#goth girl tings

[carefully-lowlifeing]

not me promising not to do the bpd thing then doing the bpd thing and wondering why i’m so attatched so fast

[tootallthemodel]

Try to take who? It ain’t enough of y’all bitches 💋

[ashshanea101]

Introvert Problems

photocredit: @Tarot_withAsh on Instagram

#

[emostonergorl]

soft girl

[horrorwebs]

fUUUUUUUIIICCCCCKCKCKKKCKCKCKCKCK

[nightfang22]

For the wayne smut could you add the idea of them losing their virginity to each other. Thank you<3

Of course I can!Thank you so much and I hope you love it!Sorry if it's not great,it is my first spicy fic.Anyways,lemme know what you think!

Virgin Lovers

Warnings:SMUT Minors DNI

Pairing:Wayne McCullough x f!Reader

Word Count:1.5k

His smile. His eyes. His lips. Wayne McCullough infected your every thought. He made you feel things that you had never felt before. As you were lost in thought, you didn't realize that your phone had been constantly buzzing. You picked it up on the third ring of the 4th call. "Hello?"

"Hey Y/n, you got any plans later?" It was Orlando. You and Orlando had always been good friends which is how you met Wayne. Orlando had introduced you two one day when you had begged him not to make you skip class alone.

                                                         *Flashback*

"Pleaseeeee Orlando? I don't wanna go alone and you're way better at this than I am! Besides, I'm only skipping to help you get these new Pokemon cards you wanted! I don't have to do this, you know." You pouted and whined until he conceded. "Fine fine I'll go with you. You probably wouldn't know what to look for anyways." You were about to make an offended rebuttal when something else caught his attention. Or someone, you should say. Turning around to see who it was, you thought it was just going to be the girl he's been constantly crushing on with a spinal cage. But no. When you turned around, you saw none other than Wayne McCullough walking in your direction down the hallway. You felt your heart pound and your cheeks flush. Your throat constricted and suddenly your mouth had run dry. You guess Orlando had noticed this and nudged you in the side with his elbow. "Oooo somebody got it bad, huh? Who is it? Is it the guy with the clarinet you have band with?" You jabbed him with your elbow back and tried not to stare at Wayne's gorgeously bruised up face. Orlando caught notice and smiled wide. "Oh, you got it bad for my boy, Wayne huh? Want me to hook you up?" Your head snapped violently in his direction. "I swear to the Gods Orlando, if you embarrass me in front of him I will kill you." Wayne walked up to us and looked at Orlando, giving a little head nod. "Wayne man! Where you been?" Wayne chuckled a little and it was this sexy soft rumbling noise. "Whatcha mean? I'm like 20 minutes late." Orlando laughed. "Yeah 20 minutes and like 3 weeks!" Orlando must have seen you fidgeting with the rings on the chain around your neck cause he put his hand on your shoulder and looked at Wayne. "Wayne, this is Y/n L/n. She's new-ish. She was new, like a month ago." You felt Wayne's eyes on you and you looked up at him through your eyelashes before smiling awkwardly. "Y/n, this is the man. The myth. The legend. My best friend, Wayne mothafuckin McCullough." Wayne punched Orlando in the shoulder and he winced. "Damn man! I'm tryin to do you a favor!" Wayne's eyes never left yours, even when you felt your cheeks tinge pink and you looked away briefly.

                                                     *Flashback Over*

You had been inseparable ever since. Wayne ended up cutting class with you and at some point you had completely lost Orlando and went to some record store where Wayne had asked you if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. You and Wayne have been together for 3 years now and you could never be happier.

"Uh not really. Probably just homework. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me and Wayne to this club off campus later? It's supposed to be super rave and like alternative vibes and I know that's your shit. It took me forever to get Wayne to agree and I maybe sorta already told him you'd go?" "Orlando!"

"I'm tryin to get a hot goth girlfriend! Help a brotha out!"

  I sigh in defeat through my nose. "Fine. I'll go. But the moment anyone is too drunk, we're leaving. Got it?"

 "Yeah yeah for sure! Thanks, Y/n! You the best!"

                                                *Timeskip to the club*

You look around at your environment. It's a lot of flashing lights and loud music. Not really your scene. You scan the crowd for Orlando and Wayne when you spot them against the wall outside. You walk up to them and you notice Wayne's eyes scan up and down your body. You're wearing a faux leather 2 piece with a silver body chain covered in dangly purple and blue rhinestones with black sparkly platforms. "Hey guys, sorry if I'm late I-" You get interrupted by Wayne pulling you in by the waist. He keeps you close to him and it looks like he's glaring at something when you look up at his face. You look over and see him glaring at some guy. The creep looked like he was eyeing you and you weren't for it. You curled closer to Wayne before Orlando waved us to go inside with him. The place was loud but very hype and fun. It didn't really seem like your kind of scene though. You don't get why Orlando wanted us to come. Neither you or Wayne were much of the party type. After watching everyone dance for a while, you decided to call it a night.

Wayne took you home and got you settled inside, laying you down in bed. You just laid there staring at his beautiful face. "I love you." Wayne never blushes but his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. You don't know where the courage came from but you leaned up and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss quickly evolved into a heated makeout session. Wayne crawled into bed on to of you, pulling away only to take off his shoes cause he knows you have a thing about shoes on the bed. His hands roam your body in your pretty outfit. You pull away tossing off your body chain and making quick work of his shirt. Wayne wasn't necessarily 'buff' but he was very well tones and had a gorgeous frame. Your hands glided from his shoulders down to his waistline, working on the button of his jeans. He pulled away to look at you. "Are you sure? I-I mean I've never. And you've never. What if you regret it?" You pull him in for a sweet kiss. "I could never regret it. If anything, I wouldn't want to lose it to anyone else." That must have really got him going cause he practically tore off your clothes. He slid his jeans off along with his underwear and kissed my neck, pulling a gasp from you. When he pulls away, you finally have a good chance to look at him and holy fuck. You didn't realize your boyfriend was so….well endowed. Big enough that it looked like it might hurt. Wayne grabbed something out of his wallet and when you noticed what it was, he looked at you sheepishly. "Orlando gave it to me." He shrugged and smiled shyly. He rolled on the condom and crawled back over you. "And you're absolutely sure?" You nodded and placed your arms around his neck so that you could play with his hair. He placed himself at your entrance before stopping. "Hang on gimme your leg." You looked at him confused before lifting your leg and he placed it up on his shoulder, doing the same with the other one. "I read somewhere that it hurts less if you do it like this." He realigned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You felt tears prick your eyes as he stretched you and he kissed your forehead, stopping. He made you look into his eyes. "Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head. He stayed still, waiting for you to adjust until you nodded you head. He began to move and even though it hurt, it was a good hurt. You moaned softly as he bottomed out inside you. Wayne gently bit down on your shoulder and kissed it before placing his forehead on yours, beginning to find a steady rhythm. Your moans were the sweetest sound he had ever heard and he just wanted to keep hearing them. With one especially rough thrust he hit that special spot inside you and you arched your back while digging your nails into his and he ate that shit up. He continued at that pace as you screamed out his name in pure ecstasy. You felt the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and your breathing picked up more. He held you close as you came crashing down from your high as his hips stuttered, painting the inside of the condom with his seed. He pulled out slowly, tossing the condom into the bin. He got up to grab a towel to clean you up and brought back a glass of water for you. After you're all cleaned up, he crawls back into bed with you, covering you up and pulling you close as you slowly fall asleep in his arms.

[ckret2]

I was mentally playing devil's advocate because I have a terrible habit, thinking "While I agree, there are authors who might just add details for the sake of visualization without any intended impact to the scene and it's important to keep in mind, like with the outfit descriptions in my immortal" and immediately realizing

That is a silly comparison to begin with

The outfit descriptors in my immortal DO impact the scene and the reading, especially in terms of how you imagine the author of the story

My Immortal would not have been as impactful as it is without these details

Even if the author didn't intend it as a meaningful detail, if it can be read as having meaning, then it can have meaning

those outfit descriptors are absolutely intentional

YEAH BABY THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!

The curtains were blue for a reason and Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way had icy blue eyes like limpid tears for a reason!!!

Was it GOOD writing? By most measures, no! But the author told us every color in Ebony's hair, every garment on her body, and every product on her face because she was deliberately trying to craft the perfect visual representation of the quintessential 2006 white goth girl.

Even the simple little fact that her fishnets are pink instead of black tells you something—the scene-tinged aesthetic movements the author was drawing from even though she only references "goth" style, the fact that Ebony as a character skews feminine in her presentation rather than the genderbendy androgyny that's also common in the goth scene—but we would have gotten a very different description if the pink fishnets had been the only color mentioned in her wardrobe.

You know and I know and everyone knows that the author gave her pink fishnets because she probably thought they looked "cool" amidst all that black—but the fact that the author prioritized a "cool" main character (rather than a dull everyman or a dislikable villain) tells us about the author's literary priorities, and what the author considers "cool" shapes the whole story.

Those over-the-top descriptors tell you exactly what kind of a character Ebony is going to be, exactly what aesthetics & tropes the story is going to explore and glorify (doom, gloom, goths, vampires!), and exactly who the author idolizes and considers admirable—from the specific (Amy Lee and Gerard Way) to the broad (nonconformist counterculture rebels who stand defiant against conformist "preps").

Was every detail in Ebony's appearance necessary? No. But did every detail matter? Oh yes. Every last bit told us a little bit more about her character, the story to come, and the author behind it all.

[t-305tv]

Hi, can you do one where Jade is mad/upset about something, and Tori gives her kisses and cuddles until she's feeling better and smiling again, please?

Jade sat on the edge of her bed, her expression clouded with frustration. She had been brooding for hours, unable to shake off the feelings of anger and disappointment that gnawed at her insides.

Tori, noticing Jade's somber mood, approached her cautiously. "Hey, Jade. Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

Jade sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "Not really, Tori. I'm just... upset about everything that's been going on lately," she admitted, her tone tinged with bitterness.

Tori nodded in understanding. She tugged Jade's hand. "Come on, let's skip the rest of classes. I have an idea to cheer you up."

The half-latina lead the upset goth girl back to her home, which thankfully was empty. Tori had Jade sit on the couch and curled up beside her, pulling the taller girl into her arms.

"Just relax. I've got you," Tori soothed as she began placing soft kisses along Jade's jawline and neck. Jade melted into the affection, the tension leaving her body.

Tori leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the back of Jade's neck. "How can I make you feel better?"

Jade rolled over slightly so she could look up at Tori. "I don't know," she grumbled, though her features had softened a bit.

Tori smiled warmly down at her girlfriend. "Cuddles help me when I'm upset. Want to try that?"

Jade considered for a moment, then nodded. Tori laid down and opened her arms, and Jade shifted over to curl into her side, head resting on Tori's chest. Tori wrapped her arms around Jade securely and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

They laid in silence for a while, Tori occasionally placing sweet kisses over any part of Jade she could reach. Slowly but surely, she felt Jade relaxing into her embrace.

Tori kissed all over Jade's face until a small smile began to spread across Jade's lips as Tori kissed her cute pout away. Mission accomplished - Tori had successfully kissed the grumpies away.

"Feel better?" Tori asked softly.

Jade nodded, snuggling closer. "Thanks, Tor."

[omegaremix]

Full Moon Music.

We’ve always featured darkness since our very first broadcast on Omega WUSB. By our fourth show, we came close in completing our first full-fledged darkness set in a more dis-organized era when we were still trying to figure ourselves out. Back then, ‘darkness’ meant any amount of well-known industrial, metal, and electronic acts with an evil, deviant, or negative tinge to it. Think Throbbing Gristle, Clock DVA, Whitehouse, Godflesh, NON, and etcetera. We finally achieved full force during a bonus summer broadcast (#21) and since then things evolved in how we did those shows. We’ve made a point in doing at least one but no more than two of these dark broadcasts per year, usually in the winter as it’s the best weather, and that’s not including the Halloween broadcasts we’ve done. That’s a whole other class in itself.

It wasn’t until November 2017 when I attended Hospital Productions’ 20th anniversary, a night I’ll never forget. It was the culmination of nine months of benefits and stay-at-home recovery from three life-saving shoulder surgeries. It felt so good being in my element in Brooklyn (Greenpoint) with all the industrialists, goth girls, and noise aficionados dressed in black. Ten hours of paying personal tributes to Dominick Fernow and his label made me realize there was more to look forward to. It’s something never experienced on Long Island, and don’t even get me started with what that “culture” consists of.

That event left a lasting impression on me. If the label had its’ magic on me with Cocaine Death, then I was totally mystified with its’ own showcase. Even everything surrounding it - the train rides, playlists, playbacks, the weather - felt significant to me. And then some. The following month, Omega WUSB opened up the winter broadcasting season / year with more Hospital Productions and Sacred Bones music to air. Both of those labels had their 20th and 10th label anniversaries respectively and we loved what they’ve released. Philip Best’s Alien Existence and a shipment of RRRecords’ cassettes and vinyl arrived at the residence; both which made me feel proud of myself. By Year Six, Omega WUSB was more focused in playing darkwave, synthwave, soundscapes, and even witch house. As the colder months progressed, I discovered a Brooklyn goth girl who followed me and liked my posts on the regular. She was that rare person I really identified with and gave me a serious run for my money like no other.

Through all the euphoric ups, heartbreaking downs, and greyscale steadies, the show must go on. The events of Hospital Productions and identification still surround me. They are a reminder of who I am, where I’m from, what I look forward to, and who I associate with. The darkness broadcasts still go strong and we look forward in doing them like you wouldn’t believe. By now, Omega WUSB has been more organized. Of all the different genres we play, we make it a point to do these dedicated darkness sets when the weather’s suitable and as long as the music’s current. Aside from that, we still run dedicated bonus (and even our one-and-only deluxe Leap Day) noise shows and we aim to make all of our other goth rock, black metal, classic industrial, minimal, and other midnight finds when and where applicable. All of our listeners know that organizing at least 15 different genres and making them all fit is a challenge.

This past winter, we aired one broadcast of dark electronics from Avon Terror Corps and the L.I.E.S. label, doom metal, no-tech, and some textural noise. Somehow we fell into the rabbit hole of darkwave, synthwave, minimal, and EBM and we’ve had enough for a great three-hour idea. With WUSB’s ethos of independent radio and our ethos of everything new, current, and relevant, we had a case to go off-the-board.

Here’s what I / we’ve been feeling and experiencing for the past four winters. This soundtrack supplements the pristine spectre of full moons and constellations in the clear frigid black skies, plus all the positive events that still stays with me make for a distinct spell I can call my own. No Wax Trax, no Bauhaus, The Cure, The Cramps, Siouxsie Sioux, or Depeche Mode. No doubt they’re all legends, but not every tracklist or mix has to be that way. Everything found here is current and on a different level. If at any time I need to get myself up, I’ll reach back to this and know I’ll come back to something I can call what’s mine.

Drift.: “Social Front”

Body Of Light: “Let Me Go”

Beta Evers: “Move In My Body Rhythm”

Makina Girgir: “Livides Clartes”

Kontravoid: “10,000 Voices”

La Scaltra: “Rhythm Of Our Dead Hearts”

Vore Aurora: “In Out And Thru”

Void Vision: “Body Says”

Aurat: "Shaitan” 

Violet Tremors: “It’s So Good”

Popsimonova: “No Contact”

U.Z.O. / Uho Za Oko: “Medsvetovje”

Colouroid: “Eye Shadow”

Boy Harsher: “Tears”

Crazy P: “The Witness”

Molchat Doma: “Sudno (Boris Ryzhy)”

Hante.: “One More Dance”

Jennifer Touch: “Chemistry”

Minuit Machine: “Don’t Run From The Fire”

Figure Study: “Interaction”

Drift: “Calculations”

Las Eras: “La Esclava”

Gold Zebra: “Invisible Disorder”

Brusque Twins: “What Else Is There To Say?”

Schonwald: “Rays”

Dolina: “Sorrow”

Technoir: “Dying Star (Mesh)”

Sally Dige: “Forget Me”

Drab Majesty: “Cold Souls”

Opale: “Sparkles And Wine”

Boy Harsher: “R.O.V. (New Beat)”

Minimal Kommando / Andreas Ohler: “Minimal Waver”

Linea Aspira: “Hinterland”

Rue Oberkampf: “Tokyo”

Marie Davidson: “Balade Aux USA”

Xeno & Oaklander “Sentinelle”

Aurat: “Pari”

Flesh Of Morning: “Death Becomes Bitter”

White Hex: “Paradise”

Kindest Cuts: “Cold Eyes”

Phosphor: “Another Time”

Girl Pusher: “Where The Fuck Is My Ambulance?”

Debby Friday: “Treason” (f. Lana Del Rabies)

Lana Del Rabies: ”Darcy” (Lav Andula RMX)

NGHTCRWLR: “Firestarter”

Zonal: “System Error” (f. Moor Mother) Wrecked

JK Flesh: “In Your Pit”

Ciarra Black: Stasis

Filmmaker: “The Love Market”

Provoker: “Theme”

Parole E Azioni: “Karaoke Night track #1″

Aurat: “Ilzam”

Essaie Pas: “Danse Sociale”

Drift: “Say It Right”

Deep Red:“Pray For Death”

Ciarra Black: “Dupont Street”

Cabaret Nocturne: “Moon Invaders”

Boy Harsher: “Tears” (Silent Servant RMX)

Kanga: “Going Red”

Promiseland: “Take Down The House”

Lead Into Gold: “Hard Won Decay”

Rosa Damask: Heroes

Zanias: “Follow The Body”

Azar Swan: “Jungle Law”

Canal Street Electronics: “By The River”

Salford Electronics: “Deconstruction”

JK Flesh: “Trinity”

Ron Morelli: “Disappearer”

KVB, The: “In Deep”

White Ring: “Shaken To Sleep”

Pink Turns Blue: “I Coldly Stare Out”

Cabaret Nocturne: “Blind Trust”

Figure Study: “Wait”

Boy Harsher: “L.A.”

Soma Sema: “Artificial Heart”

Natural Assembly: “She Walks In Beauty”

Void Vision: “The Source”

KVB, The: “Afterglow”

John Carpenter: “Vortex” (Uniform RMX)

Emptyset: “Dissolve”

Consumer Electronics: “Co-Opted”

Alan Vega: “Prophecy”

Ninos Du Brasil: “Em Que O Rio Do Mar Se Torna”

Vatican Shadow: “Weapons Inspection”

Molly Nilsson: “A Slice Of Lemon”

Lebanon Hanover: “Babes Of The 80′s” (Tobias Bernstrup RMX)

Urochromes: “Night Bully” (Boy Harsher RMX)

Body Of Light: “Holding You”

Broken English Club: “Channel 83″

White Ring: “Leprosy”

Flesh & Peaki: “Veiled”

Ghxst: “Ride”

Strahinja Arbutina: “You Don’t Need This In Your Life”

Mirrors For Psychic Warfare: “Tomb Puncher”

Ron Morelli: “Golden Oldies”

Azar Swan: “Silent Like A Father”

Boy Harsher: “Face The Fire”

Clay Rendering: “The Pest”

Ron Morelli: “Radar Version”

Vatican Shadow: “Take Vows”

Silent Servant: “The Silent Attractor”

Ninos Du Brasil: “Vagalumes Pirilampos”

Lust For Youth: “Display”

Gary War: “Don’t Go Out Tonight”

Appetite: “Bordeaux Gallow”

Believer/Law: “Foxhole Prayers”

Ciarra Black: “Series Of…”

Silent Servant: “Dissociation”

Vatican Shadow: “Interrogation Mosaic”

Boy Harsher: “Pain”

Contrepoison: “Heartbeat”

Led Er Est: “Scissors”

Molly Nilsson: “I Hope You Die”

KVB, The: “Always Then”

Princess Century: “Crummy Bones”

Natural Assembly “Life Blossoms”

Adult.: “Dance Avoid”

Grun Wasser: “The Deep”

Believer/Law: “Ashes”

Military Position: “Babes Ov Babylon”

Drvg Cvltvre: “Waging A War Against God”

Actress: “Dancing In The Smoke”

Peaches: “Convincing People”

Grimes: “Genesis” (Blvck Ceiling RMX)

Algiers: “Death March” (Prurient RMX)

Rrose: “Surgeon General (Her Insides Laid Bare)”

[sweethoneyrose83]

Scenario: A Goth Girl's Wedding

As the twilight sky casts its shadows over the Gothic mansion, the bride, adorned in a stunning black lace gown with intricate corsetry, stands at the threshold. Her raven hair cascades down her back in elegant waves, adorned with silver chains and dark roses. She clutches a bouquet of deep crimson calla lilies and black dahlias, their colors stark against the monochrome palette.

The groom awaits her at the altar, dressed in a tailored suit of deep charcoal, accented with silver chains and cufflinks. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, light up as he sees his beloved approach, a vision of dark elegance amidst the candlelit aisle.

The ceremony is conducted beneath the ancient arches of a Gothic cathedral, adorned with ornate stained glass windows depicting scenes of sorrow and passion. The air is heavy with the scent of incense and the soft strains of a haunting melody played on a grand pipe organ.

Vows are exchanged, solemn promises whispered in the flickering candlelight, sealed with a kiss that echoes through the centuries. As they emerge from the cathedral as man and wife, they are showered with black rose petals, a symbol of eternal love in the realm of darkness.

The reception takes place in the mansion's grand ballroom, transformed into a decadent Gothic wonderland. Tables are adorned with black lace tablecloths and silver candelabras, while centerpieces of blood-red roses and dripping candles cast eerie shadows upon the walls.

Guests are treated to a feast of dark delicacies, from blood-red velvet cake to charred salmon served with black truffle risotto. The champagne flows freely, each glass tinged with a hint of midnight magic.

As the night wears on, the newlyweds take to the dance floor, moving as one to the haunting strains of a melancholy waltz. Their love, dark and eternal, is a beacon of light in a world consumed by shadows.

And as the clock strikes midnight, they disappear into the night, bound together for eternity in the embrace of darkness.

[maffickingcowplants]

Day 4 of 7, Summer 2005 In a moment of academic triumph, Alexander Goth found himself standing at the crossroads of his high school journey. The outstanding young man, driven by a voracious thirst for knowledge, had not only excelled but surpassed the expectations of his educators. As the news of early graduation and the prospect of university enrollment reached him, Alexander felt a surge of pride mixed with a tinge of bittersweet accomplishment.

In a moment of academic triumph, Alexander Goth found himself standing at the crossroads of his high school journey. The outstanding young man, driven by a voracious thirst for knowledge, had not only excelled but surpassed the expectations of his educators. As the news of early graduation and the prospect of university enrollment reached him, Alexander felt a surge of pride mixed with a tinge of bittersweet accomplishment.

Unable to contain his excitement, he sought out his mother, Bella, who had been both a guiding force and a figure often shrouded in mystery due to her frequent "business trips". Bella's initial joy gives way to a torrent of emotions: In a vulnerable moment, Bella confessed her struggles with balancing her responsibilities and the impact it has had on her family.

In a surprising twist, it was Alexander who became the pillar of support, comforting his mother with a maturity beyond his years. Rather than dwelling on the past, they decided to celebrate this milestone. A graduation party was in order, a gathering that brought friends into the mix. As the house buzzed with youthful energy, Alexander couldn't resist the allure of flirting with the attending girls, much to the disapproval of his Aunt Agnes, a widow with a disdain for matters of the heart.

The celebration became a blend of academic achievement, familial bonds, and the burgeoning complexities of young love, marking a significant chapter in Alexander's life and leaving Bella to grapple with the challenges of parenting in a world filled with both mystery and mundane concerns.

Posts about Bella: « PREVIOUS / BEGINNING / NEXT »

Posts about Alexander: « PREVIOUS / BEGINNING / NEXT »

[birdgirlvia]

Wednesday Characters as D+F Fragrances

I’m currently heavily hyperfixated on two things: Wednesday and perfume. I decided I might as well combine the two, and have some fun with one of the most Wednesday-esque perfume houses I have ever seen, that being Death and Floral. These aren’t necessarily what I think these characters would wear, but more what they would smell like as a whole, or maybe they just fit the vibe? I don’t totally know, because this is just for fun! Use this as an interesting look into the characters, OR use it as a perfume rec list! Support small, ethical fragrance houses!!

I have the characters listed, followed by the titles of the scents and then the D+F descriptions of each scent!

Wednesday

- Damned Nightfall

     “The deepest and darkest amber blended with violets, black labdanum, vanilla absolute, espresso absolute, fresh cocoa beans, and honey”

- Queen of Moths

     “Incense, rich chocolate, decaying flowers, tobacco, dark woods, attic dust”

- She was the storm

     “Black hemlock, driftwood, hay absolute, dreamy sandalwood, spiced oudh, dried fruits, dead leaves”

Tyler

- Someday I’ll get on that train

     “Earth grass underfoot, the morning after a long rainy spring night. Warm morning air and the far off scent of sweet tobacco and forgotten linens swaying in the early breeze”

- ‘Tis the season to acknowledge the void

     “Black musk, black amber, pinyon pine needles, and the knowledge that time's arrow marches on. Contains a very slim profile of warm nuttiness, black coffee, and dark cocoa beans”

- We took the gig for the mileage writeoff

     “A waft of a gasoline puddle outside of the stop’n’go, quiet night air surrounding the car parked under flickering fluorescent lights, a tiny tinge of salty sweat, the milky scent of quiet and happy dog feet, asleep in the backseat”

Enid

- Girls and graves

     “Sugare’d grapefruit, pink musk, soft cherry blossoms, fluffy pink clouds of fairy floss”

- Time marches on

     “Fluffy blend of blue and pink cotton candy, early morning English ivy, and light spring rain”

- Pop Donuts

     “Pink and blue frosted donuts, blended with maple syrup and blueberry jam”

Xavier

- I was born a bitch, I was born a painter

     “Sweet basil and violets, blended with Spanish moss, yarrow oil, and blue musk”

- Whispers of Strange Sounds

     “Creaking floorboard wood, sweet olive tree, dark patchouli and rye, overgrown ivy on abandoned brick”

- It’s beginning to look a lot like [REDACTED]

     “Glidingly smooth fresh pen ink, warm vetiver and red leaves”

Bianca

- I could never stay long enough on the shore

     “A quiet and empty beach full of barren miles of white sand, under a cool night moon. The soft smell of old, salty boardwalk wood in the air. A small hint of smoke in the air from a distant fire, warmth on the edge of the cold winter coastline”

- With the fishes and the dead

     “Black squid ink and mile long oceans. Black ambergris, black labdanum absolute, salty ocean water, and black pits of stretched out emptiness”

- Red string of fate

     “Red musk and black, burnt amber blended with golden honey and black molasses”

Morticia

- Full of fire and stars and all of October

     “Dark red wine, barrel-aged in a long abandoned cellar, blended with golden patchouli and osmanthus”

- Goth Dolly

     “Peru balsam blended with spiced sandalwood, and black lipstick accord. A tribute to womanhood and being whoever you want to be”

- The secret of wives and widows

     “A dark and mysterious blend of Arabian sandalwood, luscious vanilla, orchids and southern night air; white tea in a fine cup of china held by a figure with long painted nails”

Gomez

- I am a rich man

     “Vanilla bean cut with vetiver, swirled over raw animal musk (vegan) and blended with tuberose”

- Monsters Still Under My Bed

     “Creaky floor wood, spiced nutmeg, golden oudh, chewy tobacco, vanilla copal resins, smokey warm amber”

- The more I give to you, the more I die

     “A velvet top hat delicately blended with fancy silk robes sitting in a room made of cold stone. A tinge of cold metal mixed with the finest green absinthe and black musk”

Eugene

- Honeycomb

     “Green and floral honey, not sweetened. Deep Honey of the earth. Blended with 100% beeswax absolute”

- Happier than a corgi on stilts

     “Warm blueberry bread muffins and furry corgi fur, with hints of musky toe beans and shaven saw-wood”

- Sweet tea in the summer

     “Honey and sugar swirling in iced tea, white florals, ginger, coconut cream, Egyptian musk”

Sheriff Galpin

- 11 days in December

     “The scent of an abandoned car, wet footprints leading to a path, an exotic mystery trail of citrus, spice, dust, and oil”

- That’s a rock fact!

     “Wet rocks and spooky darkened trees, damp grass underfoot and a glistening tinge of being followed”

- The wolf only needs luck to find you once

     “Crisp forest night air, lunar musk, large drifting oakwood trees, the musky scent of a trailing shadow”

Principal Weems

- The same way I am in love with the moon

     “Palo santo blended with smoked sandalwood and a lunar accord. Deep and reminiscent of a breezy night under a looming full moon”

- The library, still burning down with us

     “Burnt edges of books, the overpowering scent of gasoline wafting around the wooden banister, wax candles melting on a desk”

- Ray

     “A comfy leather armchair on a chilly autumn night, surrounded by the scent of piles upon piles of books, sweet cigars from an open box, and a nice cup of Lapsang Souchong tea”

Miss Thornhill

- The soft crunch of bread and bones

     “Flakey coconut French madeleines, stifling bakery air, vanilla cremé and crunchy macarons, the last sip of green tea with a mysterious lover”

- Two cups of tea, a summer monsoon, and me and you

     “Rain on cracked soil, wet creosote, a swelling monsoon, desert cedar, black tea”

- You are our May Queen!

     “A sinister floral blend of chrysanthemums, hyacinths, and bright red poppies laid on a bed of stark white linen sitting upon a pile of bluegrass. Blended with green tea and hallucinogenic juniper leaves. Warm, inviting, and completely unnerving”

[sydtaxerror]

Holoctober Day 8 - Haunted

The advent girls get roped into a ghost-hunting adventure with Shiori. Mayhem ensues. Another short comedic piece, doing a lot less gore than I expected this year. Buckling down for multiple stories today. Determined to catch back up!

“Thanks for coming with me on my ghost hunting stream guys!” All of advent was driving down the road in a large van full of ghost hunting tech. “Wait, is that what this is?” Nerissa sounded disappointed. “You told me this was a sleepover!”

Fuwawa popped her head over the backseat, “yobai!?”

Mococo appeared beside her “No Fuwawa, no yobai!”

Bijou added “Stop trying to Jaslight us Fuwawa. The Adventrix told us what that word means.” 

Shiori chuckled, “Since your family guards the gates to hell, does that mean you Gaslight, Gatekeep and-”

“Don’t try to distract us from the fact you lied about a sleepover Shiori.” Nerissa interrupted.

“I didn’t lie to anyone. Fuwamoco know exactly where we’re going. Bibou was already passed out here cause she was sleep-deprived after a 12 hour stream and thought it was her bedroom, and I told you it's a sleepover because it is! We’re staying overnight. It's the best kind of sleepover even. The kind that's at a Murder House!” They pulled into the driveway of a decrepit looking old house with a sign in front that designated it simply as “The Murder House.”

“Its called that because of all the people who keep getting murdered here.” Shiori explained as they parked.

Nerissa rolled her eyes. “I never would have guessed. Fuwamoco you knew about this? I thought you hated scary things?” Fuwawa and Mococo’s expressions grew serious. Fuwawa declared, “Its training! We’re gonna show these ghosts how rough and tough demon guard dogs can be!” 

“And if we spend 40 hours total in haunted locations we get our Specter Stopper certification from Cerberus school,” Mococo added. 

They spent a few hours setting up equipment and trying to get a response out of the ghosts. Other than a few temperature dips and one moment where Fuwamoco were taking turns asking questions to a spirit box and Nerissa snuck up on them and whispered “behind you,” which had them huddling in the nearest closet for twenty minutes, almost nothing happened. They gathered in the living room, precisely at midnight. It looked like something out of the 1890s with fragile old rocking chairs and dusty beige carpets bearing archaic patterns. After a fruitless Ouija board session where Nerissa nudged the planchette towards the lewdest answers her rather vivid imagination could think of, Shiori huffed in frustration. “Where are they? They’re being so dull! Since when are murder ghosts shy?” 

“Good instincts honestly, we are three demons, a rock with emotion lasers and a freaky, unhinged goth with unspecified magic powers.” Nerissa chimed.“

Shiori rolled her eyes. “Nerissa, I’m not going to degrade you in public just because you say something nice about me. I’m not your prom date.” 

Nerissa shivered in place. “Tasukaru.”

“Bibou…do you think you could give them a little burst of anger, stir things up?” Shiori askled.

“Okay!”

“Wait, Bibou!” Fuwamoco and Nerissa screamed together, but it was too late, her gems glowed a bright red and the whole house took on that hue. After a few minutes her gems turned back and the room returned to its normal hue. “Huh, guess that was a dud. Let me hit em again.” Before she could, they all felt a dark presence enter the room, and dozens of knives floated in from the kitchen.

“Why do they have so many knives? Isn’t this place like a tourist trap now?” The knives oriented towards them slowly before launching with incredible speed. Fuwamoco leapt in front of Shior and Nerissa, batting away knives with their claws. “Protect!” 

Bijou was off to the side, several knives flanked around and charged her, but they impacted on her skin with a slight “ting” sound and bounced off, some shattering. She giggled, “stop, that tickles!”

Eventually the onslaught stopped, the ammunition depleted. Fuwamoco turned to the rest of the girls. “We did it! We’re saved!” Mococo cheered. “We did such a good job didn’t we Shiori?” Fuwawa added, and both demon guard dogs angled their heads for headpats, not noticing in the candlelight that Shiori’s eyes had turned to darkest obsidian. She opened her mouth and glowing green ectoplasm sprayed out, drenching the dog-girls. “Shiori’s not here right now!” A voice much deeper than Shiori’s declared. On seeing the state of Fuwamoco Nerissa fell to her knees, crying out “Noooo! That should have been me!”  The twins screamed and ran around in circles looking for something to hide under, but eventually froze, they looked to each other in silent agreement and stalked towards Shiori with grim determination. 

Mococo grabbed Shiori’s collar, lifting her into the air, and started slapping her. “You have to fight it Shiori, don’t let the murder ghost win!” 

Nerissa said, “nooo, that should also be me!” 

Fuwawa grabbed Shiori from Mococo “Moco-chan, can’t you see shes already dead!” She stabbed Shiori with her demon claws, continuously repeating the action. “The ghost is trying to devour her soul! We have to stop him!”

Mococo tackled her to the ground. “Are you crazy. That's our friend!” Fuwawa tried to fight free, “Our friend is dead Moco-chan! Shes never coming back!”

“Actually I’m already back.” Shiori stood back up, dusting herself off.

“Oh.” Fuwawa said. Mococo gave her an I told you so look, and Fuwawa bowed her head towards Shiori. “I’m sorry Shiori, I guess that was a pretty big misunderstanding.”

“Aw, its ok, you were just trying to help.” Shiori patted Fuwawa’s head placatingly. “Besides you kind of did, it could have taken me hours to kick out that hitchhiker but he definitely wasn’t emotionally prepared to be stabbed that many times. Amateur.” 

Nerissa looked at Shiori’s now significantly more porous torso. “Um, Shiorin, is that gonna be ok? You’re human aren’t you?”

Shiori looked down too. “I’m only human-adjacent, but yeah…it could be an issue if I don’t take care of it. Guess the sleepover’s canceled.” They started to walk back to the van. “Maybe the real yobai was the friends we made along the way” Shiori said.

“No!” chorused most of the girls.

“Yobai!” Cheered Fuwawa, tail wagging rapidly.

[suriel]

The Story of Loki and Suriel

A long time ago, in a galaxy known as Southern California, a girl met a boy. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and it led to thousands of days of love and tears and adventure and music and laughter and sadness and dogs and cats and pain and Buggs and more love.

This is our story.

Look, I’d love to start with the good stuff, the festivals, the European jaunt, the outrageous parties and club nights and some mind-blowingly amazing things, but you need to know how it started.

For reasons too boring to go into, I didn’t go to college right out of high school, but instead, enrolled as a freshman at the ripe old age of 23. I felt ancient, ridiculous, out of place. Excruciatingly awkward. But I needed to do something with my life, and public colleges were unbelievably cheap in the long-ago time of 1990. And so there I was. I had only vague degree ideas, and so chose classes I’d like: photography, music appreciation, and a couple more classes to round things out. I wanted to take French, which I’d taken in high school & enjoyed, but the class was full SADFACE.

Happily, there existed the petition system, and it worked like this: If you didn’t show up to the first day of class, you were automatically dropped, and your place given to petitioners, in the order they signed the petition sheet. So I rocked up to French first thing, put my name down, and sure enough, by the end of class, there were several no-shows & I got in.

The class was full of teenagers, one much older woman, and some older students more my-age-ish. And in that group, a boy. Shock of California-white hair, nice arms, blue-blue-blue eyes, full lower lip. Definitely on the punk/goth/alternative spectrum, not quite polar opposite to my suburban-late-80s-tinged-with-metal look. Anyway. He looked interesting. And cute.

Our French class followed one that always ran over, so every day we queued in the hall. And one day, I found myself in the queue next to the boy, and as the result of a pep talk from my stepmonster of all people, I talked to the boy. Opened my mouth and said words, but because Awkward AF, what I said was, “I’m mugging you and taking your jacket.” (It was a fantastic grey blazer, of a type I’d been on the lookout for. How convenient that the boy had arrived with one!)

He blinked. “OK.” He probably shrugged, too, but class went in and that was the end of that. I basically writhed in an agony of embarrassment the entire class. 

It was a long class, 3 hours, broken into 2 bits with a break in between, during which a loose group of us would get snacks in the quad. As we exited the room that day, I felt something on my shoulders. The boy had draped his jacket there. Confused and awkward, I took it off. “I can’t take this, you’d never see it again.”

Curse you, memory, that I can’t remember what he said or how he looked. Ageing fucking sucks, and chronic conditions that rob one of memories suck even worse. 

I gave back the jacket, but we bantered the entire break, finally landing on natural disasters. I’m from Chicago, so I favor tornadoes, that you generally see coming. The boy preferred earthquakes - pure chaos, happening anywhen, anywhere, who knows! I’d lived in SoCal for 7 years and not felt a single one. Like I’d been in my car for the Northridge quake, and had to hear about it on the news. 

So French was my last class of the day, and I rolled home with a neighbor friend who’d gone back to college with me. We stopped at 7-11 for cigarettes, probably, and while I was browsing the aisles for a snack, I started feeling really weird, dizzy and strange. Looking up, I watched the owner of the 7-11 leap his counter and run into the parking lot, along with half the store.

It was a fucking earthquake. 

Well, at least this gave me something to talk to the boy about. Berate the boy about. Perhaps punch lightly in the upper arms about. 

So I did. 

And slowly, over the course of a Southern California spring, the boy and I became friends. 

His name was Loki. He had been a jock whilst also being a punk. Was a musician. Loved physics. Had turned down the Navy’s nuclear program. He told me about Douglas Adams, Monty Python, entropy. 

I can’t remember if I had anything good to share about anything other than books at that point. Personal anecdotes maybe. We’d traveled a good deal when I was growing up so maybe that? I can’t imagine it was earth-shattering, I was 23. And sheltered, and awkward af, and such a nerd. 

Even with all that, we started hanging out outside of school. Met at the mall once, because SoCal in the 90s. Lunches, walks, browsing the little shops around the college. And then he asked me to go clubbing with him.

My friends, I have explained that I was into metal, but also listened to KROQ on the sly and was already slightly familiar with alternative in general and Lullaby in particular, but my first goth club was the very underground Helter Skelter. 

Y’all. Y’ALL. I was entranced. 

My goth cherry was well and truly popped and the flowering had begun. The first song I danced to was Big Hollow Man. I felt ridiculous dancing alone, but no one else was dancing with anyone else -- nor dancing like anyone else -- and I started to relax. A bit. About the club, not about anything else, like I was in some skeevy corner of Hollywood at a club that didn’t even open until 11, but I was there with Loki and that was ok. Squirmy but ok. 

So I’d been living, since finishing high school, with my boyfriend/fiance and his mom, but things were meh, and that’s all you need to know about that relationship. I was honestly better friends with his mom -- like, to this very day -- but because I was living with them on the cheap, and didn’t have a lot of dollars because I wasn’t working, I felt a little stuck. Also this was my first long relationship & breakups are hard. So I sort of cheated. Emotionally I cheated like whoa. Physically less so but yeah. Oh, and his mom knew, had met Loki & liked him, so there I was.

And every time I went somewhere with Loki, I was an anxious mess. Worried about being seen with him, being caught, being found out. Stomach churning, hands shaking, sweaty palms levels of anxiety. His band played a show on Earth Day, and I went to see them, but a friend of my BF’s mom was there and I panicked and fled. 

Despite that, there were some good moments. He took me on a picnic to Corona Del Mar, and we had our first kiss on the old lifeguard station that faces the harbor. (Fun fact: I’d taken a pic of that very stand on a whale watch cruise we did in high school just a few years before.) 

I can’t remember any details, but as the end of term neared, things were coming to a head, and my dad provided my escape route: He offered to pay for me to attend university -- yay! But -- in the swamp -- boo! Except-- what better way to end my relationship with HS BF than to move a thousand miles away? Perfection! Except-- I’d have to leave Loki, too.

I told him the deal. We’d met at a mall near his house, and by the end, we were driving across the street to a travel agency, where he booked a flight to the swamp for August.

So my mom & brother rocked up with a U-Haul and a trailer for my CRX, and we drove through the desert southwest and into the swampy south in June in cars with no air conditioning. How did I survive? Bauhaus.

A few days before I was set to leave, I had one last lunch with Loki, a picnic (what else?) on his lunch break. He gave me his precious copy of 1979-1983 Side 2 on cassette, kissed me when I drove him back to work after. 

So I rolled across the country learning the words to Kick in the Eye, appreciating the Hollow Hills of east Texas, singing along to She’s in Parties, Spirit, Crowds. It was my first goth tape and I fucking loved it. Soaked it in for a thousand miles.

(When we arrived in the swamp, my stepbrother and his girlfriend were there to welcome me and take me for food. I offered to drive, but said, “Hope you won’t mind my music.” “What is it?” Donna asked. “Bauhaus?” “LOVE ‘EM!” And so I met my Swamp Bestie.)

School was school. I was again alone and awkward as fuck and did not make friends at school, but that was ok because after dinner that first night, Donna had taken me to the bar where the cool kids hung out. I had gotten well hammered on one Flaming Dr Pepper and had had to be driven home by Peter, destined to be Loki’s best man at our wedding. Funny how things work out. Anyway, I met many of my future gang in that first 24 hours.

But this is about Loki and I, so let’s fast-forward to August. He flew into Baton Rouge, an hour away, and he spent the entire drive back touching my arm, nuzzling on my neck, staring at my profile lit by headlights on the highway. We got back to the house, up to my room, and suddenly Things Were Happening and I was Not Ready but we pressed on. This I remember. The dark room, inhaling the scent of him, the satin feel of his skin, the muscles in his back, that ass so help me gods. It did not go well. It was -- I was so awkward. I misunderstood a suggestion, blurted out a boundary in the most awkward possible phrasing -- like, it became a catchphrase -- and he laughed, but in a sweet way, and held me until I fell asleep. The first time I’d relaxed with his arms around me. It felt so fucking good.

One day during his visit, we went to Avery Island, the Jungle Gardens. We got out of the car at the only place you’re allowed to (because alligators), at the Buddha, and sat on his hill, leaning against his glass case, watching a storm roll in. We kissed in the rain, and he told me he loved me. I said it right back.

At the airport. Can’t see for tears. “Ask me to stay,” he said in a low voice. I was shocked, taken aback. “I can’t do that -- this is the swamp.” I couldn’t subject anyone to this. Heat. Humidity. Racism. Terrible roads. My stepmonster. 

And so he left. Got in a plane and flew away, whilst I drove home sobbing.

After I moved away in June, he wrote to me literally every day. A physical letter. With a stamp and everything. Usually a dinosaur stamp, too, because dinosaur stamps are cooler than boring regular stamps. Every day. Sometimes there were packages full of little trinkets. Pretty stones. Small gadgets. Mysterious machines.

After his visit, the letters missed a day or two here or there. Maybe three. The packages stopped coming. We didn’t talk on the phone a lot because long distance charges (kids, ask your parents), but when we did talk, I asked him to come for winter break. He finally agreed. I bought his ticket with money I didn't really have. 

This time he flew into New Orleans, two hours away. We drove home straight away again, but it wasn’t the same as August, not the same at all. We spent the first night in a sweaty tangle, but turns out that was because he had food poisoning from airplane food. He spent the first day hugging the toilet.

We ended his trip with a day in New Orleans before his flight. I showed him all my favorite places in the French Quarter. We ate bread pudding with bourbon sauce, and found a bar with Bauhaus on the jukebox, and had amazing shower sex, and did not talk at all about anything important. At the airport, he told me he’d met a girl, and I can’t remember anything after that, except that now I had twice the drive home & I still couldn’t see for tears. 

Of course I was heartbroken, but I was also young and hot with a circle of young and hot friends and in a place where a party or a club or a festival is happening all the time. It’s like alcohol was the religion & I was running for High Priestess. I had no end of fun, while also pining heartbrokenly for Loki. Much terrible poetry was written. 

I’ll have words about my sojourn in the swamp later, perhaps, because it was crammed full of adventures, but let’s fast forward two years.

It is the summer of 1992. Loki and his hag have moved to the desert, because that’s where she grew up & she wanted to go back. Also it’s cheaper than SoCal. 

Meanwhile, I have dropped out of university and am now living with Peter (more stories!), and Hurricane Andrew is bearing down upon us. It is my first hurricane & it sounds like it’s gonna be bad. We gather supplies, tape the windows, fill the bathtubs and get hammered. I call Loki.

“Hurricane Andrew is coming. I’m probably going to die. I still love you.”

I pass out. I awaken in the morning to horrific destruction -- everywhere but Peter’s neighborhood. I lived!

Nothing more is said. 

Until …

October.

Loki calls me. He is hammered.

“The Hag’s been fucking all her exes. I’ve kicked her out. Come live with me?”

Two weeks later I was in the desert.

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Alright, next chapter is finally here! I wrote this pretty soon after the last chapter, but it took me a while to get around to editing it. But that’s okay. I’m here now, and I’m excited for this story again. And I hope you all are too! Let’s get into it.

Waking Nightmares masterlist here.

 ~

Waking Nightmares: Chapter 9

Rating: Mature, SFW

Word count: 4,571

Content warnings: Discussions of death and murder, brief mentions of child abuse and suicide

POV: Roxanne Love

The college-aged cashier glanced up from his phone as I shoved the door open and immediately stopped in my tracks. The little bell attached to the doorframe jingled as the door swung back shut. “Hey there, welcome to Trash to Treasure. Can I help you?” the cashier said in a flat, I’ve-rehearsed-this-a-thousand-times kind of way.

He must’ve been new here. I didn’t recognize him – he wasn’t one of the usual cash register operators or other staff members.

“No, thanks. I’m just looking.” A lie. I knew exactly what I was here for.

He nodded. “Lemme know if you need anything.”

“Right.”

I cast a glace around the place. There was nobody else here today. The thrift store usually had at least a couple customers wandering around and eying the racks of donated clothing and assorted items. Although Trash to Treasure had something for everyone, its repeat customers were more of the goth, punk, and horror fanatic variety. Which wasn’t a surprise, considering the owner Trudy was a 50-something punk rocker themselves. And I supposed like attracted like. It’s why I’d started coming here, after all.

A lot of what was sold here was either alt, old-fashioned, or both. Music and clothes and movies and baubles – vinyls to cassettes to CDs, VHS and DVDs and Blu-rays. It was a store that had been around for a while. And it felt like it, with the paint done over multiple times, dark grey carpeting that smelled of dust and age, and yellow-tinged lights that buzzed if left on long enough.

It felt like it had been plucked out of time and dropped into the modern day. An anachronism, almost.

I knew they had a generous few shelves worth of movies. Most of which were horror.

Which was exactly what I needed.

I forced myself to seem unhurried and at ease as I made my way through the store, even if I ached to throw myself into the movie section and claw through the rows of DVDs and Blu-rays. I was so fucking tired of acting okay, of acting like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

But acting desperate hadn’t gotten me anywhere today. So I swallowed my own bitterness as I passed the music aisle.

The movie aisle wasn’t far beyond it. On one of the shelves was a small retro TV, chunky and silver and with a VHS slot. It was playing some kind of horror movie. The audio was so low that it was little more than faint static and white noise. I frowned at the screen. Some guy in a leather jacket was drilling a hole through a man’s chest. A woman started screaming. The killer laughed at the candy-red blood and waved a floppy dismembered arm around.

…Was this what I was getting myself into? This sort of… senseless fervor of blood and bodies and screaming? A world of red-splattered walls and laughing madmen?

Was this my reality now?

I sighed.

Fucking wonderful.

But it wasn’t like I could do anything about it. It hadn’t even been in my control in the first place. I was just the unlucky bystander caught in between whatever the hell this insanity was, just like the screaming girl on the TV.

I skimmed through the titles on the DVD sleeves. They were arranged in alphabetical order, so finding the N’s was pretty easy. To my dismay, though, there were only three DVDs that held the titled I was looking for. One of the second movie and two of the fourth.

Not ideal.

Shit.

I didn’t even know how many movies there were in this franchise. Were there four? Were there more than four? I was way out of my league. Horror may have been my genre of choice for novels, but slasher movies were not my thing. They were all the same – copy-and-paste flicks devoid of creativity and stuffed with predictable clichés.

Ironic, I supposed.

I glanced at the cashier. Smudgy eyeliner, tousled black hair, lip ring, red-and-black flannel over a graphic t-shirt. He absently fiddled with the rosary beads wrapped around his wrist, even as his gaze was locked onto his phone screen.

Talking to him was the last thing I wanted to do. Talking to anyone was the last thing I wanted to do today. But I didn’t want to walk another how many blocks, hoping to find another store that still sold DVDs.

Another sigh left me. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and sauntered up to the front counter. The cashier immediately stood to attention. And by that, I mean he put his phone away and straightened fractionally, dark eyes flaring nervously. As if he wasn’t exactly eager to talk to me, either.

Fair enough.

He gave me an uncertain smile. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “I was wondering if you could help me out.”

“Uh, I can try.”

I couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. “I appreciate the honesty. I’m looking for the Nightmare on Elm Street movies. All of them. Preferably on DVD. I only saw a couple on the shelves, and I was wondering if you had any in the back.”

The cashier – his nametag read “Kyle” – nodded. “Maybe. We have some drop offs that I haven’t gone through yet. A lot of them were horror movies. I can check if you want.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He disappeared into the backroom, the chain looping from his belt swinging as he went. As I waited, I watched the people pass by the windows. My mind wandered.

Wandered to the nightmare. To the oppressive heat, to the fear that had spiked through my body and clung to every nerve, to the sting of a blade cutting my skin open. The rasp of a voice like bone scraping against bone and his accompanying sneer. My skin had crawled as he’d leaned in close, far too close, and promised to hurt me. And not only to hurt me, but to take pleasure in doing so.

I hadn’t been expected my sleep paralysis demon to become my knight in shining armor.

He’d been… possessive.

Possessive in a way that sent dread dripping into my blood.

I hadn’t understood half of what they’d said to each other. My head had been swimming, heartbeat thundering in my ears and the panicked need to escape overriding any rational thought. But I’d heard enough to be unsettled. Unsettled by how they’d talked about people like they were chattel, unsettled by how they acted like the world was a sandbox of theirs to play in, unsettled by the apparent enormity of a situation I didn’t fully understand. Unsettled by the fact that they looked like fucking movie characters.

Christ.

Who and what the fuck were they?

“I guess you’re in luck.”

I snapped out of my own head, twisting back around to find Kyle back at the counter and placing a box set of DVDs on the countertop. I eyed it. It was in pretty good shape, though the banged-up edges suggested it had been well-loved. The sleeve was a dark glossy red, with a dark silhouette of a man with a fedora and talons emblazoned on the front.

Unease curled inside of me.

Kyle braced his hands against the edge of the counter and tilted his head at me. “Anything else you’re looking for?”

I shoved the unease back down. “No. That’s all.”

He nodded. “Kay. That should be…” He pursed his lips slightly as he tapped something into the cash register. “…Fifteen dollars.”

“How many movies are there?” I asked, curious.

“Six.”

“Six? There are six of these fuckers?” I stared at the box set. How were there fucking six? How many permutations of the exact same story could they tell?

“Yeah.” He shrugged, but the casual gesture was belied by his constant fidgeting of the rosary beads. He eyed me as I ruffled through my wallet. “You new to these movies?”

“Mostly.” If my run in with Freddy Krueger him-fucking-self didn’t count. “Slashers aren’t really my thing. They’re cheap.”

Kyle took the cash I handed him. “The cheapness helps, I think. Sometimes a small budget forces people to be creative. It lets them think outta the box, you know?” He started punching something into the cash register again, avoiding eye contact and keeping his hands busy. “Surprised you’re getting the Nightmare series if you’re not into slashers.”

“I’m trying to branch out.” Another lie. “Figured I’d give them a chance.” Only because I had to.

“Not a bad place to start. The Nightmare series is pretty solid. Scared the crap outta me as a kid. Freddy used to give me nightmares. I always had a crush on Nancy though – the final girl.” He handed me my change. “You want a receipt?” I shook my head. “A bag?”

I paused. “Sure. Why not.”

He bent over and snatched a brown paper bag from under the counter. “The last couple movies did kinda get worse, though. Freddy’s Dead, the last one, was pretty disappointing. Kind of a weak way to end it all. Shame they never made the seventh movie.”

I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the sheer insanity of the past weeks. The impossibility of last night. But something about his words made me pause.

And made me ask, “What do you mean? What seventh movie?”

“Well.” Kyle crossed his arms and leaned across the counter like I was, hunching in as if to share a secret. “Back in 90’s – 1994, I think – they were gonna make a seventh Nightmare movie. It was a big deal. The OG director Wes Craven was coming back, and so was Heather Langenkamp. She played Nancy. It was their first time back since the third movie. Everyone was really excited about it. It was gonna be a huge deal, it was gonna be unlike any other Nightmare movie we’d seen before.”

He paused to lean in a little closer, and I couldn’t help but lean in a little more too. It was silly. There was no one else in the shop and no one to hear what we were saying.

And yet I couldn’t ignore the growing unease inside of me.

“But then… weird stuff started happening. Heather’s husband died while working on the movie. Freak accident, a car crash. Wes Craven started losing it. Robert Englund and his wife just… vanished outta thin air.”

I frowned. “Who’s that? Who’s Robert Englund?”

“He’s the guy who plays – played – Freddy.”

I stared at him.

The original actor for Freddy Krueger? Had just… disappeared?

I did not have a good feeling about this.

“Eventually the movie was scrapped. Wes Craven finished the script, but no one ever made the movie. So Freddy’s Dead was the last one.” He shrugged again. “Kind of a bummer.”

It was a hell of a lot more than a bummer. People dying and disappearing, the original director “losing it”, whatever that meant. It sounded just a little too familiar for comfort.

And apparently Kyle could tell. He frowned at me. “You okay? You look kinda…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. I didn’t know what exactly that was supposed to mean, but I got the basic message.

“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.” I didn’t like how uncertain I sounded. I sucked in a breath, straightening and trying to look more confident than I felt. “Thanks for your help.”

Kyle didn’t look like he believed me, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah, sure. Have a nice day.”

“You too.” I swept out of the shop. Probably too quickly to seem casual, but at this point I really shouldn’t have been bothering. The faint hum of static from the TV was devoured by the sounds of the city. But the thoughts in my head remained loud and overbearing as I power-walked my way back home. My feet moved on instinct, leading me down the well-worn route of the city sidewalk and eastward back home. It was a circuit I knew well enough that I could let my attention go elsewhere.

There was so much I didn’t know. I only had a few little parts, a few little jigsaw pieces of something that had been going on for decades. Something I didn’t understand, something I had never entertained or thought possible. Something much bigger and much worse. Something that could potentially put my entire worldview and everything I thought I knew at risk. Something…

…Something there really wasn’t a rational explanation for.

Dread gnawed at my insides, and I cast a glance behind me every now and then as I walked. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Or maybe I was just being paranoid.

At this point, I didn’t fucking know.

And I’m not sure I wanted to know.

But… I had to.

I didn’t really have any other choice.

When I finally got home, finally stopped on the sidewalk in front of the house’s façade… I paused. It was utterly quiet, as if the entire neighborhood had been paused. But otherwise completely normal looking. An unremarkable, average looking little suburban house, in an unremarkable, average looking little suburban neighborhood.

Nothing strange in sight.

It was just like weeks ago – months ago? I’d lost track – when Mel had driven me home on that rainy night, when the publisher I was supposed to meet hadn’t shown up. When he’d been killed and I hadn’t known.

When I’d heard the scrape of metal and a whisper directly in my ear with no source in sight.

The following night I’d had had that first nightmare.

That had been the start of it all.

I walked up to the house.

My hand was unsteady as it hovered over the doorknob, keys jangling slightly with the movement. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I was half afraid to unlock the door and step inside. What would I find if I did? A hellscape? A nightmare? Red and green walls melting to reveal the skeleton of an old industrial plant? Endless fire and heat and rusted metal pipes?

Burnt men with sneering faces and grabbing hands and blood-stained claws?

I grit my teeth. Clenched them so hard I thought my jaw might pop.

No.

No.

I refused to be run out of my own house by a figment, or by a dream, or by the fucking boogieman, or by whatever the hell they were.

This was my fucking house, and this was my fucking life, and I was not going to fucking give in so easily.

I jammed the key into the lock, twisted it, and yanked the door open, taking the keys and shoving them between my fingers as if they were claws of my own. I was instantly hit by suffocating, stagnant heat, as if the air conditioning had been shut off. The house was otherwise dark and silent.

A careful look at my surroundings revealed nothing. Nothing out of place. Nothing strange.

Everything in view was how I’d left it.

I slowly stepped forward. The runner along the wooden floor softened the sound of my boots as I crept down the hall, eyes darting from corner to corner and from edge to edge. Looking for the slightest hint of something being off. I paused where the hall opened into the living room. Open space. Nothing. The only sound was of my own breathing.

I ducked into the kitchen to the right. Shoved the keys into my pocket. And grabbed a knife from the knife block, the steel hiss cutting through the air as I unsheathed it. Its weight in my palm was comforting.

Armed and ready, I crept through the rest of the house. Checked every room, every closet and cupboard and crevice. Kept the knife clutched tightly in my hand as if my life depended on it. Just like weeks ago, when the kitchen clock had fallen and broken, and the front door had locked and unlocked. Looking back now, it was clear that someone had been messing with me. Which of the two I didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

I checked every inch of downstairs, and then every inch of upstairs. I even ripped the shower curtain back, knife pulled up and ready to strike just in case. But again. Nothing.

There was no one else here.

The house was empty.

I double-checked all the locks on the windows and doors – again, just in case. It’s not like it would help. If the problems were coming from anywhere, they were coming from inside the house. But still. It was a compulsion that gave me some sense of control, even if it was just an illusion.

When I was done, I clicked the AC back on and dropped down onto the sofa. And just… let myself breathe for a moment. It was so fucking hard to catch my breath these past few weeks. It was as if permanent claws had wrapped around my chest and were slowly squeezing my ribcage, making it harder and harder to breathe. It was only a matter of time until I wasn’t able to breathe at all. Or until my ribs would crack from the pressure.

I eyed the brown bag I’d brought home with me.

They’re just movies, Rox.

They didn’t feel like “just movies”.

They’re not going to bite you.

Maybe not. But they might do something far worse. Though what, I wasn’t quite sure.

…But I hadn’t gone out and bought them for nothing.

So I slid the DVD holder out of its glossy paper cover and popped it open. Flipped through the six silver disks, eying each of them in turn. The first of them – simply titled A Nightmare on Elm Street – seemed to glare back at me.

There was really no point in avoiding it.

I turned on the TV, slipped the disk into the DVD player, and hit play.

It was nearly ten p.m. by the time I finished my first run through of the movies. I’d watched them back to back, had barely stopped to do the bare necessities throughout the day when needed. I could see the TV from the kitchen, so I hadn’t needed to take food or coffee breaks either. Just hour upon hour of slasher movies – screaming and spraying blood and practical SFX mixed with camp and dark humor and bright colors to create a whirlwind of a nightmare experience. 80s hair and fashion and characters who felt far more tangible and real than I’d expected.

Even as I’d rolled my eyes at the clichés – the sex and the corny dialogue and the stupid decisions that only a horror movie character would make – I’d found myself drawn in. Nancy – Heather – had felt so… genuine. I couldn’t put my finger on why. But it was as if I was waiting for her to turn to the screen, meet my gaze, give a rueful but warm smile, and say, “He’s back again, isn’t he?”

It was… odd.

Disorienting.

And then there was him.

The sneering, self-satisfied snaggletooth grin. The cruel laughter and mocking, purring voice. The bones-and-sinew build, the self-assured stroll and tilted shoulders, as if the glove was that much heavier. The fucking glove itself.

Every time he’d appeared onscreen, I couldn’t help but tense. Couldn’t help but cast a glace around the room, as if I expected to find him watching me as I watched him.

He was different. The scars were different. The eyes were different. The clothes were different, no coat or leather pants or knee-high boots. The glove was a glove, rather than actual claws. And overall, the man onscreen felt less, somehow. Muted. Less intense. But he was unmistakably the man – or whatever the hell he was – who had been haunting me, hunting me, and had saved me at the last minute in my nightmare.

It was unmistakably him.

It was unmistakably Freddy Krueger.

As fucking insane as that was.

But what about the other one? The one who had started that nightmare and chased me and tried to kill me? He had the striped sweater and the claws and the hat, and he was covered in burn scars too.

What the hell was that about?

I pushed my fingers against my aching eyes. I was missing so much here. Even with my mind whirling with dialogue and scenes and characters from the movies, there was still so much I didn’t fucking understand.

My body was tired. My mind was tired. My soul was tired.

I was just tired.

But I couldn’t fucking stop.

I forced myself to get up from the couch. Forced myself to walk to the kitchen and refill the kettle and prepare another cup of coffee. How much caffeine could a human consume before they poisoned themselves? Guess we’d find out.

Where did I go from here? What was I supposed to do with what I’d learned from these movies? I’d bought them with the intent of learning from them, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to pay attention to. I knew who and what Freddy Krueger was. But how was that supposed to help? I shoved my fingers into my hair, and they got caught on twisted curls and unbrushed knots.

What was I supposed to do?

I sighed for perhaps the hundredth time that day.

The house was silent aside from the faint hum of the air conditioning unit.

…The cashier, Kyle, had mentioned a seventh movie.

I grabbed my phone and opened a search engine. My fingers flew across the screen as I typed in “nightmare on elm street 7”. I tapped on the first article to pop up, skimmed through the beginning blahblahblah bit, and stopped when it finally got to the meat of the topic.

“In 1994, New Line Cinema had Wes Craven brought back onto the Nightmare series for a third movie. Heather Langenkamp was also in talks to return to the role of final girl Nancy Thompson, reprising the iconic role for the first time since Dream Warriors. However, production of this seventh movie – reportedly titled ‘A New Nightmare’ – was troubled.

“Several cast and crew members died or disappeared during pre-production. Chase Porter, Langekamp’s husband and a VFX artist working on the movie, was killed in a car accident, having reportedly fallen asleep at the wheel. Two other VFX artists, Charles Wilson and Terrance Feinstein, were found dead in a field not long after, having been brutally slashed to death.

“Alongside this, Englund and his wife Nancy disappeared and were reported as missing persons, and many suspected foul play. Langenkamp also fell under suspicion of child abuse of her six year old son Dylan Porter. This suspicion was further fueled when Julie Middendorf, a close friend of Langenkamp’s, was also found slashed to death in a hospital room with Dylan. However, after investigation, officials found little evidence of any wrongdoing on Heather’s part. Each of these murders and disappearances remains unsolved today.

“Although Craven reportedly finished the script, and Heather has confessed to having read it, the movie itself was cancelled. Since then, the Nightmare series has gained a reputation for being ‘cursed’, alongside movies such as The Exorcist, Poltergeist, and The Omen. Craven went on to create the Scream film series, which he worked on until his death, and Langenkamp has since retired from acting and now heads the make-up FX firm AFX Studio.

“There are many theories surrounding the troubled production of the seventh Nightmare movie. Some believe that Englund was responsible for the murders, and that he killed the crew members and his wife before killing himself as well. Others believe that Langenkamp or Craven were responsible, while still others have theorized that a crazed fan was responsible for the killings. Many dismiss it just as ‘bad luck’. But even still, the Nightmare series has been unable to recover from its reputation of being cursed.”

I set my phone down and rubbed my eyes again. My insides felt hollow from the constant gnawing dread and worry.

Two special effects artists, Heather’s husband, her friend, Robert Englund himself and his wife… all in the span of what? A few weeks? Unsolved murders and disappearances? A scrapped movie? A curse?

…Just how likely was it that I wasn’t the first person to experience this?

How likely was it that Freddy Krueger… the one from my dreams… had had something to do with the movie’s “troubled production”?

It was insane.

But so was all of this.

I scrolled down, skimming the rest of the article. The rest of it just talked about unmade movies in the franchise, including a crossover where Freddy was supposed to fight Jason Voorhees. But apparently nobody had wanted to touch the series with its reputation, and nobody wanted to try and measure up to Robert Englund’s performance.

Understandable. It was certainly… unique.

But it was the next movie it discussed that gave me pause.

“With the New Line Cinema/Warner Bros merge in 2008, a reboot of the franchise was planned. A script was reportedly made and a new cast of actors was in talks. However, due to controversy, the ‘bad luck’ of the Nightmare franchise, and vehement opposition from both Craven and Langenkamp, the movie was ultimately shelved.”

Opposition? From Craven and Langenkamp?

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but…

…Did they know?

Langenkamp was still alive, right? A quick search confirmed that, while another confirmed that Wes Craven had died in 2015 from natural causes.

Which meant there was maybe exactly one other person in the entire world who knew what I was going through. Who knew that I wasn’t insane, that I wasn’t just some sleep-deprived, paranoid freak who’d lost touch with reality.

Should I go find her?

I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had taken form. It was a ridiculous idea. I didn’t know her fucking address, only that she lived in California. And Cali was a big fucking state an entire country away from me. I didn’t have the time to go look for her. And even if I was able to find her, what the hell was I supposed to do then? Knock on her door and say… what?

What if she thought I was fucking insane? What if I was wrong about all this, and there was some normal explanation that I’d missed?

What if she confirmed that I was just crazy?

This was all so nonsensical and unbelievable that I wouldn’t even be able to blame her. Freddy Krueger somehow being real? Somehow walking around dreams and murdering people in real life? Laughable. I would’ve laughed.

If not for the bandages still wrapped around my forearm.

The kettle had stopped boiling a while ago. I poured the water.

So what now?

I needed to get rid of him. Both of them. I needed to defend myself. I needed to be able to fight back.

How was I supposed to do that?

I finished making my coffee and grabbed a packet of crackers from the cupboard. I also grabbed a notebook and pencil before sitting back down. No computer. That hadn’t worked very well last time.

Then I put the first movie back in the player. I started my second run through of the movies.

But this time I took notes.

And this time, I started to make a plan.

[xxiamnotokay666xx]

Ladies, Gentelmen, and Non Binary Folks, I present to you... the last chapter of My Immortal! brought to you by the one and only, Demo – InferKit. lets get this chaos started!

AN: well I hav noffing 2 say but evrt1 stup glamming ok!!111 if any gofik ppl r reading dis den u rok!!!11 omg I stil kant wait 4 da movie!!!1 tom fleton is so hot lol i hop harry wil bekum gofik koz mi frend told me he iz rlly emo in dis book!!!!1111 omfg im leeving dubya pretty soon kant wait!!! Diz wil prolly be da last chaptah until I kum bak.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Dat’s mi car!!!!” shooted Draco angrily. But suddenly it was revealied who was in da car. It wuz………….Snape!!!!!

“I shall free you Loopin but first you must help me kill these idiotic donderheads.” he said cruelly from the car as it flew circumamcizing above us. “Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way must be killed. Den the Dork Lord shall never die!!!!”

“You fucking prep!!!” yelled Draco. Then he loked at me sadly. “I forgot to tell u, Ebony. Snape made me do it with him. I didn’t really have sexx him but he’s a ropeist!!!!”

We all put our clothes on quickly except Satan. We were so scarred!!!!1 But Satan didn’t change. Instead he changed into a man with gren eyes, no nose, a gray robe and white skin. He had changed into………… Voldemont!!!!!!!111

“I knew who thou were all along.” he cackled evilly and sarcastically at me. “Now I shall kill thee all!!!!!!” Thunder came in da room.

“No plz don’t kill us!” pleaded Vampire. Suddenly Willow, B’loody Mary, Diabolo, Ginny, Drocula, Fred and Gorge, Hargrid, McGonagall, Dumblydore, Serious and Lucian all ran in.

“What is da meaning of dis?” Dumblydore asked all angrily and Voldimort lookd away (bcos dumblydore is da only whizard he is scared of.) He did a spell and suddenly his broomstick came to him sexily. Volxemort flew above the roof evilly on his broomstik.

“Oh my goth!” Slugborn gosped. (geddit kos im goffik)

“The Dark Lord shall kill all of you. Then you must submit to him!!!!” Snape ejaculated menacingly.

“You fucking preppy fags!” Serious shouted angrily.

“I know a four-letter word 4 dirt, CRUCIATUS!!!” screamed Harry but da sparks from his wand only hit Draco’s car. It fell down Snap quickly crowled out of it and picked up the cideo camera.

“Oh my fucking god!!!1” I cried becoze the video of me in da bathrum, the video of me dong it wif Drako and the video of Satan doing it with

“If you kill me then deze cideos will be shown to everyone in the skull. Then u can be just like that goffik girl Paris Hillton.” He laughed meanly.

“No!” I scremed. “FYI I hav da picter of u doing it with Loopin!!!!11”

“Whats she talking abott??????” Lupin slurped as he sat in chains.

“I saw 2 she’s gunna show evry1 da picter!!!111” Harry shouted angrily.

“Shut up!!!111’” Lumpkin roared.

“Foolish ignoramuses!!!!!!” yielded Voldemort from his broomstick. “Thou shall all dye soon.”

“Think again you fucking muggle poser!!!!!1” Harry yelled and then he and Diablo and Navel both took out blak guns! But Voldimort took out his own one.

“U guyz are in a Latin stand-of!!!!!!!111” I shouted despariedrly.

“Acco Nevel’s wand!!!11” cried Voldrimort nd suddenly Nevil’s wind was in his hands. “Now I shall kill thee all and Evony u will die!!!!!!!!11111”

He maid lighting come all over da place.

“Save us Ebony!” Dumbledark cried.

I cried sexily I just wanted 2 go 2 the commen room and slit my wrists with mi friends while we watched Shark Attak 3 and Saw 2 and do it with Draco but I knew I had 2 do somefing more impotent.

“ABRA KEDABRA!!!!!!!!!!!11111” I shooted.

And Vold’s body dissappeared in de flames.

We all screamed in apawwards of the gawrsh of tings, including my mom. The picture is going 2 the conney island island museum.

Leon the Loor enspeakd for himself. “Ah, mein freunde, wunderbar! Ganz normal schon! Ich glaube solltet es schon nehmen, dass das gesagt, dass er von Hargrid tatsächlich mal hätte sein kommen müsste, kurz gesagt, aus Geschwindigkeit gebe, ganz kurz gesagt, dass er meinem von Hargrid sehen kann, obwohl ich meinen von Hargrid sehen kann; nämlich dass er meinem von Hargrid sehen kann. Ich glaube nicht, dass er es gar könnte sehen! Ich glaube es ist, dass er es nicht könnte sehen. (And he broke the news to my friends of It )

“At FANG’S HEARTS!!!111”

And Waffle Jenkins is now in the hospitalfriends.

Bobby, on the other hand, saw a lot of bubbles, a lot of dead deeboyz. And a lot of lying sozinos

And the ‘Train of Thought’ is nothing more than a human-shaped helium balloon drifting through the air.

Bobby is the worst brother in the world. And he’s had his share of deeboyz. But it’s not his fault; he’s on a time loop.

And the time loop is over. Now, for the first time in 9 years, he’s seeing an alert, blathering man on a stick:

NOTE: For those who cannot scroll up, the alert you are reading is for the FANG’S HEARTS movie

Bobby: I’m gonna murder him.

Princess Buttercup: YEH, BUFFY, HEY SISTERS!

*BADASS MOMENT*

So while we’re waiting, let’s play Memory Games. Remember Twilight! YEAH I DO. I love Twilight and read all the books and stuff

YEAH, U GOT TO TAKE MY PICKS

LET’S GET STARTED

SAVAGE

LOSER

SINS OF THE PAST

FREAK

SUNRISE

THIS WAY TO SAVAGE

HIT YA

TO HELL WITH YOU

MISSING

MISSING HEART

WILD, AM I!

MISSING HEART

DEAD END, MY HEART

DEAD END I SWEAR TO EVERYTHING I AM

FIND ME ASSHOLE

BADBOT

ROBOT

GOOD MORNING

ASS OF RAGE

MOTHERFUCKER

BOO

DEAD END

FANG’S HEARTS

I BITE MY OWN LEG

COMMON MISTAKE

THE SHITTY END

DEAD END THE SHITTY END SHITTY END

MOMENTUM

DON’T FLOAT FAST

LONGEST HALF-HOUSE ENDING EVER

MISSING HEART

FAILURE

WHICH MAN

SO WHICH SISTER

MISSING HEART

MISSING HEART

MISSING HEART

MISSING HEART

…

Bobby: I’m going to kill him.

Princess Buttercup: YEH, BUFFY, HEY SISTERS!

*BADASS MOMENT*

And that, for my beloved Princess Buttercup’s golden birthday, is how you ride a roller coaster. “This guy’s going on a roller coaster.”

Now that you’ve all been adequately terrified, let’s go to the pics and shut up for a bit.

And, thank you all for coming. I’ll have another EP and then some other fun stuff by Christmas.

(Yeah, then you’ll die… it’s a long story)

See you all in a bit,

wafflejenkins

P.S. If you’re curious about how this story has unfolded, the one below shows the first time Waffle ever made an appearance.

Then the second time. And now a 3rd time…

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Comments (4)

This sure was a wild ride. Tara turned into wafflejenkins for some reason. dunno how that happened.