearly bothering him and that he knows he can come to her for anything.

Logan becomes confused. What was he doing wrong? Was he not giving her the "puppy dog eyes" convincingly enough? Was he not portraying the bittersweet feeling of seeing "the one who got away" well?

But then she asks him if he and "Logan" were fighting. If something was going wrong in their relationship for him to act so cagey and upset.

...And Logan is baffled. What the hell does them fighting have to do with this?

Until she continues. She tells him that she knows how much "Logan" means to him and that she knows Logan feels the same (it's obvious just in the way he looks at Wade), so she's sure they'll figure it out soon.

She chuckles and shakes her head and says that it's endearing how Wade constantly talks about Logan as if he's the only topic in the world. That she's glad he's happy and that she remembered him asking to meet her boyfriend at some point so he could "rate her taste." She pats his shoulder, placatingly, and tells him that she's always there to talk if anything happens. Then she leaves.

And oh.

Logan thought he had Wade's personality down to a science, that he knew almost everything about him. His thoughts, his feelings, his relationships. ...But apparently, he was wrong for once.

Then he takes a second to stand there and analyze his interactions with Wade. And he realizes that she was right. That Wade glancing constantly back at him when Vanessa was there wasn't awkward pining for his ex, but just Wade wanting to look at Logan.

Now that he thinks about it, Wade doesn't just do that around Vanessa. He did it around almost everyone. He'd intermittently glance at Logan with what he assumed to be embarrassment over him, but now he realizes it was endearment. Awe. Bashfulness and slight pride over getting to introduce Logan to his friends instead of being ashamed of him.

And Logan realized that maybe he didn't know everything about Wade. That maybe, some of his assumptions were based more on his own experiences and past rather than the present. That he let his jealousy and insecurity and anxiety cloud his interpretation until it became foggy, creating the same rough shape but without the structure.

...And Logan smiles, under the mask. A warm, incredulous thing. That Wade spent most of his time with Vanessa talking about him. That it was so obvious Wade loved him that everyone commented on it. He'd never had someone be proud of belonging to him before, showing him off like he was something worth coveting. It felt nice.

Eventually, he rejoined "Logan's" side. He sidled up to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, throwing out a flirty comment and cuddling closer. "Logan" let him, letting his shoulder slump and wrapping an arm around him in return.

"Wade" stared at "Logan," watching his expressions shift and the curve of his lips as they moved. He let the adoration and wonder swell up in him, seeing how accurately Wade played the part.

It was obvious that he was staring, but nobody batted an eye. They all accepted it as normal, as if it was perfectly in character for Wade to stare at Logan with full focus even while people flitted and talked around them.

When Logan leaned in to kiss Wade's shoulder, nobody said anything.

(They manage to make it through the night without anyone calling them out on their impersonation. When they reveal it the next day, everyone is shocked. It was so realistic that they couldn't even tell.

Well, almost everyone is shocked. Laura rolls her eyes and Vanessa hides a knowing smile behind the rim of her coffee cup.)

[cherienymphe]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader

➥ Happy Halloween weekend!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1

summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.

~

You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.

No one left for you to escape from.

Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.

Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…

Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.

When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.

The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.

Even if they didn’t want to say it.

“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”

You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.

“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.

Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.

It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.

It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus!”

You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.

“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.

“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”

By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.

“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”

Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”

Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.

The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.

“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.

“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”

Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.

He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.

…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.

“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.

Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.

Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.

It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.

“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”

You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.

Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.

The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.

“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”

You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.

“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”

Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.

Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.

The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.

Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.

“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.

“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”

Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.

“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”

While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.

“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”

You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.

“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.

“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”

You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.

“If they haven’t found him by now then…”

She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.

All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.

…and you’d killed him.

John B was the first to die.

…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.

Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.

You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.

When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”

You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.

“What…? I don’t…”

You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.

“They found him in the water, man.”

Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.

“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”

At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.

…but drowning?

John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.

That you could believe.

“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.

Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.

It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.

The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.

You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.

He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.

You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.

Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.

There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.

JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.

“Why was he out there so late?”

That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.

“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”

“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”

Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.

“I’m just saying-.”

“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”

The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.

“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”

He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.

You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.

Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.

The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.

“What’s wrong-?”

JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.

It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.

For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.

The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.

It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.

That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.

It was Rafe.

“Are you okay…?”

You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.

“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have done that-.”

“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”

He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.

The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.

“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”

You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.

“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”

You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.

“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”

You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.

“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”

Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.

…and that night never would’ve happened.

With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.

When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.

JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.

“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.

You spoke without thinking.

“Call Pope again.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.

…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.

You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.

With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.

You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.

Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.

“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”

His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.

“…what?” you choked out after some time.

His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.

“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”

You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.

“Someone…someone cut his throat.”

At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.

Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.

In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.

It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.

You were only responsible for one of them.

“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”

JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.

“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”

She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”

Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.

You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.

“Now, hold on-.”

“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”

You swallowed, hating this conversation.

“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.

The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.

“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”

You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.

“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”

“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.

…but Rafe was dead.

He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.

Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.

“First it was Rafe…”

You tensed at the sound of the voice.

“…then John B. and now Pope.”

You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.

“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.

When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.

Until now.

The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.

“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.

The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.

Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.

“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.

Sarah glanced at you at that.

“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.

Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.

“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”

She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.

“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.

When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.

“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.

“…and he’s dead.”

“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”

“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”

“Sarah-.”

“I said stop!”

The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.

“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.

Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.

You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.

Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.

Tonight, it was three.

Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.

Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.

The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.

You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Cleo?”

Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.

Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.

The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.

As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.

It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.

There was no light coming from downstairs.

The kitchen light was now off.

Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.

“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”

Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.

“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.

You tried to keep calm.

“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.

Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”

JJ was right.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”

You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”

As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.

When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.

“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.

Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.

You couldn’t not hold her.

By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.

You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.

“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”

You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.

Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.

You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:

“She broke her neck.”

That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.

“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”

Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.

“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”

You swallowed.

“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”

Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.

…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.

That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.

“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.

“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”

You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.

“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”

She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.

“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”

“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”

“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.

There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.

It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.

He’d only been focused on killing you.

As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.

You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.

“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.

You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.

“Y/N…”

“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”

Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!

“Y/N-,”

“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.

You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”

“Or it could be Rafe!”

Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.

“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”

You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.

“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”

“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”

You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.

“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”

“What-?”

“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”

“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.

“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”

“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”

Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.

“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”

Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.

When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.

It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?

It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…

Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.

With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.

Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.

Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.

…but not like this.

You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.

…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.

What else would they get out of moving his remains?

Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.

They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.

“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”

JJ heaved a sigh.

“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”

He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.

…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.

“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”

You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.

Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.

“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”

JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.

“I know you killed him,” he confessed.

Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.

“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”

“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”

You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.

“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.

JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.

“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”

You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.

“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.

“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”

He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”

You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.

You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.

Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.

Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.

Their throats were slit.

Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.

Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.

She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.

“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.

You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.

The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.

“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.

You didn’t realize why until you looked back.

Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.

He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.

You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.

A gunshot stopped his efforts.

“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.

You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.

JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.

A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.

You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.

Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.

“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.

“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.

Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.

“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”

She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.

“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”

The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.

“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.

You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.

“What?” you breathed.

“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.

She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.

“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.

The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.

The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?

You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.

You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.

The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.

You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.

Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.

You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.

The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.

Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.

The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.

…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.

…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.

You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.

You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.

He never called you by your name, it was always—

“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.

“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.

“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”

Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.

“Why?”

He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why what…?”

“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”

You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.

“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”

His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…

The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.

“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”

Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.

“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”

Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.

“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.

“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”

The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.

“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”

His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.

“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.

It was genuine.

“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”

His words confused you.

“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”

You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.

You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.

He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.

“Word of advice…”

You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.

“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”

A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”

Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.

“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”

You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.

That wasn’t healing.

That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”

It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.

“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”

He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.

“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”

He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.

It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.

Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.

“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”

Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.

“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”

He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.

“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.

“Rafe…” you choked out.

“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.

“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”

When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.

“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”

You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.

“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”

You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.

“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.

Rafe was excited.

“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”

He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.

“Do you know what’s better than that?”

His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.

“No,” you muttered.

Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.

“Having you all to myself.”

You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.

You heard him whistle.

“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”

You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.

“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”

The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.

Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.

You breath hitched as you froze.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”

You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.

“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.

Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.

“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.

With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.

He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”

It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.

As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.

Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.

“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”

You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.

“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”

A particular hard thrust made you gasp.

“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”

You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”

He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.

“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”

[alphajocklover]

Trick or Treat you choose! When I was in college, we would laugh at the frat bros... we even had viewing parties of Jersey Shore and laughed at their antics, Gym Tan Laundry indeed. Now with the proliferation of Only Fans, and influencer culture, And seeing all these people rake in millions of dollars, I have do wonder, did they have the right idea? Maybe instead of paying for college, I should have put that money into focusing on my body, and getting ripped, and then starting an onlyfans? or a youtube/tick tok? What do you think?

‘The meek shall inherit the earth.’ You had always believed in that saying growing up. Being the scrawny and constantly bullied kid you were, you had to believe that. You had to believe that one day you’d be on top and all the sleazy, muscular jocks that treated you like shit would be working for you, that you and other nerds would win out in the end, just like in all the movies and songs. You believed in it so much that you began to look down on the meatheads who treated you like shit, and even just muscular guys in general. You and your 2 best friends would watch the ‘guidos’ on Jersey shore and make fun of them for how vapid and ridiculous they seemed.

And then you grew up. You got older, and learned that no matter who you were, success and failure were never guaranteed. You did alright for yourself, you got a nice job and an apartment, but it seemed like every year you worked a little harder and owed a little more. You were treading water, while the douchebags who used to bully you were living it up! Not all of them were successful, but those who were were famous, good looking hunks who seemed to have a different woman every night. Over time you became envious of them, and started to wonder if you had been wrong. If all the movies had lied, and the nerds never won. If the strong just kept getting stronger. You started to become obsessed with the idea of being one of those guys, of going back and doing it differently.

That’s why you had insisted on going in a ‘guido�� costume.

It was specifically a costume of one of the more famous Jersey Shore Guidos, Pauly D, but you didn’t actually care about the specifics that much. You just wanted to live out the fantasy of being a guido stud, just for one night. You had told your friends it was a joke. That you were doing it ironically to mock those types of guys. You even convinced them to go as other Jersey Shore guys, to make it into a group costume. You studied how they talked, how they walked, so that the fantasy would be all the more real. You just didn’t realize how real it would get

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened. When you and your friends got to the Halloween party your neighbor was throwing, you were surprised how much fun it was. As you partied through the night, eating candy, spewing guido slang and acting like the guy you dreamed of being, you didn’t notice how real it was becoming. You didn’t notice when the wig magically turned into real hair, when your skin gained a deep, manly tan, not even when your obviously fake muscle suit turned into real, hard beef. You only realized something was wrong when, after losing them for almost 2 hours, you ran into your friends again, and by then you were too far gone to care. You and your bros took a picture, each smirking smugly. Your voice, your history, even your identity had changed. You weren’t Pauly D, but you were a guido stud. An Italian stallion with a horse cock you knew was gonna get you laid tonight.

In the end, you got exactly what you wanted. You got turned into a studly Jersey bros guido. This time the trick was on your friends you dragged with you. Not that they seem to mind.

**hey! I haven’t done anything with ‘Guidos’ before, but I do find the stereotype very hot! I really hope I didn’t offend anyone though, as while I find the stereotype hot I know some people find it offensive. If you have any tips of how to write this kind of stuff more sensitively, please let me know. Thanks for reading!**

[gladiatorcunt]

- DIRT IN CHAINS | X.

i can’t wait for the nights with you, i imagine the things we’ll do

cw: kinktober prompt (feet), semi crack treated seriously (he just comes back and says footjob. now.), pseudo incest (step brother & step sister), no shelly or chris 💀, set in the 90’s with brandon lee’s eric, small-ish age gap (reader’s in her early 20’s), fem ballerina!reader, random kurt cobain crush mention, implied inappropriate behavior when reader was 18 and after (nothing explicit but it could be seen as done with certain intent), attempted non con mention (not involving eric or reader)

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

Body of my body, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.

If you serve a chunk of still bleeding meat to a gruesome stray dog, then that is love. If you toss a coin to a crow with a glint in its beady eyes, that too is love. Even when you scoff and grumble at the perceived inconvenience and continue your jaunt down the muddy alleyway. You are assuring an animal that you believe it deserves to have its hunger sated and tended to like a toothache. don’t be surprised when gangrene sets in around your ankles and wrists, bracelets made of red jade. They bite for the same reason that you sharpen their teeth and beaks with roadkill and gemstones. It is life’s greatest gift to ever be well fed, such neglect can open a void from which there is no escape. If only your heart could plug up the hole.

The most painful sentences in existence are hypotheticals that start with if. That's why this will be nothing of the sort, hunting season will be successful.

Your step brother Eric was shot about a month ago the night before halloween, and you’re coping by robotically moving through life as if it couldn’t happen to you too. It’s all too easy to succumb to the panic and the grief but you’ve never been wired that way, it’s safer for you to retreat into a cocoon of numbness.

You don’t want to think about where the woman he saved from being raped is, as happy as you are that she’s okay. Knowing any of that would only remind you of the knife Eric got thrown into his back before he was thrown from her apartment window. He lived in the same building and like the good guy your step brother was at heart, burst in the room with the best intentions.

His good deed got him killed, and all you’ve done is play his music on repeat as you rot in your bed. He’d want you to continue your ballet career, hell, he showed up to your recitals and performances more than your own mother. You always ignored how his presence made you feel simultaneously relaxed and confident but also so stressed you’d be worried about pissing yourself on the stage.

Wide smiles and long dark hair that glistened in the theater’s warm lightning, he would always be the one to stand up and whistle first.

Eric’s favorite ballet was your ballet company’s Swan Lake. He kept a picture of you as Odette in one of the pockets of his leather jacket.

Your parents had only been married 4 years, but you’ve changed a lot from the starry eyed 18 year old that mooned over your older step brother and tripped over your pointe shoes.

Your dad started teaching you how to play guitar before he left, when you were 5 and your chubby hands plucked at the wrong strings. Eric wouldn’t leave you alone when you told him the story, and spent an entire weekend getting you caught up on your missed lessons until you both had a swarm of blisters on your fingers.

Now you’ll never see him again, never get caught in the rain when you’ve begged him to drive you home and wish you could tuck a strand of his wet hair behind ear, never hump your pillow and muffle your sounds into your balled up fists because he’s staying in the next room and you have to be quiet.

You’ll never see him with his band again, caught in that weird space between a groupie and a supportive family member. He liked to embarrass you, make big shows out of looking directly at you and coming to the edge of the stage to poke your cheek. He’d ruffle your hair and your cheeks would be so hot, one wrong burst of electricity from the wires attached to their instruments and you’d go up in flames.

You never told your mom but you always wanted a brother, you should’ve known you weren’t gonna have him for very long.

Hangman’s Joke. God, you wish.

“Hey, peach, ya miss me?”

Hand on your heart you think you’re dreaming at first, but you’ve never really had any dreams where Eric was front and center. He haunts all your other ones, regular strange ones where you’re running around department stores and fucking Kurt Cobain but someintes he turns into your step brother, sometimes you fuck them both.

You shoot up in bed, the straps of your lavender silk nightie slip down your shoulders so you pull them back. It’s the middle of the night, and your vision is blurry, but when your eyes focus properly you see him standing in front of your bed.

It’s Eric, your brother, you don’t even care if there was a gas leak overnight that’s got you fucked up or if this reslly is a dream. You can’t pretend to be fine anymore if he’s right here in front of you, suddenly there’s an umbrella over your head in the pouring rain again.

“Eric, oh my god, what the fuck! How are you even- I mean- How the fuck are you alive?”

He sighs, tonguing his cheek and shaking his head. “I’ll tell you all about it later, I promise, ‘m tired, peach. Missed my girl, didn’t she miss me?”

It’s a little cruel because of course you have, but the dulcet tones lull you into nodding. You don’t want to cry, and you’re scared to reach out to touch him because of the chance that he might disappear. Eric’s haunted eyes soften, and he intertwines his bizarrely muddy fingers with yours. There’s warmth, and maybe it’s just your hummingbird heart but you feel a soft rhythmic thumping under his skin.

It’s different, slow as molasses, more like the chiming of a grandfather clock. But Jesus fucking Christ he’s real.

Your sham of a facade shatters as you bring your joined hands down to your breasts, forcing his knuckles to press into your sternum.

Eric pushes you back down on the bed, his knees dig into the mattress on either side of your hips. His stare is intense, dark and enticing as he reaches down to curl his hand around your calves.

“I used to be obsessed with uh, vampires, ain’t that a bitch?” He chuckles, massaging your ankles and staring off into space. “All that mysticism and unimaginable power and all I could focus on was the way they talked about their cravings. How they get hunger pangs like a normal fuckin’ and it’s bearable until it’s not, it consumes them like they’re boilin’ from the inside out.”

You suck in a breath, Eric’s eyes flick over to you immediately.

“Then I look at you and i’m right back in rehab, toes curlin’ at the thought of getting high again. I think I know how those bloodsuckers feel.”

“Eric- Don’t say that.” Your heart seizes up, but you keep yourself from falling off the ledge.

He kisses your ankle, his black lipstick leaving a stain as he leaves a trail of carnage up to your toes. His lips split wide on a fox’s smile, slipping his tongue in the crease between your toes and sucking each one clean, almost like he’s trying to eat your flesh off the bone. He nuzzles his nose into the sole and inhales deeply, taking in the dirt you didn’t wash off in the shower, the plastic hospital smell from your bath mat, your cherry almond scented body wash.

“Yes, all i fuckin’ need, right here.” He whispers, staring at you dead in your eyes.

He flicks his tongue out to taste the high arch of your foot as his hand caresses your still bruised toes. But they’re faded, you quit ballet a long time ago.

“You have pretty feet, y’know that? Always liked helping you lace up your slippers.” Eric laughs “You’d get so fussy about me doin’ them properly but you’d kiss my cheek after, all sweet on me.”

He lavishes every inch of both your feet with his tongue in broad strokes, making out with your toes because he can’t resist sucking them into his mouth one more time.

You moan, fisting your hands in your nightie, your step brother’s back from the afterlife apparently and the first thing he wants to do is get a footjob from his step sister.

Eric tucks his hair behind his ears so he doesn’t have to bother with it for right now, you can tell that this is like one of those moments on stage, he wants your full attention.

He’ll always have it.

You’re the one that pulls your feet out of his grip to slide them down to his crotch. You keep eye contact as you massage his clothed bulge with your toes, rubbing your heel into his balls and applying light pressure here and there.

You blink up at him, too innocent and too worn down by life already all at the same time, “Like that, big brother? Does that feel good?”

Eric grunts, wrapping his hands back around your ankles and pushing your feet further onto his cock.

“Yeah, peach, feels so fuckin’ good, holy shit. Just like that, keep doin’ me like that, baby.”

You bite your lip, nearly tearing through the skin in your efforts to make your newly risen step brother jizz in his ripped jeans. You wish you had psychic powers and had the foresight to know he was coming over, you would’ve put on those socks with the frilly edges and a red rose stitched on the white fabric.

But he’s so worked up from this already, he’s breathing heavily and rocking his hips forward to hump your feet. He’s grinding his teeth together, already so close to unraveling from how much of a little tease you’re being.

You hum and turn your right foot to ghost the edge of your toenail around the tip of his cock. He groans as he twitches and a bead of pre seeps through his clothes, you can trace the outline of his length so clearly you know he’s not wearing any underwear.

The look in his crazed eyes reminds you of all the times he’d take you to the attic of his loft, making up scary stories and playing guitar with you. When you turned 21 he surprised you with a cheesy golden heart shaped locket, with a picture of you two at your parent’s wedding, joking about how awkward you look with each other there. Eric’s penguin style suit and your agitated face that’s partially covered by gaudy turquoise puffy cap sleeves.

He chuckled and said that every time you look at it, you’ll feel nothing but happiness for what those two losers are about to experience.

Part of that experience is you curling your feet around his clothed cock while giving him just enough of a view of your hairy pussy, you forgot to put a pad on so there’s some blood trickling out of you that Eric is just so utterly enraptured by.

His groans are death rattles now, long and pain stricken, at some point he stops humping your feet and lets you worship him like this. Eric kneeling above you, drooling deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his baby sister caressing his painfully hard dick with her cute dancer’s feet.

Your mind is filled with all the pretty shoes you can put on and do this again, you just got a new camera as an early birthday present too.

“You can come if you promise not to leave again, Eric, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself this time.” You promise, digging the ball of your feet into his perineum.

“I crawled out of the earth back to you, didn’t I? Couldn’t let my sweet peach perform alone, she gets stage fright.”

He comes in his pants and you continue to gingerly move your feet along his length, soaking up the cum that wets your toes like a sunflower does sunlight at golden hour.

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x Fem! Reader

honey I’m home masterlist

TW: 18+ hospitals, trauma, crying, etc

A/N: this is a short little chapter. the next one will be longer— thank you for hanging onto this story even though it took me forever to get it started. I have most of the next chapter done so it’ll probably be posted next week.

The blue and red lights are blinking in rapid succession. Painting the curtains in washes of ruby and royal. 

  The sirens should have been loud but Eddie figured it was the blood trickling down his head and into his ear canal that was preventing him from hearing clearly. 

  He fought with the first responders. 

  Fought with the people fussing over him and trying to rush him into an ambulance. 

  He refused to leave you. 

  He didn’t need to be cared for. 

  He didn’t care about anything. 

  Only you.

  Mr. Derry’s loud knock and burst through the door was the exact distraction needed for Eddie to grip the bat in his bloody hand. 

  Rings squeezing tight around blood and the wooden handle, he swung hard. A suddenly athlete in a smokers body. He felt the thuds and friction vibrating in his forearms when the nailed head connected with flesh. But he didn’t stop until there were two crumpled bodies collapsed on the red stained carpet. 

  And when the ambulance crew met him at the door, gurney ready, you were wrapped tight in his arms. A faint pulse echoed like a whisper against your skin. Eddie’s tears streaming down his face and onto yours. 

  His promise pressed delicately to your lips.

—

  “What have we got?” 

  “According to the patient’s friend, she is twenty-one-year, sir! you need to be looked at, and lived by herself for the past few months..” 

  I’m fine! Jesus— get off me and help her! 

  “…call came in at 2208 from a Mr. William Derry— the neighbor— claiming there were screams coming from across the street of his residence on Cherry Lane. Dispatch didn’t think to respond right away due to the many calls Mr. Derry has submitted to the Police Department.”

  “Sir, I am not telling you again, you need to be checked out!” 

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “When nobody showed up, the neighbor went across the street after hearing more screaming. Patient was held up by her throat by the DOA”

  “Bill has him in truck 011, ID found on the body confirmed he was Chad Cunningham.” 

—-

Eddie is standing before you, looking the same has he did the morning g after Halloween. It’s similar but different. There’s more light in the kitchen, and he is rosy cheeked like a cherub, his movements almost floating like angel wings as he moves the carton of orange juice hp to his lips, small glints of a silver nipple ring peaking out from the cutoff shirt he wore. 

  When he speaks, it’s like a harp is playing, all song and beautiful notes, extending and echoing around the room. 

  “So when do I get this trophy sweetheart?” He says with a grin, “thinking of putting on a shelf in my room,” 

  Your laugh feels like butterflies tickling your stomach, “you can’t be serious.” 

  His head dips as he walks towards you, smile displaying the prettiest teeth, “damn straight, want the whole town to know I had the best costume!”

  “Stolen costume,”

  “Pppffft, I just borrowed it.” the wink he delivers is almost sinful, toothachingly sweet enough to give a dentist a cavity, and you melt on the spot. 

— 

“Miss? Can you tell us your name? Can you tell us anything?” 

  Sterile. 

  Chemical.

  You were either in a hospital or a morgue. You didn’t feel any pain so it very likely could be the worst of the two options. Whatever you were laying on was cold. And when you tried to move you found you couldn’t. 

  Is this death?

  Eyelids heavy and unable to cooperate and make the connection with your brain on flicking open so you could see what was happening. 

  The only thing constant was a buzzing in both ears. A tug along your eyelids and rubber glove fingers on your body. But you were trapped in your mind, unable to speak, to scream, to show any physical movements other than the involuntary rise and fall of your chest and your lungs being filled with oxygen, fed through flexible plastic of the oxygen mask placed on your face. 

  Oblivious to your surroundings. 

  “Severe trauma to both eyes, laceration to the back of the head, severe swelling and possible damage to the larynx, Katerina, what did the CT show?” 

  “CT came back clear, X-Ray showed a break to both zygomatic bones, 5th and 6th ribs and a lacerated spleen…”

  “Look at her nails, poor thing fought for her life,” 

  “they both did.” 

  You found the will to whisper what you needed to tell them. Voice hoarse and barely audible, removing the mask they look in horror back at your words, and  immediately the feeling of warm liquid entering your veins and the blur of sleep covers your body. 

—

  He visits you again, this time you know it’s a dream. The pink clouds flow behind his head even though you are standing in the living room. But it’s different, blurred on the edges, hazy sweet and refined. How heaven could be described. 

  “I look good in this don’t even lie,” Eddie says with a spin, the white cotton of your robe resembling a mini skirt on his long legs, “but if you want me to take it off all you have to do is ask, I’m a pleaser, baby.”

  He was every version of himself, handsome, gross and menacing. Sweet and caring, eye twinkling, soft voiced: Eddie. The beer taped to his hand like it was all those months ago when you splashed him awake, threatening to kick him out. 

  Delivering his classic one liners that you now knew helped fuel your love for him. 

  “What? Hair of the dog baby, gotta keep drinking to avoid a hangover.”

  And maybe your love for him was always there. 

  Showing up in the background, fluttering bird wings of your heart before you even noticed. 

  Developing into something sweeter, deeper, so heartbreakingly sick it took a disaster and almost the last pulse in your veins for you to be able to admit it. 

  -

Steve had been pacing the cream colored tiles for over thirty minutes. The squeak of his Nikes against the floor were something Eddie was trying hard to focus on instead of worrying about you in the ICU, but so far it wasn’t working.

  The nasal cannula was annoying, he could breathe fine on his own. The stitches in his eyebrow itched and stung with each weave through his skin, pulled taut around the swelling in his face. 

  The shot the nurses had administered to calm him down after screaming and trying to fight his way to you, was making his mind fuzzy— still, Steve’s pacing kept him company. Step step step squeak, step step step hand in hair, followed by an agitated huffing breath.

  A nurse with a long blond ponytail braided down her back opens the polyester curtain with a drag and slips inside the room. A black rubber and steel stethoscope around her neck, before she could introduce herself Steve exploded with fury. 

  “Tell me what the hell is going on in this poor excuse for a hospital, right now!” Steve’s hair shook from its feathered position when he spoke, his demanding voice booming across the tiles. 

  Without missing a beat and clearly dealing with high strung men before she said almost monotonously, “Sir, you need to calm yourself down, this is a h-”

  But Steve’s fire was only fueled by her dismissive tone, his voice never wavering, “No, I will not calm down! The police were made aware of this situation a year ago and nothing was ever done!” 

  The police officer standing outside guarding entry to the room tipped his head in slow, “Mr. Harrington, we hear your complaints but there isn’t anything we can—”

  “Bullshit!” A tear stain cheeked Robin sobbed, her face red and blotchy from hours of crying and rubbing her freckles clean, “Eddie told you what happened yet he’s still cuffed to a bed like a fucking criminal!”

  She broke down again, clinging to Steve’s side like a wounded child, sobbing into the soft cotton of his crewneck sweater. “This is unethical! Unco—”

  “Alright that’s enough hot shot,” Hopper shouts in finality towards Steve, a wrinkle burrowed deep in his forehead accompanied with graying thick eyebrows set in a devastating frown. 

  “Chief,” Wayne interjects, cap wringing in his calloused, wrinkle bared hands, his voice wobbly but steady, runny nose and wet tears cling to his scruffy beard, “my son was protectin’ that girl, you know Eddie…he’d never hurt someone unless his life or someone he cared about was in danger.” 

  Hopper tore his gaze from the one of the richest in the room to the poorest, hanging his head with sorrow, “ ‘m sorry, Wayne— but until Mr. Derry’s statement comes back and Eddie is cleared… the cuffs stay.” 

  Wayne hung his head low, the few wiry hairs on his balding head stuck in all sorts of directions despite his attempt at raking them into submission. 

  “Jim Hopper you should be ashamed of yourself,” Karen Wheeler spoke up now, head held high, claw clip  teetering with each gesturing movement of her head, “you know good and well this boy couldn’t have done that to her! They loved each other!” 

  Since the pacing of Steve’s feet had stopped Eddie’s heart rattled hard in his chest, he clawed at the heart monitors on his chest, tried to bite the IV’s from his arms, caged like a wild animal he let out a broken cry, “ple— please, she needs me.”

  “Mr. Munson,” the nurse with blonde hair replies sternly, “she is in critical condition, we don’t know if or when she will be able to to recover, she is heavily sedated and needs rest, her only visitors will be family at this time.” 

  “Speaking of,” another nurse chirps, young and fresh gilled, entirely too eager to please her superior, “do you know how to get a hold of her family?”

  He shakes his head slow, causing a pounding headache, “I am her family,” Eddie grunts through clenched teeth, pushing himself up on the bed as far as his cuffs would allow, Steve’s hand on his shoulder. “Look around this room! Ted and Karen Wheeler, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Byers.. we are all she has,” a single tear falls down his bruised cheek, liquid salt in the cut in his top lip. 

  “Okay sir.. who is responsible for her?” 

  “In regards to what? Financially? You money hungry pricks just don’t let up so you?,” Ted Wheeler finally speaks behind his wife, shock and anger evident on his wrinkled features.

  “Not exactly…”

  “Whatever it is, I will handle it, alright?” Eddie interjects, annoyed with the questions, worried only about you, “I’m responsible for her.”

  “Oh,” the nurse says, perking up slightly, marking a red check mark on her clipboard, smoothing out her uniform, “so you are aware of her condition then.” 

  Light bulbs click for everyone in the room but the curly brown haired metal head. 

  Oh my God

  …Tooty

  Holy shit.

  “That she got the shit kicked out of her by that fucking psycho Chad Cunningham?”

  Eddie.

  Ma’am can we talk privately in the hall? 

  “…obviously I’m aware! I was there when it happened! That dumb fuck already took my statement!” he said gesturing to Deputy Wallace. 

  “No, Mr. Munson..”

  This isn’t the time for this! Wayne tried to warn the nurse, but it fell on deaf, naive ears.

  “…she’s right around twelve weeks pregnant.” 

  A pin dropping could have been heard from a mile away. The oxygen was sucked from the room. Karen’s hand was clapped around her mouth. Nancy and Robin choked back sobs.  

  Everyone was struck with horror, but not Eddie. 

  His mind playing that beautiful night between you like a movie in his head. The way your skin felt, the way his heart ached with fullness at your shared fervor and passion. 

  REWIND

  PLAY

  The curve of your lips on his skin, kissing him sweet and slow, no noise, just the love making swallowing you both whole. 

  REWIND 

  PLAY

  PAUSE 

  Your soft snores as he counted the popcorn marks in the ceiling, his girl. His entire universe. 

  STOP

  EJECT 

  The tears rolled like a ferocious river down his face, carving a path down his cheeks and under his wobbling chin, wetting the hospital gown he was forced into when he got here. 

  You were alone.

  He didn’t know anything about pregnancy besides the woman usually got sick right? Every emotion that most men feel when finding out they were going to be a dad hit him all at once. 

  But not fear. 

  He imagined you with a big swollen belly, feet too pudgy to fit into shoes, he’d rub them with lotion until you could fall asleep. 

  He’d imagined his arms holding you from behind, your baby wrapped in his arms still in your womb. The relief you might feel from the weight being in his hands. 

  You were experiencing this pain all by yourself. 

  He couldn’t fathom how you were feeling. Scared. Hopeless? He had no idea. And the thought of you being alone had him nauseous. 

  Why didn’t you didn’t tell him?  

  Why didn’t anyone tell him? 

  His fury built and shook as his voiced boom with grief as he screamed at Steve, dark eyes blood shot and red rimmed. 

  “How could you,” he broke, struggling through the words, "why would you not tell me?!” The cuffs around his wrist broke skin as he tried to claw his way out of them, trying to reach at Steve’s shirt demanding to be heard. 

  “Ed— fuck man!” Steve started, mouth gaping at Eddie’s arms dripping with blood from his fresh wounds, “we didn’t know!” 

  Robin speaks now, trying to reach for Eddie’s hand to offer him some comfort, “She didn’t tell us, Eddie—Steve is right, she didn’t say a word to any of us about it.” 

  “Fuck!” Eddie screams, slamming his wrists into the bed sides, “I sh—should h-have..,” the end falls silent as his long legs were pulled to his chin and he buried his head into them. 

  In the minutes it had been since he found out, he was already a shitty fucking dad.

  The pain of what happened to you and him not being able to stop it quick enough was killing him, and now, realizing that you were carrying his child and you were all alone? 

  There weren’t words for the gut wrenching feeling ripping through him. Overwhelming dread, chest tight with panic and pain. The nausea overtaking him. The vomit came fast, splashing allover himself and the bed, landing in thick puddles on Steve’s shoes. He cried harder and sobbed uncontrollably. When his stomach was empty he could only dry heave. 

  Wayne moved across the tiled floor in quick steps, careful not to slip in the wayward puke in his path. Sitting down hard and with purpose next to Eddie. This wasn’t his first rodeo of seeing Eddie in this turmoil. But never as a grown man. 

  He tried his hardest to hold back the tears he swore he’d never let fall in front of his boy, but gravity won the fight when Eddie pulled him into a bone crushing hug, his sobs snuffed by the canvas of his work jacket. 

———

It was a full 12 hours before Mr. Derry’s statement was released. Tough old bird, he couldn’t be coerced even with the gentle threat from the Cunningham’s came down hard breathing down his neck. 

  Surely not their son? Their angel?

  But the proof was there. An eye witness statement and a severely beaten woman, the record from years past and the statement from both Steve and Robin on what happened last year at your apartment, stood its ground. 

  Eddie was cleared as a free man, self defense in the eyes of the law. The second his cuffs were off he was throwing his boots onto his gripper socked feet, and untangling himself from wires and needles. 

  Steve and Wayne had both taken off work to help Eddie pick up his medication and make him go home and rest. When he tried to protest, Wayne gave Eddie a look that could pierce steel, the kind of look saying no bullshit, and begrudgingly he followed the men out to Steve’s Mercedes. 

  Nancy and Karen stayed behind at the hospital, filling your room with heavily perfumed flowers. Hushed whispers between the mother and daughter as they prayed and hoped that you would make it out of this horrific nightmare. 

  The doctors would only speak to Eddie. Letting him aware that your condition was improving but they would not be able to lift the sedation just yet. A day passed then another. Eddie slept in the hospital grade recliner in your room each night. Singing you sweet lulls of your favorite song. Promising you the world if you would just open your eyes. 

  He was weak himself. Fighting the urge to break down in front of anyone again with each hour that passed. 

-

4 days led to 5 and the nurses and doctors whispered behind their clipboards. On the 6th day they decided to lift the sedation to see how your body would tolerate pain. 

  Eddie never left. 

  Machines beeped and ticked. Tubes and wires connecting from you drip with fluid and monitoring systems. The white walls and outdated curtains of the hospital shine a yellowed glow into your room, bringing with it a warmth to your cotton thread blanket and warming the skin on your arms. A welcomed feeling compared to the cold needles of the IV poking into your skin delivering flows of medicine and liquids to keep you hydrated and your pain manageable. 

  Foiled balloons printed with get well wishes bounce and sway with the kick on from the vent. 

  One of your hands is unexpectedly warmer than the other. A rough drag across the knobs of your knuckles is a familiar feeling, and you smell him before you even open your eyes to acknowledge that it’s him. 

  The clinging smell of cigarettes on a freshly washed shirt and the spice of deodorant force their way into your nose. It’s a different shampoo than the one you’re used to catching on him. More manly. All sandalwood and musk a hint of citrus. And at first you think he’s someone else�� maybe Steve picked up smoking heavily again?

  But when a tuned hum reverberates low against your hand followed by a pair of lips kissing gently around the IV and tape poked and laid against your skin, you know for certain it’s the man you’ve been dreaming about. 

  The one you cried for. 

  The one who visited your sleeping mind and told you everything was going to be okay.

  His name falls from your lips like choked frozen honey, thick in your mouth and on a dry tongue. 

  It was the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. 

  His girl. His whole world. Awake.

[charmedreincarnation]

TW: SA, possibly death??

Hey there fellow witches and warlocks, it's spooky season and I am loving it! I recently discovered the void state through yoga nidra and your reverse psychology method charm, and I was ready to manifest my dream life. October is my birth month and my favorite season, so I was excited to see what the universe had in store for me and whoa did it come through.

It's unfortunate to see that SA victims like me and others are still getting death and rape threats. I was inspired by a blog who shared her experience with yoga nidra, but then deactivated due to trolls sending her horrible messages. It's sad to see people hating on others' success, but we won't let them bring us down.

I manifested everything I desired of course my mind came through!! - from my desired face, body, aura, zodiac, personality, voice, talents, friends, family, and so much more. A few things I've manifested include a dark academia mansion, billionaire parents who aren't known, a witchy and Halloween-themed small business, and an eco-friendly private jet.

I know some of you may be concerned about the "death note" I've manifested, but it's just for fun - I'm a huge fan of Light Yagami from Death Note. I won't actually use it, but it's a cool spook factor to have.

Here’s a tiny list anyways ⬇️

🎃Desired face, body, aura zodiac, personality, voice, talents, friends, family and so much more. I had this long wattpadd story ass list that I obviously won’t share here but trust me my mind came through .

🎃open minded witchy family, dark academia ass mansion, Pinterest dark academia wardrobe in my massive closet that’s the size of a room, billionaire parents who aren’t known (I love my privacy and I love being mysterious), wattpadd billionaire love story to happen in the future. Yes not now…. I’ve been ugly all my life so I want to be a slut right for a bit not sorry, everyone loves and falls in love with me, Idgaf personality, Scorpio sun moon and rising, bold attitude that is adored, but a kind heart for the people I love and so much more. Again like most people I had a very long list on my google documents

🎃I own a witchy candy and Halloween small business!!! but I’m going to be making 100 million dollars a year so I will be a billionaire in the future. I like working and having a craft and it’s just so me, ugh I love my life !!! But I’m going to hire my two best friends that I manifested so we can all be successful rich witch bitches who travel the world and have too much money to spend

🎃an environment friendly private jet. It won’t affect the environment as I love the environment but I also hate flying commercial! I’m also vegan now, I couldn’t be one before due to health issues, but I love animals 🥹🥹🥹 and now I’m rich enough to have healthy tasty cruelty free food.

🎃anyone who sends death threats, rape threats, or engages in a bitter manner on that tea page including the owner will never get into the void until they grow up and acknowledge that they’re weirdos. I’m not as forgiving as these other big blogs. Bye ✌️

🎃anytime I say “you’ll die alone” when im arguing with a man 🤮🤮 (incels, misgyonists, racists not men who aren’t insufferable ofc love y’all) they actually will, and no one will ever love them, until they grow up and once again acklowege their faults. As you can see I’m very into vigilante justice and I’m petty 👻 I’m a witch anyways so now my craft will be perfect.

🎃all my spells and curses work! And any harm attempted to be done to me always backfires On the person 10x worse ! Yea this is my world everyone’s just living in it.

🎃psychokenis, my eyes being able to turn red, divine protection for me and my loved ones, the ability to speak to animals, and never aging. The last thing I manifested a way to benefit all !!!! research age regression and see how we will all be eternal youthful witch bitches in the future ;) I got inspired by my grandma who retired but us too old to enjoy her life. Now she can and we call be 150 and still sexy with 0 bodily pain. I also always hated how we slowly decompose and lose bodily function until we die.. like why can’t we be sexy and bodily abled forever!! This will also help with health issues and diseases like cancer! Just one way to give back for my blessings. And the rest is just to spook bitches tbh I don’t plan on actually doing anything but speaking to animals.

🎃I manifested a death note. Now before y’all start I just really love light yagami I don’t think I will actually use it or maybe I will just to spook bitches but whatever

🎃so much more that I don’t want to share because it’s too long!

So, fellow hot bitches and witches , keep manifesting your dreams and never let anyone bring you down. Remember, we were born to be happy, rich, and loved. It is in your DNA and my word is final !!!!! I’m gonna leave my dream life and be a whore now lova yaaaa 🖤🖤🖤

Lmfao slay 😭😭 idk if it’s too early or what but this sending me for some reason! Anyways I wish you all the best in your life and dreams. Have a great spooky season! I love witches and Halloween too 🧞‍♀️🧞‍♀️

[mushrubes]

A date

Masterlist | Resident Evil masterlist

Requested : yes

'Hii, can I request a RE6 Leon Kennedy scenario with the prompt “Let’s go out. Just the two of us”, it can be about the reader and Leon being work partners for a long time, sometimes after missions they go out and drink with other people from the work. In one of those hangings reader invites him to go on a date or something like that.

Reader doesn’t necessarily have to be so flirty it can be more of a idk awkward? Like, when you’re about to ask someone out but never have done it before so things kinda turn awkward but cute'

Pairing : Leon Kennedy x reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type :  fluff

Word count : 1.9k

Content: Swear words, mutual pinning, slightly ooc :)

Have a great day !! <3

——————————

You'd just gotten back from a mission with the group, all of you agreeing to meet at the local bar to celebrate how successful the mission had been. You'd been the last to show up with Jill, greeting Chris and Carlos who were sat at the table. Your eyes wandered around the room, looking for a certain blonde, unable to find him. You were searching around for Leon when you heard that familiar voice to your left. "I'm right here," he spoke in a soft, calming voice, a slight smile on his face. He had a beer in one hand and his other hand rested in his pocket. "who said I was looking for you?" You teased jokingly, looking at your long-time work partner, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks.

"I can read you like an open book. I knew exactly what you were thinking when you walked in." Leon chuckled, taking a sip from his beer. He looked over at you, staring at you for a moment before speaking again. "You know, it's always a joy to see you." he responded, his voice genuine. "It's always a joy to see you too. How's your arm holding up?" You asked softly, looking over the bandage. Leon followed your gaze to the wound on his arm. "Oh, it's just a scratch, nothing I can't handle" Leon chuckled, looking up at you, his eyes shining with emotion. "I know I've told you this before, but I just have to say, you look absolutely beautiful tonight." He complimented, eyes soft. Leon looked at you , his eyes starting to glaze over, he was becoming infatuated with you all over again. he looked away for a second, a light blush forming on his cheeks. "Um, thank you. You're sweet. You should know that." He chuckled before finishing off his beer.

"Hey, uh..."You paused, your nerves getting the best of you. You took a deep breath, wiping your sweaty palms on your sides. Leon raised an eyebrow, looking back at you "Yes?" he gave you a soft, gentle smile as he waited for your response, listening intently to every word you would say. "Let's go out. Just the two of us." you got out, cheeks tinted. Leon felt his heart skip a beat as he heard you suggest a date. He took a minute to collect himself, trying to come up with a response "That sounds… that sounds amazing to me. I would love to go out as just the two of us. When were you thinking? Saturday night?" he paused for a second, his eyes glued to you, waiting on their response. Leon smiled as he looked at you, their quick response caught him off guard, but the fact that their was so excited made everything all the better

"Well, it looks like I have a date with the prettiest person in the city this Saturday night. I'm gonna have to think of something special to do for you."

----

The cool autumn breeze and dark, cloudy sky made the entrance to the haunted corn maze even more creepy. Faint screams from participants could be heard from the corn maze. Leon wanted to visit a spooky attraction with you. He thought it was the perfect date idea considering Halloween was just around the corner. He turned to look at you and gave you an excited smile. His hand found yours and interlocked them together, squeezing gently. “Don’t be afraid to grab onto me if you get too scared.” he assured, a smug grin on his face as he looked down at you. "You're more likely to grab onto me." You teased, grinning at him.

Leon grinned at your sassy remark. “Oh, is that right?” He said, a challenge in his voice. The pair of you walked hand in hand into the corn maze. Shadows cast by the low sun rays made the atmosphere seem even more ominous. The sweet scent of fall air wafted by your nose. Leon noticed the nervous tension in you and his voice softened. “It’s alright. I’m right here,” he assured, thumb rubbing your hand. "I know, I know," you said softly, smiling weakly at him. He squeezed your hand gently and smiled as you looked up at him. The pair of you walked through the corn maze. You felt his strong presence next to you, making you feel safe. Leon noticed some movement between the corn stalks. “Ready to be scared?”

You nodded, gripping his hand slightly tighter. Leon chuckled softly as you squeezed his hand, showing your nervousness while waiting for a scare. Leon had a teasing grin as you both made your way deeper into the maze. The screams from other participants got louder the more the two of you walked deeper into the maze. Leon looked at the corn behind you, noticing movement between the stalks, a sign of an upcoming scare. As the two of you walked, Leon slowed down a bit.

He noticed you start to tense up, and heard you let out a sharp inhale when you saw movement behind the corn. Leon gripped your hand tightly, a signal for you to stay close and follow him out of range of whatever was hiding within the corn. You couldn't see exactly what was behind there, but its shape was enough to cause you to feel a slight chill. Leon squeezed your hand again and led you out of the maze, making sure to stay close to you in case of any scare attacks from any side - neither of you noticed the clown approaching behind.

Leon stayed vigilant as you continued to walk the corn maze. You both kept your senses sharp, waiting for a scare to happen anytime. As you were both focusing on the front, both of you failed to notice the clown sneaking up behind you. The clown was very adept at sneaking up on unsuspecting visitors. It was a skill that the workers in the maze were notorious for. The clown had now positioned itself behind the two of you. It was so quiet that it managed to slip right behind you without an inch of detection.

Now it was just waiting for the right moment. The clown stayed still, staying silent and waiting for the right moment. It was looking right at you. The clown's breath was now visible due to the temperature change. You could feel its presence behind you, just waiting. Both a good and bad feeling. Leon was still keeping a close eye on the front and behind him, not noticing that the clown had managed to slip behind you. The clown raised its head as if to check if anyone was looking at it. It made its move now, raising a blood-stained machete up into the air.

Leon noticed you started to scream. He heard a loud metallic sound, that must have been the machete that the clown had just swung at you. Leon acted fast, rushing towards you and tackling you away from the clown. The machete came crashing down on the corn maze, slicing right through the stalks. Leon quickly dragged you both towards the exit, the clown was still chasing after you both. Leon pushed the both of you against the maze wall, your backs pressed against the hard surface.

You were shaking slightly, cheeks pink from embarrassment at your fear. Leon looked at you and squeezed your hand reassuringly. The sudden adrenaline had caused him to start getting into his work mode, but his look of concern remained. He noticed the trembling in you and smiled a little, finding it somewhat cute. He noticed the pinkness in your cheeks from the embarrassment of fear and chuckled softly. "You okay?" He asked, looking away to check if the clown was nearby before turning his attention back to you.

You nodded, intertwining your hands and walking out of the maze with him, too embarrassed to speak. The two of you exited the small haunted corn maze, breathing heavily from the scare. Leon looked at you and smiled at the pinkness in your cheeks from the blush of embarrassment. He squeezed your hand as he looked down at you and chuckled. "You shouldn't feel embarrassed for being scared. Everybody has fears." He reassured you. "And it wasn't just you who that clown managed to surprise too. At least 25 people have reported seeing that thing just today. It's a professional at sneaking up on people."

"Still-" you sighed softly, looking at the ground. Leon noticed the defeat and disappointment in your tone. He was still holding onto your hand and looked down at you. He smiled reassuringly. "There's no shame whatsoever in admitting that you got scared. Everybody has fears, just like I do. And even if you're embarrassed, the fact that you've managed to keep your cool and go on this date with me says something about your character." He said, squeezing your hand softly. You smiled, walking with him away from the maze. "What do you wanna do now?"

Leon thought for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next. He wanted to do something that wasn't related to horror or anything spooky, considering what just happened at the corn maze. He had a sudden idea for the date. "How about I take your mind off that scare and we visit the pumpkin patch?" He asked, looking you in the eyes. "..yeah. we could get two and carve pumpkins tomorrow?" you suggested, grinning at him. Leon smiled a little and laughed at the thought of carving pumpkins together. “Definitely.” He said, still amused by the thought. He squeezed your hand and his expression went from amusement to seriousness as he had an important question to ask. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

"go ahead." You nodded as you headed to the pumpkin patch. Leon had been enjoying the fun-loving and cheerful side of you that he had seen throughout the date, but his expression changed to one of seriousness as he looked over at you during the journey to the pumpkin patch. “I know it's a little early to ask, but I was wondering if we could go out on another date? We've had a lovely date so far, especially with the little horror element in the haunted corn maze, and I'd like to know if we could keep seeing each other.” His cheeks were a light pink, eyes full of love. "I'd…I'd love to go on another date with you. I enjoy hanging out with you - more than just being your partner at work." you giggled, squeezing his hand.

Leon's expression brightened once this had registered in his brain. He was delighted! He thought that he would be too pushy if he asked you to be official already, so being told that you'd like to continue seeing him was the most perfect answer he could have received. "Awesome!" He said, squeezing your hand with enthusiasm, "Well, now that you mention work, I was going to ask you something else." You tilted your head in curiosity, silently telling him to keep going.

"Would you maybe… Be interested in maybe being my partner?" He asked, a little uneasy because he didn't want to be too pushy or too fast in asking. "Don't feel obligated to answer immediately. We can see each other for a little while longer in a romantic context before you decide if you want to commit. Just a proposal from me for consideration in the future if you do end up having feelings for me." Leon said. Your cheeks went red and you grinned at him, eyes full of adoration.

"I'd love to."

[tacosaysroar]

I adore this time of year, when every streaming service is chock full of horror movies and macabre TV shows.

It’s sad not to have a Mike Flanagan series this year*, but his Netflix contract is done, so not a surprise. ALSO, he’s in the midst of adapting The Dark Tower as his next series, and I’m very much looking forward to that.

I thought I was over Ryan Murphy — when you have to one-up your own shocking content every single year, it starts to get both silly and exploitative. But he’s redeemed himself with Grotesquerie, at least so far. It’s got a real Seven vibe.

Guys, I really wanted to like I Saw the TV Glow like some of you did, but it. Was. SO. Slow. NFA and I tried watching it and he actually fell asleep twice in the first half hour, so we turned it off. I felt compelled to finish it later in the week, and it did pick up a bit, but it didn’t pay off.

There are so many movies in my watchlists right now. It might actually be a struggle to get through them all before Halloween, and that’s exactly the kind of problem I don’t mind having.

*though, admittedly, I didn’t really enjoy the last two (teen-focused Midnight Club and the Succession/Fall of the House of Usher remix, although that one had Rahul Kohli playing a bad boy and I’d never in a million years say no to that.)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

You watch slasher movies? I haven't done so in years (much to my disappointment), got any recommendations, classics, popular, underrated, anything really?

I knew I hadn't watched them in a long time, but it wasn't till I had to try and write something based on classic slashers, that I realized how long its been since I consumed that kind of content.

My only plan so far is that I need to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Alright, Pandora, it depends on your tastes, and what you look for in a "slasher" ❤️

As you may remember, I fucking love the OG the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and when I got pretty bad last month emotionally I watched it on repeat for two weeks straight. However, if you go in for a regular slasher film you will be disappointed. The first movie is incredible, focusing on amazing shots and atmosphere for nearly the entire first half. It's less of a slasher as we would come to know the genre, and more of an artistic film centered around the horrors of humanity. The series is a wonderful mess of multiple timelines and little continuity, but the sequels better fit the slasher archetype. The best sequel (imo) is the one directly after the first, and it's a black comedy slasher, focusing more on the kills.

Now, slashers ❤️

If you're a nerd and want to experience the slasher history, then before Halloween (which still holds up) there was Black Christmas, and before that the Town that Dreaded Sundown.

The Town that Dreaded Sundown is based off a true serial killer, and unlike TCM which is loosely inspired by Ed Gein, a lot of the kills (except the trombone scene) are based on actual murders, with his mask accurate to the only real world survivor's testimony of her assault. It's very slow pace, and with how desensitized we are as a society you might find it boring, but if you ever get a phonecall from Ghostface, then you have to know the Town that Dreaded Sundown. Fun fact, his mask also inspired Jason's mask from Friday the 13th part 2!

Black Christmas is awesome! I'd recommend it more than Sundown, because of pacing, characters, acting, and overall atmosphere. I love my second wave feminism horror (Stepford Wives (mwah)), and it did a lot better with it's feminist themes than the loose remake from 2019 that tried to be intentionally feminist (ignore the 2006 remake entirely, so bad, so lame, so gross). It did the first person perspective of the killer nearly four years before Halloween's iconic opening. It introduced the idea of the final girl, but she wouldn't become a sexually repressed younger woman until Halloween solidified the trope. It has some great kills that still hold up, and Billy is iconic. I really feel the only reason why he isn't more well known in non-horror spaces is because he doesn't have a mask or outfit that can be replicated and sold in Spirit.

After that we have our most well known slashers, and they're popular for good reason ❤️

A Nightmare on Elm St, Friday the 13th, and Halloween spawned sequels that spiraled off into varying degrees of madness, but still have fun moments.

After the success of Friday the 13th (and the realization of the franchise-ability of slashers) there were a lot of slashers that tried to capture the money magic of the first few success stories. Not all of them were great, but a few notable slashers imo are My Bloody Valentine and the Dentist.

Although Candyman is often lumped in with slashers, like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the first movie is more than a traditional slasher. I recommend the first one as a beautiful love story about the horrors of American racism. It's score is still incredible, the behind the scenes are so interesting, and Tony Todd is absolutely beautiful. Such an amazing actor. (Not so) Fun fact: Tony Todd said in the behind the scenes that there originally was a romantic scene where Helen proclaimed her love for Candyman, but they were forced to cut it, because "they were okay with a tall, black man covered in bees.. but, mm, when it came to a kiss, or something like that, it was a little bit too risque..." ( :/ )

(Please please please watch Candyman)

Then the best, or worst (depending on your views), thing happened to the genre; Scream.

One of the best slashers there is, it isn't the first self referential, meta horror (see Wes Craven's New Nightmare), but it did change the slasher genre for a very long time. It was a revival for the genre, since it was declining in popularity by the early 90s. However, post Scream horror was very meta. See Chucky's personality changing from the occasional funny quip, to Bride of Chucky levels of silly (still love him tho). Of the terrible horror trying to copy Scream, I'd recommend Urban Legend over I Know What You Did Last Summer. It was a shame, just how silly a lot of scary movies got back then, trying to be as smart and self aware as Scream was.

But my favorite (outside of Scream) meta horror slasher film is Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon ❤️ took meta to a whole new level, mockumentary style, a camera crew follows a wannabe slasher killer explaining how to be a slasher icon.

I've watched too many slashers to remember all of them right now, but if you want really meta black comedies, Tucker and Dale vs Evil isn't a slasher but a loving joke on the genre, and the Final Girls made me laugh and cry like a little bitch.

A lot of slashers since the late 90s have drifted closer to the black comedy sub genre. Killers that kill for the sake of killing are often B-rated blood fests, that can be great for mindless fun but not so great for box office gains, especially in our current horror renaissance. Slashers don't fit in to the current horror culture. Serial killers aren't scary for desensitized audiences, and the mindless gore expectations set by older slasher films have created a pretty specific genre setup and pay off (dumb people who only exist to die get brutally murdered). It either has to be B-rated mindless fun (Laid to Rest 1 and 2 had terrible camera work and directing, making even incredible actors like Lena Headey feel lackluster, but the practical effects are so impressive I'd recommend it just for the blood and guts (and bewbs)), or comedic (the Hatchet series has great cameos, genuine laughs, and more impressive practical effects, but with good cinematography and directing (still bewbs)). Slashers that don't lean in to how ridiculous the concept of slashers are and try to take themselves seriously often end up falling short, either creating boring killers with no personality or trying to force a plot into a generic slasher shaped hole.

This does include most remakes of slasher movies, as a lot of slashers were remade in the early 2000's with less interesting characters to be killed off by the slashers. The remake of Candyman was an exception, because even though it wasn't as good as the original, it did go back to it's non slasher roots, learning from the mistake that was the third Candyman.

TLDR:

Non slashers that are considered slashers because of the slasher sequels/iconic murderers:

the Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Candyman

Child's Play

Best Precursor to the genre:

Black Christmas

Popular Classics:

Halloween

Friday the 13th

a Nightmare on Elm St

Pre 90's Slashers that I recommend:

The Dentist

Sleepaway Camp (it's divided on whether it's problematic or interesting representation)

Alice, Sweet Alice

My Bloody Valentine

Post 90's meta commentary/black comedy:

Scream

Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon

Hatchet

The Final Girls

Tucker and Dale vs Evil

There are obviously a lot more, but these are a few off the top of my head ❤️

[xx-alice-in-wonderland-xx]

Sonadow Incorrect Quotes 🖤💙

Sonic: I like your new pants!  Shadow: Thanks, they were 50% off!  Sonic: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*  Shadow: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.  Sonic: Thats’s… not what I meant.  Shadow: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Sonic.

Sonic: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?  Shadow: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

Shadow: What do you want to be for Halloween?  Sonic: Yours.  Shadow: Shadow: …yeah, that would be pretty scary.

Sonic: Listen, we’re done, we’re over! Okay?  Shadow: Whatever bitch, you ain’t never gonna find no one like me.  Sonic: Yeah, that's the point shithead!

Shadow: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...  Sonic: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?  Shadow: Holy moly-

Sonic: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Shadow!  Shadow: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

Shadow: Look, last night was a mistake.  Sonic: A sexy mistake.  Shadow: No, just a regular mistake.

Sonic: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?  Shadow: Nope, there's 26.  Sonic: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.  Shadow: Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.  Sonic: You'll get the D later ;). Shadow: …

Shadow: Well, it finally happened. Rouge and Omega: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*  Shadow: That's right... We kissed.

meanwhile with sonic:

Sonic: Well, Shadow and I finally did it!  Tails, Amy and Knuckles: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*  Sonic: That's right... We fu-!

Shadow: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.  Sonic: That's great, Shadow. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

Sonic: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?  Shadow: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Sonic: How do I tell Shadow that I want him to yell at me like he’s Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

Shadow: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.  Sonic: Hi, I’m ‘things’.

Sonic: Are you trying to seduce me?  Shadow: Why, are you seducible?

Sonic: Are you sure Shadow's even gay? He’s only looked at me for 5 hours.

Sonic: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!  Shadow: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.  Sonic: Stop.

Sonic: Shadow is playing hard to get.  Sonic: Little do they know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.

Shadow: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.  Sonic: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely*  Shadow: That one. I want that one.

Shadow: We both look very handsome tonight.  Sonic: You know, if you'd just said that I looked handsome, I would have said, "So do you."  Shadow: I couldn't take that chance.

Sonic: Shadow and I are no longer friends.  Shadow: SONIC THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL PEOPLE THAT WE’RE DATING!

Waiter: What would you like?  Sonic: Bring a milkshake with two straws.  Shadow: ??? Sonic: *puts both straws in his mouth* Watch how fast I can drink this!! Shadow: I am married to a man, with the brain of a 5 year old child.

Shadow: Wow, they really hate us.  Sonic: Yes, perhaps they’re homophobic.  Shadow: But we’re not gay, Sonic.  Sonic: Shadow: Sonic: We’re not?

Shadow: Wow, Sonic, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.  Sonic: We literally slept together yesterday.  Shadow: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

Sonic: *Laughs* Babe, you had a crush on me? That’s embarrassing—  Shadow: We’re married.

Shadow: How much did you spend on this date?  Sonic: $1400. But all of it's on credit cards, so it's like $5 a month for the next 2,000 years.

(thank god shadows immortal then 💀🙌)

Shadow: *angrily presses Sonic against a wall* WHERE'S THE CHAOS EMERALD?!  Sonic: ...  Sonic: Are we about to kiss-

Shadow: Go fuck yourself.  Sonic, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch

Sonic: My hands are cold.  Shadow: Here, let me hold them.  Sonic: My lips are cold too.  Shadow: *covers Sonic's mouth with their hand*

Sonic, throwing his head into Shadow's lap: Tell me I'm pretty!  Shadow, lovingly stroking Sonic’s quills with a demonic smile: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

Shadow: I feel like doing something stupid.  Sonic: I’m stupid, do me.

Sonic: This date is boring!  Shadow: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.  Sonic: Then why did you invite me?  Shadow: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Shadow I'll do whatever I want!

Sonic: You look good in that hoodie.  Shadow: You know where else I'd look good?  Sonic, zero hesitation: My bed.  Shadow, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

*Sonic comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Shadow’s bedroom.*  Shadow: Babe, are you.. coming to bed?  Sonic: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a boyfriend called Shadow.  Sonic: *Lies on the ground and falls asleep*  Shadow: ... Why do I do this to myself.

Sonic: Shadow and I are no longer dating.  Shadow: Sonic, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

Sonic: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.  Shadow: Aren't you forgetting something?  Sonic: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Shadow's forehead before running out.*  Shadow: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

Shadow: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?  Sonic: It was autocorrect.  Shadow: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?  Sonic: Yes.

[envyenvys]

Stobin Mandalorian AU part 3

(aka s3 stobin accidentally acquire a magic baby)

[1] [2] [You Are Here] [4]

Abby’s eyes are so big and soft and brown. They’re like his mother’s eyes, round and sweet. She’s so cute, even in the bland grey onesie the Russians put her in, which isn’t nearly as nice as she deserves. She deserves nice, comfy, pretty clothes — and a warm hat, because it gets cold in the evenings even in the summer.

“Steve,” Robin sighs, “I’m soooo thirsty. Can you hold Abby while I get a drink from the fountain?”

Steve holds his arms out before she’s even done talking. She snorts and passes him the baby, who blinks up at him with big eyes. The weight of her is perfect in his arms. He’s never going to put her down.

He follows dazedly after Robin, and the only reason he doesn’t spend the entire time staring at Abby is because if he manages to trip and drop her because he isn’t paying attention he’s going to blow up the mall.

He hands Abby back very reluctantly so he can take his own drink of water, then accepts her again gratefully when Robin goes back for more. He’d get some for Abby too, but he’s pretty sure babies this small aren’t supposed to drink water. It’s all moot anyway because they’re both running off to puke before Robin’s done her second turn.

He holds Abby very carefully to avoid getting her dirty — either from the puke or the gross bathroom floor. She protests a bit but doesn’t start crying again so all in all it’s a success.

“Oh god,” Robin groans, “was that all of it? I hope that was all of it.”

“Think so,” Steve grunts, wiping his mouth with some toilet paper. It’s really flimsy, he hates this place.

“Quick, ask me a question.”

Steve blanks. He can’t remember any question he’s ever asked. He looks at Abby, then down at the toilet bowl.

“When was the last time you pissed your pants?” Whatever, that works.

“Today,” Robin says, sounding almost amazed. “When that Russian doctor took out the bone saw. It was just a little bit though.”

Steve laughs softly, tipping his head back to rest it against the wall. Definitely wasn’t all of it, then.

“Your turn.”

Robin hums. He can see her shoes tap-tapping against the tile through the small gap under the stall.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you’ve ever been in love, but after seeing you with Abby… now I’m wondering — why did you break up with Nancy Wheeler?”

Ah. Ouch.

“She broke up with me.”

“Wait, what?”

Robin scrambles up and around into his stall, crouching in front of him and Abby.

“She broke up with you?”

Steve doesn’t understand why she looks so confused. He nods.

“I mean, technically, yeah,” he says, and she tilts her head in confusion. “It was, uh, Halloween. Tina’s party, you remember. She was drunk and she started going on about how we killed Barb and our whole relationship was just…” —he swallows, looks away— “bullshit. That we spent a whole year pretending we were in love. When I talked to her the next day she couldn’t take it back, so.” He shrugs.

“Holy shit,” Robin whispers. “Steve, I’m so— I thought you broke up with her because you didn’t want to settle down or something, holy fuck.”

Steve laughs, “Settle down? Nancy? No, she’d hate that. She has all these big dreams, and she’s not exactly bad with kids but I don’t think she really likes them either.”

He looks down at Abby, strokes her soft little cheek. “No, if anything I was too boring for her, not the other way around.”

“You’re not boring, Steve,” Robin protests. “Wanting to settle down and have kids doesn’t make you boring.”

“What about you, then?” Steve asks, and it should be a simple question except Robin looks like she’s going to throw up again.

“Um, well, I don’t know,” she says, eyes fixed on the toilet roll. “I guess it sounds nice, but…”

She takes a deep breath.

“Do you remember… what I said about Mrs Click’s class?”

Steve nods slowly, “Yeah, you said you were obsessed with me because of my bagel crumbs, or something.”

“It wasn’t your stupid bagel crumbs,” Robin rolls her eyes, “it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you. It was like she was half in love with you, bagel crumbs and all, even though you couldn’t more clearly be gone on Nancy Wheeler. She’d spend the whole class staring and sighing and I wanted her to look at me. Just once.”

“…Mrs Click?” he asks, because the blue drug might be mostly gone but his thoughts were soupy even before that.

Robin sighs.

“Tammy Thompson,” she says emphatically.

Steve thinks on this for a moment. He’d thought Robin was confessing to him earlier, back in the bunker, but apparently not because she was actually talking about a girl. But then, it still sounds..? Oh. Oh. Okay.

Well, he kind of feels like he’ll die without her at this point, so it’s not like he’s going to reject her for something he doesn’t really care about in the first place. Robin’s Robin, she matters more to him than who she does or doesn’t want to kiss. Besides, maybe if they aren’t dating then she can’t break his heart.

“Doesn’t she want to be a singer?” he asks dubiously, instead of trying to say any of that out loud. “That’s like the opposite of settling down. And she isn’t even good at it anyway.”

Robin’s jaw drops.

“Yes she is!” she protests.

“No, I’m serious,” Steve laughs, “she sounds like a muppet! We should get her to sing educational songs to Abby.”

“Steve!”

Steve starts singing through all the Sesame Street songs he remembers, except he doesn’t get far because he keeps laughing. Robin’s laughing with him, giddy with relief, and Steve feels his heart swelling into his throat again.

[Next]

[barachiki]

Here's a story because I mentioned the coffee I had:

In university, I used to be really addicted to caffeine. Like full blown shakes and teeth grinding and migraines and anxiety if I didn't get it. I had my own espresso machine, and I had a café right below my dorm where I'd get cheap triple shot lattes every day before class. I was so bad that I usually needed at least a little coffee to calm me down enough to sleep.

There was this class I took, Psychology of Adjustment. I have no idea what it was about anymore, but I do remember this one assignment. We had to break a habit using a method we had learned about, scientifically describe the process, write out the successes, failures and if you were using positive or negative reinforcement. We had three weeks to do this.

My friend Tony did his study on stretches. If he did his physio stretches before noon, then he'd get a piece of Halloween candy as a treat. A simple positive reinforcement.

Sleeping in was the habit I wanted to break, so my plan was that each day I slept in, I wouldn't be allowed my favourite thing: coffee. It was supposed to be a negative reinforcement study.

The thing is, I didn't know how addicted I was to coffee/caffeine. As well, I was horrifically depressed and I've been an insomniac since I was a kid, so I never got the sleep I needed. The task was impossible.

First thing I did was sleep in the first two days. So no coffee for me. I did the negative reinforcement for those two days... but by the third day, I was so beyond irritable, nauseous and headachy and shaky that I snuck some coffee even though I still slept in. Then over the next week, I was practically hallucinating without the caffeine, so I was shaking and making stupid bargains ('I only slept in a half hour so I should get half the coffee', 'Maybe I can just try again tomorrow and have a mocha tonight,' that kind of thing). With classes going until 9pm and trying to get up for 6am, I was fighting a losing battle with both sides of the study.

I quit even trying after nine days.

By the time I had to write up the study, I had no data, no results and nothing to show other than my failure. So I lied. I made up data, I fabricated these tables, notes and explained how I broke my habit and now only take coffee occasionally and I wake up on time cheerfully every morning blah blah blah.

My prof, who was not an idiot, asked me for my handwritten notes. I panicked and said I kept my laptop by my bed and wrote down the notes on my computer. I know he didn't buy it. He was a Psychology prof, who has seen a million of these assignments. But my writeup said all the right things, and it showed that I understood the concept, so I got a C instead of an F.

I realized later that not everyone was 'successful' with their studies, but still got good grades. I knew then that if I had explained how badly I failed my study in the assignment and why (discovering I had a caffeine addiction), I probably would have aced the assignment. After all, it wasn't about breaking the habit, but the process.

I think of this every once in a while, that it is possible to be perfect and still fail, but also it is possible to fail and still be perfect, if you take my meaning (or some other philosophical garbage like that...)

I also know now that denying an insomniac university student her coffee was ambitious and idiotic. I should have just done the stupid Halloween candy thing.

[trishafairydancer]

How I ended up at the Grocery Store in my Psycho Jester Halloween Costume, Full makeup and all…

(with storytelling, photos, links to videos, and even a some music)

It was the day before Halloween and my excitement to get into character as a Crazy Jester became a sudden driving force in my easily hyper focused mind. I planned to go to dance class that night, and since I knew there were no classes on Halloween day, I got it in my head that I would dress up for class that night instead! It was hip hop but who hasn’t done hip hop dance in a circus costume, am I right? Standard practice.

I got carried away while getting ready, as one does, and next thing I knew I had the full evil Jester makeup on as well!

While I was at it, I fired up the TikTok machine and began pumping out videos one after the other into my drafts. Collecting them like treasure for my interactive digital dance portfolio that I share with the world on that platform.

(click the link under the photo for the video)

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFvghJG3/

Before I knew it I had to grab my water bottle, protein shake, my hoop and run out the door to class! A good Jester needs a trick, like juggling, and I must have skipped that training in my imaginary circus schooling, so my hoop dance tricks would just have to do. Besides, I wasn’t a “Good Jester” I was a “super crazy cute psycho manic fun Jester “.

I arrived to class, and quickly realized I must be the oldest youngest person there, because I was the Only one in costume! People enjoyed my festive getup anyway though, and I got in a few hoop tricks before and after class. It was a fun time with friends, as it always is at the dance studio!

(click the link under the photo for the video)

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFvb378J/

Success! All went well in my spontaneous plan, which was entirely thrown together last minute like an ADHD mastermind, stitched together by random acts, thoughts, and impulses that had collected for weeks only to burst forth from my mind into action in a matter of hours, and surprise everyone including myself!

I began the drive home when suddenly I realized, the situation I had placed myself in: I needed to stop at the grocery store on the way to pick up necessary items for the next morning. There was no other time, no other way, I HAD to go to Publix in full on, creepy circus themed Halloween regalia, face paint and all!!

Mind you, this wasn’t on Halloween, it was the day before, so I was the ONLY person dressed up, and because it was evening time, everyone and their whole families were there! I was a spectacle in a sea of spectators.

Interestingly, I observed something fascinating about the human species in this scenario I found myself in. At least 80% of the people there didn’t even want to make eye contact or look in my direction even though I knew that they knew how I looked, and I feel like they knew that I knew that they knew, and yet still, not a glance, not a word. Why are so many people sleep walking their life away, when they could stare life in the creepy circus clown eyes and give a laugh, give a hi, give a smile, say a word, engage, and be alive? For those that did look my way I was sure to either give them a cutesy smile, or my favorite, a crazy smirk with my eyes as wide as possible! A few people did acknowledge me with kind words, and when no one was looking I snuck some footage of the strange imagery that was me dressed as a crazy circus performer amongst the sea of peanut butter and jelly jars, pushing a cart around like I was going to do a trick with it.

(click the link under the photo for the video)

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFvgLfqh/

Honestly the whole day was an impromptu success! Although I did wear myself out, and the next day, on Halloween, I had to rethink my entire costume, but that’s a story for a different day…

Until then, have some on theme music for your journey:

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 29: "how did this happen?"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Laurie sat on a stool in her dad's garage, transforming his car into a monster with washable paint. She'd begun work on it today. This project needed to be done in time, before her parents' Halloween party. She hoped two days would be enough.

Her old college sweatshirt covered half her body. It was one of her painting tops, and the sweater's original red had been replaced by many colors the last few years. Art school taught her the discipline she'd lacked in her previous schools. Probably, as both her therapist and husband told her, because painting actually brought her joy.

Real joy. Productive joy. Not destructive satisfaction.

She dabbed her paintbrush in paint mixed on her pallette. She returned to the creative zone when the garage's side door swung open. Her dad entered. She scooted out of the way so he could see her progress on the car.

He pulled out a stool, sat, and said nothing.

She continued to paint, but his watchful silence bothered her. "If you're waiting to critique my work, don't. I can take it."

"How did this happen?" he said but sounded awed, not annoyed.

"How did what happen?"

"You painting that masterpiece from my dinky little drawing. It's horrendous, and I mean that as a compliment." He pointed to the headlights. "The details ... you've made those look like bleeding, rotting eyes."

She presented her pallette and paintbrush to him. "I've got the right tools."

"Not from me." Dad laced his fingers together on his lap and bowed his head. "When you were a little girl -- hell, until your early twenties, I both coddled and held you to an impossible standard. With Eric, I never hid my expectations. With you, it was subtle." He raised his head and looked her in the eye. "I wasn't a very good father to you. You're a success in spite of me."

Laurie's chest tightened with pain. She wasn't having a heart attack. Dad was breaking her heart, and she put her paintbrush and palette on the drop cloth protecting the floor.

"Dad -- " She went to where he sat and hugged him. He hugged her back weakly, and she said, "You supported me through all my failures. I get that you struggled between wanting me to succeed on merit and your weird, regressive idea of pretty women snagging rich husbands. You only ever wanted me to be safe."

His embrace remained weak. "Safe? I disowned you -- "

"For, like, half a day. Because you had an idealized view of me, and I burst your delusional bubble." She ended the hug he barely participated in. "But you eventually accepted the real me, all of it. I wouldn't have gotten through art school without you or Mom."

Dad's face flushed, and he gestured to himself. "Come here."

She did, and this time he embraced her properly. Strongly. He wasn't crying, but she could make him if she tried.

Instead, she let him talk.

"I'm doing my best to change where I failed. You wouldn't have chased so many dumbasses, the single and married ones, if I'd given you a better example of -- of a man. A father."

Laurie parted from him but kissed his cheek. She appreciated, deeply, that he was owning his mistakes. Her low self-esteem, her therapist said, did stem in large part from being idealized by him and the expectations she could never meet: achieving his concept of a perfect daughter. So she rebelled and became the opposite.

"Since when did you become so introspective?" she said.

"As soon as my house was empty of kids." He tapped his temple. "I finally had time to think.

"Are you looking forward to being a grandpa?"

He grinned. "Oh, yeah. I'll get to enjoy teaching my grandson or granddaughter how to play ball, fix a car, and never have to change a diaper or get up for three a.m. feedings ... and the best part -- they won't live here."

He tossed his head back and laughed.

Laurie patted his shoulder to regain his attention. "What do you mean they? Is someone else pregnant? Is Eric? Donna's the type to make him carry the baby in his womb."

Dad's laughter transformed into a fit of coughing. He struck his chest and gave her the I'm okay sign with his free hand.

"If Eric had a womb," he said once he could speak, "that's probably true. I just meant they as in I don't know if you're having a boy or a girl."

"Maybe it'll be both. If I have twins, Mom said Tim and I could move in here with you."

"Your mother said what?" He got off the stool and matched toward the garage's side door.

She stepped in front of him. "I'm lying, I'm lying." Despite his and Mom's reassurance, his health always worried her. "I doubt we're having twins anyway. They don't run in either of our families."

He blew out a deep breath. "You want me to live long enough to see your kid graduate from high school, right?"

"Right ... "

"Then never joke about moving into my house with your husband and twin babies again."