#ALSO ALL THE LITTLE LOVE LETTERS YOU'RE LEAVING TO HORROR??!

[erineas]

Every time i leave and reenter this site there's new people looking at my dust and I'm like:

[bloodbrown]

I'm gonna offer a little morsel to chew on that's been driving me insane😳 for your consideration, imagine on the off chance P manages to take an actual break at the hotel, not just a quick round of chats with everyone, or weapon/strength upgrades, but a full on extended break.

And during that break he discovers he's got a love of reading, and just so happens to gravitate towards the sweet and sappier type of books! (He of course reads anything that piques his interest, but for the sake of this thought I'd imagine that he keeps to these softer books as a sort of escape from the horrors beyond the hotel!🥺)

And in these books he keeps learning about all the ways in which humans and characters show affection: The plethora of darling terms of endearment or the meaningful warmth that comes from a special nickname, the endless tiny ways to show concern or care. It's the gentle kiss placed on the inside of a wrist, giving someone your umbrella/overcoat when the rain or chill is too much, looking into someone's eyes and being so whole heartedly lovestruck it makes your chest ache and heart thump a fierce pace.

(I think he'd get really caught up on the concept of when a couple is heading to bed one will often sleep on the side closest to the door, that even when asleep they want to shield their beloved🥺)

After his discovery I honestly think he'd become a bit of a mother hen, doting and even a dash fretful at that! He once saw you make your way down the stairs of the hotel without holding onto the railings, nearly tripping and straining your ankle. You try to pull that stunt after he's read his books? Right in front of lover boy? You are getting a glower and have a choice to make, either the railing or his hand, you have to hold one! >:(

I'm telling you, he may be made out of rigid cogs and unfeeling metal, has single handedly ravished droves of enemies and terrors, but this man has sugar glass ribs and a jelly heart, so unendingly sweet and warm, and if he could I bet he'd open his chest and give you his very own heart, hoping you'd see how the pace of its ticks speed up, just for you.

I have so so many more sappy sweet thoughts, and I hope it wasn't an annoyance to get such a behemoth of an ask, but from one P enjoyer to another I wanted to send something in! <:) I hope you're doing well, and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! ^^ (Oh and!! just wanted to say that I love all of the writing and hc's that you do for the mad lad, you capture him wonderfully!🥺)

I absolutely love the idea that P realizes he should get a day off like everyone else. He's worked to the bone every day, poor guy. And can't imagine Geppetto would be too happy about his Ergo-harvesting puppet realizing that he can take breaks lol

And P would totally take romance novels to heart, I bet he'd also take to writing little love letters and leaving them around for you to find... even if his handwriting is less than stellar 🥺

He is such a bleeding heart of a man, and I say this with the ultimate amount of affection.

Also I'm never annoyed by asks, even long ones, most of the time they make my day 🐸

[sandybrett]

Here are my completely honest thoughts on a bunch of audio dramas I've checked out. (Don't worry, nothing scathing, they're all reasonably good. But please proceed with caution, or don't proceed, if you're involved in creating any of these shows.)

In the order I first listened:

The Storage Papers: Nine episodes in. A little slow paced, but I've heard it picks up in the later seasons. My only real concern is that it seems like a lot of the horror revolves around "this thing looks sort of like a human but it's Wrong somehow. also it kills people (or cats)." I hope at some point we meet a creature that looks and acts as unsettling as the Grinner but is nice, or at least complicated.

The Cellar Letters: Seven episodes in. I LOVE it. I love the natural-feeling messiness of it, the way Nate and Steve talk in circles and go back and forth on what to believe. It's made me laugh out loud multiple times. I can't wait to learn more about that weird little room full of letters with that one random word written on the wall (I forget what).

400 Words a Horror: Three episodes in. I had to re-listen to the first episode because I hadn't been paying enough attention, but I think that particular episode rewards re-listening anyway. Also it is the only show on this list that genuinely frightens me so I have to pace myself. Very good.

Tin Can Audio Presents: Middle:Below: Two episodes in. I won't say I'm hooked, but I am somewhat interested. It's a lot more relaxing than the other podcasts on this list, so I keep thinking I'll save it for listening closer to bedtime, then not getting around to it.

The Grotto: Six episodes in. Very much enjoying. I was SO proud of myself for correctly guessing the twist in the second episode. I love the characters and am extremely intrigued by the mysteries. My only criticism is that the musical interludes drag on too long. And I'm saying that as a WOE.BEGONE fan.

Soul Operator: Three episodes in. It's good but there isn't any particular element that's drawing me in just yet. There's a lot I don't know about the world yet, though, so there is still plenty of time for me to fall in love with this show. (Irrelevant note: I always get "Smooth Operator" by Sade stuck in my head when I think about this show.)

Shadows at the Door: Listened to half of the first episode. It was somewhat interesting, but I decided I had higher priorities for my listening time than disconnected hour-long episodes that are only *somewhat* interesting.

Archive 81: Five episodes in. Quite possibly going to become a major obsession. It's got everything: playing with point of view; the Power of Storytelling but in a menacing way; vivid character voices; probably a cult. I particularly love the way conversations play out on this show--I don't know exactly how to explain it but there's a certain... friction that happens in real conversations but rarely in fictional ones outside cringe comedy. I don't usually enjoy that sort of thing when it's played for laughs, but for realism or suspense? I eat that up. It does make me a little tense so this is another show I pace myself with and I'm glad the episodes are short.

Alice Isn't Dead: Two episodes in. I'm not going to make it a priority--it's got a similar sort of surrealism to Night Vale, but with higher stakes and less humor, and I had enough trouble getting immersed in Night Vale. I could probably enjoy it if I gave it enough time, but for now I'd rather focus on *gestures at some of the shows above*

The Silt Verses: Listened to the first ten minutes of the first episode and got bored, which I think says as much about me as it does about the show. It does get off to a bit of a slow start and leaves more space between lines of dialogue than most of these shows do, but I could probably get into it with adequate time and sleep. Not prioritizing it, for similar reasons to Alice.

[collecting-stories]

Vampires - Remus Lupin

Summary: You're somewhat mildly embarrassed by your muggle mother's love of Halloween.

A/N: Went to the Harry Potter exhibit this week for the 2nd time and just got in a total I-need-to-write-HP-fanfics mood. I even watched the 3rd movie today (while I was supposed to be working) cause it's my favorite. Also...assuming they graduated in '78, VHS players were invented in '76 so this is historically accurate.

Harry Potter Masterlist <- really just my misc. masterlist

☽☽ ❍ ☾☾

Growing up with a muggle for a mother, and an American one at that, Halloween had been a cause for immense celebration in your home. For the first few years, of which you had little memory, your father was severely against the “silliness of Halloween” but then your parents divorced and the holiday became a thing of legend in your home. Decorations went up at the end of August and stayed until Thanksgiving. Pieces of Halloween lingered through Christmas (ornaments that resembled infamous movie characters) and even off season you had a beloved stuffed animal that had once been a ghost (now it appeared more as an off-white, lumpy, blob).  

When you got your letter in the mail it was as if your mom’s intensity for the holiday grew and suddenly you understood your father’s resistance to the spectacle.  

“BOO!” You jumped, knees hitting the wooden table and the glittery orange greeting card from your mom dropping onto your empty breakfast plate. Hands gripped your shoulders and when someone began laughing in your ear you shoved your elbow back, digging it into their rib cage just enough to get them to back up and release you, “oh come off it, you’re no fun.” Sirius, of course, wedging himself in to the seat beside you.  

It was only then that you realized Remus was sitting across the way, Peter beside him. Leaving James to squeeze in on the other side of you. He took the liberty of snatching up the card you’d received that morning, an atrocity (as far as you were concerned) from your mother wishing you a happy halloween.  

“Ooo what’s this?” He read the letter out loud while you buried your face in your hands, not daring to look up at any of them, least of all Remus. The front of the card was decorated with the faces of the old horror classics, Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, the Wolfman, and the Invisible man.  

“Your mum’s still on her Halloween kick?” Sirius asked, taking the card away from James and looking it over. He held it up to Remus, “uncanny really,” and laughed when the other boy swatted his hand away.  

“My mum’s always on her Halloween kick…it’s embarrassing.” You took the card and shoved it in your bag. “Not worth bothering me about either.”  

“Might be,” Sirius replied, eyeing your bag, “she didn’t happen to send along any candies this year did she?”  

“No,” you lied, shifting awkwardly out of the seat between James and Sirius, trying not to trip off the bench and fall like you had countless times before, “I’ve got to get to class.”  

You were already thinking up a scathing reply to your mother (that would admonish the card while still avoiding the topic of your boyfriend’s lycanthropy…or that you had a boyfriend at all…and the general existence of werewolves). You made it all the way to the fat lady’s portrait when someone jump-scared you for the second time that day, though this was somehow less abrupt.  

“Remus,” you swatted his hands away from your sides as you turned toward him unable to keep the smile off your face.  

“Careful love,” he held your waist, guiding you closer to him on the small landing, “there might be vampires lurking about,” he leaned closer still, ignoring the obvious cough from the fat lady as she scrutinised the both of you (it was her that had told James and Sirius you were dating in fifth year, before you’d even managed to let them in on the news) “or werewolves.” His lips brushed your ear as he whispered the last bit and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up out of your chest.  

“Or ghosts, right?” You questioned, offering a kiss as you parted, Nearly Headless Nick whizzing passed. You raised an eyebrow and Remus grinned.  

“Downright spooky is what it is…all sorts of creatures coming out this Halloween.” He knew how you felt about the holiday and he’d met your mother (once in Flourish and Blotts when you tumbled through an introduction with burning cheeks after she’d nearly caught you kissing behind a bookcase) but he didn’t find any real harm in it. More so, like Sirius, he enjoyed teasing you. And stealing a few candies that your mother sent along.  

“You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t be bothered by her letter aren’t you?”  

“I’m simply saying, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Remus replied, shrugging. He offered the fat lady the password, finally admitting the two of you into the common room. “So she wants to prattle on about Halloween, at least she sends along some splendid chocolate.”  

“It’s all just a bit embarrassing now…I mean really, she bloody talks about me being here as if it’s all some fantasy. As if the only thing important about me is that I’m her own living, breathing, Halloween doll.” You complained, “and the card! Atrocious!”  

“I found it rather funny.” Remus admitted, “and I’m quite curious about these characters.” He’d pulled the card out of your discarded bag, looking at them in interest.  

“We could watch the movies,” you offered, thinking of the films you had at home. “You could come by over winter break? James said you’re staying with him.”  

“I thought Halloween stuff was embarrassing?” He teased.  

“Well not if you want to see it,” you replied hastily. If Remus declared that Halloween was his favorite holiday you were more than certain you’d celebrate with him, it was just that it was your mom and it felt all a bit too manufactured, as if you were a prop to her.  

“If I’m coming by on winter break, does this mean meeting your mum?” He asked, a slow smile working its way to his face. He’d mentioned sometime last year, close to spring, that he wouldn’t mind seeing you over the summer (and meeting your mum).  

“I don’t know why you want to,” you huffed, “she’ll just badger you about magical things.”  

“Conveniently, I’m a wizard,” he joked, “any badgering I’m apt to handle.”  

“Fine, yes, you’ll meet my mum…now can we stop talking about Halloween and go to class?”  

[inkedreverie]

—𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

pairing: author! ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: none. pure fluff. soft!ransom! features poet!ransom too.

𝐚/𝐧: I tried not to make some things too specific but I got a lil carried away!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧!

Coffee and bookstore dates. Especially in the fall or on really cold days. Ransom knows exactly what he's looking for the moment he enters the bookstore, whereas you can sometimes take hours. You can't help it, especially when it's a very large store.

You get overwhelmed and like to browse through the different genres until he's practically begging you to leave. He can't help but be a little impatient sometimes.

You'll whisper to him, "Just one more minute!" As you browse through one of the romance books casually. He waits and waits until you can feel his shadow hover over you, then his lips grazing over your neck, making you squirm and giggle softly.

Eventually you turn around, close the book and kiss his lips quickly. "Come on, let's go before you get us in trouble.

Ransom likes his quiet time whenever he writes, so you often have to entertain yourself most nights when you're at his house.

Some nights you'll be knitting/crocheting or watching tv or movies until you hear his footsteps and quickly pause whatever you were watching.

You're the first person he goes to when he finally finishes the final draft of his novels. He knows you're not gonna be too harsh with him and he genuinely values your opinion and your thoughts on his writing.

Whenever you're feeling down he likes to give you little gifts. Like your favorite book series, a necklace with your initials on it, and sometimes take you shopping

When you're really upset though, he likes writing you little poems:

I wanna write about the girl in the garden, with daisies in her hair and a heart like a rose, so delicate and precious. She sits alone in the quiet of the evening, listening to the buzzing of the bees and the whispers of the trees. She's been hurt by love before, and she wears her scars like a warrior. But beneath that tough exterior, she's just a soft-hearted girl that wants to be found. I wanna write her letters, filled with kindness and hope, to show her that she's not alone, that she deserves to be loved, that she's worthy of being held.—H.R.D

Oh my love, my heart, let me worship your body. Every inch of your skin, I will kiss with all my devotion, I will whisper kind words in your ear until you can hear the truth, that you are loved, you are cherished, you are wanted, you are special, you are unique, you are a work of art, your scars are proof of your strength, your resilience, they are a testament to the battles you have fought, and the victories you have won, I will embrace every part of you, with all my heart, please know that you are loved, you are precious, you are admired. Please know that you deserve to be happy, and fulfilled and that you are loved, with every breath I take.—H.R.D. Every day with you is a little piece of heaven, you calm my beating heart, silence my restless thoughts, you're the balm to my weary soul, the sweet melody that soothes me, you're the beacon of light in the dark, the warmth that keeps me going. Your laughter is the sound of angels, your touch is like a warm embrace, and you're the reason I smile, the reason I live.—H.R.D.

The first time he ever wrote a poem about you and read it to you, it brought you to tears. Happy tears, of course. And it wasn't until you hugged him and thanked him, that he felt relieved

He likes to tease you about your love for romance novels and the fact that you love classic lit.

I feel like he would be the type of boyfriend that's always begging you to watch horror movies with him, even if it's not spooky season.

Also he loves the fact that you jump or squeal when you get scared watching horror movies because it gives him a chance to pull you closer to him.

Lots of cuddles. And he always wants to be the bigger spoon.

His love language is physical touch. He loves kissing, touching, and even hugging you the moment he walks through the door.

banner credit: @.saradika

[persage]

My Responsibility -S.Harrington

Part 3- Poison

Whump! Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: After the events of Season 4, Steve must deal with the consequences of his injuries. When his condition worsens, only the reader realizes it and the truth is much scarier than you expected.

Part 2 Masterlist Part 4

Tags: Whump! Angst! Romance! Found Family trope. Steve HarringtonxBest Friend Reader. Also in this chapter a lot of Dustin, Steve and Robin and even a little bit of Steve and El

Taglist @redheadedfangirl1 @hcloangcls @thestarsandtheircoffee @johnricharddeacy @gloryofroses19 @xsammijoanneex @carpediem1219 @lexiecamposv I really hope you enjoy this part, thank you all for your support ❤️

If you want to be added on the tag list just ask

"It's like poison" Hopper says, arms folded, a thoughtful expression. In more than a day this is all you have: a vague theory you can't be one hundred percent sure about. Nothing is certain when it comes to the Upside Down.  Meanwhile those damn black veins are starting to cover Steve Harrington's neck too, leaving little room for hope. This isn't a possession, not at all a Will situation, and you find yourself wishing it was, 'cause it's something you've already gone through, something Steve can be saved from. Sadly, luckiness has stopped being on your side lately and are stuck with only a supposition and no solution, while real venom circulates in your friend's body slowly killing him. Dustin hasn't left Steve's side for a second, despite his silence and his protests. The image of Eddie Munson's lifeless body chases the boy like a ghost and he knows that if something  happens to Steve too - something bad, something definitive - he wouldn't survive. Harrington is the most important person in his life at the moment. He's his brother even if he tries to push him away. With Dustin, Steve is less harsh than he's been with you. When he looks at those hopeful, innocent eyes, forced to live horror from an early age, he can't be as cruel as he would like. Also Henderson has probably understood what he's doing, the kid's always been too smart.

"You won't protect us this way. You won't protect me, neither Robin. Or Y/N. You are making it worse" Ha snaps, looking down at him. Dustin has been standing beside the bed for hours, his back against the door like a guardian angel.

"I don't know what are you talking about shithead"

"I'm serious. She deserves to know the truth." He insists, Harrington shakes his head and denies. "There is nothing to say."

"You love her. She loves you." The kid is direct, too much. Steve's heart turns upside down on hearing certain words. He knows, maybe he has always known, and probably it's because he kicked out you yesterday or the fact that he's about to die and you haven't spoken since then, but every letter that comes out of Dustin's mouth hits him with the force of a bullet.

"You've spent years making things complicated between you for no reason. It's stupid." Henderson is right, you have always found a way to make things between you two difficult. Steve with Nancy, you with Mark Dallas and then someone else whose name he doesn't even remember 'cause none of them mattered. In the end, what's left after each failed relationship is you and him. He has wasted time and now time it's running out, you're not with him and if there is anyone in the world who deserves his love and his last words, that is you. You have defended and endured him, you have slept together through the worst nights and woke up stronger. You've been beaten by Russians and worse you have faced his father - his damn scary father - for him. You have collected his secrets and saw the good in King Steve when no one else could. Steve has never known loneliness from the day he met you and as the prospect of leaving this world grows more concrete, he realizes he doesn't want to die without you.

Selfish. He wants to touch you again. Not like before, not like this. He wants to touch you softly, let his hands slide down your neck and breasts and feel the skin against yours. He would kiss you. He would make love to you for the first and last time and he would be happy. He would be fine.

"Steve you should ..."

"I won't."

"You won't what?" Dustin asks.

"Drag her down with me. I can't and I won't."

"Stupid idiot" Henderson mutters, discouraged.

"You shouldn't be here." Harrington warns, lifting his head slightly to look at the kid in the eye. He fuckin' loves that boy, he would give everything to erase all the shit he has seen.

"Steve." His voice is full of pain. He has never really had any male authority figure to look up to in his life and one day Steve Harrington began to fill the role for him in his own weird way. "Please, don't die. I can't lose you too."

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

The second day passes faster than the first one. Unfortunately, time does not wait. Steve doesn't talk to you or even look at you. He is suffering like a caged animal. You know exactly what his stupid plan is. It's nothing different from what he has been doing for all his life: it' s like putting an arm in front of you in an attempt to protect you during a car crash, like diving in front of a danger. There's only a tiny difference: now he feels like he is the danger. You really want to shake him and yell at him until he regains some clarity but there's no time to talk, to convince him to let you come near and finally show him that you're not afraid and it's not his job to take care of your feelings, not while he's the one in danger. No, you don't have a single minute to discuss this kind of things, because you are desperately thinking of a solution. You're doing researches on the few books Nancy has managed to bring you, which have survived the destruction of the library and you're analyzing the situation, observing the evolution of his symtomps but that's not enough. You're going out of your mind. If only you could find a way, an antidote, then you shouldn't worry about his life anymore and you could scream at him angrily "You are acting like a child Harrington" and he'd wink at you or something, pretend nothing serious happened, then you would make peace. You always do. You feel your eyes close from fatigue, you haven't slept in days.

"You need to rest child, otherwise we'll have to take care of you too." Jim Hopper gently caress your face. Nights in Howkins, Indiana, are cold. The world is still split in half but you have forgotten it. You're smoking a cigarette and you don't say a word, your head resting on the man's shoulder. There is a strange peace. Then a cry. Now is your world which seems to really fall apart

Dustin wakes up in the dim lighting of the refuge taking a moment to gather his bearings. He keeps his eyes close, listening to the sounds around him. It sounds like... someone is suffocating? Oh no. Sitting up he looks around. He struggles to his feet, rushing closer to the bed. "Help!" He shouts. Hopper, Eleven and you are right next to him. Steve is lying on his back, mouth slightly parted as blood trickls down his lips and cheeks, dripping from his nose as well, eyes wide as he finds himself incapable to breathe. Eleven rolls him onto his side.

"Easy, kid, we've got you," Hop whispers.

"Help," Steve murmurs. "Please, please help me!" He is afraid. He is so afraid and he no longer cares to keep everyone away, to protect you. He doesn't want to die. Not now. Not ever. He's too young for this shit and he hasn't made his parents proud of him yet, he needs more. Just more. He doesn't want to lose you and doesn't want you to forget about him. Dustin cries, helpless.

"Y/N" Steve's eyes gain a little more clarity, "Y/N, please, I can't- I need -... I can't think. Robin, help me." Robin isn't even there. You feel bad because you have forced her to go home and now he needs her, he can't breathe and you just want to give him your lungs. You want him to live. Steve's head starts to fall and you place your trembling hands on either side of his face.

"Wake up!" You scream loudly. "Stay with me love, just stay awake for me please!"  His eyes roll back into his head and he is unconscious once more, feeling the pain slowly fade away, your face imprinted in his mind. Steve thinks that if he dies now at least it will be by your side. I'm so sorry Y/N.

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

Steve Harrington is not dead yet, contrary to what everyone thought. He rests under your watchful eyes, his breathing light and labored. You are more determined than ever. The way he has called your name, searching for you in his worst time like you were his only hope was like a punch in the stomach. No matter what this stubborn young man says: he needs you. He needs help and you won't let him go. You will  cope with your pain and your feelings later, now all you can do is walk back and forth.

"We need to find a solution quickly" Joyce says. She has run here with Nancy, Jonathan and Robin as soon as she found out what happened.

"Heat? Like with Will." Nancy proposes hopefully. You shake your head. "No this time it's different."

"Steve never complained about the heat, quite the contrary." Intervenes El, worried, occasionally glancing towards the room where the oldest boy rests. She has never had a strong bond with Steve, not like Dustin or Lucas, but he is part of the team and he has kept an eye on her during last years. He has bought her Eggos 'cause he knows how much she likes them, cooked his famous pancakes for her, secretly offered her free ice cream. Sometime he has even covered his escapades  from Hopper. Eleven doesn't want him to die, he doesn't deserve to. He deserves to be happy, to see his beloved hair turn white and he deserves to do it with you. You both need time. Eleven doesn't want to see you suffer.

"The boy wants the heat, he doesn't avoid it. He asked me for more blankets before." Hopper confirms, hugging Joyce. "He's got a fever it's normal" She replies, tired and worried. Once again you wish Steve could see them: they are all worried and they care for him. His parents may be out of town for work even during the apocalypse with their only son stuck in the middle of the disaster, without even the certainty that he is okay, but there are people who are fond of him. His parents never deserved him, but Steve has another family, gathered in a small room ready to do anything to protect him.

"Let's think again, it's a poison in his body and we have to take it out and slow the spread so ..." Nancy moves around the room, nervous as you are, a hand under her chin and a thoughtful gaze. "I have an idea." You state, looking at El. "You once pulled that monster out of your body." She nods.

"You can do it again." Dustin continues, understanding your plan.

"No, no. Stop, this time it's different. That stuff is in his blood, we can't let him bleed to death." This time it is Robin who is protesting. "There might be a solution." Admits El.

The plan is simple, or so it seems, the truth is it's scary and you don't know if you'll ever be ready to face it.  A tub full of ice is ready in the bathroom:"It will slow down the blood flow". With a small knife Hop will cut  Steve's skin superficially, from there Eleven will try to pull out that poison in the hope that it is not fused with his blood and it is somehow like a kind of parasite. You have no certainties but it is the only solution. Joyce is sitting in a small chair, she holds the first aid kit in her hands right now to take action.

Robin is sitting on the edge of his bed holding his hands while Steve continues to rest. He has never regained consciousness after the last attack. "It still seems crazy to me. We could kill him and if he dies, I will have to work alone in that shitty place and I don't want to, I can't. He...he is my best friend, platonic soulmate with a capital P. I can't bear to lose him... I can't let you do this to him, you can rather take my blood and do whatever you like with it but not this.He...will be so scared when he'll wake up. What if he freeze to death? What if..."

"Robin." You cut her off, stroking her hair. "He could die anyway. In fact, he certainly will if we don't try now." You take a deep breath. " I have always thought that being by his side is my mission for life, the purpose for which I was born for, especially in the last years of chaos and monsters. I ... he is the most important thing to me, I wouldn't do any of this if it wasn't the only chance we have."

You look at Steve and you feel so foolish. All those years together and you haven't been able to tell a stupid little boy that you love him with every muscle of your stupid little heart, more passionately and deeply than you've ever loved anyone in your life and now this thing, these words, they seem like the most natural thing in the world. They don't scare you anymore. You approach him, you talk in his ear hoping that some remote part of his mind can hear you.

"Don't die Harrington. You die, I die." He doesn't answer, he doesn't do anything, still unconscious. You feel that you are losing the pieces along the way, as if something has broken and you cannot fix it. He is slipping out of your hands and you can't hold him back.

[synthient]

Probably observations that have been made by plenty of people over the last century, but:

Fascinating how the Evil and Unnatural control that Dracula wields over people, is mirrored against the Good and Natural control of men over women; the rich over the poor; the British over backwards and savage foreigners; doctors over the insane.

Fascinating how much the Jonathan's Spooky Castle Adventure segment is subtextally about the horror of feminization. On the obvious level of being subject to sexual violence, sure, but also on the level of being trapped in a domestic space that you're not allowed to leave. The person who's the greatest threat to you is the also the person you've been made absolutely dependant on. You have to keep up a cheerful facade, play along with his social games, and pretend to be too stupid to realize you're a prisoner, if you want any hope of survival.

Fascinating how much the rest of the (surface level) text is dedicated to frantically backtracking that (early, subtextal) insight. The Heteropatriarchal Gender Order is actually the greatest thing in the word! Look how rosy and wholesome the scooby gang polycule is! (Again, our cute jokey pseudo-polygamy is mirrored against their barbarous 3 brides). Yet all the while, the inherent grotesqueness of these relations can't help bleeding through the sentimental trappings - the "euthanasia is such a beautiful word" bit springs to mind

Fascinating how our Three Heroes are, respectively, representatives of The Psychiatric Order, The British Nobility, and American Colonial Expansion (Quincy specifically gets congratulated on the recent Texan secession from Mexio). Fascinating how Dracula and Van Helsing never actually face off directly - everything is mediated through Mina, and it all comes down to a brainwash-off to see who can control her better.

Fascinating how Jonathan's feminization narrative is also haunted by the specter of institutionalization (via the Renfield subplot, which barely ties in with the main story on a surface level). It's not the horrors themselves that affect him the most - it's not being able to trust his own perceptions. (It's the idea that if he really had been "mad," then his imprisonment would have been justified).

Fascinating that the book later goes to great pains to show that he's Regained His Manly Vigour And Has A Knife Now, yet his emasculation still clings to him in the Dracula-based cultural consciousness: he's composited with Renfield to keep that emasculation from infecting the hero in the 30s; he's the unappealing weak prettyboy of the 90s love triangle; he's Shaggy in the scooby gang (unrelated to the Serious Analysis, but it is deeply funny how obvious the Velma=Mina/Daphne=Lucy/Fred=Arthur inspo is now).

Fascinating how much the ultimate question of the book is "What's the Right way to do gender? (and therefore do whiteness/Britishness/patriarchy/colonialism/capitalism?) The answer, apparently, is that both sexes should aspire to a "a woman's brain and a man's heart" - Mina's man-brain, and the Five Guys' woman-sensitivity - while still dutifully playing the roles of their "natural" power dynamic. The obvious inverse is a woman's brain with a man's heart - and is that not Dracula and his "child brain;" the brides and their "cold hard voluptuousness"?

Fascinating to read Mina and Jonathan as effectively the same character (with Mina picking up the gender-power themes Jonathan left off, in a more socially-acceptable vessel). Fascinating how strong the religious cognitive dissonance is throughout. And of course, the whole thing is drenched with Bram Stoker sending some gay little letters to Walt Whitman (as every single victorian gay guy apparently did), then seeing the Oscar Wilde trial and Freaking Out

[wajjs]

an incomplete list of good webtoons that are worth it:

MELVINA'S THERAPY by A.Rasen

If you like horror and suspense, this is THE best webtoon to scratch that itch. It's intense, it's dramatic, it's a wonderful love letter to the horror genre as a whole.

Psychological terror shown in its best iteration, follow the stories of those unfortunate enough to end up as Melvina's patients. You'd think a therapist wants what's best for those they help, but Melvina is in a league of her own with a machiavellican plan that exceedes boundaries.

Though philosophical at times, it's very well achieved and understandable through sheer psychological horror.

Once you start reading, you don't want to stop. And it will leave you a little bit fucked up after you're done, in that way that only good horror can make you feel.

* Finished

DOOM BREAKER by Blue-Deep

If you want actually good action scenes with dramatic stakes, this is one of the best action webtoons you could possibly read.

Set in a high fantasy, rpg like world, it's a desperate man's battle against the future he comes from. Zephyr has to fight monsters, demons and gods alike — all while saving all those he failed to save the first time around.

Cunning, manipulative and headstrong, nothing will stop Zephyr now that he's got a second chance. He will defeat the demon god while also battling the trickery of the other gods, who mostly want to sit pretty while they watch the good show.

The relationships between the characters, the writing itself and the art style that complements the story exceedingly well, they all make this webtoon a wonderful experience.

* Ongoing

METRO HUNTER by YOPY/Mr. Cheok

A really good story for those who like urban fantasy, action and monster slaying with RPG stats mixed in.

In a world in which monsters inexplicably took over subway and train stations, many hunters are in it for the money, but many of them are spurred on by tragedy, bitten by love, pain and lies.

Yet there is room for kindness and for hope, and for someone in a one man war to breathe and bring forth a much needed new generation of heroes... well. They're called hunters!

* Ongoing

HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE by Yong-Ki Kim

Reminiscent of Sartre's play No Exit, with terror and suspense that feels like spiders crawling up your arms.

Intense in a slow but sure way as it builds up, it plays with human greed, jealousy and anger to create a complex picture through the increasingly creepy neighbors the protagonist has.

In this building there's no place for naivety. And you must always watch your back.

* Finished

* First 12 chapters are free, after that you need a daily pass to keep reading.

RETURN OF THE MAD DEMON by JP/Ihy

If you like MXTX works, the aesthetic of this webtoon will look familiar — though that's where most of the similarities stop!

Action in a historical (using the term broadly) setting, Jaha Lee has been given a second chance in life... the problem is that he might be crazier this time around. With an anger that is overflowing and a righteous need to make things right, nothing will stand between him and his goal of becoming a god of martial arts.

Well written and with art that complements the story really well, everything quickly becomes a series of someone off the deep end taking on multiple identities just to make ends meet in order to carry out his plan. And as readers, we're taken along for the ride that is his descent into further madness.

With fun dialogue and witty comebacks, plus a dark grey morality to boot, Return of the Mad Demon is hard to let go of once you start reading it.

* Ongoing

ROCKABABY by junkmix

A highschool greaser tries to help an alien baby after their spacecraft crashes on Earth. But there is more than what meets the eye!

Fun with creepy suspense, this short webtoon will have you needing more and loving every second of it.

Aliens, highschool and finding companionship when one's least expecting it, this webtoon is sweet and heartfelt from start to end. There is always room for kindness and hope even when one thinks it's all lost.

* Finished

[tonberry-yoda]

Aaa omg hi! I saw the valentines day event and I couldn't help but partecipate, is it okay if I do? 🖤 I already had asked for a matchup, so I gotta describe my ideal first date, right?

Well, I think that my Ideal first date would be something really simple but sweet and cozy, like, I would love to just go to a cafè or even a place like a fast food, but as long as me and my date are talking a lot, getting to know each other while also having fun, with then maybe a little walking around a park or something to conclude the date, overall I would love something simple but cute, perfect for getting to know the other person! 🖤

notes 💌: hi love <333 I am so glad you got to take part in this event!! AND DUDE YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW HARD IT WAS TO THINK! Like I'm actually surprised. I gave you an easy matchup last time, but I really had to dig in my mind for this one, and I think it will surprise the both of us. Thank you for all of your love and support these past few weeks! Sending lots of love and hugs <333

THE CHARACTER CUPID CHOOSES FOR YOU THIS VALENTINE’S DAY IS…

ABBACCHIO!!

i dont know why this took me so long tbh

it actually fits pretty well

i think its almost like an opposites attract moment though

so you get more talkative when you get to know someone, he doesnt really

he loves to listen to you talk though

he loves that youre funny and you can actually get him to laugh a lot and its really adorable tbh

i think he's perfectly fine with you being an emotional person. he isnt annoyed by tears (i think he used to be until you expressed to him that its healthy and he should let his feelings out) you two will sometimes have a good cry sesh and cuddles ofc

if you spoil him he gets really flustered

he'll make sure to not make you jealous though by showing how much he loves you

but seriously about the spoiling bit you would literally make this man's face red all the time

he wants to return the favor but he's too nervous <3

he thinks its cool that you're this cosmic witch

teach him about it

do a tarot reading for him

he loves it and is just entranced by you

honestly, when he's feeling extra attracted to you, he calls it witchcraft and you just giggle about it

i feel like he's not big on videogames, but he'll watch you

horror movies he can get down with though

lots of cuddles while watching them fr

YOUR BOTH GOTH ICONS

you both strut around looking like VAMPIRES OMFG

like imagine both wearing corsets and strutting down the street

amazing fr

just know you got yourself a man who will remind you how much he loves you and who gets flustered, even if it's hard for him to show how much he loves you <3

💌 HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU TO BE HIS VALENTINE??

he would leave you a long letter talking about how much he loves you. he would also leave a bottle of perfume for you that smells like roses. the letter would be two pages long just talking about how much you mean to him and at the bottom in cursive it would say "oh yeah, and do you want to be my valentine?"

💌 VALENTINE’S DAY DATE

You had woken up to a lovely letter from Abbacchio and a smile quickly plastered onto your face as you threw your arms around him. He blushed and held you close. "I know it was cheesy, but-" "No!" You exclaimed, pulling away from the hug. "Not cheesy at all! I thought it was lovely, Leone." "R-Really?" You couldn't help but blush at his bright red face. "Yes, of course love. So," you sat at the table, crossing one leg over the other. "Do you have any plans for the day?" "I was wondering if you wanted to go to a cafe or something. Maybe get some coffee and then go on a walk?" You beamed. "Yes! That sounds great! I'll go get dressed!" You ran off and grabbed the most romantic outfit you could find for such a lovely holiday. You twirled at your reflection and ran back downstairs to find Abbacchio holding a bouquet of flowers, looking incredibly handsome. "Oh, Leone," you smirked and adjusted the collar of his shirt. "You shouldn't have." He pressed a kiss onto your forehead and you took the flowers happily, letting him lead you out the door. You decided to walk to the cafe as it wasn't far and once you were there, you two talked for a couple hours, just drinking coffee and ordering dozens of pastries. You couldn't help but feel in heaven in complete disbelief that you were on a date with this man. Once you were all filled up and the bill was paid, the rest of the day was spent exploring Italy, looking at the architecture and nature. You were happier than ever. "Happy Valentine's Day, Leone," you said, clutching onto his arm. "I love you." <3

~~~~~

mystery date rules | pinned post @tonberry-yoda

[homemadegirlbossbattle]

ROUND 2 / SIDE B / POLL 1

Lady Ignis Solon (@containmentbreach, art by @mechanomorphic) vs. Cadmus (@lesbx)

Lady Ignis Solon info:

Description: ignis is a member of a noble family from her home dimension, where shadowy, demonic creatures make their home and occasionally emerge to hunt, kill and eat lesser beings (who are pretty much anyone, by their standards). ignis takes a lot of pride in her position, despite not seeming particularly…happy. but "happy" is a relative word. she has mothered thirteen children (demon noble families are expected to be large and can include up to 20-25 children. twins, triplets, etc. are also more common) with the king of the realm, despite not being attracted to men in the slightest. she views this as her duty granted to her through her position. commoners from her realm are allowed to marry freely without regard to gender, but ignis isn't jealous of them.

not even a little bit. seriously like not at all.

ignis' preferred hunting grounds is the planet known as "earth," and she has personally trained each of her thirteen children to be the toothy shadows that hide in your house when you think you're alone. well, she's trained twelve of them. she's run into a slight hiccup with the thirteenth, who seems to be getting a little attached to her human target. but that's all right. she'll come around.

ignis enjoys black tea, playing the piano, and horror novels. she views them as some of the few things humans have gotten right.

Crimes:

-well the cannibalism. she did like tons of that. i guess it's not really considered cannibalism if she herself is not a human? but she ate humans is the point i'm trying to make

-she has also committed some regular murders. of humans and of other members of her species.

-does not understand her kids. she loves them but she does not Get them. it tends to frustrate her.

-she basically has very little regard for human laws in general and breaks them as often as she can get away with. if she does get in trouble she lies low for a little while in her dimension, then sets up a new place to live. this means of course that she does commit tax evasion often and well.

Other notes from the submitter: ignis is in a lot of ways a love letter to moms who get shit on by fandom for not understanding their kids. 90% of the time the amount of hate they get is just misogyny tbh! ignis is bad in a lot of ways but she's not a bad mom, even if she comes off as that at first because the story she's in is from the perspective of her daughter and the human she got attached to. people would probably still make discourse about her and shit on her but i do not care because i adore her and i adore fucked up moms in general. and if you don't that's a you issue.

Cadmus info:

Description: Cadmus is an oc I originally made as a character for Fallout New Vegas. She is tall and brawny, with short, nearly shaved gray hair. She's trans also. Very important detail.

Crimes: Cadmus fought for years for a group known as Caesar's Legion. She renounced them and devoted herself to bringing it down, but while she was still indoctrinated by them, she committed more atrocities than she could ever repent for, and she knows it. Most fight reluctantly for the Legion. Going to battle, because the alternative would be going up on a cross. Cadmus, however, killed for glory, and fought because she liked it. Wholeheartedly championing the Legion's cause, she was directly responsible for countless deaths and untold destruction. Even after leaving, she struggles with her rage and her propensity for brutality. The Legion's warpath to the West was inevitable, but was very notably hastened by her and her drive for war.

Other notes from the submitter: Not actually expecting her to make it in, but she's so awful, I feel like it would be a disservice to her not to at least submit her.

[sherifftillman]

Hello, my dearest RJ! Congratulations on 2k! You deserve it 🤍 I’d like to request hall of mirrors, please! Hmm, how to describe myself? Well, I’m a writer, completely awkward, ginger, proud cat mom, and a total nerd. Marvel, Star Wars, HP? Yep. All the geeky things. Also a horror movie junkie. I like to think I’m kind and relatively smart as well lol 💕

Xoxo @corroded-hellfire

hiiii red <333 thank you my love!!! sorry this took forever lol

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 2k follower celebration event ongoing! ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

i'm excited about writing this one! okay so i imagine you would write for the hawkins post, in a column that the hawk theater pays for where you can talk about movies that are on show at the time. but even though you're being paid to promote films, you'll still be honest. if they're bad, they're bad. sure, you'd get more commission if you were filling every seat in every screen, but you didn't get into the industry for the money, you did it for the love of the job.

and the majority of people seem to agree with your reviews, too; except those that peaked in high school, they'll tell you to your face that you're clearly biased over certain genres, but you don't care. you also get a letter sent to your work pretty much weekly, at least every time there's a new release, that basically just raves about how accurate they found your review, adding their own commentary, too. they never leave a name, or a return address, so the people who vet mail responses assume it's someone trying to get a job, too. between those two kinds of responses, the post ends up deciding that your review column no longer accepts reader mail.

but that's okay, because you have another job at the post that the public doesn't necessarily know is yours. with your writing accolades, you also pose as the agony aunt. it's some extra money in your pocket, and it's a good laugh, especially when those who went from bullying you in high school to berating you for enjoying movies in a not-so-casual way are writing in begging you to help them with their marital issues. (it takes you So Much Effort not to answer every one of those with 'leave your partner, they deserve better')

anyway, one day, a couple of weeks after you've stopped accepting mail to your critic column, you recognise the scrawled writing on the envelope and get to reading: dear agony aunt, i think i fucked up. and now that i know you can't publish this, it involves someone you work with. i'd been trying to build something with your movie critic, sending my own two cents to see if anything resonated and if I could get any kind of response back, but obviously i've overstepped a mark. feel free to not do this, but could you apologise to her on my behalf? i didn't mean to creep her out, and i feel awful that i can't tell her i'm sorry. - eddie

thankfully, he's finally learned to put a return address onto this one, and you recognise the full name as that one cute metalhead who always stuck to his own herd. he's a little confused when you, someone he barely recognises, show up at his trailer, but the agony aunt letter in one hand and tickets to the night's advance screening in the other tell him everything. and the huge grin on his face as he invites you in while he gets ready tells you that he's very, very excited at how things worked out for him, even if you do end up teasing him relentlessly for thinking you could write him back without giving you anything to work with for all those months.

[deuterosapiens]

It is twelve-twebty-three in the morning and I have "finished" House of Leaves. When I woke up, aware that this would be the session where I put the book aside, I became incredibly aware that there would be no way to talk about it without those dastardly quotes. It feels disingenuous; though it is correct, to a degree, to say that I've reached the point where the Record is done, and all that is left is appendices.

So, the entire Navidson Record has been read. Johnny's footnotes. The Whalstoe Letters from the appendices. I skimmed over the bits and pieces at the end, and followed the notes to whichever references came up, as they came up.

I did not read any of the poems, and there are likely other nifties that I've missed. Describing the final pages of this thing feels a bit like talking about completing in video game terms. You can go for one-hundred percent, or you can just experience the story and shelf it later. For this reason, I say I "finished" it, but didn't finish it (no quotes).

Preamble (pre-ramble?) aside, House of Leaves.

Early this morning, while speaking with a co-worker, I came up with what I felt was a satisfactory description of my feelings for the book: it's a bit like drinking absinthe. There's a very strong reputation to the spirit, just as this book has a reputation: both are mysterious, typically described in elite terms. And so you have this preconceived notion (House of Leaves is impossible to read, it will drive you mad, it's not for the faint of heart; absinthe is hallucinogenic, you'll experience an otherworldly psyche trip), and you build it up in your mind to be this major experience, this huge thing, and you're left a bit disappointed because it's nothing like what everyone tells you it's like.

But House of Leaves, unlike absinthe, at least left me with a pleasing taste in my mouth (actually, I'm eating a bag of græy Skittles, so it might be that). Once you realize what the book is, what it's trying to do, it becomes incredibly straightforward. Er, relatively speaking.

Johnny Truant's sections, in the beginning, did very little for me, though I found them far more desirable than any of those moments where Zampanò drags about physics (describing echoes, the chemistry of the house's walls). This guy is screwed up. I thought Raskolnikov needed therapy when I read Crime and Punishment. Johnny is broken in a way that I was so not ready for. There are not enough drugs in the world to fix this man.

So, there are a few beautiful moments here that just really caught me, and I regret a bit not flagging them. There's a line whose formatting I will not try to replicate, when discussing the potential history of the house, where colonists are wandering, starving, that was wonderfully unpleasant (reminded me a bit of The Jaunt, "It's eternity in there.") There's the story with the dog that I could have lived my life without reading. Halloway's madness was also wonderful to watch unfold.

It's been described as both a love story, and a horror story. Stephen King compares it to Moby-Dick. I feel like there are right ways to read it. And there are wrong ways to read it. Realistically though, it's far more approachable than I would have suspected, and quite a bit more pleasing. There are enter sections I skip when I re-read Notre-Dame, and I believe if I ever read it again, I'll take a similar approach. Perhaps I'll go through the entire book and only read Jonny's footnotes, or I'll only read Zampanò's manuscript. Perhaps I'll skip the Whalstoe Letters and see if reading through without that insight affects my experience.

At the end of the day, or beginning, early morning, whatever, it's an enjoyable read. A lot of work went into crafting this strange tome, and I'm glad I've given it the respect it deserves (you know, once I stopped letting Tears of the Kingdom distract me and actually read the bloody thing).

After this though, and coming off the back of my Philip K. Dick reading, I think I need something normal. Without any substance abuse, or madness, or any thin græy veils masking and disguising what's real. I had intended American Prometheus, but I don't think I'm really up for that. I need something light, a palate cleanser. I recently purchased a beautiful copy of The Neverending Story. Perhaps that will make for a good re-read.

Gives me an excuse to jam out to Lamahl.

[susandsnell]

Top five musicals?

Thanks so much for asking!!! There's definitely a lot more over which I've completely obsessed over the years and presently than just the top five, but these have stayed pretty consistent for me:

5. The Producers: Should I have been allowed to see this as young as an age as I was? Probably not, but in my family, Mel Brooks kind of took precedence over 'age appropriateness', and so it's been since woven into my DNA! Structurally, it's pretty much perfect, which is fitting for a love letter to Broadway. The score is pretty much perfect, and the fact that That Face was written about Anne Bancroft absolutely melts me just the same as Where Did We Go Right? and Keep It Gay leave me in stitches. (To say nothing of the absolute setpiece made out of Springtime for Hitler.) There's not a single skippable song, every joke lands wonderfully (including the updates from the original film!), and every character is an absolute joy to watch. I know there's debate as to whether the gay jokes have aged well, but imo Roger and Carmen are arguably the most moral - and lovable - characters in the show. Likewise, there's really no other musical that ends Act One with the protagonist saying "I got this" and solving a major conflict by having sex with an entire chorus of old ladies for money.

4. Wicked: Yes, yes, the quintessential "I was an outcast girl in the 2000s" musical, but it holds up!! There's a marvellous spectacle and such a strong focus on women and female relationships (which you really, really don't get in way too many shows), and a truly engaging fantasy setting with contemporary yet instantly classic songs by the incomparable Stephen Schwartz. It's a reinterpretation of a classic that'll make you look at it completely differently, and For Good still hits different. Also, No Good Deed Goes Unpunished is like...Epiphany: For Her! We love to see it! I love the magical and stage effects, and done right, the ending always tugs at the heartstrings.

3. Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street: There's nothing quite like the joy of being told in no uncertain terms you're not supposed to watch something, and sneaking to watch it anyway, but that's how 10 year old me got introduced via the Burton film, and subsequently found the Hearn/Lansbury proshot online - and the rest was history! This is probably my favourite score in any musical - Sondheim pulls out all the stops, and it is just gorgeous to listen to - seriously, go listen to the 2012 London Revival version of God, That's Good or any version of Kiss Me/Ladies In Their Sensitivities, or the triumphant build to the end of A Little Priest. This tale of Victorian vengeance, squalor, love and loss and deceit is delightfully ghastly, with a truly complex leading lady in the form of Mrs. Lovett, humour that still holds up, and a sense of foreboding that no other horror musical has ever quite reached. I absolutely love how it explores the fears of dehumanization through industrialism while juggling the man-devouring-man plotline, hope versus cynicism, and hypocrisy. And so, so, so much blood. The foreshadowing is Greek Tragedy levels, and I literally can't get enough of it. Absolutely the show that got me through my angsty teen years.

2. The Phantom of the Opera: Is not only still there, inside my mind, but is largely responsible for a good portion of my personality. Seeing it as a bookish twelve year old is basically the quintessential brain-rewiring experience, and my tiny chatterbox self was left in absolutely stunned silence for several hours after leaving the theatre. (I then proceeded to never shut up for it for the following thirteen years, so.) The music is the absolute best of Andrew Lloyd Webber's work, and it's still the biggest visual treat of any show - those stunning sets and those gorgeous costumes are the best in the biz and absolutely transport you into the heart of the story. The play-within-the-play elements of the operas pastiching various popular operas are so delightful, and Masquerade is one of the absolute greatest sequences in theatrical history. The spectacle, the dancing, the effects...pure magic. And of course, it really is the gothic romance in my mind, complete with a truly compelling, admirable, and fierce heroine. And yes, I do still cry at the appropriate moments.

Les Misérables: There really is no other choice but this one. I was lucky enough to see the revival with Norm Lewis as Javert (greatest performance ever!) as a kid, and though much of the plot was lost on kid!me, I stayed with it before getting back into it something fierce in middle school. The book is my all-time favourite book, and the musical is an absolutely incredible feat in adapting All That. The word 'epic' has been run into the ground, but there's no other word to describe the show. The constant reprises of melodies to indicate the cyclical nature of both the narratives and the themes of injustice and unrequited love is absolutely masterful (also, the use of the exact same melody for Valjean and Javert's soliloquies, one for the birth of a new life, the other a death after being unable to accept one! unbelievable), and paired with the turntable, is something incredible. The songs are unforgettable, the characters stand the test of time and still resonate for a reason, and it successfully gets me to laugh, cry, and cheer every time. It may not have invented the Act 1 Multi-Part Reprise Finale, but by gum, it perfected it. It's really the perfect musical in every sense of the word, and it all comes down to how a single act of kindness can change everything.

[bbyeeti]

Character analysis anon -> 🪨

(Character analysis anon is too long lol)

Hajoon is something alright. I can appreciate the horror and disgust you evoked through his character and how he isn’t just a caricature of a monster while also despising him.

The hospital scene leaves me with many mixed emotions since I don’t like Hajoon but he’s very vulnerable in those moments which make me unable to completely want him dead. He’s a complicated character to tackle for me emotionally because what he’s done and tried to do to Sunghoon is much more grounded in reality compared to everything with the vampires.

He also doesn’t seem irredeemable either and recognizes that he needs therapy to process his actions and what led him to those actions.

It’s ultimately up to Sunghoon how he wants to deal with their relationship and the aftermath. It seems like Sunghoon just wants to let go of what happened and move on properly without having to hurt each other more emotionally, physically, etc.

On a lighter note, you got me to look up flower symbolism! The validity of my sources is questionable especially since flower meanings differ across the world but the flowers in the hospital tend to represent innocence, true love, loyal love, purity, and rebirth in the West. The above meanings are all based on the color white but flower meanings also change based on color.

My take on the hospital flower scene is that initially the love between Hajoon and Sunghoon was pure but over time they slowly began to suffocate one another and bring out some of their worst traits. At their split, the vases are moved apart and now they can move on with their lives and grow.

(Congrats, you continue to keep me thinking to much about this story.)

Oh you're a stone now! Here are a few suggestions for your name, taken from the letters:

anal

satan

Ana

Charon

sis

Cara

Rahar

Reya

Nerys (it's Welsh T^T)

Osa

okay you can be a stone

You: I'm not going to analyse this Also you: Anyways, so-

I don't think there's anything more to add to what you said, you are reading everything very well once again. I mean, on Hajoon not being all black and white xD

Though if I were to write Hajoon again, I would make him something more than a bad guy. When I started writing this fic and I thought it would be a three-months thing, I didn't care that he'd become this stock character who's there just to cause problems to the main character xD

About your flower symbolism research, I hadn't done mine when I was writing what flowers were in the vases but after you mentioned it for the first time, I checked it up and I found it a little funny that all of them were symbolising quite the same stuff even though it wasn't on purpose.

With the vases, your interpretation skills are very amazing considering the fact that I didn't have anything in mind when writing. Honestly my mind is like "....t.t...vampireee...r..s...ga..y..s...j...ayho...oon" when I'm writing.

You put everything prettily giving it a meaning, though, thank you ^^

(:D)

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hola Dani 👋🏼 ¿cómo estás? How are you? How are you dealing with the power outages? I know how draining the situation in your country can be I hope you're taking care of your mental health!!

Here! Have some loving from my twin!! 💚

Goodbyes are Fucking Hard, Okay?

Specially to this story 😭😭 what do you mean 39/40 😭😭😭

THE BEGINNING

😯 they're moving out of the Lightwood mansion!

Magnus thinks he looks very cute like this.

He always looks cute that's why he is mi bebé precioso 🥰

It usually means his phone is below 50%.

Ok but I'm also like this... if my phone reaches 30% is dead!!

He supposes they will have to do that with the executive mansion too.

This is making me very nostalgic 😔

Today, they officially move into the executive mansion.

They are going to live there now.

Indefinitely.

😭😭😭😭

“We don’t have time for showers,” Alec points out and sniffs Max. “He’s fine.”

🤣🤣🤣 my chaotic twin!! I am love him!!

“People are such hoes,” Max rolls his eyes.

Yes we are!! We ALL are Maxwell!!

The boy walks over to Alec with a scowl. Alec whispers something in his ear.

Rafael’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god! Ugh! Max, you can keep it!”

He told him they had sex there right?? Is what I would have done 🤣🤣

 “Just that his parents had sex in that room,” Alec grins.

THAT'S MY TWIN!!

“Hey, you decide if you want a weekend away from us or not,” Max points out. “I thought we could give you guys some space. For, ya know.”

That's actually really nice and thoughtful!! Look at my Maxwell 😍

Magnus doesn’t say anything to that.

Ok but all 3 of them are just not saying shit!! And I get it, they don't want to say anything for my twin's sake but not expressing your discomfort always accumulates...

Why am I stating the obvious?? We've been knew since chapter 1 🙃

“You should stop talking about the children,” Magnus says. “I’m about to give you your gift.”

Bring out the sexy times!!!! 🥵🥵🥵

That was 🔥

THE MIDDLE

Alexander.

A name that he loved hearing.

Brooklyn.

A name he loathed now.

I'm going to start crying now 😭😭

Every single line in this part felt like a stab through the heart... I haven't stopped crying and that letter is the saddest and most beautiful thing in this story 😭😭 you are a master storyteller and I can't thank you enough for sharing that talent with us!! I AM LOVE YOU 💚

THE END

Oh no 😔 Max is leaving!

I mean I want Mavid to be together but... my Maxie 🥺🥺

Alec, who is sitting next to Magnus, clears his throat. “Unless it’s important.”

“Yeah, but I hate it when hot people don’t like me,” Max pouts. “It’s a pet peeve.”

Ugh!! Me too... my anxiety (that bitch) is always telling me that no one likes me because I'm too annoying!!

“Um,” Magnus says – and then he puts his hand in his back pocket. “I’m nervous about Max moving to London tomorrow.”

He did the thing!!! ALSLALSLQ!!!

Was this fucker really going on dates with his wedding ring and holding it while he was nervous?

Yes Alec!!! He was!!! ALSLQQL!!!

"Jem is so hot, by the way," Max notes, eyes on his phone.

Truer words have never been spoken!!

“Oh, yeah,” Magnus says and puts his hand in his pocket again. “That too.”

Listen here you little bitch... you better tell him about the raisins and you better make sweet love to my twin RIGHT NOW or else...

Or else I'll start crying again 🥺🥺

He knows Magnus loves him and wants him and is obsessed with him as he was two or twenty years ago.

As he should!!!! Is what you deserve!!!

It’s only fair.

Because Magnus walked away.

So, Magnus should come back.

“It’s a raisin muffin,” Magnus smiles sweetly.

I see what you're doing!!

I am loving this entire scene OMG!!! Alexander my beloved twin you are so whipped!!!

Alec takes a deep breath. “Jia’s term ends in two years. She is hoping to recommend me as one of the democratic candidates.”

Holy shit!!! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FEEL!!!

Rafael blinks. “What? No! I just…It’s…It’s not even possible, dad. A Latino president? Why would I want that? That sounds dumb.”

Rafe would be the greatest president ever!! Not only the first Latino president in US history but also the first president who is also a royal consort as he will be married to Queen Anjali!!

“You just want to move into the White House so you can have sex there,” Rafael snickers.

But David would love it!! 😌🥰

Rafael smiles softly. “Anjali said I look better with one earring anyway.”

OMG that is so cute!!!!! 😍😍😍😍

“I think I’ll be okay,” he replies.

I'm so proud of my twin!!!

“Why can’t you come with me?” Max sniffles, clutching at Elyaas.

🥺🥺🥺🥺

She walks away and Alec rolls his eyes. “No wonder they like each other. Maybe they were roommates in hell.”

🤣🤣🤣🤣

My twin and Shinyun remind me of Holt and Wunch

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shinyun sniffs. “We’re flying in our own jet.”

Please marry me! 💍

Shinyun clears her throat. “I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

“Oh, I would love to,” Alec replies. “But I don’t speak snake.”

“Very funny.”

“Really? You didn’t laugh.”

She does have a beautiful smile.

Alec may be kind of likes her.

Of course you do we're the same!!

🤣🤣🤣🤣 I love their banter

Ok but what is Rafe's decision???

I want to be in a group chat with them!!

Let me in!!

I can't wait for the next chapter but I also don't want the story to end!! The struggle is real!! 😭😭😭😭

Thank you Dani!! You're the best!! 💚💚💚

THE FIRST GIF.

I'M SO SOFT. THANK YOU.

Also love you for calling out these hoes.

I'm adding us both to the group chats ;)

[writinginthetwilight]

Knock, knock.

Neighbour!Eddie x Neighbour! Reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone.

AFAB reader. Stress. Strong language. Nightmares. Sleep walking. Horror/creepy vibes. Shit jobs. Mentions of cheating. Let me know if you want any listed that I have missed. See the Masterlist for full list of warnings. 

Authors note: Thank you for all the love on the last part of this fic, it honestly makes me so happy that people are embracing this creepylittle story. This chapter made my brain melt a little but I'm excited to finally release it from its confinement.

As always all my love to @bettyfrommars  @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing for writing the original prompt that birthed this weird world I'm making. You're the best.

6. You move into a new apartment and soon discover that you share a wall with a very noisy neighbor. Loud laughter, talking, and music are a constant companion. When you decide to go over and knock on their door to confront them in person, you find that the apartment is unoccupied and has been for months.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Love you bye.

Part 5 - The gods manual to the frail.

When you were small you longed for lucid dreaming.

The idea that you could control the vivid picture book of your unconscious mind was fantastical, to be able to puppeteer it to make you fly, race faster, fight stronger, it was overwhelming.

You soon learnt though that just because you knew you were asleep, that didn't stop your imagination from being overactive, didn't mean it would always play along.

Just as quickly as your mind could command you to fly it could also tell you to fall.

The bathroom door's wide open.

Your limbs are free, not rigid and wedged at the odd angles that usually come with being in this particular dream.

You're not alone though, you know it without seeing them.

A looming presence in your peripheral that's making your skin crawl.

Unseeing yet watching. No longer trapped in the shadows that writhed behind the bathroom door, they were out, watching you from the corners of your ceiling.

You can't look at them, an overwhelming knowledge overcoming you that to acknowledge them was to lose.

They slip like hot wax as they move, watching as you leave bed, your body's heavy and slow as you move through the dim light feeling your way, trying to escape.

You hear them move through the door frame above you quickly, wet and slick. Too fast.

You're asleep.

The reminder seems to make your body jerk as if your muscles had been released and the creatures chitter above you like cats stalking birds.

Your feet carry you clumsily through the main room as it stretches before you further than it should, the door you're trying to reach always suddenly behind you as soon as you start to make progress.

Panic rises as the creature's chitters get louder

Delighted.

You shouldn't have looked up.

The waxy unseeing faces twitch towards you and you don't know how you know they're smiling.

You start to run, faster and faster towards the door which never gets any closer.

Then the chittering stops.

You turn, watching as the creatures slither and melt into the cracks in the scar leaving you in dead silence.

Then you're falling.

You wake with a scream stuck in your throat, hands pressed against the uneven surface of the wall adjacent to your bedroom.

Your legs give way beneath you and you scramble backwards until your back hits the couch.

Breathings ragged and hands shaking you look up.

The scar sits quietly above you.

“Fuck you.”

So I spoke to this kid I know, well he's not exactly a kid he's 22 but I've known him since high-school…

Your forehead creases as you read your rambling morning letter from Eddie. Toast hanging out your mouth greasy spread sticking against the corner of your lips as you slowly dress into your rigid self appointed uniform.

It had become a routine in the days since you ‘met’, relaying back what you know slowly trying to put the puzzle pieces together of what was happening to you both.

He's going to send a mic over for my stereo. Do you think you can get one for yours? My haunting schedule varies…

You let out a snort as you throw the 'bottom of your refrigerator surprise' lunch into your bag, you're still not entirely sure he's not a ghost, but he no longer takes the bait to heart like he did, which makes it decidedly less fun to tease him.

.. It depends on which kids book lessons but they're always between 8 and 5. Bars 10-3 Fridays Saturday. I pick up extras where I can.

Batman Returns. No

Nirvana. Yes

Duran Duran. Unfortunately, yes.

Sepultura

Lost boys.

Donny Darco.

You frown at the last title listed in your ongoing ‘Does this exist 50 questions’.

That shouldn't be out yet.

Shoving the last of the toast in your mouth you scribble a note back to him, shaking off the crumbs when you're done and shouldering your rucksack before leaving.

The nightmares hadn't returned but the last one had left you anxious to fall asleep, any sleep you did get was short and light for fear of what you would fall into.

This was the fourth time the shadowy fucks had invaded your subconscious and every time, the images, the feeling, remained.

It's still there whenever you close your eyes for too long, like they're carved onto the inside of your skull.

But this last one was different.

It didn't feel like sleepwalking, all instances before sleepwalking had been more confusing than anything. Told to you by those who witnessed it but you yourself had little to no memory of what happened.

Then there was Eddie even when he was trying to be quiet, the man was a hurricane. Waking you when you had finally drifted off by rummaging around or having one of his late-night phone calls to whoever Wayne was.

The bus ride over to the office makes your eyelids heavy with its constant rhythm, the grey clouds muting the sun's glare into a comfortable warmth. You could easily just close your eyes, but every time they droop the hiss of a stop startles you upright.

The office is always too bright when you get there, grey walls and plastic plants welcoming you to the sea of desks under the fluorescents.

You tug at your fitted clothes, once your assigned funeral clothes and now your office outfit, it's fitting really, considering the place makes you feel dead inside.

Why you need to be smart casual for sitting at a desk for 8 hours is beyond you.

Shona's there as you sit down, cackling loudly into her headset. Your first day buddy, as they called her, hadn't really helped all that much. Told you where to sit then explained the office politics at such breakneck speed it gave you whiplash.

Surprisingly, or maybe less so now you know her, all those she seems to class as undesirables are the only people with decent conversation in this place.

The only saving grace to your tired soul is it's finally payday, due in your bank by closing time.

So you spend your day between calls, browsing microphones, looking up astral projection and Donny Darco.

You knew it came out later than 1993.

IT must think you're a riot.

A murmur goes across the office and Shona grins at you as she excitedly tells you she's going to go out for lunch.

You take out your phone quickly, opening your bank app. You can already smell the takeout, feel the new body wash on your skin, feel the comfort washing over you, you won't have to flinch every time a bill’s due.

Your stomach sinks through your feet and slithers out leaving you hollow.

The amount is low. Sickeningly so.

There must be an issue, a mistake, but as your payslip arrives in your email.

No.

New starter deductions.

Training.

Equipment.

Resources.

They go on, apparently Shona forgot to mention this, it slipped her mind she tells you with a pout before she breezes away.

You think you might hate Shona.

You shouldn't have, the little voice whispers in the back of your head.

You should have been sensible.

The takeout bag rustles from where it hangs from your wrist, it smells too good for you to regret it yet.

Your mood had soured by the minute until it was time for you to clock out and in some self sabotaging monetary cloud you decided for tonight, you were going to pretend that you'd been paid for the actual work you had done.

The apartment’s quiet when you enter and the tension in your shoulders drop a fraction at the sight of it.

Your rucksack falls to the floor, and you're popping the lid on the box of dumplings before you've even taken off your jacket.

The savoury cloud of steam that's released makes your mouth water and you groan at the first bite.

“Hey.”

The voice from above almost makes you choke and you wheeze, hands gripping the counter.

“Jesus Eddie. Why are you just sitting in silence like a creep? ”

“You're too loud Eddie. You're too quiet, christ.”

Tension floods your body again and misdirected anger makes you scowl at your food as you harshly put the lid back on.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading?” His voice is chipper and it instantly irritates you.

You don't respond, moving to your couch shedding your outer layers and popping the button round your waist before resuming eating.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.” You say around another bite hoping he gets the hint.

He doesn't.

In his defence it's probably hard to read the room when you can't see anyone in it.

“So, I was thinking”

“Dangerous.” you quip smirking to yourself at the disgruntled noise he makes as you pop the lid on your noodles.

You take a bite. God this is good.

“I was thinking. You should investigate apartment 7.”

You pause, noodles mid way to your mouth.

“I should investigate number 7.”

“Yeah, I mean nobody lives there where I am-.”

“How do you know anyone lives there where I am?”

“Well, do they?”

“I don't know.”

“That's why you need to investigate.”

“Nobody lives on your side of the apartment yet here we are.”

You're being intentionally obtuse, you'd vaguely spoken about this before but your voice is raising frustration making your voice wobble, you don't want to deal with this right now.

He's quiet and as the silence lingers you lean your head back closing your eyes.

“So how was work?”

You crack an eye and look at the scar.

“I thought you were reading.”

“I was. Until someone disturbed the peace.”

He's such a shit. You don't respond again, trying to breath away the brewing tension headache.

“Any plans for the weekend? “

You sigh loudly, sitting up and looking around.

You crack down the centre a little, the sparse room looking back at you only serving as a reminder of all the things you still need, and will have to go without for another 4 weeks.

“No.”

“Want to hang out or something. We could have a movie night.”

A breathless laugh leaves you. He says it like you could avoid each other.

“How would that even work?”

You had planned to make cookies as some sort of peace offering before going next door, if people elsewhere in the building had come to you to complain then anyone who was in there definitely heard.

But ingredients are expensive.

As you approach the apartment your door seems so far away, it's odd being on this side and makes you realise just how close together you and Eddie are.

You knock and wait, store bought cookies in hand, arranged on a plate and covered in saran wrap.

You hear a scuttle behind the door, like the quick footsteps of a child before it creaks open slowly.

“Oh, hi”

The emerging face is low like you had expected but instead of the smooth face of a child, an elderly woman peers at you from the growing space in the door. Boney fingers wrap round the edges as she reveals herself.

You introduce yourself, cringing at the fact you're using your work voice on a weekend.

She doesn't respond.

Merely stares at you with light blue eyes, and a smile on her face that shows no teeth but deepens the creases on her thin skin.

“I'm sorry if we've.. I've been loud. ”

Her eyes widen at your mistake, but she still doesn't respond, her stare unwavering her thin lipped smile the same.

“ Bea?”

A woman around your age appears in the doorway behind her and gives you a warm grin.

“Hi, can I help?”

Eyes pulling away from the older woman, you work your jaw for a moment as you feel her eyes still on you.

“I brought some cookies, I live next door, I moved in a few weeks ago, ” you fumble.

“Oh, that's so kind isn't it Bea, why don't you come in.”

“Oh no it's okay-”

“No, I insist.” The way she says it is firm and she leaves you holding the plate in the doorway as she gently manoeuvres the old woman away.

Shit.

As you step through over the threshold the smell of patchouli hits you so heavily that you feel like it's sinking into your skin.

Closing the door hesitantly behind you, you're hyper aware that you're now sealed off from the hallway which has the same deep red walls as the enormous room you now stand in.

Shelves clink softly as you walk into the middle of the open plan room.

Multitudes of soulless taxidermy joins the elderly woman in watching you as you make your way over to them.

“We don't get many visitors, do we Bea?” says the younger woman and Bea whispers something back as she helps her into her seat and gets a wry smile in return.

This feels weird.

Taking the plate from you she motions for you to sit.

“Always surprising me, she's quicker than she looks. Could obviously smell desert.” she laughs as she turns away.

“Yeah. ” you trail off, turning to glance at the elderly woman, who's still smiling but a little wider now, still staring, fingers drumming against the linen tablecloth quickly.

“Well I'm Nell, and this is Bea, I live upstairs.”

“Oh, erm, how long have you lived here?” you say fidgeting in the hard seat, trying to ignore the way the woman's stare is boring a hole into you.

She chuckles, “Around 6 years now and Beas been here forever.”

Bea breathily mutters something to Nell you can't catch and she laughs before patting her arm and placing a cookie on a small plate in front of her.

She offers you one and settles herself down, the collection of bangles around her wrist jingling as she pours sweet tea into faded china cups for you all.

Bea picks up the cookie with trembling hands and breaks it apart before popping them between her lips, still staring.

The more you look around trying to avoid eye contact the more you find other pairs watching you, paintings, preserved animals. Jars.

Nells chatting absentmindedly and you make sounds of agreement while you pretend to listen and try to swallow the dry treat down as quickly as possible.

At the far end of the room, the floors raised a little, a double bed flush against the wall with yellow heavy curtains draped over the posts.

Shelving units surround it, built into the wall and filled with multitudes of more off putting belongings.

It's your wall.

Your eyes track back to Bea and she's grinning now so wide it looks like it should hurt, teeth on show.

You have the sudden feeling that you need to leave and it makes your heart flutter.

“She likes you,” Nell says with a chuckle and Bea still stares.

“Marco.” Eddie's voice reverberates down towards you as you slowly walk the line of the scar. Bare feet toe to toe eyes trained up.

In soft clothes and bare faced you'd had two showers since going next door and you still feel like you can smell it on you.

“Polo.”

You listen carefully for where his voice is the loudest.

Walking the same path as you, he does the same so you don't have to yell while you watch Donny Darco.

“It made my skin crawl, they were everywhere and she just sat and stared at me. I don't think I saw her blink.”

“Maybe she's a Skinwalker or, oh maybe-”

“You're far too excited about this.”

“Come on, she's an old lady.”

“You didn't see her Eddie, something was off.”

“Here?” He says voice ringing out clear.

“Sounds good.”

You drop a pile of blankets and pillows against the kitchen counter, thankful for the barrier between you and the back wall.

You get comfortable opening your laptop when you hear the distinct sound of something heavy being dragged.

“What are you doing?”

“Moving the couch and stuff,” he says voice strained and you can't help the smile that slips out at the sound of it.

“Just sit on the floor.”

“I'm not an animal.”

“I'm sitting on the floor.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey.”

His cackle rings out above you.

“You done?”

“Yeah, think so.”

You hear him groan as he settles in and you set up the movie ready.

It takes a few times to get the start right. Both having to forward it to the same point, you wonder if the movie will have changed over time or whatever this was.

You stretch out and lean back as you hear the echoing sound of the opening scene and for a minute you can pretend that it's not weird or supernatural and you just have a friend.

For all the effort it takes to get them lined up it turns to chaos, fairly quickly as lines change or are delivered wrong by surprisingly, still Jake Gyllenhaal which turns into another whole thing.

Cackling so hard at the contrasting lines at one point you have to leave to use the toilet, with your grin still making your jaw ache, it passes you by that the oppressive walls of the bathroom aren't making your skin crawl like usual, as you listen to him ranting to himself in the other room.

The movie ends but you both carry on speaking until your back starts to ache from the odd angle you've fallen into.

“Shit it's late”, you groan as you sit up. “This was fun.”

“It was,” he says his own yawn audible in his voice and you look over the barely lit room wondering where he would be if he was arranged in the space around you.

You get up, abandoning your empty snack bowls and laptop and dragging your makeshift nest to your room, the light from the lamp in your bedroom quickly submerging the shadows.

“Oh shit.” Eddie's voice comes from the darkness of the other room and you turn to stare into it.

“What happened?”

He groans loudly, “Nothing, I'll clean it in the morning.”

You grimace to yourself wondering what terrible choice of snack he'd knocked over.

“Night Eddie.” You say pulling the door closed.

“Night sweetheart.”

The nickname makes you pause just short of closing the door, all movement stops from behind it and you wonder for a moment if he's left before pulling it closed.

The sheets are still warm from where your giggling body had been nestled into them and with the dopamine still lingering, you climb in and drift easily.

“Marco?” The voice is muffled and you groan as you shift.

“Polo?” You groggily say eyes still heavy.

Drip

The sound finds you with its usual bolt of adrenaline and your eyes snap open.

At least there's nothing on the ceiling.

You pad slowly over to the door and lean against it ready to squeeze through, when it opens easily and you stumble forward.

You walk out turning to see the bookshelves moved over to the side no longer blocking the door.

Evidence of your night is floating in the puddle, his tv now fused with the counter and his couch slowly soaking in the black around the bottom. Nuts and popcorn are scattered over the floor by an upturned bowl and are slowly being swallowed.

You lean down watching how the pieces stick out, your laptop being consumed slowly, fading with every drop.

“I wouldn't touch that.”

You almost slip into it, quickly steadying yourself and glowering back at him.

He's got a shit eating grin on his face despite the way he's rubbing his tired eyes.

“I see you dressed for the occasion this time.” you say still a little breathless.

He looks down at himself to the grey sweatpants and an old band shirt where the motifs peeling away so you can't make it out anymore.

“Well I didn't pass out on the couch like last time, so.”

He's more disarming like this with hair sticking out, face a little tired, tattoos sprawling up under his sleeves. He's less stiff, the almost permanent scowl he wore last time gone.

He runs his hands through his hair and looks around eyeing the slowly sinking snacks in the black puddle.

“It's changing, like with what we do in the day. ”

You walk over to behind the counter, swallowing at the sight of the floor, only a few inches visible between it and the darkness of the back wall.

“Come on.”

You walk through the wall of light to his side and check for any changes.

But everything's the same, the only changes are the evidence of his life within the space.

You come full circle both coming out the other side to face the abyss again.

“Why is it only my side?” you whine looking at the nightmare factory before you.

“You dont think she's making it, do you?”

“Who?”

“Grandma death.” He says a little chuckle in his voice.

When you don't respond he turns to you, calling your name softly as you recall the shadows slithering on the ceiling in your dreams.

How did you know they were smiling? Her face flashes in your mind's eye.

“Have you had any other weird dreams while you've lived here?”

“Other than this” he laughs but his face falls a little as you look up at him.

“Uh, no, well I mean, nothing like this.”

Nodding, head swimming, you walk over to your couch curling into yourself and peering at the darkness of the wall behind it.

“So what do we do now?”

“I don't know. Wait, I guess.”

The couch bounces as he sits down heavily on the other end. The silence grows between the pair of you and you can see him fidgeting in your peripheral.

“So. How's the world?”

“How's the world?” you say turning to him

He shrugs and you exhale sharply out your nose.

“Kind of a loaded question, guess it depends who you ask. How's the 90s?”

“Ohhh you know, shit.”

Drip

The laugh you let out is hollow as you turn back tonstare into the blackness and you can't pinpoint why but your vision mists, tears threatening to spill over.

“Tell me something fun.” Your voice is thick around the lump in your throat, if he notices he graciously ignores it.

“About myself?”

“Anything.”

“Okay uh, I'm in a band”

You look back at him a smile tugging at you lips despite your glossy eyes remaining.

“That's the least surprising thing you could have told me. ”

He makes a face.

Drip

“Not in a bad way. Okay let me guess.” you squint, assessing him and he sits up a little taller under your gaze.

“Grunge.”

“Metal.”

“Ah, potayto, potahto”

He’s about to rant, you can tell by the flare of his nostrils and your smile turns to a full grin as you lay the side of his face against the back of the couch.

He deflates, squinting back at you .

“Your fucking with me.”

“What are you called? I'll have to look you up”

He preens at that “Corroded Coffin.”

“Nice.”

“Thank you. We're actually on hiatus, our bassist knocked his girl up. Band practice doesn't fit with the kids schedule.” he says, tipping his head towards you.

Drip

“How unreasonable.”

“Right.”

"Moved here thinking it would be better for the band.”

“To the place you can't afford.” The words come out quicker than you can think but thankfully he chuckles.

“Uh yeah, it wasn't just me to start, had a housemate. Girlfriend.” He looks away scratching his jaw. “They sort of, left together.”

“Shit, sorry Eddie, I didn't mean to-” he waves you off.

“What about you?”

Drip

Your stomach curdles.

“What about me?”

“No other people.”

Drip.

It's your turn to avoid his gaze and you gesture around you.

“No, I mean-”

Drip.

A sound from the abyss cuts him off, the sheer volume so loud you can feel it in the empty spaces in your chest, it sends you both off the couch and scrambling away.

Nothing changed, as your eyes frantically look for the source of the noise, wincing you cover your ears and slowly move towards it.

“What are you doing?”

You faintly make out Eddie’s yelling but you keep moving, your heart pounds as the liquid on your kitchen floor comes into view, vibrating where it's met the abyss.

The sound stops as quickly as it came, the absence leaving your ears ringing and you jump as Eddie arrives next to you.

He follows your gaze to where the darkness has met.

“That's not good.”

Next.

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