#no i havent played i quit after the scandal but i watch people play

[plaguedoctorkissingbooth]

the consensus of limbus current events

[foolgobi65]

careful man’s careless daughter

@philtstone prompted: Anne/Gilbert babysitter au fake dating prompt #5 let’s go laydees “you have the emotional capacity of a brick. that slate I broke over  your head.” (we’re pretending people still use slates now....american schools have no money...its possible ok) 

k so i was trying to figure out how to work in the babysitter + fake dating and ... like a flash the plot to this old telugu/tamil movie i love missamma/missaimaa came to mind -- its not quite the same because they’re two people pretending to be married so that they can make money as school teachers/live in tutors for a wealthy family’s daughter but it works just enough that i decided to roll with it lol. 

this technically isn’t the actual babysitting, nor the fake dating which I actually turned into a fake marriage lol, but i hope u still like it, even though it is all over the place and a general wreck because i wrote it straight through without any editing or thought towards pacing/characterization bc i havent written in forever lol!! im not even sure what the time period setting is lol, and i dont think my translating of the anne events into a semi modern day even works but w/e lol. 

u are the truest of friends, the light of my life, and have certainly heard more than your share of my mental breakdowns both in the last month and the last few years lol. u deserve all the good things, all the good fic, all the time. 

title is a perversion of a tswift lyric because it came up on youtube. if anyone wants to send in prompts from here

---

“You owe him how much?” 

Anne sighs, crossing her legs to hide how uncomfortable she is in this moment -- here she is in the park, fifteen thousand dollars plus interest in medical debt for Marilla’s eye surgery and being hounded by Roy Gardner, ex boyfriend apparently turned loan shark who was on his knees proclaiming both love and loan forgiveness should Anne just accept his proposal. 

Here Gilbert Blythe is, sitting on a park bench after two years without contact, watching the whole thing. 

“Marilla doesn’t have health insurance,” Anne says, eyes on the ground as she uses the toe of her shoe to grind a leaf into the sidewalk cement. “Even when I was teaching, the union plan didn’t let people add parents on as dependents.” She sighs. “With everything happening with the farm, she couldn’t afford to put money towards a plan and so when her eyes got bad....” 

For a moment, there is silence. Anne can almost hear Gilbert’s jaw clench “That’s just wrong.” 

Anne laughs, and because her eyes are averted she doesn’t see Gilbert flinch. “That’s America, Blythe.” 

“Well,” she hears him say, tone just dripping with what Mrs. Rachel would call the Blythe Stubbornness, “It shouldn’t be.” 

She won’t ever admit it, but there’s something Anne has always found deeply compelling about Gilbert when he gets into these moods -- all righteously indignant in a way that Anne feels inside of her own body. Or felt, before Matthew died and left behind debts not even Marilla had known about, and Marilla’s eyes worsened around the the time Anne was let go from her teaching job and even if she had had the job it wouldn’t have mattered, she knows, but still. Beautiful, wonderful, beloved Diana had offered to help, of course she had, but Anne knew that Fred’s business wasn’t yet where it should be and that the parents Barry were still unimpressed with their son in law to be’s financial acumen. So she’d had to go to Roy, who had of course lent his beautiful Anne the money, and of course had arranged for Marilla to be treated at the best hospital in Toronto, of course had set them up in the apartment of a friend of his right in downtown where the rents were a thousand maybe two per month. He’d popped the question for the third time the second Marilla had been released back into Anne’s care. 

Almost as if he can hear her thoughts, Gilbert speaks -- “Gardner shouldn’t be harassing you like this either. Who ever heard of charging interest on a loan to a friend? And what on earth does he think he’s going to take from you if you just don’t pay?” 

Anne burns. This, she hasn’t told Marilla, nor even her darling Diana. For some reason, it seems alright to tell Gilbert. “The farm,” she mumbles.

Gilbert snorts. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard. Are you saying that Roy Gardner, heir to one of the biggest fortunes in Boston and your ex boyfriend, took your home as collateral on a loan for money you needed to pay for your mother’s surgery?” 

Anne says nothing. She still hasn’t looked up at him, hasn’t been able to meet his gaze since she sat down on the bench and told Roy to get up off his knees and wait two months for either his money or her affirmative answer. She blinks, having mercifully forgotten that Gilbert was present for that last bit. She hopes he’s forgotten too. 

“And wait, before he left you said....” No such luck. “Anne!” Anne’s sure her entire head must be flame as she closes her eyes, bringing her knees up on the park bench and burying her face into her own lap. “Anne you said you’d marry him if you couldn’t get the money!” 

“There’s no debt between spouses,” Anne mumbles. “We’d get to keep the farm, and I wouldn’t ever worry about Marilla’s health again.” 

“But you don’t love him!” She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard Gilbert sound so scandalized. 

“I used to!” she tries to retort, but even Anne knows that her voice betrays her when she tries to speak this lie. “I used to think I was,” she amends, “and maybe that’s as close as I’m allowed to get -- he’s rich, handsome, he even loves me! What more could I ask for?” 

“Coercing you into marriage, demanding interest on money that we all know is just pocket change for someone like him...that’s not love,” Gilbert Blythe responds, with all that....that all-knowing Blytheness in his voice that Anne has hated since she was 13 years old and the new kid in a class of people who had always known each other just as easily as they had known themselves. “Love is selfless, Anne, strong and kind. It makes you better for giving away your heart, even if the one you love doesn’t give you theirs in return.” 

Gilbert Blythe, always acting as if he knows something Anne does not. He speaks as if he’s been in love, at some point over the years since he was last in Avonlea and for some reason Anne absolutely burns with that knowledge. Ooh she just hates him, now at 24 just as easily as she had at 13! 

“And what exactly is love worth if it means I just lose the farm trying to pay for Marilla’s surgery, and still have nothing for the next time she’s sick?” Suddenly Anne is on her feet, hands on her hips as she glares at Gilbert looking quite alarmed as he still sits on the bench. The words she has kept locked on the inside, too private to even be written in a diary, come pouring out in one big rush:

“Three of my four parents are already dead, Gilbert Blythe.” Her voice hitches, to her horror, her sudden fury vanishes as she has to blink away the tears she has kept at bay since she and Marilla buried Matthew. Damn Gilbert, for bringing this out of her as well. “I can’t...I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.” Her lips thin, and with a breath, her voice steadies. “I don’t care what you, or anyone else thinks about my choices if it means that I can take care of Marilla.” 

Gilbert’s eyes have the sheen of his own tears when he stands, his own lips wobbling just slightly. “I...” he swallows. “Of course, Anne.” Something Anne recognizes as self hatred passes briefly over his face, but she doesn’t understand. “I wish I had money like Gardner to give you, I really do.”   

Anne gentles, even if something inside her twists to be the object of the long-old guilt mixed with pity, much less Gilbert Blythe. Since Matthew’s death, every person in Avonlea it seems has sat with Anne and Marilla and offered their deep condolences, their absolute shock at the pair’s financial state of affairs, how much they wish they could help but sadly cannot, what with the way the bank’s collapse has hit their own finances. Only families like the Gardners survive economic crashes with money to burn. 

“I wouldn’t have taken it even if you had,” she offers instead, shrugging casually. 

His eyes flash. “But you took Gardner’s?” 

“I thought he loved me!” Anne closes her eyes, somehow feeling her cheeks flush even deeper. This is why she’s avoided all mention of Gilbert Blythe so strenuously since high school graduation, because more than anyone else he is the one who drags out the words she is always learning to keep inside. Here he is, somehow pulling confessions Anne hadn’t even dreamed of telling Diana, confessions that make her seem small, and stupid, lost in a world so much more complicated and treacherous than she can handle all on her lonesome. 

Well, she thinks, in for a penny -- 

“I thought he loved me,” she says, “and that he had the money to spare. I didn’t realize...” She looks away again, so that she never has to see him react to her folly. 

“Oh Anne,” Gilbert says, for some reason so soft and stricken that Anne’s knees go weak with her sudden desire to fall to the ground and weep. “You deserve so much better.” 

And now she’s angry again. “What would you know about what I deserve?” Anne spits, “you haven’t even been home since you started med school!” Vaguely, Anne thinks that Gilbert hasn’t been home since she and Roy had gotten serious, serious enough for her to bring him to Green Gables and show him the place that had been her very first love. Coincidences can be so strange. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, glaring again at the ground. “None of this matters. I’m just going to go home” Anne clenches her jaw, knowing that when she gets back to Green Gables she will go into her room and play every excruciating part of this conversation back in her head, again and again until she throws up or passes out at dawn from sheer exhaustion. Maybe both, if she’s lucky. She leans back slightly and manages to turn around on her heels, a trick Gilbert Blythe had always pulled at school and had had girls thinking he was so cool.

She’s five minutes away from the park bench when suddenly she hears him call out her name. 

“Anne,” he shouts again much closer, bending at his waist to balance his hands at his knees as he pants. “God, it really has been two years since I was on the university football team.” 

Despite the roiling emotions of five minutes ago, Anne’s lips quirk. “I can’t imagine you all practiced very much to end up near the bottom of your league every year.” 

Gilbert’s eyes widen, and for some reason he flushes. Maybe he’s so out of shape that it’s from exertion? “I didn’t realize you kept up with my matches.”  Ah. Anne, it seems, will experience nothing else but one long sustained flush as long as she is in front of Gilbert Blythe. “You know,” she tries to say casually, “you hear things here and there. Diana told me the village gossip.” 

Gilbert opens his mouth, but then suddenly shakes his head, like a dog trying to dislodge water from its fur. “I have...” he frowns. “I have a proposition for you.”  Anne raises what she hopes is an elegant eyebrow. “Oh?” 

He grimaces. “There’s a boarding school, a Catholic one, that’s asking for teachers over the summer for a few of their select students who want to be coached for college admissions. Essays, standardized tests, everything. They’ve got heaps of money, and are willing to pay salaries up front. Plus, they cover all your expenses while you’re there!” 

Anne blinks, feeling the beginnings of hope gather as kindling at the very dredges of her heart. Once, both Anne and Gilbert had competed so well against each other that they had both gotten into Harvard. Then, Matthew had died, and Anne decided she could just as easily get a teaching degree at the state school and stay closer to Marilla too. Gilbert alone had had the distinction of being the first from Avonlea to reach such heights, and had reached even higher when he had been accepted again to Harvard Medical School. 

But at one point, both Anne and Gilbert had taken their SATs. They’d both written their application essays. They’d both gotten in. Anne, even, had been offered a full ride compared to Gilbert’s only partial scholarship, so there could even be an argument that of the two, Anne had been the one on top. 

And if nothing else, Anne is even better at teaching than she was at taking tests. 

“I’ll do it,” she says firmly. “Where and when do I need to report, and how much money are they offering?”  For a second, a bright, dazzling grin paints Gilbert’s face. “Really? Ten--” he coughs, “Twenty thousand.” Anne frowns. 

“Each?” It sounds like a dream come true. Five thousand more than Anne needs, and paid upfront. She could save the farm, and put away five thousand towards the farm’s debts. “That sounds....exorbitant.”  He nods, suddenly more confident. “Yep! Twenty thousand for sure.” He laughs. “I know Gardner was supposed to be slumming it at state school, but you really can’t be surprised at how much money rich people are willing to throw at a problem.” 

“The problem being...their children.”  Gilbert’s grin turns wicked. “The problem being their children’s SAT scores, and lack of compelling anecdote to base an admission’s essay on, yes.” 

Anne laughs, wicked in this moment as well. She wishes in this moment, fiercely, as she has many times over the last few years, that she had been able to go to university with Gilbert at her side -- as the friends they had slowly begun to be after years of one and two sided enmity, before time and distance had turned them into near strangers. She doesn’t regret staying back, not really, but there is a part of her that no one had ever understood half as well as Gilbert Blythe, who had, after the Harvard interest meeting, drawn and pinned up a schedule for practice SATs that took into account both his and Anne’s often conflicting life schedules. 

“What’s the catch,” she asks, grinning when Gilbert chokes “come on, Blythe, there’s always a catch with offers like this. Is it across from a waste manufacturing plant? Is the principal a pervert?” 

Slowly, Gilbert Blythe is turning red. “Ah,” he says, shuffling like he never did even when he was an errant schoolboy. “Well,” he says, and....is that his voice cracking? 

“Gilbert,” Anne says, trying to reassure him, “I grew up in the foster system, I can handle much worse than bad smells and pervert principals, I promise.” 

He frowns. “It’s not that,” he says slowly, “but basically they’re looking for two teachers, a man and a woman to manage the boys and the girls while the rest of the staff go on vacation.” 

Anne smiles, trying to ignore the jolt of her heart at the thought of an entire summer with Gilbert, studying like they used to but as friends. Her old dreams, finally coming true. “That’s perfect then, you take one job and I’ll take the other! It’ll be like old times, kind of.” 

He smiles faintly, as if, even after locking horns with the best and brightest at Harvard, Anne is still the person he wants to be trading barbs with over the heads of high school students for months on end. “I’d like nothing better, he says, except...” 

“Except?” 

Gilbert inhales. “ExceptTheSchoolWillOnlyHireAMarriedCoupleSoThatTheyDon’tHaveToWorryAboutOutofWedlockSexorTeachersHavingSexWithStudents.” All in a rush, and now Gilbert is the one who can’t apparently handle eye contact.

“What?” 

“The school,” Gilbert says to his shoes, “since it’s Catholic, and also since they’re lazy, only want a married couple so that they don’t have to have anyone watching to make sure the teachers aren’t having sex with the students. Or each other.” 

Anne blinks. “But we’re not married!” 

Gilbert grimaces, opening his mouth, but then just biting his lip. They could be, Anne thinks, only a tad hysterical. Only all of Avonlea was matching them up all the years of high school, and even the years after until she’d met Roy. It would be so easy to get a certificate. They could get a divorce by September, even annul their marriage since they definitely wouldn’t be having sex. 

Twenty thousand dollars. 

“So what you’re saying,” Anne says slowly, her lip curling of its own accord “is that after all that talk about what love is and isn’t, and telling me that I shouldn’t marry Roy for the money he’d give me, your blockheaded solution is instead, for me to marry you?” 

Gilbert looks up. “Well when you put it that way--”  Anne sees red, even as she already sees herself in one of her old white lace dresses, standing with Gilbert at the courtroom and signing. “Gilbert Blythe I don’t believe you! Sometimes, I think that you really do have all the emotional capacity of that slate I broke over your head!” 

“I know,” he says tone heavy with something so sad that Anne’s hearten softens a bit of its own accord. “But you really need the money, and I promise we’ll get a divorce by September.” He smiles, but there’s something bitter at the corners that Anne has never seen before -- she almost raises her hand to rub the strand of emotion off his lips. “And you’re not the only one who needs the money. Will you do it?” 

Twenty thousand dollars. The farm, Marilla, an end to the eternal pity of Avonlea. And also, a small part of her suggests, an opportunity to finally spend time with this new Gilbert Blythe who went off into the world and left her behind. 

She sighs. “I vote that you be the one to tell Mrs. Lynde.” 

[mcments]

hi qts !  i am bon or bonbon or bonners or gay. i am here 2 bring u brand new babu kumiko or mimi. i came up with her idea on a whim and i cant wait to dive deep into her cute but yikes behavior. i am 22, they/he, est. i am currently going 2 be playing broderlands w my bestest friend so i will be kind of slow to ims nd plotting but i will get around to it !  anyway i dont have much else to say about myself besides i’m a proper dumbass, so below the cut u can read about mimi. thank u.

i dont have much for her so pls bare w me ok.

˙✫*ﾟMINA MYOUI  ,  CIS FEMALE  ,  SHE/HER  :･ did  you  hear  sasaki  kumiko  /  mimi  is  joining  the  cast  of  exposed  after  her  mom  in  japan  was  found  paying  off  album  sales  was  revealed  ?  the  twenty  two  year  old  singer  with  1.3m  followers  is  trying  to  clear  their  name  .  they've  become  known  as  the  resident  grifter  here  in  the  mansion  ,  and  it's  clear  that's  spot  on  because  they're  quite  -  guarded  &  -  deceitful  ,  but  also  +  sweet spoken  &  +  warm hearted  .  you  know  they're  heading  to  the  confession  booth  if  you  hear  dancer  in  the  dark  by  chase  atlantic  blasting  ,  most  likely  talking  about  how  they're  more  than  barely  bruised  knuckles,  a  lone  umbrella  in  the  foggy  mist,  coming  up  from  the  deep  end  of  the  water,  and  teary  anime  eyes  . [ ooc : bon , 22 , est , they / he , none. ] voice claim: lauren alaina.

so this is sasaki kumiko aka kimi or mimi aka the fuckin devil in disguise.

she is a 22 year old yeehaw singer from japan !  very unique but i was inspired listening to my own yeehaw music. so she has a lauren alaina voiceclaim.

her label is the grifter which makes me think of destiny 2 because of that hoe but it’s because she is very deceptive. this is evident in how she acts very cute, sweet, and warm to everyone but behind the scenes she is exactly the opposite.

which is why dancer in the dark is such a gr8 song for her. also bump chase atlantic always mk.

i havent dived into her a lot but this is what i have for her so far. she is just outwardly cute, kawaii i guess, and tries her best to be sweet and nice and kind to everyone she meets but has a dark side where she trusts nobody, barely even herself, and doesn’t ever let herself get close to someone in case they break her wall down. almost like she doesn’t want to feel anything ?

mimi has been in the US for a few years now but her career only started about two or so years ago when she put out some singles and then her debut album. more info on this will come asap, bare with me. but her passion has almost always been music, her mother being a driving force behind her coming to the states and starting a career because of the system over here.

this is shown when her “secret”  gets revealed. her debut album comes out and it sores to the top of the charts despite her not being a HUGE artist and while nobody questioned it at first, it came into the light via the show that her mother back in her home country of japan had been paying off her album sales which caused her to rise to fame. people are always going to listen to the ones at the top of the charts, mimi knew that, so her and her mother worked together to make the plan.

thing is, once it was ousted that her mother had done this, she turned against her, too, cutting off all contact with her and trying to “clear her name” or act like she had no involvement in this scandal. she is in the clear for now, but she has a feeling it won’t last for long. but every day is a new chance to play off how she fueled her own fame and is now soaring even higher due to the scandal.

most of her fans think she is in the clear while some have lost respect for her entirely because of her mother. but the thing is, it wasn’t only her mother, and like said above, it would only be due time before people started seeing her as suspicious as well. having finally released a brand new single and attempting to work on new music in general despite being in the mansion, she does all she can with her facade every day to make sure people still think she is the cute, kind girl she pretends to be.

ok i feel like this was a mad disaster but it’s here ,, it’s out here ok .. now i have 2 go play borderlands 2 with my friend like i said at the beginning but i will be around poking in between missions seeing what is goin on on the dash :eyes:. love u guys ok. i will be messaging ppl who like my intro so WATCH OUT FOR ME !

[your-iron-lung]

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 10

aka ‘The House That Dripped Blood’; available to read on AO3 HERE

Story Synopsis:  Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7927

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Next Chapter: 11

Notes: if you follow me you may have noticed i havent posted in a while- this is bc i spend all my time playing ffxiv instead of setting aside determined amounts of time to spend on writing/drawing and i have a bunch of artist alleys coming up that im ill prepared for and im terrible at budgeting UH YEP bad excuse but WHAT CAN YA DO here we are

(ive also set up a ko-fi account if you want to give drop me some tippy tips if u enjoy the word things i do) ((no pressure tho))

"Bigfoot."

Hopper leaned back in his chair; let it creak and groan under his weight until he knew it was at its limit, and then pushed it a little more. He studied the no-nonsense expression on the hunter before him, and intrinsically knew that the man was speaking truth.

"Bigfoot," the old man said again, speaking a little sterner than he had before once he recognized Hopper's amiable expression of disbelief. "I seen't him out in the woods just the other day."

The aging man had lumbered into the police station almost immediately after Hopper came in, bundled in some worn hunting gear that looked almost as old as he was. The deputies had offered to speak with him after hearing his initial claim, but they'd been refused when Callahan couldn't stop smirking. The old hunter had insisted on speaking with Hopper, who leaned forward now, taking the stress off of his chair to take a sip of the coffee Florence had brought in for him. He didn't look at the old man as he drank.

"So let me get this straight," Hopper began, setting his coffee aside to rub at his forehead, "you came in first thing in the morning worried about a missing friend of yours, but now you're telling me you're worried about Bigfoot."

"You know me, Jim," the hunter said, a slight hint of pleading desperation edging out of his voice. "You know I ain't some crazy old coot. I ain't seen Lamm in a long while, and yessir I'm worried 'bout him, but when I went out to his cabin to check on him I seen it: I seen Bigfoot!"

As incredulous as the claim was, Hopper believed him- not about it being Bigfoot, exactly, but he believed that the man had seen something out there in the woods, and it had the possibility of being that something he'd spent the last two weeks fruitlessly searching for.

Regardless, he didn't want to let the old hunter know he was taking him seriously. The last thing he needed was for his community to think he believed in this sort of nonsense, but people in town were going missing, and people he knew were getting hurt: if his only lead should turn up in the form of an old man believing he'd caught sight of an urban legend, then so be it. He'd follow it through, but he'd be subtle about it.

"You sure it wasn't just a trick of the light or something, Wes? You know your eyes aren't what they used to be," Hopper remarked casually, softening his voice to let him down easy. "And this isn't the first time Lamm's gone missing; you know he's one of those types of shut ins. Remember those weeks he was gone hunting 'vampires'? He's the kind of guy who lives in his own head more than he lives out here, he'll turn up again on his own time."

The hunter's lips twitched into a frown. "Alright, maybe Lamm is a little off kilter," he relented, averting his eyes for a second, "and maybe it weren't Bigfoot, but the tracks it left were huge 'n mighty, by God, and I ain't seen nothin' else like it before. If it weren't Bigfoot, then at the very least it had big feet, Jim, and I ain't never seen feet quite like 'em."

Interest piqued, Hopper became more attentive. "How's that?"

"Well, they was stretched out lookin', for one." The hunter paused, tilting his head slightly as he tried to recall the details of what he'd seen out in the woods. He held his hands up, spaced apart in an approximation of how long the prints he'd found had been. "Human lookin', almost, which is what had me thinkin' it coulda been Bigfoot. They weren't the tracks of somethin' native 'round here, and I only caught but the barest glimpse of it, but it was tall, Jim; taller'n you or I."

That sounded right; the prints he'd found and unsuccessfully tracked were, as the hunter said, 'huge 'n mighty' and matched the description of what he'd just been told. It didn't take an expert's opinion (though he had consulted one) to discern that the markings just weren't natural. Hopper set his mug of coffee aside and pulled out a notepad from one of his desk drawers. He uncapped a pen and held it to the page for a moment before writing down a few preliminary notes for himself on the top line.

The hunter cocked his head and leaned forward to look at what he was writing and said, "That don't look official."

"Because it's not; this one's just gonna be between us, alright?" Hopper said, looking up to meet Wesley's blue, watery eyes. He held the stare long enough to get his point across, waiting for a sign of affirmation before looking back to the notepad and pressing the tip of the pen to the paper. "Tell me where and when exactly you saw this 'Bigfoot' of yours."

The day was cold and grey at its start, with harsh, biting winds ushering in thick clouds that blocked out any hope of the sun ever making an appearance. Steve eyed the sky apprehensively as he made his way back to his car, wary of the way the clouds looked as though they might start dropping hail on him at a moment's notice. Billy feigned disinterest as Steve opened the rear passenger door and leaned in to shove the box of things he'd bought at the Hunting & Camping store into the backseat. Even with his vision obscured in part by the sunglasses he'd elected to wear, he didn't miss the strong look of annoyance that graced Steve's features when he came around to the driver's seat and entered the car with a pout.

"That guy give you a hard time or something?" Billy asked as Steve buckled in and put the BMW into reverse, turning in his seat to hastily jerk the car out of the parking lot. "Why do you look like someone shit in your cereal?"

Steve clicked his tongue. "He just kept asking what a 'kid like me' needed with a bunch of chains and rope and shit. My god, he just would not let it go, like he thought I was trying to build my own sex dungeon or something. Fucking annoying."

"You mean that's not what we're doing?" Billy asked, grinning a bit at the way Steve's face pinched up in disgust. "What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth; said it was to tie up a werewolf. 'It's a full moon tonight, y'know? Gotta tie 'em down or they go all crazy on you', I said to him, and you know what he said to me then?" Steve asked, speeding out of the little downtown shopping area Hawkins played host to and sounding every bit as gossipy as Carol did when she caught wind of a scandal.

"How the fuck would I?" Billy drawled, turning away from the conversation to watch the scenery pass by disinterestedly.

"He said, 'Damn fool kids will never learn'," Steve said, ignoring him. "'Damn fool kids will never learn', like, what the hell does that mean?"

Billy shrugged. "Who knows? As long as he accepted daddy's plastic then what does it matter?"

Steve clicked his tongue again in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Billy declined to retort. They rode on in silence, the chains in the box Steve had bought clinking together softly in the backseat before the radio was finally turned on to mask the sound.

Regardless of whether or not Steve actually believed something was going to happen to Billy that night, he couldn't deny that the whole day leading up to that evening just felt… off. From meeting up with Billy earlier that afternoon to go by the camping store, to grabbing lunch together before heading over to the Henderson's house, it all felt wrong.

It was something Steve had difficulty pinpointing the origins of, but as they began work on clearing out enough space in the cellar for Billy to do whatever it was he thought he was going to do, he soon came to realize that the feeling of wrongness seemed to stem from Billy himself.

Few words could better describe Billy than 'annoying' or 'smart-mouthed', but he'd been uncharacteristically tight-lipped all day. He'd become a remarkably dull version of himself, and Steve wasn't sure quite how to handle that.

Usually one to argue and bite back at everything Steve said, when he'd begun dishing out instructions on how best to clear out some floor space in the cellar, Billy hadn't talked back to him a single time; merely lit a cigarette and blinked at him slowly, silently acknowledging what had been asked of him before getting on with it.

It was unsettling. Steve could almost say that he hated how submissive Billy was because of how used he'd gotten to the back-talk and smart-ass remarks Billy usually had ready for him, and though, yes, there were times he had wished for this kind of attitude from him, the silence and absolute subordination coupled with all of the other behavioral changes Billy was exhibiting were enough to set Steve on edge.

Billy kept tonguing the gaps in his teeth where they'd fallen out over the course of the week, and he never seemed to realize he wasn't alone. Sometimes he'd jump at the sound of Steve's voice, or shake his head and crease his brow in confusion when he turned around to see Steve moving stuff somewhere behind him, but arguably the worst part of it all was that he stank.

He'd tried to mask it with an overabundance of cologne that had nearly suffocated Steve when they began working in closer quarters, but buried beneath that was a hint of something that smelled awfully rotten. If he had to, Steve could liken it to the stench of the monster they'd encountered in the woods, but he chose not to, instead chalking it up to a severe case of nervous b.o. or something. The implications that the scents could be related bothered him too deeply to believe, and even then he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what the source of the smell was.

The stench of decay emanating from Billy's person was worrisome enough on its own, but with so much to do in order to get ready before sunset, Steve had a hard time figuring out where to primarily apply his focus: there were simply too many things going on for him to worry about one thing more than another.

The giant hole in the wall that Dart made to tunnel out of the cellar was his immediate concern, but Dustin had done a good job of hiding it from his mother by placing a tall shelf in front of it, essentially blocking it off. That didn't mean it wasn't entirely inaccessible, but Steve wasn't sure what more he could do about it. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about it until he'd tried to move the shelf aside and then found himself peeking into the eerie tunnel. He'd knocked over several things in his haste to put the shelf back in place, but Billy hadn't seemed to notice it, and if he didn't, maybe he wouldn't think to use it if- or when- he lost himself to whatever supernatural effects he was experiencing.

"Big if, though," Steve muttered aloud to himself. Turning away from the shelf, he looked over to where Billy was inspecting some old power tools, turning a nail gun over in his hands before setting it back in the box he'd pulled it out of. "So, are we good or what? This baby-proofed enough for you?" Steve asked, startling Billy out of whatever ruminations he'd been lost to.

Billy looked at Steve blankly, face impassive and emotionless. He frowned, and then looked around himself as though he'd forgotten where he was. When he spoke, his voice was monotone and devoid of his usual arrogance as he said, "I don't know, Harrington; is it?"

"You tell me, man, this was your idea." Steve watched as Billy returned his focus on the box of tools he'd originally been rummaging through. Picking up a hammer, Billy balanced its weight in his hands before gripping the handle tightly. Steve distrusted the look in Billy's eye as he held it. "What are you, a child? Quit rifling through their shit, put it back," he said.

Billy didn't reply or even acknowledge that he'd heard him. Ignoring Steve's demand, he stepped up to the abandoned work bench to splay his left hand out over the wood and lifted the ballpeen up.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put it down," Steve said again, his voice rising slightly in pitch when he understood what Billy was doing. He started towards him in an effort to stop him, but halted when the hammer was brought crashing down.

It missed his hand, but the force of the impact splintered the wooden table's surface. Steve gaped as Billy turned around, a cocky little smile turning up his lips.

"Someone could get hurt real bad down here if they weren't careful, huh, Harrington?" he said, a fierceness that Steve hated to admit he'd missed charging his voice. "But we've been real careful cleaning this shithole out, haven't we, pally?"

"You sick piece of shit, give me that," Steve snapped, snatching the hammer away from Billy's pliant grip. "Fuck you, Hargrove; you could've just said you wanted to move this shit out of here."

"Had you pegged as being more of a visual learner," Billy sneered as Steve threw the hammer back into the box of tools. "Your concern was touching, though, really."

"You're the one who came asking me for help, fuckface. Begged me, almost, if I'm remembering right. 'Oh, Steve, help me, I'm so scared of fake movie monsters!'"

Steve hadn't meant to rise to the taunt, but Billy's insufferable attitude had him stooping to his level as he hoisted the hefty box of tools in his arms and lugged them over to the stairway. Billy laughed dryly at Steve's mocking tone.

"We both wish that fucking thing had been fake," he said as Steve placed the box on the ground at the foot of the stairs beside the box of supplies he'd bought earlier. They were both quiet for a moment, their attempt at a conversation dying as quickly as it had been brought on.

"Only one thing left to do then," Steve said morosely.

Billy blinked and turned to face the stairway, eyes rising slowly up to where the cellar doors were propped open wide. Steve felt the guilt of having to lock him in prematurely and had to remind himself that he wanted to be locked in.

"Better hop to it then, Harrington," Billy said lowly, lips curling back into a familiar grin, but without all his teeth in place to flesh it out, Steve found the display to be more unsettling than annoying. "Let's get this sex dungeon set up."

Steve grimaced. "Not even in your wildest dreams, Hargrove."

"Nothing's off the table in my dreams, pretty boy." Billy breathed out a small laugh at the disgusted look on Steve's face, but the grin he'd been displaying slowly fell away. "Is it getting dark yet?"

"Uh, kind of, but the sun hasn't set yet," Steve replied, stepping up into the stairwell to check the status of the sky. It was as dull and grey as it had been all day, the overcast weather acting as a harbinger for the snowfall the local meteorologist had foretold was coming. "If you took off those fucking sunglasses you'd be able to tell."

"These are for your benefit as much as mine," Billy snapped, frowning suddenly.

"Yeah, okay, whatever that means," Steve said dismissively as he began to fish out the cords of rope from the box, letting them spool out onto the ground before gathering them into his hands. "How do you uh, how do you want to do this?"

"Aw, is this kitten's first time tying someone up?" Billy purred, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the cellar, directly under the light. "Who knew 'King' Steve's favourite flavor was vanilla."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the ropes over, wrinkling his nose at the mixed smell of rot and cologne that got stronger with proximity. "I've dated girls kinkier than you'd know what to do with," he retorted as he gestured for Billy to hold out his hands.

"Oh please," Billy said with a snort, "there are no kinky girls in Hawkins or I would've found them by now."

"You're obviously not looking hard enough," Steve muttered in response, gesturing again for Billy to hold out his hands.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the work table he'd splintered, Billy held his hands up obediently and watched stoically as Steve wound the rope around his wrists, binding his hands together roughly.

"What's should our safe word be?" Billy teased, smirking as Steve wound another, longer length of rope over the original knot.

"There is no safe word because this isn't a sex thing!" Steve insisted angrily.

Flustered, he sighed irritably as he wound the long part of the rope around Billy's waist, hating how close he had to get in order to make sure the rope was tight enough, though Billy seemed to be enjoying how close he'd gotten. He kept shifting his weight around, trying, it seemed, to get Steve into a more compromising position. Annoyed, but determined to finish, Steve did his best to ignore Billy's constant movement and the disgusting, rotten musk that was wafting off of his person to finish tying him up.

"Why do you fucking stink so goddamn badly?" Steve finally asked with a scowl, repressing the urge to gag as he tied the ropes off into a clumsy knot. He stumbled away from Billy, reaching up to pinch his nostrils shut so he wouldn't have to smell the rot anymore, but the rancid scent seemed to have lodged itself deep into his nose. "You smell like a dead Calvin Klein model or something, holy shit, did you use a whole fucking bottle?"

The amusement Billy had held while taunting Steve left his face. His smirk shrunk into an awkward grimace as he looked away in embarrassment.

"I don't know, alright?" he admitted bitterly. "It doesn't matter how much I bathe, and between that and my eyes I have no idea what the fuck's going on with me."

"What about your eyes?" Steve asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the reasoning behind why Billy had insisted on wearing sunglasses all day.

Billy faltered for a moment, hesitating briefly before reaching up and plucking the sunglasses off his face. With both hands bound together, he awkwardly folded the legs against the lenses and tucked them into the collar of his button up. He turned his gaze to Steve, who couldn't help but suck in a slight breath of surprise.

His eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to start bleeding straight out of the sockets. There were hardly any whites left in the sclera to be seen as Billy winked at him, looking immensely uncomfortable at the way Steve was gaping openly at him.

"Do they- hurt? Or whatever?" Steve asked, unconsciously taking a few steps forward to get a better look. In the dim lighting of the basement, even the blues of Billy's eyes looked reddish.

"What's it to you if they do?" Billy snapped, suddenly irritable. He squared his jaw and looked away, unable to face the amount of concern Steve was showing him.

The worry Steve felt for the both of them in that moment grew stronger as he backed off, letting the matter of the changes in Billy's physicality drop, despite how alarming they were. "If I don't hear anything an hour after the sun goes down, I'll let you out," Steve said abruptly as he walked backwards towards the stairwell, grasping for the hand rail behind him blindly, unsure why he was so reluctant now to let Billy out of his sight. It was what they'd agreed upon earlier, and he said it meaning for it to sound reassuring, but the way Billy's lips twitched made it apparent he didn't interpret it that way.

Billy didn't respond.

"Well, uh, I guess that's it then," Steve said as he bent down, placing his box of chains atop the box of tools Billy had been messing around with before lifting them up together to carry them up and out of their man-made dungeon.

The cellar doors shrieked loudly as they were closed, a high pitched agony that erupted when the metal grinded against itself uncooperatively. Steve didn't mind that so much as he hated the sound the chains made as he wove them through the door handles, reminding him of what he was doing and who he was imprisoning as the steel rattled sharply against the doors. He winced at the commotion, but continued to loop them through the small door handles until no more could be fit between them. He tested their sturdiness by attempting to pull them open, and to his pleasure, they remained shut. The doors were secured; the cellar, as far as he was concerned, was now a suitable prison. All that was left of him now was to play the role of the jailor appropriately.

He stared down at his handiwork for a moment before the cold, blowing winds prompted him to seek shelter. Already a few snowflakes were fluttering out of the sky, flying into his cheeks as he turned away, re-gathering the box of tools in his arms and headed for the door Dustin promised he'd leave a key for.

Searching under the backdoor mat, Steve found the promised key, and true to the rest of Dustin's word, the entire home was empty, save for the cat that chirped a greeting for him from atop the kitchen counter. With a deep intake of breath Steve glanced at his watch, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him, wondering if he really was prepared for the worst. In the trunk of his car his bat waited for him, ready to be put to use just in case shit really did hit the fan, but he found himself questioning if he'd really be able to use it; bludgeoning monsters to death was one thing, but turning it on a boy he knew was only a monster figuratively was something else entirely.

For both his and Billy's sakes, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Shrugging out of his thick coat, Steve set it down beside him as he took a seat on the Henderson's couch. He glanced at his watch again, dismayed by the fact that time wasn't progressing as fast as he wished it was and sat in anxious worry about what the rest of the night might have in store.

But at least he was comfortable and warm.

The cellar was not.

It wasn't the cold that Billy minded, so much as it was the anticipation: when would the transformation start? Exactly at sundown? A little before? A little after? Would he actually end up transforming? And why the fuck did the word 'transform' make him so damn uncomfortable? The unknown factors surrounding his circumstances were almost worse than any of the physical symptoms he'd been experiencing as of late, and he'd been experiencing a lot.

Anxiety wasn't something Billy had a lot of experience with, but it was the only thing he could think of that explained why his heart had been beating oddly all day. It was running at a notably higher rate, as though he'd been playing basketball or working out extraneously, and brought on palpitations he wasn't used to dealing with at the elevated speed.

In short he felt terrible. His whole body ached like it was going through puberty again. Both his arms and legs were sore in ways that mimicked the aches that came with growing pains when he'd had them, but he couldn't understand why he would begin to hurt in that way again. He hadn't had the energy to work out in two days despite eating practically anything he could get his hands on, so the soreness in his limbs was unwarranted. Either his body was preparing itself for the coming night, or he was having an incredibly drawn-out heart attack.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell, Billy felt the cold permeating in through the closed opening and moved away to find a better spot to wait. He wanted rub his arms to bring some warmth into them, but couldn't with the way they were bound. Already the ropes were beginning to dig into his wrists, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin as he realized he wasn't actually that cold anyway, despite the frigid weather; his body temperature had been on a steady incline leading up to now, leaving him with a rosy complexion and a near constant fever, the long-term effects of which left him feeling severely disoriented.

He could barely remember meeting up at Steve's house only a few hours ago to carpool to his kid friend's house, riding with the windows down in spite of the severe wind-chill as they went into town to get lunch and buy rope. Even though they'd ridden together, he couldn't remember now if they'd actually talked about anything or not. All he could remember were the low tones of the radio and the resonating throbs of the wind as it swooped in through the open windows, rushing to fill the audial space between them. It was as though his mind had been steeped in a fog, and he couldn't accurately think through it: everything was clouded over, incomprehensible, like waking up the morning after a bender and being unable to remember everything he'd done the night before, but knowing all the same that he'd taken part in some memorable shit.

Would there be pain, he wondered, and would it come on as suddenly as it had to the character in the movie he'd made Steve watch? Even though 'American Werewolf' was just a movie, stories like that had to spawn from some sort of truth, didn't they?

The dim little lightbulb that hung overhead flickered briefly, drawing Billy's attention to it as he took a seat at the work table's bench, wishing his eyes weren't a dry and sore as they were.

Coming from above, he could hear the muffled sounds of a TV show permeating through the cellar's ceiling. He couldn't help but think ill of Steve in that moment, but if their situations had been reversed, he probably would have been doing the same thing; he couldn't fault Harrington for finding a way to pass the time, though he wished he had something similar to do for himself. There was nothing interesting to hold his attention, and time passed at a dreadfully slow rate.

Stretching out on the bench, he laid himself down slowly, mindful of which parts of his back hurt the most, and gazed up at the cement overhead disinterestedly. He listened to the muffled sounds of the distant television, trying to conjure an image in his mind that corresponded with what little dialogue he could hear, but the rapid beating of his heart overpowered the noises coming from the TV. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing in an attempt to lower his heart rate, but it just kept going, pounding in a determined rhythm that seemed to be quickening with each passing minute. A bead of sweat trickled down from his scalp and over his ear as he wondered if the tingling he felt in the tips of his fingers was because of the cold or from the ropes being tied too tight.

He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hands into a fist to try and bring sensation back into his fingertips, but to no avail. They remained numb, and the cause of which eluded him.

Frowning, Billy stiffly sat up and began to pinch at his skin, belatedly realizing that the numbness was spreading slowly down the lengths of his fingers, a sensation that sent a chill running down the length of his spine.

"Oh," he said. "Oh shit."

The pain, when he finally did begin to feel it, started in his feet. There were still thirty minutes before the sun went down.

Billy licked his lips nervously as he tried to get his boots off, his numb fingers and bound hands fumbling uselessly with the laces as the pain centralized in his toes and grew in sudden intensity. He was no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before: it was sharp and stabbing, with each throb of pain stemming from the bones in his toes, as though they were growing more pointed in an attempt to pierce their way through his skin as they elongated. He could feel them cracking; each joint slowly popping free of itself as the bones began to push themselves forward.

"Oh, shit," he repeated, and could hear the muffled sounds of a laugh track from whatever sitcom Steve had turned on upstairs roaring in delight as he struggled to finally pull his boots off.

The stabbing sensation didn't relent, even once his shoes lay discarded by his feet. He peeled away his socks with shaking hands and stared down at his toes.

They'd turned a bright, beet red and were bulging like they might burst apart, his skin bubbling up around toenails that were already starting to peel off. He couldn't help the whimper as he tentatively felt them, a pain like touching a freshly popped, skinless blister causing him to draw his fingers back.

It was real. It was happening.

Sweating freely now, he reached away from his feet to brush his dampened hair away from his forehead as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He paused when he felt his hair pull free from his scalp, clinging to the back of his hand stubbornly. Billy stared at the loose, curly strands with a horrified expression and reached up with a shaking hand to grab more. When he pulled, a handful of his hair came away easily, eliciting another whimper from deep within his throat. Disgusted and frightened, he threw his hair away to the floor.

Breathing quickly, he hastily rubbed his hands free of the loose strands in a panic and tried to calm himself. His whole body trembled as he breathed in deeply through his nose, wondering if he should try to call out to Steve to alert him that the worst case scenario was indeed unfolding. Another laugh track from upstairs came through the ceiling as he felt a sharp, sudden stab of pain in his ribs, prompting him to gasp loudly and curl forward over himself. He could actually feel some part of his ribcage shifting inside his torso as he tucked his arms in to his sides. Any lingering thoughts of trying to remain calm left him as he transitioned from panic to full on fear.

He stood up not knowing what he was going to do, but regretted it instantly: as soon as he put weight on his foot, his ankle collapsed in on itself and brought him to the floor. A shout almost came out with his fall, but he managed to internalize the pain as he was used to doing and grit his teeth as his foot essentially broke itself in half.

The central part of his foot that arched snapped without warning. Billy swore loudly and reached for his foot instinctively, wanting to hold the break in place, but he couldn't bear the agony that came with the contact. Warm tears leaked from his eyes, and when his other lateral arch also split in half, he couldn't help but cry out.

From up above, the noises coming from the television ceased. Steve must have heard him and was listening for him now, trying to gauge whether or not he should intervene. Billy clenched his jaw tighter, determined to keep quiet, but gasped loudly when two of his molars gave out under the pressure, snapping to the side and coming loose of his gumline. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as he spat the teeth out, shuddering uncontrollably when he felt the vertebrae in his spine begin to pop, one by one, pushing up against his skin that was quickly beginning to feel too tight.

Huffing in great breaths of air, he panted heavily as the bones of his tones finally pierced through his skin, causing most of the flesh surrounding them to burst open like little balloons. Blood splattered across the floor in gruesome, miniature arcs and Billy finally, finally became undone. He shrieked, unable to keep silent any longer as new appendages could be seen inside the flayed bits of bloody skin, slowly growing outward, already a part of him.

Warm tears of pain streaked down his face in thick lines as the skin of his feet continued to be ripped apart, making way for more muscle, new flesh. He wiped at his eyes helplessly and thought he could hear Steve's voice distantly calling out his name, asking if everything was alright.

He blinked, his vision blurred by the tears that would not clear away as he pulled himself over to the stairway.

Shaking wildly all over, Billy stretched out on the floor, realizing belatedly that the waistband of his jeans was growing tighter and tighter. Hissing sharply, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to undress himself as he hastily tried to undo his belt. A pain similar to the initial agony he'd felt in his toes was beginning to manifest itself in his fingers as both of his hands slowly began to turn red, swelling up under the bonds of the rope as he fumbled with the buckle, desperately trying to get it to come free.

"Fuck!" he shouted in frustration, his clothing growing ever tighter as his body continued to bloat. He felt like he was being pinched in half with his belt acting as an unneeded tourniquet. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"Hey! Talk to me Hargrove, what's going on?"

Steve's worried voice trilled down through the cellar doors as he continued vocalizing his frustrations. Billy felt an organ in his abdomen shift out of place before popping, prompting him to groan and curl in on himself before he threw up. His couldn't undo his belt as his vision began to darken.

"Hargrove!" Steve shouted, banging a fist against the steel door. "What the hell's going on? Talk to me!"

"Fuck you!" Billy screamed, unable to articulate anything else as he tried to rub the blackness out of his eyes, but the more he pressed his fingers to them, they more they began to hurt.

A pressure was building up behind them the more he rubbed, and as it increased, his vision grew ever darker. He kept blinking, over and over, feeling his eyes bulge out of their sockets and against his eyelids, trying now to keep his eyeballs in place. He was hyperventilating when he finally went blind, the pressure behind his eyes becoming intolerable eyes before it finally came too much, and his eyes popped free.

He felt them slide out onto over his checks and onto the floor, the slimy, blood-slick nerves leaving tracks of blood on his face as he became totally and completely blind.

"No," he whispered to himself, retching again on the floor as he scrambled across the cement, trying to find the stairs, unable to see. "No, no! This isn't real!"

Beyond the cellar doors, Steve had his ear pressed against the slight crack between the panels, desperately trying to understand what was going on. He wasn't sure what to make of the noises he was hearing, unable to determine if Billy was just trying to mess with him or if he was in actual distress.

"Hargrove," he said impatiently, turning his head to try and peak in through the crack to get a glimpse of what was going on, "you gotta start talking to me, man; what the hell's going on down there?"

"I'm fucking blind," he heard Billy shout, his voice rife with fear. "I can't see anything!"

His voice was shaking as he spoke, and Steve knew then that whatever was happening was legitimate; Billy wasn't one to openly show weakness.

"Okay, stay calm," Steve stammered, but he wasn't sure if that was actually sound advice or not. "It's- it's going to be okay, okay?"

Billy howled, and Steve understood that the pain that carried with his voice must have been terrible to get him to shriek like that. He licked his lips anxiously, not knowing what support he could possibly offer him. He continuously opened and shut his mouth, words of encouragement dying on his tongue before he could manage to speak them.

And then, all at once, the cacophony of agony ceased.

Steve couldn't hear anything over the rapid sound of his breathing for a moment before he finally spoke: "Hargrove? Is… are you okay?"

"Hurts." Billy's voice, quiet, strained, and barely audible over the sounds of things (flesh, fabric) slowly tearing, sounded disconcertingly like he was speaking with a throat full of water. It was gargling and grotesque; completely unlike the smooth, honeyed voice he'd become known for.

"Okay, what, uh, what… what hurts?" Steve whispered in response, fear quieting his previously urgent tone.

"Everything."

"Shit," Steve said to himself, backing away from the cellar door panels as the sounds of something large and heavy being knocked over made him jump. "Just, uh, stay calm," he said, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or Billy. From down below, he heard Billy groan loudly before going silent again.

Steve's heart was pounding as he hesitated, unsure of what to do. All the details of Billy's haphazardly concocted plan fled his mind as he tried to think back on what they'd agreed to do if something ended up happening, and his first instinct was to open the doors to go down and check on him. He looked at the chains wrapped tightly around the door handles and bit his lip before crouching down and pressing his eye to the crack.

The overhead light wasn't bright enough to reveal much, but at the base of the stairwell there was a small circle of illumination. Steve squinted, ignoring the cold of the steel as he pressed his face against the door, trying to see all that he could.

Blood stains. Torn bits of… something he couldn't quite make out. Dark masses on the stairwell; lots of evidence that pointed towards Billy transforming, but no trace of Billy himself.

"Hargrove," Steve whispered, and then shook his head to clear himself of his cowardice. "Hargrove," he said again, louder and with more emphasis, "dude, you have to talk me through what's happening down there."

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for a reply. It was steadily growing darker as the sun slowly sank, making it all the harder to see into the cellar from the tiny slit. Frowning and unable to see anything, Steve turned his head and pressed his ear against the door. From somewhere in the depths of the cellar he could hear something breathing heavily. It was moving, too; he could hear something shuffling, moving around the floor space cautiously.

When he turned his head again to see through the crack, he caught a glimpse of... something large and hulking cross under the light, tall enough to set the lightbulb swinging. He couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath of air, his lungs and throat burning with the sting of the cold weather. The thing- whatever Billy had become- halted just outside the rim of light. Entranced, Steve found he couldn't move as it emitted a low, threatening growl that sounded more like a man impersonating a dog than an actual beast.

From his limited viewpoint, he couldn't see the way the muscles in its legs were tightening, or how it had begun to crouch; he didn't have time to react as it sprang forward, jumping up the stairs in a single leap to ram itself against the doors.

The chains held the doors shut, but the sudden impact smashed the metal against Steve's nose and soon all he could smell was blood as it drained out of his nostrils. He fell backwards, holding his nose as the Billy-creature growled again. Horrified, Steve could only sit in the snow and watch as the doors lurched forward when Billy rammed against them again, trying to escape. The second impact loosened the restraints, and all Steve could do in that moment was watch as they rattled uselessly in place, beginning to slip through the handles as they hadn't been properly locked into place.

Cursing to himself, staggered to his feet and rushed to grab the chains, but as Billy threw his body against the doors again it soon became obvious that even if the doors stayed shut, they were about to pop free of their hinges entirely. Blood dripped down over his lips and onto the metal panels as he tried to think of what he could possibly do to counteract the damage Billy had done. In an act of desperation, he threw himself against the steel and hoped that his added bodyweight would be enough to keep them in place.

If it managed to do anything, he couldn't tell. Almost immediately Billy was throwing himself against the doors again, nearly bucking Steve off.

"Stop!" Steve cried out, grasping for the chains to hold them in place. His fingers scrabbled against the cold steel links even as Billy let out another deep, throaty growl. With the doors as loose as they were, Steve was almost certain the doors wouldn't survive another body-slam. "Give it up, Hargrove!" Steve said again, desperately. "Just- fuck, Billy, stop!"

He braced himself for another impact, but it never came. Eyes closed in anticipation, Steve blinked them open and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he let the chains go. Crystalized air puffed out in front of his face over and over as he rolled off the doors and stood up unsteadily, trying to wipe away the blood that had already frozen over and turned to crust on his upper lip. Somehow, miraculously, his pleading had worked, but before he could take comfort in that fact, other disturbing sounds began to creep back up to him from down below.

Things were being tossed around; the metallic clang of old paint cans being bounced off the floors and walls mixed with the hoarse, angry vocalizations of the creature Billy had become made his blood run colder than the air currently was. The noises Billy was making were at once both animalistic and human, deep and throaty and more akin to the bellows of a moose than a man or wolf.

Steve stood in front of the cellar doors not knowing what to do. Already their plan was falling apart, and he was quickly becoming aware of how vastly unprepared he was to handle the situation. He wanted the security of the bat in his trunk, but didn't trust himself to leave the doors unattended for the length of time it would take him to run back inside and grab his keys to get it, but he felt so weak without it.

Another loud, crashing noise came from within and Steve stilled, listening intently. Faintly, he could hear Billy snuffling about, and after the sun finally completely descended, all was quiet. His nose was throbbing as he stood attentively, but when nothing more could be heard, his stomach sank.

With trembling hands and his mind screaming at him to stop, he knelt by the doors and slowly unwound the chains from the handles. The fact that he couldn't hear anything coming from within didn't sit well with him; he had to make sure Billy was still down there.

He tried to shift the chains as quietly as possible, but with how nervous he was, he had a hard time keeping his hands steady. They rattled noisily against the door, grating on his already frazzled nerves as they slid free. Heart pounding madly, Steve carefully pulled the doors open and took the first step down into the cellar.

It was silent. He couldn't hear anything as he hesitantly took a second step, mentally berating himself over and over for being stupid enough to walk defenseless into the lion's mouth. He had no idea what Billy was capable of now, or if he'd even recognize him enough to (hopefully) have enough sense to not harm him. The lightbulb that dangled freely from the ceiling was swaying, throwing its light around erratically, showing him glimpses of the gore that lined the steps.

Eyes wide, Steve gagged at the sight of the flayed strips of bloodied skin that were splattered near everywhere. He had to avert his eyes as he took another step, making slow progress as he was careful not to step in any of the mess. At the bottom of the stairs he warily peered around the walls, hoping he'd only stuck his head into the lion's mouth figuratively. To his immediate relief, but long-term dismay, there was no trace of Billy to be seen in the space of the cellar.

Exhaling deeply, Steve tried to even out his breathing as he came to stand in the middle of the room, looking around to assess the damage. As the swinging lightbulb steadied, he turned towards where the shelf that was hiding the tunnel had been and found it on the ground, knocked to its side and several feet away from where it had originally been positioned. His shoulders drooped at the realization of Billy's escape.

He went and stood before the opening of the tunnel and felt all hope of remedying the situation vanish. A numbness overtook him as he recognized his responsibilities of keeping Billy captive had changed; he was the only one who knew about Billy's circumstances, and he was the only one who could do anything about it now. Distantly, and much further away then he would've liked, he could hear the muted, labored sounds of Billy's breathing as he escaped confinement through the underground system.

The burden of his responsibilities threatened to overwhelm him in that instant, but instead of letting himself be overtaken by despair, Steve took a deep, steadying breath and rolled his shoulders back. He hesitated for only a minute before he took charge and ran in after him, disregarding his urgent need to turn back and get his bat out of the car. There was no time, he thought; no time to get a weapon, no time to get a flashlight. If Billy was now as the werewolf in the woods was, then he was capable of speeds greater than Steve could muster, and every second mattered. If he lost his trail now, then it would be lost to him entirely. There was no time; he had to go now or he wouldn't go at all.

Alone and unarmed Steve ran, chasing after Billy into the dark, cold tunnel, hoping he would be able to catch him in time, and dreading the repercussions that would come if he couldn't.

[artificialqueens]

You Belong To Me Ch.2 (Trixya) - Red

A/N- Thank you all so much for reading again. I"m still getting to grip the terms of writing, I used to write a lot (fanfiction) and I would appreciate feedback! Negative or positive say anything! Thank you again!

T/W- Swearing as per usual

“Last night you were in my room, and now my bedsheets smell like you” Trixie sang at the top of her lungs, whilst scrubbing her silk-like skin in the fresh shower.

Trixie loved to sing, she loved to express her voice and showcase that. There was no denying Trixie was talented but she still had her insecurities of course. Her weight, her face and her social skills. Katya had always convinced her she had beautiful curves and not every girl was stick thin. She had also told her every day she was pretty or cute, usually through a pun or some sort.

There was also no denying Katya was her number one fan, and vise versa. Trixie had a massive crush on her in the past. Trixie was still young, still discovering herself. Katya could probably do better than her, she just wished things had turned out differently, no one could make Trixie happier than Katya. Not even Taylor.

“Every day discovering something brand new, I’m in love with your body” Trixie sang, her strong voice wavering as she washed her hair with Strawberry shampoo. Trixie thought more in depth about her relationship with Taylor. Sure he was nice, and kept her warm. She had almost convinced herself she was straight. That is something that’ll never happen.

She was interrupted from her thoughts when Katya bust in the door wearing her short sweatpants and a cotton vest. Katya headed to the sink, grabbing her toothbrush.

“Katya! Fuck off” Trixie covered her innocence as Katya laughed menacingly. “Not like I havent seen it all before, cunt” Katya managed to get out from all the minty foam in her mouth.

Trixie shook her head and turned her back to her, washing her shoulders. Katya stolen a look at Trixies bare back, but quickly turned away, blushing furiously.

“Taylors coming over,” Trixie spoke after silence. Katya groaned and splashed water in her face. Trixie giggled. “He’s not that bad, Kat, we’re supposed to be going to a drive-in-movie tonight.” Trixie smiled to herself, finally a night off. Katya shook her head. “So I’ll be the lonely widow tonight” Katya washed her hands, looking at her bare face in the mirror. Trixie laughed loudly. “Go out tonight, get yourself a woman.”

Katya rolled her eyes and walked out. She picked out a nice red and black dress, a perfect fit to her petit body and tied her hair up. After 15 minutes, Trixie walked out in pink tartan shorts and top, looking like a body suit. “Looking good, Tracey.” Katya complimented. “You look not so bad yourself.” They both giggled and walked out to get breakfast.

“What movie are you going to see, Trix?” Katya asked as they both walked into the kitchen. “I’m not too sure yet, I’m looking forward to getting shitty snacks from 7/11 that is sure to give me diabetes.” Katya laughed at Trixies joke, pushing her lightly. The 2 cups of coffee sat at the worktop with freshly with Trixies newly bought jeans ironed and folded up. Katya grabbed her coffee a bit too quick and spilled all over Trixies gorgeous pair of jeans. “Shit, Trix i’m sorry!” Katya ran over to the kitchen roll and panicked. Trixie leaned on the counter and giggled. Katya gave Trixie the evil eye and shoved her towards the window where it was painted with raindrops. “Rains beautiful” Trixie stated. Whilst Trixie was staring at her beauty, Katya was staring at her.

-

The doorbell went. Katya rushed to get it after discussing about the show they were watching, Shameless, and talking who they would be. Trixie said she’d more likely to be Fiona Gallagher, caring but also a bit of a slut. Katya said she’d be Frank Gallagher. Enough said.

Katya opened the door with a bright smile but immediately dropped when she seen the deformed fuck face that was Taylor. “Oh, its you. Come in” Katya opened the door and walked in, sitting next to Trixie. Almost protecting her territory. Taylor came in and kissed Trixie. Katya looked at them. Why was that bastard but not her? He was a complete ass. His views were shitty, he said gay people made him feel uncomfortable and that women should be in the kitchen. Katya was almost convinced he voted for Trump. Katyas heart eventually sank when the kiss was held for more than 5 seconds. Katya in no way was self pitying herself, she just felt shitty. Well wouldn’t you if someone you loved for years on end kissed another man. Watching someone she couldn’t have was crushing her, thats why she had always turned on alcohol, but cut down now. Thankfully.

“How’re you Trix?” Taylor asled, leaning back on the leather seat. Katya stared at the TV screen, flicking through channels when she spotted the music channel playing the song Trixie was singing earlier. She smiled to herself whilst Trixie and Taylor made small chat.

“Babe, I can’t make it tonight, I’m sorry.” Taylor apologised. Katya looked over at a disappointed Trixie. “It’s alright, I’ll just work on a new song or something.” she mumbled. That bastard! Katya looked at him, he looked almost guilty.

That boy was too fishy for her liking, he was always up to something.

After 2 hours of them talking and Katya growling, Taylor left, claiming he had to run some errands. Bullshit. Katya had tried to cheer Trixie up afterwards. With her Barbara voice and horrific dancing which resulted in Katya nearly breaking her actual leg trying to death drop.

Katya understood Trixies sadness and let her be. Trixie claimed she wanted to start writing a new song. That is when the big stupid-ass lightbulb appeared at the top of her head.

“Trix, I’ll be 20 minutes, I need to get some groceries, mainly milk. Do you need anything?” Katya peered from Trixies door, seeing Trixie lie on her bed, guiatr on the other side of the bed, and it all covered in paper.

“Don’t think so.” Trixie shook her head. Trixie was about to walk away when she seen the drive-in movie poster and snatched it from the desk quickly and ran to the car.

Drive-In-Movie - Juliette park -

7.30pm-10.00pm - Admission fee $9

Showing - Me Before You

Katya started the car up and headed to the nearest supermarket., stuffing the poster in the cup holder. Katyas short heels clicked as she passed through the bright isles looking at stuff to get. She picked up milk and looked over to her left, looking down at a pair of heels and a pair of coverse. Katya looked up more and seen a younger woman, with big lips and nice eyebrows chatting to a little bit older woman with a big smile and a good sense of fashion. They actually looked in love. Katya smiled at them. The younger one looked at Katya and gasped and ran over to her. Katya was about to oiss her panties because what the fuck.

“Hey! You might not know me but I’m Adore! I’m a friend of Violets! I recognised you!” Adore smiled widely, touching the cling-film wrapped around her red arm.

The older woman chuckled at Adores actions and approached. “Don’t mind this bitch, she just wants to pretend to know a lot of people. I’m Bianca” Bianca held her hand out to shake it, Katya obliged, smiling. “Nice to meet you, I’m Katya if you didn’t hear.” They all giggled. “Whats up with your arm, Adore?” Katya asked curiously.

Adore turned her arm, revealing a beautiful flower with ‘Mia Bella’ under it. “I got it today, stings like a fucker but yea.” She held Biancas hand.

“Why 'my beautiful’?” Katya clicked her heels, looking up. Katya was basically a translator and knew shit. Adores tattoo was quite cheesy but at the same time, adorable.

Bianca held Adores waist. “This little cunt wanted a tattoo to remind herself of me, she wouldnt get the devil on her arm but would get some sappy shit like this.” Adore shoved her, smiling.

“Thats-thats fucking cute!” Katya was snatched. “How long have you been together?”

Bianca answered. “Secretly, a year or something.” Adore nodded.

“Secretly?"

"Well, she is my lecturer after all.”

Katya was really fucking snatched bald.

“I know right?” Bianca laughed. “Scandal waiting to happen.”

Katya shook her head, laughing along. “Your secrets safe with me."

"Hey dude, whats your number? We should all hang out sometime, Violet told me you have a crush thats your roommate, right?” Adore got her phone out, snatching Katyas from her hand filling in the numbers.

Katya stuttered, coughing slightly. “Um, Yeah Trixie. She doesnt know though, she’s taken."

Adore and Bianca looked up at her. Shit.

"Not for any longer, bitch.” Bianca smirked at Katya, then grabbed Adores hand when Adore passed to phone to Katya.

“I’ll text ya later, Katya, bye!” Adore waved.

“Bye Katya.” Bianca smiled and walked with Adore.

Katya waved and sighed happily. They were nice.

Katya smiled at the possibility of nice friends, she was sure Trixie would like them. She proceeded to walk around the supermarket, picking up stuff like bread, milk and tampons. Then she picked up crisps, ready made pizza, chocolate, candy. Making sure everything was pink. Pink lemonade, pink smarties, pink popcorn. Who knew right? Pink popcorn.

Katya made sure everything was perfect, she even got a cute little basket to put stuff in. When everything was paid for, Katya stuffed the basket in the boot and the groceries in the front seat.

Juilette park was only half an hour drive away so she had 1 or 2 to get ready and tell Trixie to get ready. Trixie definitely needed the 2 hours.

When Katya got home she sighed and looked into Trixies room door. Trixie had a pen in her mouth, ink running down her h=chin as she played a few cords.

“Hey bitch,you been sucking off a Smurf?” Katya greeted, laughing slightly.

Trixie gasped as she touched her mouth and ran into the bathroom, looking down at the ink stained fingers and attempted to frantically rub the ink off.

Katya stood and chucked at her friend. What a ditz. “Be ready at 6.50pm please” Katya asked, smiling a little bit. Trixie furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?" Katya tapped her nose and walked out the room leaving an ink stained Trixie confused.

-

6.45pm, Katya was excited. She had redone her makeup, the bold red lipstick complimented her darker eyes. Her dress looked beautiful, hugging her in all the right places. She stepped out with her wallet, keys and phone. Leaning on the breakfast bar, Katya sorted her dress, smoothing it out. Earlier she put the basket in the front seat and reminded herself to stop into a gas station.

Trixie walked out, wearing a beautiful pale pink dress with lace all over. It was beautiful. Her hair curly but loose and her makeup making her look the even more irresistible. Katya muttered under her breathe how gorgeous she looked but Trixie stood there smiling.

"Uh- Um lets go! Yeah lets go to the car” Katya laughed and walked out the apartment, Trixie following after. Katya was smiling herself becoming very excited.

Katya entered the car and let Trixie wonder for a minute what a basket was doing there. “Katya, what is this?” She held the basket in her lap, smiling confused.

“WE’RE GOING TO THE DRIVE-IN MOVIE THINGY CINEMAS BITCH!” Katya jumped up in her car seat, starting the car and blasting the music. Trixie gasped and hugged her.

“Thank you! Thank you Kat!” She beamed, leaving Katya pleased with herself, starting up the car.

“Well lets go then.”

[fluffi]

i think it was because god's menu was released around the same bp and svt made their comebacks. same thoughts tho on gm > bd and i was also glad that bd got the wins gm didn't. and same with the streaming mvs while studying : ] ahh, the easily distracted people we are. (reading cut and litol font bc poor ppl who see this on the dash TT)

i've heard chinese ballads (usually osts of films and from a chinese friend) and their songs really tend to tug on my heartstrings. i hope sm gives shotaro more stuff to do soon :[ with some of the units being active and sungchan being an mc on a weekly show, it makes me wonder what he's doing. do you think nct will form a new subunit?

no, i'm not lactose intolerant so it really took me by surprise. it was a one-time thing. hopefully it doesn't happen again. i can't really say i'm a big fan of ice cream but it's good occasionally yk as a treat to yourself. and ahhh, i miss drinking smoothies. my favorite stall has been closed for nearly two years now, idk if they ever re-opened since our city mall burned down :[

i think it's an nct thing? it's why i never get tired of them bc they're always active in a way. you should've seen how things went down last year! march 127 album, april dream mini-album, may 127 repackage, june wayv album and the whole nct 2020 thing. it was a wild year. about the track, i listened to it once and forgot about it. might give it a few more listens but it might not grow on me at all. yes! wasn't a big fan of hot sauce at first too bc i thought the intro was weird (not jaemin's part, like the first thing that plays). and yes, that hook loops in my head 24/7. i even made it my instagram bio.

stray kids world domination indeed! and i agree that their performances were really impressive (specially the deadpool one, best one yet) but sometimes i would fancy ateez' more. i didn't watch kingdom too bc it stressed me out as a multi. always caught between being happy for one group and being sad for the others. and atz and tbz! you're still getting into nct and you're thinking of adding 19 more boys! judging from what i know your taste in music is, i think you'll like tbz's music better since there are a lot more soft songs there than in atz. but do give both discographies a listen in the future!

oh izone! i've only heard of them at music shows and dance choreo compilations bc of them being in sync. they're really satisfying to watch! i thought their title tracks were catchy as well! quite unfortunate that i never got into them really. but again, i dont think i can handle stanning temporary groups.

i'm starting to see a pattern in your biases :D i wouldn't be too surprised if you'll be drawn to jeno at some point in your dream venture. dream is soooo easy to love so if you really end up ulting them, i would understand why. and also, YES PLEASE WRITE FOR DREAM AND TAG ME IF YOU WILL. THANK YOU ><

thank you! :c don't get your hopes up tho, the masterlist must've been interesting to browse but are the fics truly worth it? XD i think not. since you already know koe, i'm reccing users @/rouiyan, @/nsheetee and @/loonacitys. i don't have that much fluff in my ficrecs blog. i think, i've heard of lvdsc before (maybe even read a fic or two) but i can't find their blog now. be careful in privating your works, you might end up losing them forever if you don't keep track of their links...(?) that's what happened to the works that i privated :/ take me with you if you move blogs ;n;

seungmin frequently left updates abt what he was doing, left good nights and good mornings, the occasional i miss you. he called fans 'baby' once. not sure if it was a mistranslation, or really just a one-time endearment. other than that, nothing beyond the usual. seung vlives always make me cry ;n; he always look so adorable and precious. also the gif, the fic was more on fake head-butting really but yes you could say it was also a fake nose boop bc it sounds cuter. i'll make sure to tag you on future seung content on the dash. (time to officially claim him as your ult, yes. dont make him secret anymore :3)

sorry it took me a while. tumblr went batshit. the ' werkl;' stopped working midway and i got busy with school yesterday. also haechan birth today and i'm so emo abt it. it's literally just a boy turning 21.

little font and cut saga lets go!!

(just kidding, i cant do little font typing for long periods of time, makes my eyes go beserk haha.)

true true, im afraid for txt on music shows now because theyre going against some big names (literally bts like whatj jsdf what was hybe thinking). yeah, streaming mvs while studying aka watching mvs on loop lmao. i still want to stream skzs final kingdom performance on instinct but i remember that theyve already won!! hehe

ah chinese ballads always make me emo, i like to scream out lyrics to the songs at the top of my lungs and sit there on the verge of tears. its a cultural thing maybe *sobs*. ooh, what show is sungchan mc-ing in? ill check it out. i thought sm would make nct japan for sungtaro (i heard sungchan speaks japanese) so it was a shocker when they made...nct hollywood lmao. given the current circumstances we're probably not going to get a new subunit anytime soon :( hopefully taro will have stuff to showcase during that period of time.

burned down?? oh my, what happened to your mall? that sounds terrifying. i remember when the front of my school caught on fire and we were all ushered out but we thought it was a drill and didnt find out till years later lmao.

oh true, since theyre such a big pack too. constant comebacks and promotions haha, nctzens never catch a break with 23 members. i listened to the new track again (ive forgotten the name already) but i cant- i cant do it. its just not my style hhh. i rewatched the mv for the godly visuals though. i dont know if youre talking about that 'bibididibibidiododo' part by that female morphed voice at the beginning of the song, because i wasnt a fan of that too. it grew on me though.

same, actually! im not an atiny and dont stan any other group in the show besides skz but i watched each groups performance and ranked them haha. at times ateez would rank over skz, it was wild. also yeah, my other multi friend was freaking out about kingdom and ended up abandoning the show because she was so scared of the fanwars and having to deal with her 'conflicting feelings'. about the stanning thing, in my defense, i have a list of groups i want to stan and ive recently added tbz and atz. the list is long, i have a long way to go! also yeah, i dont prefer ateez's songs and i have a bunch of tbz title tracks in my playlist but if i approach their discography like i did with nct then i think i would like at least five songs.

izone are my queens. theres a reason why theyre the only girl group who made it to my ult list haha! super talented and filled with variety and visuals, a perfectly concocted group (literally, sobs in pd48 scandal). ah, temporary groups. yeah i cried about their disbandment for like 3 days straight, it was bad.

a pATTERN?? INTERESTING. DO ELABORATE. jeno, oh my gosh hes like bang chan. an intimidating-looking bear whos actually filled with love and softness on the inside. im currently having a jaemin run though, his make a wish fancam is doing some wacky things. also yeah, dream is really easy to love. i fell for them so hard, theyre all talented and cute and adorable and the team ambiance is so nice. really rising up my stan list now. i mightt write for dream! ill have to see, hehe.

personally i think the fics are going to be worth it. i can feel it in my boOOnes. ooh, recommendations! fun :D ill check them (and yours) out after i finish this 30k jisung fic. ive been trying to finish it since yesterday but i keep getting sidetracked. also, i made a mistake. its luvdsc with a 'u', maybe thats why you couldnt find it? ahh. thank you for the privating tip though! will keep in mind. and of course ill take you with me if/when i move blogs. we're friends now! <3

SEUNGMIN CALLED STAYS 'BABY'???!!@)(@#*()! I SHOULDVE BEEN THERE ASKDFJDF. im exciting for the fake nose boop drabble!! i love soft couple moments hehe. also yeah maybe its time to make him my ult...hes going to have to compete against jake my beloved ope.

dont worry about being 'late' or anything! we all have our own stuff to do. also yeah tumblr is weird asf sometimes. if you havent realized i typically answer longer asks around the same time everyday, when i get to sit in front of my computer and pull out my clickity-clackity keyboard. super relaxing.

AND YES HYUCKIE DAY!!! HES SO ADORABLE HONESTLY. im in love with all seven members of dream, my fic rec blog is currently filled with fics for them haha.