#cemetery boys lore

[fortunatefires]

i forgot to post my trans rights readathon list!

I'll post another of all the books I finish when the week is up

#Bookblr #Booktok #trans rights readathon #Trans lgbt #Transgender #trans #Edit #Aiden thomas #The sunbearer trials #Cemetery boys #If i was your girl #Lake lore #The passing playbook #Self made boys #Mooncakes #Act cool #Godly heathens #The wicked bargain #lgbtqia #bookworm #Books l #lgbt books #Readathon #trans author

[noahhawthorneauthor]

If I've learned anything, it's that you can tell I love fall colors.

#queer books #indie books #phantom and rook #the tarot sequence #cemetery boys #simon snow series #lore and lust #mighty quill #iron widow #light from uncommon stars #the song of achilles #a rival most vial #all thats left in the world #hell followed with us #pride month #p

[bettyfrommars]

Season of the Witch

by @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars

steddie x reader

Blair Witch Project au

Warnings: 18+ONLY, found footage horror, hurt/no comfort, fem!reader who is just a friend, no Vecna, angst, lost in the woods, mentions of witchcraft, paranormal happenings, things that go bump in the night, fear of being stalked, allusions to gore and MCD.  Dead dove do not eat. wc: 13k

If you are familiar with the film The Blair Witch Project, you know some of what to expect. This is a horror fic; it will be scary and unsettling at times, so please take caution if the genre makes you uncomfortable. 

Summary: Three friends find themselves in a small town in Maryland, the home of the Blair Witch, in order for Steve Harrington to film a documentary for his semester project.  In tow are his boyfriend, Eddie Munson, and you, a friend he invited along to be his trusty cameraperson.  Once you are too deep in the woods to find your way back, the myths surrounding the lore of the land begin to take shape, and you realize you might never make it out of there alive.

Much love to @allthingsjoeq for all of the blood, sweat, and tears that went into this, and also for calling it "a Marmite fic". We hope you enjoy this contribution to the October festivities! Much love.

Burkittsville Cemetery, Maryland

“Here we are,” Steve Harrington can’t contain the glimmer of wonder in his eyes, behind wire-rimmed spectacles, as he parks near the overgrown site of the cemetery.  

You look up from fiddling with the camera in the back seat as the tires crunch to a halt, already thinking of where the best spot to get a shot of Steve would be for the documentary he’s working on.  You aren’t as familiar with filming as you should be for being his main cameraperson, but you and Steve had become close friends very quickly, and he practically insisted you be a part of it. 

He was especially fascinated with the town you grew up in called Burkittsville in Maryland.  You knew about Steve’s obsession with the paranormal, and the legends that surrounded certain locations, so you told him about your hometown legend—the Blair Witch. You hadn’t been back since you were a kid, but you watched his face light up when you talked about the lore, and all of the possibilities for filming. 

Although Steve had his camera crew of one sorted, he would and could never travel without his partner in crime and in love, Eddie Munson. The metalhead stands now looking out over the cemetery with his black and white flannel over a Bark at the Moon Ozzy Osbourne concert tee, and his hair tied back in a bandana, being the supportive boyfriend. He clamps a hand on Steve’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “You got this, big boy. Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

Tall grass yields underfoot as you all make your way around the space, bending down to try and read the crumbling grave markers.  

There is a staggering amount of tiny, decaying gravestones, each dedicated to a child who lost their life to unknown, yet presumably horrifying circumstances.

“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.  “There’s a lot of kids here.” You film his profile as he says it, shifting the focus back to get Eddie in the frame, and he shoots his tongue out, putting his forefinger and pinky up to make devil horns. 

Steve does a monologue for the camera.  He’s standing on the hill near one of the taller headstones, and the wind makes his hair unruly.  “Here we are in the town of Burkittsville, formerly Blair. As legend has it, around 1785, a Blair resident named Elly Kedward was accused of practicing witchcraft by several children. The children said that she had dragged them from their homes with the intention of drinking their blood. As you can see, there is an unusually large number of children buried on this hill.”

You film different headstones, making sure to capture the stone angel, and a few of the other statues, to splice into the film while Steve is talking for the final cut.  

Interviews with some of the long-time residents in town are next, and in the car ride down the hill, Eddie holds the camera and turns it on you in the back seat.  You cover your face at first, not wanting to be recorded, but he eases you out of it with some of his playful banter.  “Since we’re interviewing people who grew up here, we should start with you, right? What is your experience with the Blair Witch?”

You’d talked about the stories you’d heard so often with Steve, but being in the spotlight made you nervous, and it took a second to find your words.  “No personal experiences, really, but I’ve heard a lot of lore.  Ghost stories, mostly. Stuff to scare us kids so we’d go to bed early.” You shift in your seat and look out the window, but Eddie is waiting for more.  “I, um, well…”

“Leave her alone, Eddie,” Steve responds absently, flipping the blinker to turn into town. The song Season of the Witch by Donovan is on the radio and Steve’s mumbling the lyrics.

“No, it’s okay,” you flex a quick smile.  “If it helps, I mean, I was 8 years old when we left, I don’t know a lot other than what I’ve researched.”

“Your audience is waiting,” Eddie zooms the focus in way too much so that your eyes take up the whole frame.  

“Okay,” you start. “So I guess there were these two guys who were hunting once, up by the cabin Blair Witch is supposed to haunt, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth. Search parties combed the woods for weeks and couldn’t find a trace of them.”

“Maybe they realized they were in love and ran away together,” Eddie chuckles, pushing the heel of his hand into Steve’s shoulder.  

You smile down at your lap. “Could be.”

“One more thing,” Eddie looks at you over the top of the camera and then puts his eye back down to focus.  “Is there a chance we could all end up victims of the Blair Witch?”

You can’t tell if it’s a serious question, but it gives you chills.  Your eyes flick from the camera to the back of Steve’s head and his messy flop of hair.  

“I personally don’t believe in ghosts or witches,” you smile as you say it, and catch Steve’s quick glance at you in the rearview mirror.  “But don’t tell Steve.”

Eddie snorts and puts the camera in his lap but forgets to turn it off. 

“I’m really looking forward to proving you wrong,” Steve’s muffled voice says to you as Eddie rustles the camera down between his legs.  “There’s some spooky shit going on in those woods, and I’m going to get it on film.”

First night, The Motel 

The map of the forest is spread out across the thin, floral spread of the motel bed. Eddie and you stare down at it, identically flicking your eyes across the inked locations, each mirroring the same dazed look of cluelessness. 

“I think, if we start here and then make our way north we’ll get to here,” Steve then circles the center vigorously before saying, “by midday.” 

On the map it's easy to believe the forest only stretches a few miles and Steve’s plan so far seems simple enough, promising this hike to be quick. With the action plan sorted, a large pizza shared, and your survival packs spilling out with textbook necessities, it gives the three of you the rest of the evening to chill. This downtime allows you to mess about a bit and accidentally fill some of the tape space with personal footage. 

You’ve decided to sprawl out on one of the two double beds, propping yourself up on your elbow to film Steve and Eddie’s tiny little tickle fight that started over Steve being adamant that he wasn’t and would never be ticklish. Eddie knows just the right areas on his ribs to challenge with his deft fingers, making Steve squirm and beg for him to stop, while Eddie chuckles and pounces on top of him, making the cheap bed springs squeak.

“Hey, put the camera away,” Steve spots you, and then attempts to lunge off the bed and grab the camera. But you lift it out of his reach with a mischievous giggle.  

Eddie smiles along with you, his gaze falling with admiration on the way Steve’s cheeks turn a rosy pink at the exhilaration.  He throws a wink your way and pokes his tongue at Steve’s back, grabbing his ankle to keep him from leaving the bed. 

“Stevie, have you seen my lighter?” A few minutes later, you start filming again as Eddie is wandering the room in nothing but a pair of boxers and an unzipped hoodie.

“Are you going to smoke now?” Steve asks, checking the batteries in his flashlight.

“What’s wrong with now?”

“Well, you know,” Steve unsubtly tips his head in your direction, worried that you may not be comfortable.

“Oh, no I don’t mind”, you say, not wanting your inexperience to ruin the mood. It makes Eddie raise an eyebrow, your choice of words being music to his ears. 

“See Steve, if anything she’s probably curious,” he extends both hands to you as if you were a prize at the fair.

Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet and begins to dig through his pack's front pocket before retrieving a baggy of rolled joints. He pats around in his vest and produces a green plastic lighter with a triumphant, “a-ha!”

It’s been a while since you’d smoked weed, and you weren’t even sure you liked it, but Eddie’s contagious energy made you want to be a part of whatever he was doing.  He squints as he inhales, holds it, and then passes the joint to you between pinched fingers before releasing a generous plume of smoke. 

You took what you thought was a tiny drag, but it tickles the back of your throat and sends you into a coughing spasm, making you bat your chest with the palm of your hand after handing the joint back. 

“Can’t handle it sweetheart?” Eddie snickers, but then he wiggles his eyebrows at you and takes another drag for himself, passing you a bottle of water from the bedside table. The cap is off and some of it sloshes onto his hand.

“Oh, wait, I have something better,” Eddie says, jumping off the bed to snatch a fifth of whiskey out of his bag.  “Shots?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Steve adjusts his glasses and pulls back the comforter on his side of the bed to get cozy.  “Just one. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You shrug and nod, eyes bloodshot and watering, while Eddie puts the bottle to his lips and chugs a shot first before handing it to you.  You swallow a big gulp, and Eddie howls at the way your face screws up like you’d just sucked on a lemon.

“Here’s to the Blair Witch,” Steve holds the bottle up before he takes his drink.  “May she grace us with her presence tomorrow.”

Black Hills Forest, Day one, 9am

“Are we filming?” Eddie chimes in, practically vibrating with excitement.  

“The green light is on,” you mumble to yourself, frowning down at the screen on the camera that shows nothing but black.  

“Hey, Indiana Jones,” you call over to Steve who is checking the direction of the wind with a licked finger as he squints into the sun filtering through the dead leaves.  “What am I doing wrong?”

Steve adjusts the strap of his hiking pack and strolls over to you with a tight clench between his eyebrows.  “Give it here,” he sighs, taking it from you. “I just tested it this morning, I know it’s—”

He finally sees the problem and halts.  He makes somber eye contact with you, takes the cover off the lens and holds it up.

“Oh,” you bite the inside of your cheek, stifling a self-conscious laugh. 

“Steve Angelica Harrington,” Eddie grins, throwing his arm around Steve aggressively, almost knocking him over.  “Our hero.”

You lift the camera up to your eye and get both of them in the frame, leaning back to smile at the pair.  Steve shrugs away from Eddie’s attention as if he doesn’t like it, but then there is a moment when he turns and the two almost kiss.  Eddie gives a few exaggerated, puckered smooches and leans in. 

Steve realizes you’re filming and pushes his boyfriend off for real this time, running a hand through his hair to fix himself.  Restless as ever, Eddie comes around to take the camera from you, asks you where certain buttons are, and then points it in your direction.  You shrug him away playfully and shield your face from the nose down with the crook of your arm as if you are Dracula holding your cape.

Steve pops his knee out and tilts his head. “Would you two dorks stop messing around and take this witch hunt seriously? I want this documentary to be a success.”

“So remind me, King Steve,” Eddie turns the camera on his boyfriend, and he does not look amused.  “We’re trying to find the ghost of some child murdering witch from the 1700’s? Should I be trying to spot a gingerbread house too?”

Off camera, you snort and say, “idiot,” under your breath.  

“Eddie,” Steve keeps his profile to the camera, refusing to make eye contact. “Let’s get some footage first and then I’ll let you mess around with the camera.”  He doesn’t want a bunch of adolescent jibber jabber on film. .  

“What, I’m just trying to be helpful,” Eddie shrugs with puppy dog eyes, lowering the device.

He forgets to turn off video again, and as it angles at the ground. Audio catches a distinct sound, like a soft moan, from somewhere in the woods.

Steve holds his hand up for everyone to halt, freezing in place, and a small twig snaps under his foot.  

You open your mouth to speak, something about how it would be better to get a shot of Steve in the clearing, but you are swiftly shushed.

You motion to take the camera from Eddie, and then you point it at Steve, and he turns to you, right in the camera’s eye. His tone is dire:  “Can you hear that humming?” 

“I can’t—” Eddie blurts, but then Steve puts the palm of his hand tight over Eddie’s mouth, wrapping his fingers over his chin, knowing that it was impossible for him to stay quiet under pressure.

Your heart is racing as you concentrate, ears straining.  There is the dry shuffle of the breeze rustling the branches, but otherwise, the silence is eerie and vast. 

“Cut it out, Steve, it’s not funny,” you bristle, locking one arm protectively over your chest while the other attempts to hold the camera in place. Steve is darting his attention around the woods, trying to locate the origin of the sound.

Eddie steps back, moving his mouth away from Steve’s muzzle. “It’s just the wind, baby, it’s making you paranoid,” he offers, noticing the way Steve’s face is drained of its color. Bending down to retrieve the map that fell when Steve got manhandled, one of Eddie’s legs flew out behind him dramatically.  A part of you wonders if Eddie and the map are a good combination, however you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

You’re almost positive you heard a voice in the woods as well, but you decide to keep that close to your chest.

The lingering tension finally subsides, and Eddie reaches back for Steve’s hand to keep him moving in the same direction; to coax him out of his racing thoughts.  Not wanting to waste battery life, you turn the camera off and stumble behind them, actively fighting off the urge to glance over your shoulder at whatever might be following in your wake. 

The next few hours consist of hiking through unused paths and trampling muddy footprints, waiting for Steve to find his perfect backdrop to open his documentary. With the car far behind you and your full 360 view being nothing but trees, Steve finally breaks from his determined stroll.  

“Can we do this now?” You lightly prod. For the last half hour, Steve has been trying to find the right spot to stand, and you felt like his perfectionism will be the death of you.  

Steve has that look, the professional one, when he means business. However, for Steve to enter his little documentary presenter zone he wants to stand alone, the trees being his only sidekick. 

“You can go over there now,” Steve gives Eddie a playful nudge. 

His boyfriend has been on his heels this entire time, but now the metalhead jogs over to grab the camera off of you to keep himself busy, while Steve concentrates, pushing his glasses up on his nose, finding his performance space before he begins.

“The town of Blair has been cursed since the 1700’s,” he starts.

Eddie and you share an encouraging nod, adding a dash of support for Steve to continue.  

“They all warn of the Blair witch, the one known to lure children to her home and sacrifice their souls and use their blood as an offering.” Steve starts to find his rhythm, naturally taking small steps backwards, like a guide, forcing the camera to follow.

“Elly Kedward was eventually found and blamed for the towns disappearances and without trial was banished into these woods in the depth of winter to freeze and perish a worser fate than her victims.” 

There’s a climatic wind gust that passes through the trees, almost like the ghost of a victim's warning, sent to bring the hairs on your arms to rise. It makes Eddie grin, Steve’s eyes widen with interest, and you try to contain a violent shiver; the theatrics of nature perfecting the shot. 

Steve pauses to take in his surroundings for dramatic effect before continuing.

“Her twisted end didn’t sit right, the town of Blair began to notice odd occurrences, noises and symbols from the forest. Locals believe she left a curse. They say she is still roaming in these woods to this day, seaking her revenge and enticing lost souls into her portal to show the devil her true power.” 

Steve takes a breath, pausing before opening his mouth to speak again, but Eddie’s attention span has other ideas. 

“Oh wait,  Steve can you do that again, I didn’t press record,” Eddie says as cool as he can muster, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Steve shoves his hand roughly through his hair and holds it there, tempted to rip the hair from his scalp. “For fuck sake Munson.” 

Quickly breaking into a wild grin Eddie says a quick, “joking babe,” fully accepting the harsh shove Steve jabs to his shoulder, but then Eddie decides to up the antics.  He falls to the ground dramatically and starts to wiggle like a worm.

“Help, Help, it’s got me, the witch,” faking a struggle, to which Steve tuts, lodging a twig in his direction and adding a casual, “get over yourself, Munson.”  You dive down to take the camera from Eddie’s extended arms as he rolls to his side, and bite back a grin before giving Steve the signal that he’s on again.

Steve advises Eddie to roam around while he delivers the next part of the story. 

“This legend sits on the border of fiction and fact. It’s chilling, yes, but the stories and facts just don’t add up. A truth needs to be found and today, the legend of the witch will either remain its legendary hoax or a fatal truth may be… Wait, cut.”

“What, why?” You frown, enjoying Steve’s witch hunter mode, but clearly his self doubt has arrived.

“Was it a bit much? I felt like I was entering Eddie’s DND campaign.”

“Hey,” Eddie protests, opening his mouth and eyes wide at the camera and prompting you to snort a laugh at his theatrics. 

The day wages on, the forest becoming your only view for miles as Steve drags his feet, unsatisfied at his findings so far. The consistent checking of his watch is a hint alone that it’s time to set up camp soon.  

By nightfall, the strange noises from earlier were all but forgotten, and you sit with a full belly in front of the crackling fire opposite Eddie.  You film him as he tells one of his wild stories, complete with active hand gestures and cartoonish sounds.  Eddie gets a detail wrong in the tale he is retelling, and so Steve corrects him with a bit of a bored look on his face, as if he’s heard the story told wrong a million times.  You focus the zoom in on Steve’s face as he turns to rest his chin on his shoulder and regard his partner.  There was a deep fondness there in his eyes, even though it is masked for the moment with irritability.  

Eddie decides to get in close, his mouth inches from Steve’s. You watch as he murmurs something that makes Steve crack a smile, and then the two share a kiss, noses rubbing, and you feel like you were intruding on a private moment.  You then decided it was time to give the juice in the camera a rest for the night while you all slept.  Much like the camera you follow in its footsteps and shut off, exaggerating a yawn to catch the pair’s attention. 

Your little hint is not lost on Steve, and it prompts him to pass you a flashlight so you can avoid tripping over the tent's zip on your way to bed. 

Nestled undercover in your downy sleeping bag, you drift in and out of sleep, only faintly hearing the footsteps of the boys before they go into their tent. In the middle of the night, you swear you hear voices, like a distant conversation, but you assume it must be the boys. There’s an ominous but faint cackling that follows it, but by then, you’re already too deep to notice. 

And then suddenly, there’s nothing, just stillness and the dark of the woodland air. 

Day Two, No sight of the road. 

The next day brings more of the same.  Hopeful banter in the morning, which then easily leads into some playful teasing throughout the afternoon. The on and off tones of professionalism to mockery becomes apparent. At one point while filming, Steve in one of his monologues, tense and suspenseful, until the scene was hijacked by Eddie flying through the air to tackle him.  

The light mood progressively gets shadowed, though, as the day wears on and there seems to be little to no chance of getting back to the car before dark.  Steve halts to check the map several times, flustered and angry with himself, while Eddie has a smoke break and you film around, even catching sight of a doll made of sticks hanging from a tree.  

“Steve?” You hum his name over your shoulder, wanting him to see what you see.  

He ignores you at first, biting the side of his thumbnail, and spinning on his heel as he stares down at the compass. When he finally lifts his head, he frowns, confused, but then the doll made of sticks comes into focus and his eyes narrow behind the smudged lenses of his glasses.

“What the hell is that?” Eddie is already on his way over.  He decides to smoke the other joint in his pack instead of one of his Camels, and it is doing wonders for his anxiety.  

Eddie reaches up to touch the doll, but Steve stops him. “Wait!” He notices that his voice is a bit harsh, so he starts again in a calmer tone.  “Listen, we don’t know what it is or who put it there.  I think we should respect the woods and leave it be.”

“Respect the woods?” Eddie barks a laugh, continuing to touch the legs of the doll and turn it around to see how it was made and you watched through the camera lens. 

“I bet some kid made it when their family was out here camping,” Eddie mused, exhaling smoke. “It’s creepy, I like it.”

Steve decides to interfere with his high boyfriends fascination, batting his hand away and in the process accidentally knocking the wooden doll to the floor.

 “Hey, Steve you’ve killed him!” Eddie taunts; mouth agape, eyes accusatory.

Steve really didn’t want to do that and you sense the growing paranoia that he’s experiencing from the way he’s frozen, staring at the little figure now laying twisted on the floor. Eddie pouts and goes to retrieve it once again. 

“Eddie, leave it.” Steve can’t hide his increasing stress, his words strained in between his clenched teeth. He grabs onto Eddie’s pack using it to encourage Eddie to walk in the other direction.

Steve prays this is the right way. He sends you a weak smile, and you know him well enough to deduce that he is feeling embarrassed that he doesn’t have you out of the woods yet.  

 As the sunlight dwindles, a bitter sense of reality begins to creep up on you. The branches above lose their subtle shadows and the once benign tree clusters begin to morph into something otherworldly. 

When it is finally time to make camp again, it is all any of you could do not to think about the stories you’d recorded from the townspeople the other day.  In particular the one about the killer who would take kids down into his basement two at a time, and make one wait in the corner while he killed one, and then would kill the one in the corner.  He didn’t like their eyes on him, apparently, that’s why he made them stare at the wall.

The darkness is crowding in, giving tiny nudges to everyone's paranoia that you are not alone in that forest.  There was a presence that tickled in barely audible whispers as the night claimed its position and every howl of the wind was a possible threat.  

Not a lot of filming took place during the down time by the fire. It was as if the courage to speak the stories had vanished and the myths began to seep into their reality. Less words exchanged and a few uncertain glances shared with Steve, but Eddie remained stoic and chilled, maintaining his energy. 

The plan of action is the last conversation you share, Steve taking control and promising that you’ll all be back in town by tomorrow afternoon. 

The sound of the boys getting situated in their tent was comforting, and you giggled when Eddie farted and tried to blame it on a passing wildebeest.  But, things got quiet quickly—too quiet—and soon you could hear the faint hiss of Steve’s snore and you realized that having your own tent was not all it was cracked up to be.

An owl hooted, but along with its natural call there was something else out there making sounds.  Was that the humming Steve had mentioned the day before?  Straining to listen, the noise was followed by an unmistakable cackle that made you grab the flashlight and a pillow and scurry out of  your tent like it was on fire.  

“Um-guys,” you were pulling open the flap to their tent before either of them could answer. “Is there any possibility i could squeeze in your tent tonight, i was a-a bit cold on my own.” 

Eddie sits up, groggily, from where he had his head on Steve’s chest, as if he’d fallen asleep the second he closed his eyes, and scoots away to make room for you in the middle.

Feeling safer nestled between your two friends, you are finally able to let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep that offers no reprieve from the shadows in your mind.

Later that night, scattered and confused, another bizarre noise caught your attention, jarring you awake. 

A blanket of dark coats the inside of the tent, but after a few fuzzy blinks you easily make out that  Steve is sitting up with the flap of the tent open. He’s crouched over, the faint shake of his hands holding the camera a dead giveaway to his unease.

Sensing that you are awake, he tilts his head to the side to acknowledge you, and then signals for you to listen. 

“Did you hear that?” You whisper, not wanting to wake Eddie who is offering soft snores next to you.  

Steve puts a finger to his lips, and then turns back around with the camera pointed out into the night.

Somehow he manages to convince himself that the noise is from a deer or squirrel. Due to your delirious state, this information settles your tired worry and allows you to snuggle down, eager for the morning light. 

Day Three, Walking in Circles

With no idea how long Steve remained awake last night, there’s a part of you that feels he’s hiding something to protect you. The next morning his raw, uplifting nature dwindled, his inner doubts coming to the surface to pinch the skin between his eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you all out here,” Steve announces with a heavy sigh, staring down at the remnants from the fire. Eddie angles the camera up at him while you zip a few things into your knapsack. “We’ll be having lunch back in town in a few hours, but let’s keep adding to the footage as we go.”

Steve shows you on the map where you were all headed, tapping his finger in the spot where you’d parked the car.  “Two hours, tops,” he promises.  

Eddie gets to his feet and adjusts the focus so that Steve goes from blurry to clear to blurry again. “Battery life on this thing is low and I can’t find the portable charger.”

Steve turned on him, jaw muscles tensing, ready to let an angry word slip.

“The charger is right here,” you corrected, lifting it out of the bag it was in to show Steve and calm his nerves. Once Steve steps away to check the compass again, Eddie makes a face at you, tongue darting out from the side of his mouth, letting you know that he knew it was there, he just wanted to give Steve a hard time.  

“I have a question for you, sir,” Eddie rushes up behind Steve and taps his shoulder, making him turn away from the lens, bringing a hand up to block his face. “How do you feel about this Blair Witch hunt so far?”

Steve smooths the sides of his hair back and squares his shoulders, determined to look unbothered.  “I feel good,” he lied. “I feel like I know exactly where we are and we just need to head east for another couple miles.  Everything's going as planned, we’re just a little behind schedule, that’s all.”

You open the canteen around your neck and gulp down a few swigs of water, musing that there wasn’t much left, and you needed to find a fresh stream somewhere soon, just in case.

But, it was only a passing worry, because Steve’s confidence that you’d be back at the car in a few hours gave you an unhealthy helping of blind hope. 

When you finally find the water line, there is a fallen tree across the creek, and it happens to be the only way across.  You have the worst balance, and being suspended over moving water makes you nervous in a way that has your hands trembling.  Eddie carries the camera for you, strapping around his neck as he makes his way across like an acrobat, and then Steve follows behind you, whispering words of encouragement.  

Hours later, it’s high noon when Steve makes you all stop for a rest to take your packs off so that he can check the map again.  You happen to be filming him as a flex of panic flashes across his face.  

“Why does this spot feel so familiar?” He asks it under his breath, but the audio catches it.  

It was the same spot you’d started from earlier in the day; same stump, same bundle of dead branches next to a large boulder. Steve turns on his heel and you can see in his face the way his heart stops when he sees the impressions from the previous night’s tent pegs.

“How is this possible?” He whispers. “We’ve been going straight all day, following the compass.”

“Give me that,” Eddie storms by, yanking the map from Steve to sit down on the big stump to look at it while he has a smoke.  “This shit is Greek to me,” he admits, hollowing out his cheeks to take in all of the nicotine his lungs would allow. “Are you telling me we’ve been going in circles?”

You squat next to Eddie, filming him while he glowers at the lines on the paper, hair tied back in a messy ponytail.  This was the crankiest you’d ever seen him, and you’d known him for at least a year at that point. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that there were only 3 cigarettes left, and his pack a day habit was at risk of being tested without nicotine patches or comfort.  

He realizes you are recording and flinches away, blowing smoke out his nostrils.  “Put that thing away please.  I’m not in the mood.”

Steve split the last half of a squished peanut butter sandwich into 3 parts and passed one to each of you, but Eddie refuses his.  You stare up at Steve, waiting for his word that you should stop, but he shakes his head.  “She’s doing exactly what I told her to do, Eddie. We’re filming a documentary.”

“Oh, we’re filming a documentary about being lost now? Is that what this is? Because we are, we’re fucking lost.”

 Eddie grumbles, exhaling an agitated breath.

“We’re not.” Steve’s voice is gruff as he pushes the food into his cheek with his tongue.  “I know exactly where we are.  The car is right over that way, through the trees, I’m positive.”

“Yeah, well, you said that yesterday morning and last night and four fucking hours ago,” Eddie shot to his feet with a huff, keeping the butt of his smoke clenched between his lips to button up the front of his black and red flannel. 

“Shouldn’t you know where we are?” Eddie’s penetrating gaze falls on you, and for some reason, it makes you nervous.  “I know you said you were just a kid, but you grew up here right? So, you must have some idea?”

You glance nervously over at Steve, as if to ask for support, and then focus the camera back on Eddie as you stammer.  “I–I don’t ever remember coming out here. Once maybe, but—”

“Really Eddie?” Steve turns to his boyfriend. “You expect her to have a Magellan sense of direction in these woods because she lived nearby when she was a child? You get lost in Hawkins and you’ve lived there your whole life.”

Eddie mumbles something as he straps the last part of his pack on and starts walking, without a word, heading in the direction Steve suggested, kicking at the dirt as he goes.  

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve mutters to you as he offers his hand and helps you stand. “I should’ve had you home safe by now.”

“It’s okay, I trust you. I promise I really don’t know these woods that well,” your voice is small.  Your eyes are softly pleading when they find his, as if to beg for absolute reassurances.

But, Steve has nothing verbal to give.  His throat is dry, he hates fighting with Eddie, and his pride was taking quite a catastrophic blow—on film, no less. He squeezes your arm, and continues at a fast trot to catch up with his salty partner, pulling you along with him.  

A few hours later, the sky opened up and it started to rain, and as you ducked to follow the boys into the clearing to reluctantly set up camp, you trip over a pile of rocks and almost drop the camera.

“What the hell is this?” You mused aloud, adjusting the focus, establishing that it was, indeed, just a pile of rocks, but there was something…odd about them.  They’d been stacked up by hand in the shape of a mound. 

Steve and Eddie were up ahead, standing in close proximity, having a conversation in tense whispers while Eddie found the driest patch of ground under the canopy of trees to shake the tent out.  It was only drizzling now, and he was eager to set up some type of shelter in case the downpour started again.

Steve moves the hood of his yellow rain slicker back to check where you were, and then comes over to see what you’d found.  

“There’s a couple of them,” you point out, stepping back so he could view the others, “What was it that one woman in town said about stacks of rocks? Something to do with a signal, or warning maybe.” 

Turning, you see Steve frantically dig through his bag, only letting out a satisfied hum when he retrieves his notebook. Its spiral-bound pages hold all of the key points from interviews of people back in town. You can tell he’s proud of you for having the intuition to know that these stacks might be important.  

“Remember that woman we spoke to at the trailer park?” Steve asks, biting his lip in thought.

“The weird one? Mary?” You wonder aloud. 

Steve snaps his fingers in excitement, flicking to the right page in his notes. 

“Yes! Crazy Mary.  I wasn’t paying much attention to her because I thought she was insane, but I’m sure she mentioned something to do with rock piles?”

“What’s your notes say?” You lean in to see what the camera can catch on the paper.

“Not a lot. I’ve just written ‘Bible Story about rocks’”.

You try your hardest to remember, whispering to yourself and attempting to remember what the eccentric woman had said. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you begin. “But, didn't she say something like, they symbolize a promise, like if you promise not to cross the rocks nothing can harm you and vice versa from the one who put them there. Ancient truce type agreement?”

“I mean it sounds right, but why are there three?”

“I'm not sure?”

Steve waves Eddie over, but he isn’t interested.  He’d gone into full-on “if I don’t keep busy I’m going to lose my shit” mode, dropping to his knees in the mud to hammer in the tent pegs.

Steve sighs, feeling like Eddie probably needs a bit of attention and comfort before his mood swing completely erupts. In his process of turning away from the rocks his booted foot catches a pebble, sending the pile toppling over, but he doesn’t think to give it any attention.

Panicking in his wake, you shield the camera from the rain and re-pile the pebbles back in a formation that you hope they resembled. 

You eat the last of the canned vienna sausages by the fire and no one is in the mood for jokes, but Steve does reassure everyone, especially with an arm around his boyfriend’s stiff shoulders, that you all would be out of the forest by the next afternoon.  You film it, catching the way Eddie pulls away at first but then leans in to rest his head on top of Steve’s and they both stare into the fire with glossy eyes.  

You didn’t even bother setting your tent up that evening, and you snuggle on the outside of the boys this time, curling up next to Steve while he spoons Eddie.  

For the first hour or two, everything is peaceful, and the three of you sink into shallow sleep, only to be jared awake by Steve stumbling out of his sleeping bag, stepping on both of his companions in the process.  

“Holy fuck, did you hear that?” He hisses, moving to unzip the tent.  “I need to get out there, hand me the camera.”

“Steve!” You bark a harsh whisper.

“Goddamn it,” Eddie starts putting his boots on, half asleep, not wanting Steve to go out alone. “It’s just a bunch of fucking deer or something, baby, will you just—”

But then, you all hear it.

As loud and as clear as if there were people standing right outside your tent: a cackle of laughter, heavy steps crunching in the leaves, snapping twigs, echoing from the forest floor.  And then there is the distinct cry of a little kid—maybe two, three different little kids. It all echoed back into the woods as if it’s in your ears and far away all at once. 

With the tent flap half open and one foot out, Steve shoots a look back at the two of you, nostrils flaring as he stills for more noise.  “Did you hear those kids?” He huffs, snatching the camera and ducking down to bolt out of the tent. 

“Baby, there are no kids in these woods!” Eddie lunges after him, catching Steve’s calf to pull him back in.  He stumbles back under cover into a crouch, only to “shush” everyone again, certain that he heard something else.

It’s then that the tent begins to shake and jostle, and the cackling continues, but it’s right on top of you now, circling the enclosure.

“Holy shit, holy fuck,” Eddie wails, pushing Steve out of the tent this time, and reaching back for your hand as he exits.

“Go go go!” You demand, encouraging them both to run as far and fast as they could from the campsite. 

Everyone is stumbling and cursing, running in the dark, with the light of the camera Steve’s holding being the only illumination.  He trips over something with a curse, and Eddie helps him up while you take the camera, not caring where the lens points as you run along with the boys, as fast as your feet can carry you.  

Not a sound follows you, not a single footstep or snicker.  Eventually, you all collapse breathless in a huddle, hunkering down near a tree.

Eddie looks into the camera you hold. “Turn that light off,” he’s panting, pupils pinned. “Shut it all off, stay the fuck down.”

“Keep the audio on,” Steve whispers, to which he gets a shove in the shoulder from Eddie.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to film your movie, dude,” Eddie hushes curtly.

“Shutup!” You scold them both, turning the camera off.

You all sit frozen in place, holding onto each other in a football huddle for—god knows how long? Two hours maybe.  Daylight finally begins to break, prompting Steve to motion you to get the camera rolling again. 

Day Four, No Way Home

The three of you stay close, too frightened to be even a meter apart as you make your way back in the direction of camp. You’re cold, wet and done; so over this witch hunt and ready to put it behind you. 

After a while of weary steps and nervous glances around, Eddie’s tongue clicks, breaking the silence. “There are some hillbillies in these woods trying to fuck with us, and I don’t want to fuck with that.”

Steve looks up at him.  “But what if it’s something…not human?”

“Well, I don’t want to fuck with that either,” Eddie runs both hands through his hair, intertwining his fingers on top of his head as he walks.

You decide to chime in. “Something definitely does not want us here.”

“No kidding, Sherlock.” Eddie blows a raspberry and turns his back on the two of you.

“Something?” Steve cocks his head at you. “But I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts or witches?”

“I don’t,” you swallow hard, averting your eyes.  “But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Okay, we’re going,” Steve answers, meeting Eddie’s hard stare over your shoulder with defiance.  “We got what we came for, let’s get our shit and keep heading north.”

“Are you sure north is the direction we need to go in?” You ask, cringing through the beginning stages of a headache.  “Because we were headed north all day yesterday and it didn’t get us anywhere.”

When the campsite finally comes into view again, everyone stops short, each jaw going slack in disbelief.

“uhhh, what the fuck is this?” Eddie mumbles, stomping over to look at the way the tent has been squashed, and how everyone’s things have been thrown around.  Whoever or whatever had been taunting you all a few hours ago had made a mess of all of your things; there was clothing and gear tossed in every direction.

You ran across the campsite, eyes searching. “Where is my pack?” The question caught in your throat, as if you might cry.  

“Your pack is right there,” Eddie points.  “More importantly, Where is my pack?”

Everyone starts collecting what they can find of their personal items while Eddie lifts up his open canteen from the ground.  “They dumped all the fucking water out.”

He realizes that the canteen is also coated in something and he drops it with a curse. “Is that fucking slime? It is, there is some kind of slime all over it,” he raises his hand up to look at the viscous liquid and then rubs it off on his pant leg as best as he could.

“Im not fucking about anymore Steve, okay I believe it all, you happy? This shit, whatever it is, whoever it is, doesn’t want us here.”

Eddie’s right, this is a clear warning, an intentional attack, and for once Steve’s not looking excited at the product of evidence before you all. Steve turns towards you, your kneeling figure scooping up your pack—it had been thrown to the other side of the campsite, but nothing seemed to be missing.

Before he could question it, the whining sound of Eddie pricks his ears. Swiftly turning to face whatever tantrum the curly haired boy is throwing now, Steve is faced with Eddie frantically picking up scattered pieces of clothing. 

“Woah, babe, is that all your clothes?” Steve asks in a rush, moving closer.

“Yep”. Eddie doesn’t even want to converse. 

“Just yours though Eddie? No one else's?”

“This is bullshit!” Eddie throws the canteen down and it bounces further away.

Steve moves to reach out and touch Eddie’s arm, but his hand gets slapped away.  “Leave me alone, dude. I need a second.”

You turn the camera off while everyone collects their things and tries to catch their breath.  You were all officially out of food now, with the exception of some peanuts, and a detour needed to be made to get water from the creek.  Eddie refused to use his after it was slimed, but thankfully Steve had an extra one.

When the camera comes back on, it is a couple hours later, and Steve is holding it this time to film Eddie enjoying his last smoke, while you sit with your head against a tree and your eyes closed.  No one is in the mood for talking, and it is wise to conserve energy with very few resources at your disposal.

“A hamburger and fries sounds nice,” you said to break the silence with your eyes still closed.

“Mmmhmm,” Eddie concurred. “A big can of Spaghetti-O’s would hit the spot right now.”

Steve points the camera at his hiking boots as he steps closer, indulging in the fantasy. “I’ve been craving one of those clam chowder bread bowls like we had on the wharf in San Francisco.” 

“That was some good shit,” Eddie mumbles, sucking his smoke all the way down to the filter. 

The camera turns off again, and when it comes back on, you have it.  Eddie is charging ahead, waving his arms, shouting something about how you all need to follow the creek and you’ll end up somewhere eventually.

“Hey,” Steve is walking in front of you, but he turns around.  “Can you pass me the map? I want to check something.”

“Yeah, hold on,” you say, but then you reach back and realize you can’t feel the well-worn edges, and sudden, prickling dread takes over. Panicked, you reach around to check the other pocket, coming to realize the map is gone. 

“Are you sure you gave it to me Steve?” you lighty question, knowing that right now is no time for jokes. 

Steve gives you an exasperated look, as if you are goofing with him like Eddie might.  “Yes, you have the map, you always have the map.  I gave it to you after a map-check before we made camp yesterday.”

You kneel on the ground and put the camera down to do a proper search, your heart racing.  “Eddie,” you shout, making him stop abruptly in his tracks.  “Do you have the map?”

“Me?” Eddie turns around but stays yelling from a distance.  “Why the hell would I have it? It was fucking useless anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve pats the air with his hands, trying to calm the meltdown he can feel building. His attention returns to you as you stand without a map in your hand and a worried look on your face.  “I know I gave it to you,” Steve reiterates. “It has to be somewhere in your stuff.”

You don't want to say what you are thinking, as you stand, pointing the camera at Steve again, but it comes out anyway.  “What if whoever attacked the tent took it?”

Steve grimaces.  “What would they want with…our map?”

“To make sure we have no chance of finding our way out of here,” you say it under your breath, and through the lens, you watch Steve’s jaw go slack as he takes on that possibility.  

When realization dawns that you were about to lose light and need to make camp again, a thick blanket of anxiety and agitation falls over all of you.  You are dragging your feet, camera angle pointed at the ground while the boys get the tent out.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Eddie mumbles curtly, brow furrowing, and back teeth grinding as the nicotine withdrawal nips at him.  

You mention that you’ll go and gather some branches to make a fire, but Steve puts his hand out to stop you.  “Let’s not make a fire tonight.  We don’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“Good idea,” Eddie grunts. “I’d rather freeze to death in a few hours than spend one more day fumbling around this hellscape.” He is digging through his things in Steve’s pack to see if there happens to be a stray cigarette or joint anywhere.  The frustrated anger rising in him is palpable.

“It’ll be a while before I ever go camping again, that’s for sure,” you muse to the group, and both the boys respond with enthusiastic nods of agreement. 

“I’m gonna burn this tent when we get home,” Eddie bites out.

When you turn to Steve, he is rubbing his forehead and staring down at the ground, pensively, and you ask if you should stop filming for a bit.  

Steve glosses over your question and asks another: “You promise you don’t have the map? Because if you have it, and you were just saying you lost it to be funny, I won’t be mad.”

You lower the camera so that it’s focused on his chest and the army green utility jacket he’s wearing.  “I’ve checked my pack three times,” you offer, earnestly. “I promise, I don’t have it.  I wish I did, Steve.”

In the background, Eddie curses at the top of his lungs and one of the tent pegs he’d been fumbling with goes flying through the air. “I’m so fucking done with this! Holy shit, what the hell are we still doing out here? This is fucking insane.” 

Steve motions for you to keep filming.  He’d tease Eddie about all of this later, he knew he would.  He’d also use it as fodder for the argument of why he should quit smoking altogether.

Steve turns toward his boyfriend with his hands on his hips. “I know you blame me for all of this, and I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? We’re all tired and hungry and miserable.”

Eddie snaps around, eyes dark and his body rigid.  “You bet your fucking ass I blame you! You’re the reason we’re about to get flayed by a bunch of inbred mountain people or die of starvation out here in this shitty-ass excuse for a forest.”

“You begged me to let you come on this trip, Eddie,” Steve is doing his best to keep his voice low, because matching Eddie’s tone when he gets upset never helps the situation. “Like you said, if we follow the creek, we’re bound to end up somewhere. It’s impossible to get lost for too long in America these days.”

Eddie’s nostrils flare.  “I begged you? I practically agreed under false pretenses one night when you had my dick in your mouth, I didn’t beg for shit.  I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend and watch him work, but that was back when I thought you were talented.  Now I realize you’re just a hack who can’t even read a fucking map.”

He regrets it the second it leaves his lips, and you can see it in the way the corners of his mouth turn down. “I didn’t mean that,” Eddie whispers.

You step back from the two, not sure what type of conflict is about to ensue.

You can tell it hurts Steve by the way his eyes water, and he pushes his glasses up to rub his face.  “No, you’re right,” Steve sighs, “It is my fault.  But maybe if you weren’t such a big, needy baby all the fucking time, I might have been able to think clearly on this trip.”

“I’m the needy baby? Seriously?  So what, little miss perfect over there gets let off the hook because she’s your perfect little puppet?”

“Hey, no need to bring her into this.”

“Guys!” You shout, waiting until they both look at you.  “This isn’t helping, okay? I for one am scared shitless about what else might be out here in these woods, and if we don’t stick together, we don’t have a chance.”

There is a minute long silence while everyone tries  to shake the anxiety out of their shoulders. Steve comes over to let you know you can turn the camera off, but then the sound of Eddie’s laughter makes you both turn.  

He’s bent over, hands on his knees, laughing so hard he is sucking in dry air.

You and Steve share an amused look, 

“What’s so funny, baby?” Steve asks, cracking a bit of a smile.

Eddie stands, face red from exertion. “You and that fucking map. I got rid of it yesterday! What do you think about that?” Eddie then convulses into giggles again, walking off into the other direction.

“You did what?” Both you and Steve say in unison.

Surely, you’d both misheard him.

“Yeah,” Eddie continues. “I kicked that fucker into the creek, it was useless!”

“You son of a bitch,” Steve spat, lunging at him. “How could you do that to me? To us?”

You catch Steve’s arm, trying to hold the camera and him all at once. The last thing you need is for these two to get into a physical fight.

Eddie starts to walk further away, but then he stops to turn on his heel and face the two of you, deciding to fight his case a little more. “We just kept going in circles, it wasn’t helping us!”

“You knew I was going crazy looking for it! Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve yells after him. 

In the distance, you see Eddie shrug, before matter of factly stating, “I need to go for a walk.”

“But it will be dark in a half hour,” panic bubbling in your chest. “Eddie…wait!” 

Eddie waves his arm in the air and keeps going.  

“Let him go,” Steve touches your shoulder, “he gets like this sometimes. Let him walk it off, we’ll finish setting up.”

Steve has an overwhelming desire to run after his partner, to say, “hey, stop, I love you,” but none of that ever happened.  He knew when it was best to let Eddie cool off.

He knows Eddie won’t go far, he’ll be back in a few minutes.

When you turn the camera back on, an hour later, Eddie is still not back.

There is a soft, orange glow from the sunset through the trees, but other than that, it’s pitch black out. Locking arms with Steve, he dances the beam of his flashlight around the forest while you film with the camera light on, trying to remain within visual distance from camp.

Steve had already screamed Eddie’s name so many times, his voice was becoming hoarse.

 “If you’re fucking with us, Eddie, I swear to Christ I will never ever forgive you!” He starts to imagine Eddie is crouched down by a tree somewhere, covering his mouth to hold back the hilarity of watching his boyfriend almost shit his pants looking for him.

Steve tries to break free from your linked arms, attempting to charge deeper into the woods.

“Steve, no!” You squeak, desperation present in your tone. You shift the camera to the crook of your arm, so it angles up at his horrified face. You really don't want anything bad to happen to Eddie, but you also can’t let anything bad happen to Steve. 

Steve suddenly turns to face you, eyes wild.  “But what if he’s hurt somewhere, what if he’s…damn it Eddie!...what if…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence, you already know what he is thinking. What if the myths of the forest were true? What if there was an entity in the woods that fed on fear and needed a sacrifice every so often? What if there were hillbillies in pig masks carrying chainsaws and they often resorted to cannibalism? You’d watched too many horror movies in your life and so had Steve, and it wasn’t helping either one of you at that moment.

But, to be fair, it wasn’t all just in your head.  There is definitely something or someone else out there with all of you, and maybe it was just biding its time until all of you are broken.   

Eddie’s missing.  An hour later, it’s official.  

He wasn’t hiding or playing a game; he had somehow vanished into thin air. The guilt begins to creep and crawl, festering inside Steve’s chest, the buzzing of night insects heightening his sense of dread. 

You’d manage to coax Steve back to the tent. “We’ll go back and build a fire, so that he can see the light of it if he’s lost.”

“I’m not going to stop looking for him,” Steve mutters, screaming Eddie’s name again as he walks, his voice echoing off the emptiness as the cold air burns his lungs. He was too pumped full of fear and adrenaline to cry, but the tears were building behind his eyes. “It’s freezing out here and he’s only got that flannel on.”

“Listen to me,” you yank Steve around to look at you, being rougher than you ever have with him, but your eyes are kept soft.  “It would be very easy for us to get lost in these woods ourselves.  What if Eddie makes it back to camp and we’re gone?”

You let that sink in, hoping you can reason with him.  You notice that his shoulders relax.

“I bet he went a little too far and he can’t find his way back in the dark,” you continue.

  “He probably found some shelter to wait it out for the night.  He’ll be cold, but it’s not going to freeze, he’ll survive. We can go out and look for him at first light.”

Steve starts nodding to himself as he pans the flashlight beam over the forest again.  “A fire is a good idea, so he knows where we are.”

The active denial grips the both of becoming a makeshift coping mechanism, a way to hold onto hope when there seems to be none left.  You have a bad feeling that you may never see Eddie alive again, but you plan on keeping up pretenses for Steve for as long as you could.

 “We’ll find him, Steve,” you don’t want to lie to him, but you felt like it was something he needed to hear.

Steve struggles to meet your eyes, but you can make out a stray tear that’s making tracks across his stubbled cheek and it breaks your heart for him. 

“I didn’t go after him, didn’t even try to convince him to stay. How fucking stupid could I be?”

“No, Steve, you can’t blame yourself, okay, it was an in the moment thing, it’s going to be okay.”

“What part of this whole thing has EVER been okay?”

He turns his back on you and it sends a stinging pang through your chest.  A part of you can’t help but wonder if he’s wishing it were you that went missing. Maybe he’s wishing he never brought you along at all.

With a heavy heart and a signature rake through his hair, Steve shuts his eyes, takes a shaken breath and turns around, inviting you to step into his arms and you hook an arm around his waist. This embrace is welcomed, as you soak up the heavy warmth wrapped around you, making it hard to let go. Seemingly feeling the same, Steve leans in further, soaking up what he presumes is the last moments of peace, a crumb of tranquility. Feeding on the sliver of hope you’ve provided him.

A stuttered sigh slips from Steve’s dry lips.  His next words are nothing but a whisper, but it’s meaningful, and becomes tattooed amongst the trees.

“I can’t lose him,” his voice cracks.

Then, as if on cue, there’s a cry—a whimper of agony erupts from deep in the nothingness.

Steve snaps a look at you and a fist tightens over your heart.  You hold very still, making sure you heard what you thought you did, both wondering if you’d imagined it.

But then another scream follows, this one more drawn out than the first, and it sounds just like Eddie.

Steve braces himself, senses sharp, trying to find the direction the scream is coming from.  “Holy shit, that was him!”

There’s a scuffle as Steve bumps into you in his haste to move.  You almost drop the camera as he bounces off of you, losing his mind over the sound of Eddie's voice, you then scramble to catch the device before it falls to the ground. There’s only muffled noises for a bit as your arm is blocking the microphone and the lens catches the back of Steve’s legs, bolting into the pitch black forest.

“Whatever you do, don’t stop filming!” He shouts over his shoulder.

And then your heart is pounding, jackhammering in your chest as you take after him. Steve’s running, pumping his arms, and then there’s another scream and he catches himself for a full stop, freezing in place.  

The video takes in the side of his face, tears wetting his cheek under his glasses, his head turning in the direction of the scream.  “It’s this way…Eddie!...it’s coming from over there!” He points in that direction, and then his feet follow to a place where the trees get denser.

You glance over your shoulder in the direction of the campsite, wondering if the two of you will be able to find your way back, but then keeping up with Steve becomes a priority.  Breathlessly, you struggle to keep up the pace, you trip and try to avoid falling over tree stumps that are dotted along the path.

“Steve”, you manage to stutter in between sharp breaths, “How do we know, what if- what if it’s a trick. What if it’s not Eddie?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it's…”

Another scream. 

Steve’s words die on his tongue, as all he can manage is a wide eyed frantic glare into the trees, before attempting once again to scream his boyfriend’s name in vain, begging to catch a glimpse of his frizzed up hair between the branches. 

You both speed up, using all the remaining energy left inside your weak bodies, ignoring the burning in your lungs and metallic taste coating your tongues. 

The woodland flooring begins to create almost a disheveled looking path, a trail appearing out of nowhere. Horrifying possibilities begin to bleed into Steve’s imagination, the memories of the past few days twisting in his mind as he tries to predict what state his boyfriend could be in. 

Steve stops to get his bearings, gulping in breaths.  His stomach clenches like he might puke, but he swallows down bile, hoping for another scream to pierce the night and guide his way.

You catch a glint of something silver nestled in the leaves of the forest floor, and you shine the light down there to get a look.  You swear it’s Eddie’s wallet chain, the one he had on the last time you saw him, but then Steve starts moving again, on the trail of a sound only he could hear.

Running full boar, dodging through the trees, something smacks Steve in the face, and he swats it away, thinking it’s a branch.  But then he takes a step back and looks up. You almost smash straight into the back of him, not realizing he’d stopped so abruptly.  Your camera light brings attention to what Steve is seeing.

Unsettling deja vu is shared between you both as you realize that a cluster of handcrafted stick dolls, like the one you found the other day, are dangling before you. 

Steve’s hand trembles, reaching out to touch the frayed twine from which they hang. 

"Steve, stop," you hiss, your voice is a harsh whisper, eyes darting over the dolls as they sway in the breeze. You can't shake the feeling that you are being watched; that something sinister is lurking just beyond your peripheral vision.

Ignoring you, Steve begins to count the dolls, pointing with his finger, his movements manic, his words a rapid, breathless murmur.

"One, two, three... they're leading somewhere!”

"Steve!" you call out to him desperately, your voice echoing through the forest, falling on blind ears. He starts to follow the primitive stick dolls, and you know you have no choice but to go with him into the unknown, the dread of what lies ahead producing blooms of sweat on your scalp. 

Finally, you emerge into a small clearing. There stands an old, weathered cabin.

 It appears abandoned and worn, its wooden walls covered in moss and ivy, and its windows cracked and shattered. The cabin looms like a forgotten relic of the past, isolated in the dense forest.

“Steve, I-I don’t think this is a good idea”. The air is heavy, and your teeth are chattering.

“Whatever happens,” Steve clicks his tongue and swallows hard, wetting his dry mouth. “Promise me you won’t stop filming.”

“Steve, are you insane?”

He turns to you with wide, earnest eyes, his voice dead calm under the circumstances, “Promise me?” 

You feel like you’ve officially lost him, whatever you attempt to say to change his mind would be useless. “I-I promise.”

Another blood-curdling yelp of agony pierces through the air.

“Eddie, I’m coming!” Steve huffs, motioning for you with a swing of his arm.

You both scramble cautiously onto the cabin’s creaking porch. You decide to zoom the lens in on Steve’s hand, reaching for the rusted doorknob, trying your hardest to focus. 

Dread seizes you, and you attempt to get through to him. “Steve, please, I think I do remember a way out of these woods, actually. What if we go back to the tent, wait till morning and try again?”

You manage to worm your way in between Steve and the door, blocking him now. Steve remains unyielding, shrugging you out of his way, twisting the door knob, and then pushing in the unlocked door. 

“Steve—” Your voice cracks. You want to find Eddie too but there’s something…wrong with this cabin, and you can’t find the words to tell Steve in a way that would make him give up the search.

But then he’s already through the open door, and you stay on his heels. The light from your camera dances over his flashlight beam into the broken floorboards and chipped paint of the interior of the cabin.  

The screaming has stopped, but now the dead silence invades your senses.  There’s no furniture, and the walls are bare. There is a smell lingering that hints to wood rot and black mold and rodent feces. You scan the camera around to show there’s a wide, empty room, and a hallway to the right.

“I-I can’t lose him,” Steve whispers, and your eyes are wet, heart hurting for what this trip has become. You can't let him go in there alone, no matter how much your instincts are telling you to grab him and run in the other direction. 

With each step you take, the cabin seems to expand into a labyrinth of winding corridors, narrow staircases, and hidden rooms. The walls are lined with faded, peeling wallpaper, and the air grows colder and more oppressive with each passing moment. 

But then Steve darts down the dark hallway and up a stairway and you try to follow, tripping on the first step in your hurry.

“He’s in here, I know it,” Steve gasps, and you can only catch his boots before he is already on the next floor.

Eddie’s cry sounds again, and this time there is no mistake— it’s coming from inside the house. 

Two floors up, there are empty rooms, but still no sign of Eddie.  Steve makes a point to direct your attention to the same type of child handprints you’d seen earlier.  “Did you catch these?” He asks pointing to make sure you got the shot.  

It looks like a dozen tiny children had dipped their hands in black paint and made palm impressions all over the wall over the ripped and stained wallpaper.

And then another scream, muffled this time, breaks the silence of your twin haggard breaths, but it is coming from somewhere deep in the cabin now—somewhere below.  You can almost feel the screams vibrate inside the soles of your feet.

The shout is followed by a heavy bang that shakes the walls. It makes you both jump, locking eyes with mirrored expressions of fear.

Without a word, Steve disappears back down the stairs and into the shadows of the second floor. There are no sounds picked up by audio other than Steve calling for Eddie, and you follow, taking two reluctant steps at a time. The weight of uncertainty makes your feet feel like lead, while the lightheadedness of your hunger makes your skull feel like a balloon, and you have to catch yourself on the wall to find your balance, stars crossing in your vision.  

The only sounds now are the heavy thuds of footfalls on the old stairs, and the drumbeat of your heart in your ears. There appear to be looming shapes all around you as you run after Steve, and the camera catches glimpses of things that are unidentifiable sliding along the walls.  

You hear Steve shout, “down here!” and then he is throwing another door open and it sounds like he’s bolting further down in the house, down into what must be a basement.

You think you catch a glimpse of a figure standing in the corner, but when you stumble back and point the camera light there, you realize it’s nothing.

“Steve?” You can’t get a visual on where he is now, but then you finally catch the open door and the glow from his flashlight beam. 

“I don’t feel good about this, Steve! Don’t go down there!”

But it’s too late.

You reach the top of the stairs.  “Steve, wait!”

“He’s down here somewhere, I know it!” Steve persists.

You take another look at him through the lens; he’s dropping down to the dirt floor and darting to the left, disappearing into the inky blackness.  The sound of Eddie’s voice has not been heard for a while, but Steve continues to call out for him, the tremor in his voice now catching with a sob. 

 Abruptly, you see Steve halt. 

He shouts up over his shoulder to you, “Did you hear that?”

The air is suddenly ice cold; freezing even.  You shrink against the doorframe and pan the camera to capture the front door behind you, noting that it is closed, and then quickly back to Steve.

Something in the basement startles him, and Steve drops his flashlight to the ground, smashing the light's glass in the process, making him curse before rushing back up to you, banking on the illumination from the camera light to help him find his way. 

Sprinting up the rickety steps, Steve is relieved to find that you are still intact, dutifully holding his camera and waiting for him. 

Your presence serves as his motivation to attempt to sprint up the stairs a little faster. However, something stops him in his tracks a few steps up.

Your heart is in your throat as you wait, but Steve pauses to look over his shoulder.  “I feel like there is something else down here.”

Your teeth are chattering, your words come out stuttered. “Hurry, Steve.  Let’s go!”

“Not without Eddie,” he says with a vigorous shake of his head, taking one more searching look into the seemingly empty basement.

The chill you feel is much more than skin deep as you pan the camera around the main room again to find it empty, all but for the shadows that appear to be crowding in. 

You can hear Steve make his way up two more steps, but before you can shine the light back down on him, there’s a loud THUD from somewhere below. The noise manages to sliver into the walls, sending an unnatural quake throughout the entire house.

 “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?” Steve jumps.

 His feet are moving before his brain can fully register what is happening. 

Steve never looks back again. 

He takes the next few steps and trips over himself in his haste, his glasses falling in the process.  He doesn’t even bother to bend over to retrieve them, he hears the glass crunch under his boot but can’t bring himself to care as the high volume of fear unravels him.

Adrenaline ignites his flight mode, and he’s practically crawling up the stairs with his hands now, scampering to get away from whatever or whoever did not want him down in the basement.

You stayed where you were, watching—filming. 

The sound of footsteps pricked your ears from the empty room behind you, prompting you to turn around to pan the camera again, shakily, but you were met with nothing but the decaying cabin walls. 

Your mind chooses not to register that the front door to the cabin is wide open now, the forest having its own personal view into the cabin, the branches silently watching.   

Steve has climbed closer now, stilling halfway up, with his face drained of color, bracing his hand on the wall for balance.  He meets your eyes for some much-needed reassurance. The documentarian in him wants to look back, to see what might be glaring up at him from the bottom of the stairs, but his fear won’t let him.

Four steps, one hand holds the camera, your other one on the doorknob. 

Three steps, you begin to shift to the side, ready. He’s so close, he’s ready to leave, make it out, you can see the relief in his eyes to be free of that hole. 

You’re both quaking like brittle autumn leaves now, it feels like the blood in your veins might turn solid and crack, and the air from your lungs is coming out like smoke.  

You feel the need to pan the camera once more just in case, but Steve is so, so close, you decide to wait. 

Two steps and he is about to reach out for your hand. 

One step. 

You slam and seal the door shut, holding your weight against it, twisting it a certain way so that it locks. 

Steve’s breathless, you can hear it, he’s panting. 

However, he’s not standing beside you. 

The camera catches the ornate, brass doorknob as it twists and turns, capturing the sound of his heavy fist banging against the wood, and it’s vibrating into your palm as you press it there, feeding on your guilt. 

“Hey, open the door,” he tries the knob again, with more force this time. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m fucking locked in here!” He pounds his fist, desperation mounting.

“I’m begging you, open the door.” He tries to ram his shoulder through the frame, and it's a pointless move, but it does make the regret bloom fresh within your chest. 

"Let me out! Get me the fuck out of here! Don’t leave without me, please!” He sobs, his voice turning shrill.

You press your forehead against the door, angling the camera down so that it's filming the floor. The camera angle exposes a flicker of something, just a tiny glimpse of some type of black markings.

Steve stops his banging, he goes silent.

Summoning the last of your courage, you say once more, "Sorry, I'm—I..."

Another forceful kick lands on the wood, he’s had enough, the forceful boot punctuating Steve’s plea. "Open the goddamn door!"

You start to back up then, camera almost forgotten as it records the floor.  Through labored breaths, you are issuing your apologies so softly, but loud enough for the audio to capture.  

There’s another loud thud, and the camera vibrates from the impact.

It’s followed shortly by the sound of a sickening crack from beyond the basement door.  Steve’s cry is cut short by another blunt thud, and you wince away, squeezing your eyes shut.  

You flipped the light from the camera off, thinking you’d shut down the entire device. Out of the darkness, the audio picks up what sounds like a hundred hissing whispers, speaking of unintelligible things, muddled amongst feet shuffling all around you.  

In the background, the next set of ears to listen to the tape will be able to make out the hollow thuds of a body being dragged down the stairs.  

To you, in the present, the sound prompts you to turn away from the closed door, your cheeks wet with tears. Your heart is heavy, lips dry and cracked, but you know that there must be sacrifices.

It’s all in order to maintain the balance. 

You really did the best you could for Steve: you got it all on film, you kept your promise.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one last time, and you mean it.

 There’s a rustling, another thud, and then the camera spins around as if it were thrown.

And then, nothing but static.  

Epilogue 

The bodies of Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, and their companion were never recovered from the forest near Burkittsville.  Most of the things from their campsite were recovered, along with a video camera and film that was handed over to authorities.  Contrary to what was found on the tape, there was no physical evidence of foul play anywhere on the property.  

Some experts speculate that you had something to do with their disappearances, others believe you met the same fate as your two companions.  When authorities went to question your friends and family, they found out that your life was a blank slate before you met Steve on the college campus, and your only living relative was a grandmother who lived in a nursing home not far from Burkittsville.

The police went to question her, but unfortunately, she was in the grips of late-stage Alzheimer's. There were two photos of you in your grandmother’s room: one was from when you were a toddler.  In the other, you were maybe 7 or 8 years old, surrounded by trees in a forest, holding up some sort of stick doll made of twigs. If one were to have a closer look, they would spot an odd, isolated cabin amongst the woodland background.   

-----

thank you for reading!

reblogs are deeply cherished, and so are your thoughtful words, but please, please try not to share any spoilers in the comments or the Blair Witch will get cha🧡

------

#horror fic #steddie horror #Blair Witch Project au #Season of the Witch #Steddie angst #spooky season #Steve Harringon fic #Eddie Munson fic #steddie x reader #hurt/no comfort #MARMITE FIC #MCD #dead dove do not eat

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: part 2 (chapter 1/?)

Here is part 1, lore

Edit: ao3 link now here

They do go to a library in this chapter so there are a lot of references to books in this chapter. I've read some but not all of them so I can say anything about their quality more than as things that I thought sounded interesting in theory. A lot of the stuff at the library was inspired by my own experiences with public libraries.

~~~

Step 2: Get to know them

Within the next 4 months Jason ran into Danny several more times. Each time becoming more and more enamored with the young man. It was hard not to when he saw how kind and hard-working he was.

~

The first time he ran into Danny after their first meeting he actually ran into Ellie first. Well, technically she ran into him but that's beside the point. But if you were gonna get technical about it he heard her little giggles before he saw her.

He had been at the library during some of his downtime to peruse some books and relax. The life of a vigilante crime lord isn't a very peaceful one, go figure. That's why Jason liked taking some time to himself every once in a while whether it was to have tea with Alfred, hang with one of his friends or siblings, or in this case visit Gotham Public Library.

Sure he could've gone to the Manor Library or gotten something online but the Manor was pretty far from the Alley and preferred having physical copies of his books rather than a computer or tablet. Electronics just didn't have that nostalgic book smell or the soft touch of a well-loved page.

Going to the library also came with its own perks. For one, he got to visit Barbie at work. It was always nice to see her as they had this unspoken solidarity between them. The atmosphere was also a plus. There was just something special about being able to be completely solitary yet still have this special connection to the other patrons. Seeing the old man enjoying a novel with his wife, the book club that met on Sundays, the haggard office worker winding down on the weekend with a graphic novel, the young woman teaching herself sign language, the teens goofing off while they were supposed to be studying, a mom reading The Kissing Hand to her kids, all of the various people here for various reasons; all of it made Jason feel like he was a part of something bigger.

He was currently browsing a display of LGBT+ books for young adults that the library had put up for Pride Month. '"Cemetery Boys", "Aristotle and Dante", "You Should See Me in a Crown", "Six of Crows", "Boyfriend Material", "Red, White, and Royal Blue", "Carry On", Oh- "The Song of Achilles" that sounds interesting?'

That’s when he felt a small chill pass behind him. He initially dismissed it as a draft from the air conditioner, but soon after he heard the sound of excited giggles nearby. He didn't think too much of it assuming it was another kid on their way out of the children's section. However, something niggled in the back of his head that this particular giggle was one he was familiar with.

That's when he felt something collide with his leg. He looked down to see a small child with a head of glossy black hair in a red beanie glomping his leg. Suddenly, the child looked up and beamed at him. Jason's eyes lit up with recognition and he laughed.

" Hey there munchkin, how are you?"

Ellie continued to smile, releasing her hold on his leg.

" I'm doing really good Mr. Jason! Daddy told me he didn't have any work today and he said we could go anywhere we wanted! First, we went to the bodega a got these really big breakfast sandwiches! Like really really big! Like the size of my face and we shared! And then Daddy took me to the park and it was really fun! I saw a squirrel there but it ran away before I could pet it! And then we came here and Daddy said we'd make me a library card so I could get whichever books I wanted. He read Oh The Places You Will Go and Where the Wild Things Are to me and then they were gonna have story time and Daddy looked tired from the park so I told him to read one of his space books and rest while I went to story time like a big girl! When story time was over I looked around and saw you so I came over to say hi and thank you for the cookies and food because daddy says we should always say thank you when people give us gifts!"

Damn, the girl sure had one hell of a motor mouth on her. It seemed she and Danny were in the middle of a father-daughter day. It brought a smile to his face to see that she was well taken care of, but based on her very informative rambles, it seemed they were taking care of each other.

" Why don't we go say hi to your dad, huh Elle?"

The young girl gasped, "That's a great idea! Then Daddy can say thank you too! And then you can read with us and come to our house for dinner! Daddy kept saying how he wanted to make something for you too since you made us the-, the- uuh... luz-on-ya and cookies!"

" Whoa there munchkin, how about we just start with hi?"

Ellie nodded with a determined look on her face, she wrapped her little hand around his pointer finger and pulled him along to the semi-secluded corner of the children's section. Sitting there in an armchair next to a small pile of books was Danny, who seemed to be out cold, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy slipping from his fingers.

'Aah he must be tired from moving in and probably from working too' Jason thought to himself. A smaller voice in the back of his chimed in with its own two cents. ' He still made time for her. He took her out and is spending the whole day with her even though he's tired. He's a good dad.' That's when he made up his mind not to disrupt Danny's nap and let him get some rest before he had to tackle the rest of his father-daughter day with his hyperactive six-year-old. He placed a hand on Ellie's shoulder, stopping her as she was about to shake Danny awake, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

" It looks like you were right about your dad being tired. How about we let him rest for now and I'll say hi another time? Besides I wouldn't want to interrupt your daddy-daughter day now would I?" He started to guide her to a different portion of the library quickly forming a plan, "Hows' bout we do something I think you'll like? Did you know sometimes they bring puppies and kitties into the library?"

The young girl gasped, " REALLY!"

" Yeah, sometimes puppies and kitties can help people who are feeling sad or nervous feel better. They also help teach kids how to act nicely and quietly so that they don't scare animals by letting them read to a puppy or kitty. I can help you sign up to read to a puppy or kitty today if you want? Then afterward, you can go tell your dad and he'll be really proud of you."

The young girl seemed so excited by the prospect that Jason worried for a second that she might explode.

" That's a great idea Mr. Jason! He'll be so proud of me and he'll bring me again! And I'll get so good at not scaring animals that the squirrels in the park will let me pet them! Then, Daddy will be so impressed that he'll let us get our own puppy and Cujo can come live with us!"

Jason winced, perhaps his plan had been a tad too effective. Single parents had a hard enough time keep themselves afloat while looking after their kids, a pet was extra expenses and another commitment to devote time and effort to. Pets were usually out of budget and out of question for anyone living in or near the Alley.

Well, he'd cross that bridge if he ever got to it. For now, he focused on getting Ellie signed up to read to Charlie, the old St. Bernard that was at the library this today. He and the trainer, he squinted reading her name tag, Amanda, supervised the session. Jason would be lying if he wasn't endeared by the sight of a young girl reading Dragons Love Tacos very enthusiastically to a dog nearly twice her size.

" It's nice to see a young father spending time with his daughter."

'I agree' Jason thought before realizing Amanda thought he was Ellie's dad.

" Oh- ah no I'm her -," Jason quickly made up his mind on the least creepy excuse he could find, " -babysitter. Although, her father does make a lot of effort spend time with her."

The dog trainer flushed and apologized for her mistake but Jason waved her off saying it was no big deal. Silently, he wondered how often Danny got time to himself. When he realized what he was thinking he raised an eyebrow at himself before dismissing it as worry for a young parent and wondering how he divided his time to be able to take such good care of his daughter.

Ellie was saying her final goodbyes to Charlie when he got a text from Alfred reminding him he had promised to meet him for tea and some chitchat. Once Ellie returned to his side he let her know that he had had fun seeing her today but that he had to go spend some time with his granddad and that he'd have to say hi to her dad another time. She accepted this with a surprising amount of maturity for a 6-year-old but made him pinky-promise that he'd definitely spend some time with the both of them next time they saw each other. Jason happily accepted and sent her back off to her dad before heading over to the tea shop he and Alfred liked to meet at.

" It is so nice to see you again Master Jason. I'm happy to see arrive in one piece. Usually when you are delayed it is due to some rather -ah, unfortunate hold-ups," Alfred greeted him. He returned the smile, sinking into his seat across from Alfred, ready to unload.

" Not this time Alfie, though it is a bit of a story."

" One I'm sure you'll be pleased to tell me all about," he challenged, raising an eyebrow. Jason just shook his head and chuckled.

" Sure thing Alfie."

~

The next time he ran into Danny and Ellie he was at the grocery store.

Jason had been examining a piece of zucchini when he felt a light, cool breeze quickly followed by the sensation of someone walking past him. A lean figure came and stood nearby inspecting the squash. Jason glanced up, having registered a new presence, before doing a double take. A small grin graced his lips as he spoke,

" Well hey there neighbor, didn't expect to see you today."

Danny looked up, slightly startled before he saw that it was Jason. He smiled back and returned his greeting in a warm tone.

" Hey neighbor, I didn't expect to see you either. Honestly, I was hoping we wouldn't meet till I had made a batch of my family's signature fudge to give you as a thank you when we returned your dishes for the food and for looking after Ellie that day in the library."

" Ah~ the little munchkin told you bout that did she?"

" She was pleased to inform me about how she was learning not to scare animals and how Mr. Jason was sooo nice and even pinky promised to spend some more time with her." he teased.

Jason flushed slightly, his hand coming up to the back of his neck,

" Oh yeah, I hope I didn't overstep my bounds there. She just seemed so excited."

" Yeah, that sounds like my little spitfire!" he chuckled fondly. He took a deep breath and continued. " Well if you don't have anything else going on tonight I'd love to have you over. Ellie has really been looking forward to seeing you again and I can whip up some fudge that you can take home with you if you stay for dinner?" Danny seemed to flush at his own forwardness before rushing to continue, " I mean- not that you have to, especially if you're busy! I just- thought it might be nice to get to know my neighbor, especially since Ellie seems to like you so much! But-"

Jason, who had just finished processing the dinner invite, interrupted before Danny spiraled deeper into his nervous rambles. He place a hand on Danny's shoulder to get his attention and spoke,

" Sure. I'd love to come over Danny." He smiled, puffing up his chest, “ Besides, I have a pinky promise to fulfill.”

Danny returned his smile with a laugh, giving Jason's shoulder an embarrassed shove. Jason grinned at having successfully made the other laugh. The two stared at each other for a beat, coming down from their high of making each other laugh, before flushing and looking away. A look of realization passed over Danny's face and he turned to speak to Jason again.

" You probably have your own groceries to finish and put away. How about you come over around 7:30? I can have the fudge cooling in the fridge while we eat, oh which reminds me, you’re not allergic to anything are you?"

Jason smiled back. "7:30 sounds great Danny and no, no allergies as far as I’m aware, though I’m not particularly fond of most shellfish."

“Well alrighty then I’ll see you at 7:30,” Danny confirmed with a smile and rushed off to continue his own shopping.

And that’s how Jason found himself standing outside the Nightingale residence in a casual maroon 3/4 sleeve tee, a dark denim jacket, and some of his nicer trousers with a bouquet of flowers he put a frankly embarrassing amount of thought into. He figured bringing more food wouldn’t be appropriate since he was a dinner guest, dessert wouldn’t fly either as Danny had claimed he’d be making fudge, and wine didn’t seem appropriate with a 6-year-old also in attendance.

‘Come on Jason, it’s just a casual dinner with your neighbors! Normal human interaction, nothing to be nervous about! You can do this!’

Jason took a breath and knocked on the door. He heard a pitched squee followed by a “it’s him daddy!” come from behind the door. Unconsciously, Jason smiled as he heard the door unlocking. As it opened he was met with a cool breeze from within the apartment and the sight of his two neighbors. Danny was in a pale, moss green apron, smudged with what appeared to be powdered sugar, over a pale blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and cuffed jeans. Ellie was dressed in an interesting combo of pink crocs, neon green leggings, a sparkly, powder blue tutu, a white shirt with glittery black script declaring her “Daddy’s little princess”, a denim jacket embroidered with flowers and vines on the back and sleeves, and a plastic tiara with a big purple gem in the middle fixed atop her signature red beanie.

“Hi,” Danny greeted a bit breathlessly. His young daughter stood in front of him beaming up at Jason.

“ Mr. Jason you came!” She bounced excitedly on her heels before launching forward to hug his leg. She tugged at his jacket before pointing to her own, “Look! We match!”

With a smile, Jason got down on one knee and offered the flowers to her, “ And what an honor it is to match with such a beautiful princess! Please, accept these flowers as a token of my goodwill m’lady!”

“Thank you!” The girl giggled, accepting the bouquet and scurrying back into the apartment. Jason watched her go with a smile. He then turned his gaze to look up at Danny who watched the whole interaction with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He met Jason’s gaze and smiled.

“Why don’t you come in too my good sir,” he teased, holding out his hand to help Jason up. Jason smirked at the opportunity Danny had unknowingly presented him. He took Danny’s hand but made no move to get up. Instead, he ran his thumb over the other man’s knuckles and slowly brought the hand closer to his face. He glanced up once more, teal eyes connecting to icy blue ones.

“Of course my dear king,” he whispered. His breath dancing over Danny’s hand, his lips ghosting over his knuckles. Maintaining eye contact, the kneeling man placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, watching a beautiful red flush bloom upon the young man’s face.

‘His hand is cold. His fingers have the beginnings of callouses on them. It feels like his hand was made to fit in mine. This feels right’

Jason is snapped out of his reverie when Danny clears his throat. He coughs into his other hand while trying to hide his blush, averting his eyes in embarrassment. He doesn't withdraw his hand however, allowing Jason to continue to hold it. Jason took that as his sign to get up before this got too awkward.

He rose from the ground still not letting go of the other's hand. The pair stood there for a moment with their hands intertwined, as if a message was being passed through their tingling palms. A charge filled the air with an exhilarating tension. The kind you feel before trying something unfamiliar and new that, unbeknownst to you, will become your favorite.

“So, uh, let’s head in then?” Danny said, slowly withdrawing his hand from Jason’s, almost as if he was reluctant to do so.

“Let’s,” Jason replied and the two turned into the apartment.

Danny had Ellie show Jason to the bathroom so he could wash up as he set the table. He had made grilled squash, a macaroni and beef hotdish, and some Greek salad on the side. The three of them sat at the table making some small talk ( how are they liking it in Gotham, how did the rest of daddy-daughter day go, does Jason have restaurant/activity recommendations, would he like to see Ellie’s favorite model airplane, etc.) and laughing with each other over horrible dad jokes and Ellie’s antics.

Jason could feel his chest fill with an almost unbearable warmth. He would’ve sworn it’d have melted him from the inside out if it hadn’t been accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of joy and desire. The traitorous little whisper in his head returned to comment on how much he’d love to be a part of the Nightingale’s family.

Soon enough it was time for Ellie to head to bed and Jason to head out, lest he be late for patrol.

“Here, I can clear off the table while you put her to bed.”

Danny rushed to stop him despite the young child koala wrapped over his torso. “Oh, you really don’t have to do that. I can-”

“Relax your highness, let me take care of this while you put the princess to bed.” He gave Danny a kind look, hefting up the dirty dishes. Danny returned it with a grateful look and turned to go put his daughter to bed. Over his shoulder, Ellie looked up sleepily and weakly waved one last time saying “Goodnight Mr.Jason” in a small voice.

Jason smiled gently at her and replied, “Goodnight princess.”

He then turned back to his task of clearing the table. Moving the dirty dishes to the sink and the serving dishes to the counter. He figured he’d get started on the dishes while he waited for Danny to return. He let his mind wander as he covered a plate with soapy suds. Danny and Ellie seemed like a good pair of neighbors. He doubted they’d cause him any trouble and if they ever unintentionally did, Jason found himself thinking he’d find it rather easy to forgive them. The two were both so welcoming and full of life. They made Jason feel so happy and peaceful tonight. They welcomed him into their home and made him feel as if they enjoyed his company and wanted him around for more than just a cursory “return the favor” dinner. ‘As If he belongs there. With them.’ The little voice returned, prompting Jason to reel in his thoughts. He’s only known them for what? Two weeks? These weren’t the type of thoughts he should be having at this point. He tried to rationalize it telling himself he just missed the domesticity of family dinners like he had when Catherine was in a good stretch or like he had with Bruce, Dick, and Alfred as kid when they were all getting along. He made up his mind to attend one of the bi-weekly family dinners at the manor coming up. It’d be nice to see the little demon brat, big bird, and nerd bird again now that they were getting along like actual brothers.

“Oh! Jason you didn’t have to do that!” His train of thought broken by Danny rushing over to protest him doing dishes. “You’re a guest! You really didn’t have to-”

“It’s okay Danny, I wanted to,” he reassured the fussing young man who pulled him away from the sink. The young man responded by pushing him out of the kitchen and telling him to grab his jacket before turning back to grab something from the fridge.

And there he stood in the doorway, 20 minutes after he had intended to leave, still saying goodbye. Danny pushed a familiar Tupperware container into his hands, which recognized as the one he had given them lasagna in, now full of dark squares of fudge sprinkled with a bit of white and green on top.

Danny smiled as he handed him the sweets. “A family recipe with my own little twist on it,” he winked. Jason gratefully accepted, wishing the young man well and agreeing that he hoped to see the other again soon. And with that, Jason rushed off hoping that he wouldn’t be late for patrol.

~ Later that night Jason returned to his apartment, exhausted. He chucked his helmet off onto the bed and stumbled to his kitchen. He pulled open the fridge in search of something to eat when his eyes landed on the fudge his neighbor had given him. He pulled it out and grabbed a square, giving it a sniff before biting in. His eyes widened at the taste.

The fudge was, well fudgy, but not overly sweet. It had a richness of dark chocolate and a sweeter note from the white chocolate chips mixed in. There were also candied orange peels mixed into it which gave the fudge a bit of chew and acidity to break up the richness. The fudge was topped with pistachios adding a nutty, earthy flavor to the experience. He’s sure that if Martian Manhunter ever tried these he’d accuse Jason of giving him hard drugs. But what Jason liked most of all was the quality only homemade food and family recipes passed down over generations have. He could practically taste the amount of love and thought that went into this fudge.

Jason smiled to himself finishing off his square and decided the save the rest for later. He headed off to bed with a peaceful smile on his face and a warm, full, feeling in his chest.

~~~

I tried very hard to balance out the dialogue and description as well as to not make it too long winded and keep the story moving so please let me know what you guys think. I love receiving feedback so if there is anything you want to see more or less of let me know. I’m also open to suggestions of where Jason should run into our father-daughter pair next.

If anyone's interested here is what the bouquet was comprised of: apple blossom- preference, basil- good wishes, white camellia- you're adorable, goldenrod- encouragement/good fortune, violets- watchfulness/modesty/faithfulness

I actually looked up a real fudge recipe so that I'd have and easier time describing it. You can find it here: https://www.midwestliving.com/recipe/candy/creamy-rich-pistachio-tangerine-fudge

#long post #like Long long #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #dc x dp #How To Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps #How to Become a Step-Dad #hbsd #romance #fluff #domestic fluff #falling in love #single dad!danny fenton #de-aged!dani #books & libraries #family dinner #jason todd #danielle fenton #danny fenton

[operationtimeguard]

sable ward lore

Sable figured she had to be adopted. No way was she the progeny of her insanely perky mom and her grinning, golf-playing, frat boy of a dad. They didn’t understand the first thing about her. No one in Greenvile did. Except for Mikaela. They were fast friends since third grade. Up until then Sable had no friends. She wasn’t into ponies or dolls or tea parties with teddy bears. She liked bugs, lizards riding bikes and dirt cloc fights.Her favorite holiday was Halloween and Mikaela was the only one who didn't think she was crazy when she dyed her hair purple in eighth grade. Sable's mom was furious. Her dad didn't even notice. Mikaela went with her to the mall when she got her ears pierced and helped her pick out her first tattoo. An occult symbol hidden in a place her parents would never see. Mikaela declined to get her own tattoo. She flirted with the dark side, but she didn't live it. Not like Sable. The dark side made sense to Sable, and she reveled in it. Partly because it freaked out her parents and teachers. Partly because it felt like who she was. Some called her a goth because of the way she presented herself. But she wasn't into labels. She loved horror movies and found the occult exciting. It made sense to her. She knew that the shiny suburban world of her mom and dad had a dark underbelly. They were afraid to confront their fear, so they pretended everything was perfect and that they would live forever. But Sable knew better. Death stalked us all and no one was getting out alive.

Mikaela got Sable a job at Moonstone. Probably the only place in town that would have hired her. She took classes at the local college and produced a guerilla radio show on the shortwave in her attic. All Things Wicked This Night was about the world's dark underbelly. The occult. Urban legends. Horror. And often there were heated discussions with Mikaela about the horror movies they'd catch at the only theater in Greenville. Mikaela liked her horror with a little comedy, but Sable liked it meaner. Scarier. Bloodier. She relished the gore. Enjoyed the terror. Liked to feel the adrenaline rush. And their debates were entertaining to say the least.

When searching for inspiration for her show, Sable would take walks in the cemetery with all the statues and headstones of early settlers who had founded the town as a sanctuary for those escaping persecution. She often talked about that history on her show, and she formed a theory that the uncanny sightings and disappearances were somehow linked to the town's history. One caller suggested the town was built on top of a fracture. The caller went on to describe a fracture as an overlap between worlds. Another caller said these fractures were created by an ancient cult devoted to forgotten demons. Another caller defined fractures as a cosmic buffet for an elder god that fed on pain, fear, and misery. And one caller even argued that it wasn't a fracture but The Unknown, a mysterious creature that consumed anyone who dared to imagine it. All the theories made for fun and inspiring debates, and she loved nothing more than to discuss real-life horror until the horror became personal.

One evening Sable had challenged Mikaela to tell a real horror story at Moonstone's Annual Halloween Festival. Scare the crap out of people. Stop dancing around the horror and embrace it. Tell a story about The Unknown. Make them imagine it. Make them believe The Unknown will show up on stage. Nothing terrifies an audience more than a show that could potentially kill them. Mikaela laughed at the idea and declined the challenge because she was working on another story with her roommate. 

But a strange, black fog had taken Mikaela during her performance and Sable felt the icy hand of guilt grab her by the back of the neck. She was convinced that she had somehow sent Mikaela to her doom. Did The Unknown take her? Did she try to define The Unknown? What about her roommate? Her roommate disappeared as well. But then she realized Mikaela's story wasn't about The Unknown. It was about something else. Another dimension. A dimension filled with terrifying creatures, sadistic killers, and endless horror.

This was not The Unknown.

With this realization, Sable began to investigate other disappearances in Greenville. Before long, she realized most of the disappearances occurred at the theater or somewhere close by. Investigating further, she discovered the theater was built over the ruins of an old, one-room schoolhouse that had burned to the ground in the 1920s. Somehow the students couldn't get out and everyone perished in the flames. Feeling close to an answer, she continued her research and discovered two teenage brothers had recently disappeared from the theater. Elias and Elan. The only witness, their younger sister, Ellen, was committed to an institution after ripping her eyes out. And so, pretending to be a relative, Sable went to talk to Ellen who admitted she and her brothers had been trying to steal old movie posters from the storage room behind the movie screen. She then described a secret door in the basement and a passageway that led to another Place.

A dark place.

A cold place.

An evil place.

Stay away from there, she begged. Stay

Away.

But Sable wasn't about to stay away.

Not after that story.

Determined to see Mikaela again, Sable hitched a ride to the theater and soon found the door behind the movie screen. In the darkness she jimmied the door open with a crowbar and headed down a creaking, wooden stairway to the dank cellar. A light switch activated flickering fluorescent lights that illuminated a room filled with broken theater seats and old movie posters dating back eighty years. She searched the sprawling basement and found a thick wooden door hidden behind a poster of the original Frankenstein. She pushed and shoved the door open to reveal an endless circular stairway descending into perfect darkness. Using a penlight to navigate, she descended for ten minutes before she noticed the cold, black fog rising from the lower depths.

The same cold, black fog that had taken Mikaela.

Sable considered running back up the stairs to where she would be safe. But then she thought about the terrifying creatures and the sadistic killers and the endless horror, and she quickly decided she wasn't going to let her best friend have all the fun.

#dead by daylight #sable ward #all things wicked #dbd chapter 31 #dbd survivor #idk how to tag this this is mostly for my own reference for later #but im so happy theres a new surv w ties to another og surv :D mikaela sable gfs real...

[judasgot-it]

Hello~ I have a request but feel free to ignore if you don't want to or didn't watch the movie..I wanted to request a reader like lisa row from girl, interrupted with dazai

Like she can be really cruel with a sharp tongue and know how to hurt people with just her words. Like they have a fight and dazai start to be a little sharp with his words and it just trigger reader and she just go harder on him

I love dazai so much that I want to bully him and see him break down

Please feel free to ignore if this make you uncomfortable

Sorry this took me SO long but omg, I watched the movie and I won't lie... I related a little bit tooo hard to a lot of it (I have some lore... lol) but anyway, I'm really glad you gave me this request but the film was fucking fantastic and I recommend it for anyone reading this (not for the light-hearted though dead serious)

Scenario: getting into an argument with Dazai and making him cry (Slight Yandere Dazai and a good helping of yandere reader if you wanna read it that way)

The cemetery was quiet compared to the city.

There was only one visitor here today. Underneath a tree, facing away from you, looking out into the city; a dirty stray dog, digging himself into a hole. You approached him quietly, watching as he stared out into the city.

"So this is where you've been all day?"

You kept your voice low, standing right above Dazai. Disturbing the silence and peace that was settled over the grave seemed near illegal, even though the leaves crackled like pop rocks underneath your shoes.

He was staring towards a tree that faced the city, looking at nothing. Maybe at the vines, as it choked the poor tree to death so slowly you couldn't even notice, but who knew. His face was as dead as the grave he was leaning on.

There wasn't even an acknowledgment that you were there. He was near catatonic, staring at whatever was in his line of sight. Maybe some birds in the distance, or the bit of skyline that was visible. Whatever would capture the attention of a man like Osamu.

"Hello?"

Not so gently, you put your hand through his mop of hair. His body moved, and his dark eyes looked at you, almost shocked. Almost.

As if you could have the effect you wanted on him.

"Are you going to say hi? Or keep looking at jackshit?"

He turned his torso to you, leaning on one of his hands to support his weight. His usual fake smile was given to you, never reaching the wrinkles of his eyes.

"Do you think you're worth that? You came all this way after me, why should I even bother myself with a begging dog?"

"You say that like you don't fuck me like a dog, Osamu. Get over yourself."

His smile was all teeth. They were uneven, and his canines were rather sharp for a man.

"You clearly like it if you keep coming back."

"You would kill yourself if I didn't come back, be honest with yourself."

The two of you stared at one another. His face was frozen, stuck in his blank smile, like an uncomfortable photograph.

"Were you crying?"

His eyes were red-rimmed, and his pale face was puffy. He didn't bother to look away, simply scanning your face.

"That's pathetic, Osamu. You're hiding here, crying like a little boy; like you're 5, and running away."

"It's called having feelings."

He slowly got up from his position on the grave, giving time for his knees to adjust to standing up again. The two of you were closer, but as he tried to take a step back to get his own space again, you grabbed him by his coat lapels, forcing him to remain by your side.

"You wouldn't know what it's like to have feelings. You've never once cared about anyone but yourself. You probably killed this man and are just pitying yourself over it now, aren't you? It's pathetic."

Dazai had turned his face away from yours, looking towards the other graves in the cemetery. The two of you were tucked away in a small corner, hidden away from any other mourners who may have been there.

"Dazai - when was it the last time you actually thought about anyone else but yourself?"

You were overwhelming his personal space, enough to hear his uneven breathing. If you wanted to, you could have pushed him and it wouldn't have mattered.

Which it didn't. Roughly, you shoved him away, watching him stumble and try to catch himself. He failed, instead falling and hitting the gravel below rather roughly.

You looked over him. He had fallen completely silent.

It was pathetic, like a kicked puppy.

All you heard was the sound of your own feet below you as you turned around and walked, surrounded by headstones with names you would never know.

Why does this feel shorter than it is? I thought it was like 200 but it's like 600? HUH

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x you

[blackestnight]

speaking in tongues

for fluffuary day 10, "secret language." minor spoilers for a side conversation with karlach in act 3 (in the lower city graveyard). tialha is a wood elf bard who loves her giant buff fire girlfriend very much.

“Taters,” Karlach murmured, almost lost under the clanking of her greaves as she rocked back to standing with a parting caress to her mother’s headstone. She couldn’t feel it when Tialha pressed a hand to her back, not through the armor and all the underlayers, but she could feel it, in that humming way she was always aware of where the rest of their merry band of infected bastards was.

“Taters?” she asked, voice equally hushed. Suddenly it occurred to Karlach—maybe Tia had someone buried here, too. She’d lived in the Gate for a while, apparently, and landed somewhere between Astarion and Halsin on the old as balls scale that elves measured their lives by. Plenty of time to have loved and lost. Maybe someday soon, she’d stand here over Karlach’s grave with her hands clasped in that famed elven stoicism.

The engine hitched and sputtered in her chest like a caught breath, or a muffled sob. Gods, it wasn’t fucking fair.

“Meant ‘I love you’ in the Cliffgate household,” Karlach said, instead of anything self-pitying. Plenty of time for being sorry when she croaked. “I can’t even remember how it started anymore. Lost family lore.”

Older than she was, probably. Mum had liked to nuzzle against Dad’s horn in the mornings, before they left for work, drop a kiss and a soft Taters on the ridge of his ear.

“There was a lot of silly nonsense in our house,” she added, and somewhere in the back of her mind—vivid, like a real echo instead of just a memory—she heard her own small voice squealing with delight, the way she always did when Dad picked her up and tossed her toward the ceiling. “My mates used to say we had our own personal language. I guess I’m the last remaining speaker.”

The leather of Tialha’s gloves made a little squeaking noise when it rubbed against the plate armor, just to the side of Karlach’s spine. Her circlet clinked when she rested her forehead gently on the ridges of Karlach’s pauldrons. “When I was very small,” she said, still quiet but not nearly as solemn—now there was a rich warmth in her voice, and the tone set a calming slither through Karlach’s stomach, like a swallow from a warm mug of tea. “My mother and father had to leave me on occasion—it wasn’t unusual, in our enclave. Wood elves tend towards communal child-rearing. But they always told me, when I heard a turtle dove, it was because they missed me, and they’d asked the birds to pass along the message.”

It wasn’t magic—her tadpole was blessedly still, and Tia’s voice lacked the echoing reverb it took on when she started to use her words in the bending-reality-to-her-whims way—but even so Karlach could see it like it was her own memory: teeny toddling Tialha, splayed out in a forest clearing, maybe rumpled and grass-stained from chasing a gaggle of other elven kids, looking to the trees every time she heard a dove call.

“That’s fuckin’ precious, babe,” she said, looping an arm around the dip of Tia’s waist. “Did they really? Y’know, ask the birds to talk to you and all.”

“I haven’t a clue,” Tia said, and tipped her head back to beam up at Karlach. The warm-tea feeling spread into her fingers. “I hadn’t learned to speak with animals back then. But I did learn—oh, goodness, it’s been a while…”

She brought her hands to her mouth, cupped like she was holding a marching horn, and with a little crinkle in her brow she whistled; when she fluttered her fingers it made a sweet vibrato, the sound swooping like diving birds—like a turtle dove.

(Through the tadpole she felt the sparks of flickering awareness from where Astarion and Wyll had wandered off further into the cemetery, pacing through the rows, and swore she heard a snide nonverbal weirdos as the boys went back to whatever they were doing.)

“So that’s Thildran for ‘I love you’?” Karlach asked.

“Mm-hmm.” Tialha always had to stand on her toes for this, and Karlach always had to stoop, which was exactly as comfortable as it didn’t sound in armor, but it was worth it; Tia brushed a gentle kiss over her mouth, her cheek, and then rested her temple against the bridge of Karlach’s nose. When she closed her eyes and breathed she could smell Tia’s perfume, even over the stink of hot metal.

“Taters,” Karlach whispered.

“I’m a quick learner,” Tia said, sunlight in the smile she pressed to Karlach’s jaw. “I’ll teach you mine if you teach me yours.”

—

Two days later and knee-deep in sewer sludge, Karlach looked up when a soft whistle echoed off the tunnel walls. Not birdsong, but she could see Tialha grin as she did it again—four low whistles.

Karlach beamed in return and blew a kiss, and giggled shamelessly when Tia caught it.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #karlach cliffgate #writing - mine #fluffuary 2024 #sorry i've tried to keep most of my bg3 brainrot contained to my sideblog but writing goes here! #oc: tialha thildran #astarion and wyll in the background like 'what kind of gay shit are you lunatics doing now' #well. just astarion actually. wyll would think it's cute

[disco-tea]

Alright I’m going to run my mouth and dredge up soul lore again and say some things that's probably gonna annoy some people but I genuinely do think it’s true: basically trying to adhere to the show’s original soul lore is pointless and a disservice to every single vampiric character that’s not Angel. Because the thing about soul lore is it's simply a loophole for Joss Whedon’s original black-and-white mythology which was that he didn’t want complicated vampires. He didn’t want vampires with sympathetic/human traits or internal worlds. He didn’t want “Anne Rice crap” he wanted grrr arg scary monster vampires with cardboard personalities who aren’t human at all anymore. The only reason soul lore exists is because the network pushed him to add a vampire so he slapped a soul on angel and basically all the soul was ever supposed to be was a lil sticker that says Angel gets a pass to be a multidimensional character. That's it. And that’s fine and well so long as Angel remains the only reoccurring vampire in the show with any character development. But of course, it's pretty hard to do a good show full of monsters where you never actually tell us about who the monsters are or what their motivations are besides monologuing and villainously twisting their mustaches. That's what happens in season 2 when they kill the anointed one. By killing him they effectively kill the old flimsy archetype and after that we start seeing vampires with more traits and personalities and memories from their human life. Boom, out goes Angel’s soul and then eventually, Angel as well. Graveyard cemetery doornail dead. Double dead. Dead squared. And you know what, here’s the controversial part, I’m just gonna say it…even with the established soul lore…they probably would’ve let it go and actually amended it if Angel had stayed dead. But he didn’t. Angel came back with his soul and got his own show where he is the main character and that simply magnified the problem with soul lore because Angel has to be a very special boy because otherwise why are we focusing on him?? Why is he the main character if any old vampire can grow a personality and a conscience? And honestly they probably also wanted him to be the “one vampire in all the world.”Buffy but a Dude. And therein lies a huge source of back-and-forth and continuity errors and the writers having to cling to the OG lore even though the story has grown beyond it. Angel is gone from btvs and the growing narrative and overall character/lore development demands that you have to take a step back and look at the shades of gray, but also remember you can never be anything without a soul because Angel is on right after this. The universe shows us that vampires can grow and change and have a full continuity of self and that they are more than just simply the shells of humans with a demon inside, but tells us otherwise because of outside aspects. That's why I think trying to rigidly adhere to soul lore is pointless, because its not a well thought out established rule of the universe, its a massive continuity error that was never properly corrected and continued to mess up and confuse the universe because the creator stubbornly wrote himself into a corner from the start.

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs meta #soul lore #anti angel

[theseawillbringdarkness]

I've been pretty out of the swing of things, but I finally got around to playing through new "Cryptid Crush" update! Gonna write down a few things bellow. Putting it under the cut to avoid spoilers for people who didn't check it out yet.

"Cryptid Crush" by @cryptidcrushvn @squidinu. Give them support!

SPOILERS BELOW!!!

SO, I decided to actually play the whole thing from the beginning (totally not because I wanted to see August in that patient gown), and I was glad to have done so! Apologies for a bit random list of things I wanted to note down just off the top of my head:

Transparent sprites of Taro and Mike Madhouse are a really neat detail! Also, unless I'm mistaken, I can see some tiny bits of writing edited or added (like some descriptions during fight with Mike Madhouse or that little bit after cemetery fight, with a chat between Robyn and August - it's a small bit, but it allows to introduce a bit more info on the characters).

New additional voiced lines! Plus Robbie and Mr. Walker getting their voices!

Loving new look for August! It's also nice to see both August and Oz in alternative outfits in-game. And if I'm not mistaken, Robyn's got a new icon during fights, plus Edith had sprites with a bit different facial expression in Chapter 1.

TONS of lore. So many little bits that show relationships between characters that we previously didn't see interacting between each other. Like August and Atlas talking to Tessie, for example. It's also nice to get glimpses like this on the everyday life of the characters, as well as some hints on their backstories.

Tessie is absolutely gorgeous, how dare you!

New characters! I love Hound and their attitude. Also introduction of Lex was done great! All the foreshadowing and details (like "twenty bucks" thing) made a good build-up to the great reveal!

Seriously, there are both hillarious bits and the ones that made me want to cry. Like Oz repeatedly falling facefirst onto the ground while Lex is "correcting" the up and down. Or that added small bit with Mike when he meets Mr. Walker. These added lines and that sprite of slimeball Mike made me go "Ouch-".

The atmosphere of the "Nowhere" was EXTRA trippy, and this feeling was done so well!! With both music, skipping through game scenes, certain things getting distorted, various Lex's forms and such, and especially later, when it got to the fishing mini-game and Robyn's sprites progressively getting less and less detailed, until it goes down to the very rough looking sketch.

As always, amazing music! It reflects greatly the mood of the atmosphere, like Atlas's theme, or the one that plays in the "Nowhere". And the track "Wrath of the Recolors" that plays during Mike' and Jamie's fight rocks!

Also, don't mind me, I'm gonna be screaming in the corner from getting to see so much of Oz in the new update. The bit where he gives you a note got my heart. Also, boy needs some rest desperately.

I apologize if I got something wrong, but it was a rather quickly written little thing. In any case, it was a nice treat, and I'm looking forward to when I can draw something again. As always, "Drowsy Drake" team did a great work!

#cryptid crush #cryptid crush spoilers #spoilers #is this review? Kinda I guess? #long post

[fortunatefires]

Last day of the trans rights readathon and I wanted to share my reads

#trans rights readathon #Trans #Lgbt #Nonbinary #Lgbt books #Traabsgender #book recommendations #book reccs #queer community #Mooncakes #Cemetery boys #This delicious death #Lake lore #Self made boys #Act cool #Godly heathens #Every word you never said #Bookblr #Booktok #Edit

[trxns-scum]

INTRO POST ♡ !!!

Hello my name is Benji or Onyx

Im 5teen

Im a fictionkin of multiple characters one of them including Morty Smith (C-137), Ill make a full list some day lol

I am a proshipper / darkshipper. I am anti harassment and a l0li / sh0tac0n

I am transmasc and gay and use he / they / it / xe

I have no dni I will just block freely.

I'm on twitter (i refuse to call it x) by the same username but with an underscore so trxns_scum

Below the cut is a list of random shit I like bc Im too lazy to make a sntry / carrd

Games:

Omori

Hades

Cult of the Lamb

Mario Kart 8

CRK

COD MW 1 and 2 remakes

Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evation

Obey Me

The FNAF franchise

TV

The Good Place

Rick and Morty

Hannibal { 2013 }

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Stranger Things

Good Omens

The NHL { Idk if this counts but im also a Rangers fan }

Arcane

Inside Job

Movies

Mamma Mia

ROTTMNT Movie

The Hunger Games franchise

Missing

Clueless

Mean Girls

K-12

The Truman Show

Coraline

Books

The PJO series and all of the spinoffs

The Sunbearer Trials

Cemetery Boys

All That's Left in the World

Hearstopper

Solitare

The Song of Achilles

The Silver Eyes series

Music

The Crane Wives

Glass Animals

Gorillaz (Self Titled - Song Machine)

Melanie Martinez

Mitski

Arctic Monkeys

Misc

The Magnus Archives (podcast)

Ride the Cyclone (a musical)

Welcome Home (an unfiction project / arg)

Lore Rekindled (Webcomic)

#profic #darkship #anti harassment #proship #shipcest #selfship #sibcest #proshippers please interact #proship safe #intro post #blog intro

[bloodiedwatersblog]

DCA Au Blog Main

Love Without Petals - A DCA Au involving Ruin Eclipse, Moon, Sun and Balloon Boy Eclipse along with a few ocs thrown into the mix. About one sided love, drama, and well fluffy angst along the way Bloodied Waters - Y/N or Sona comes across Vampiric Demons Sundrop and Moondrop while visiting a cemetery for their deceased mother, and they took it upon themselves to cozy up while trying to figure out a better living situation Silent Hearts - If you seen the movie A silent Voice, basically that, just some noticeable changes to fit the style of the au Phantasmal Desires - Entities, Ghostly romance, abandoned buildings, hidden history of dark lore and other things! .... Basically yeah that There's also Cryptid Sundrop, Moondrop and Eclipse if ya wanna know more about that or want that instead ( just comment for it, if that suits your fancy)

#fnaf dca #dca fandom #dcau #dca au #sun fnaf #fnaf moon #daycare attendant #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant sun #daycare attendant moon #daycare attendent #balloonboyeclipse #eclipse #ruin eclipse #fnaf ruin

[scotianostra]

Tragedy struck Midlothian on September 5th 1889 when Sixty-three miners, some as young as thirteen, died in an underground fire at Mauricewood Pit, Penicuik

The cause of which was never discovered, it was the worst mining disaster in the history of the Lothians. Most of them died from suffocation when smoke entered the ventilation system.

The following is extracted from “The Mauricewood Braves” one of Wilsons ‘Mining Lays, Tales and Folk-lore’ published 1916.

“The Mauricewood Pit, at Penicuik, near Edinburgh, took fire on September 5th, 1889, and sixty eight men and boys lost their lives.

The principal product from the pit was ironstone, although coal in small quantities was also produced. The pit had a vertical shaft of 480 feet then a level roadway eastwards of 180 feet and this was followed by a one in eight dip decline of 960 feet (Deaths Incline). Halfway down the decline a steam engine had been erected and another steam engine did duty at the bottom. The steam pipes traversed this route, and it was at the 800 ft slant that the fire broke out among the support timbers. The wood was tinder and inflammable, and it was soon apparent that the conflagration would spread and become disastrous. There were no other outlets to or from the lower level, and unless the men below received a warning note to give them a chance of escape, they must inevitably perish.

Three trapper and pony boys – Robert Hook Tolmie (my own surname but no relation) , aged 14; Michael Hamilton, aged 15; and Thomas Foster, aged 17 years, volunteered to go round the mine and warn all the men below of their danger, but the only shiftman there, his mate was away in another district of the pit- pleaded with the boys not to go away and said that he would go himself to warn the other men of the fires danger, but the boys in unison shouted as they ran

“No, we’ll go” ….. And they went. The brave boys never came back alive.

“They died to save” The bodies of the boys were afterwards recovered (surrounded by over twenty other bodies) near a trapdoor that had got blocked up in the meantime cutting off the avenue of escape. The mine was subsequently flooded to quench the fire that was raging in the workings, and over a year elapsed before the last body was brought to the surface.

The heroism and self-sacrifice of the three lads aroused sympathetic expressions and admiration throughout the mining world, and a monument marks their last resting place in the Penicuik’s KirkHill Cemetery.

Names of Dead

The alphabetical list of names below is from a report in the Scotsman. Among the names is a Robert Tolmie, I wonder if he was some sort of relation to my family, although I did know of some Penicuik Tolmie’s who were not related to us.

Thomas Adams, 7 Manderston Place

David Anderson, 1 Manderston Place

T Bennett, 4 Lindsay Place

William Brockie, 13 Walker Place

William Brown, 1 Lindsay Place

William Brown, Glebe

William Daly, 3 Fieldsend

J Davidson, Edinburgh Rd

Robert Dempster, father, 6 Lindsay Place

R Dempster, son, 6 Lindsay Place

William Dempster, 19 Walker Place

Robert Dickson, 13 Fieldsend

Thomas Foster 13 Leslie Place

John Fraser 27 Napier St

John Glass, Pryde's Place

William Grieve, 5 Leslie Place

C Hamilton, son, Greenlaw Cottages

Mitchell Hamilton, father, Greenlaw Cottages

Mitchell Hamilton, son, Greenlaw Cottages

Robert Hamilton, 4 Leslie Place - uncle of Richard Hamilton, brother-in-law of Robert Tolmie

Richard Hamilton, 4 Leslie Place - nephew of Robert Hamilton

Robert Hunter, Roads farm

William Hunter, 8 Walker Place- father-in-law of David Penman

Thomas Hunter, Pike

James Irvine, 10 Leslie Place

David Kinnimont, father, Roslin

Robert Kinnimont, son, Roslin

William Lamb, 5 Walker Place - son of Robert Lamb, Leven, Fife

George Livingstone, 22 Fieldsend

Alex McInlay, 12 Leslie Place

David McKenzie, 10 Lindsay Place

Hugh McPherson, father, 12 Lindsay Place

Peter McPherson, son, 12 Lindsay Place

Thomas Meikle, 5 Lindsay Place

William Meikle, father, 6 Leslie Place

William Meikle, son, 6 Leslie Place

Walter Meikle, 6 Leslie Place

Robert Millar, 3 Fieldsend - stepson of William Daly

William Miller, 3 Fieldsend - stepson of William Daly

Martin Morgan, Pryde's Place

G Muir, Greenlaw Cottages

David Penman, 8 Walker Place - son-in-law of Wm Hunter

George Pennycuik, father, 12 Walker Place

George Pennycuik, son, 12 Walker Place

D Porterfield (brother of Robert Porterfield)

Robert Porterfield (brother of D Porterfield)

James Porteous, 5 Walker Place

J Purves, 10 Lindsay Place

John Sinnott 7 Fieldsend

James Somerville, 18 Napier St

Alex Stewart, John Street

James Stark, nephew, Pike

M Stark, uncle, Pike

Thomas Strang, 2 Walker Place

Robert Tolmie, brother-in-law of Robert Hamilton

William Urquhart, Eskbridge

John Walker 4 Fieldsend

John Walker, James Place

Andrew Wallace, brothers, 2 Lindsay Place

David Wallace, brothers, 2 Lindsay Place

James Wright, brothers, 9 Lindsay Place

William Wright, brothers, 9 Lindsay Place

Matt Wright, 8 Leslie Place

#scotland #scottish #history #Midlothian #Mining disaster #The price of coal #loss of life

[creepymarshmallow3]

Ask 1: Can you draw any angst of your ocs + some lore? I'm cerious 👀

Ask 2: The ocs that don't get asked much are together.

Ask 3: Draw at least one of your ocs interacting with a Trollge Incident like Acid refuge or Left behind incident.

Ask 4-5: What would happen if your ocs never had trauma? Would they look human like and have normal jobs or something else?

Ask 1: oh.....Springy.

After people found the Springy's prosthesis left by him after turning, in the lane, his mother fell into depression, and then finished with herself... Springy found out about this, returning from the cemetery once...poor boy.

Ask 2: (holy Weeping god! I only do list of them cuz:)

Sweety

Stephon

Marron - does not speak

Slick

Tom

Hush - does not speak

Ted

Melfi

William

Digitroll

Butler

Howl - does not speak

Minor

Bone thief

Jess

Watcher

Amorro - does not speak

Crawler - does not speak

Tiny

Eddie

Derp

Derpina

( :) )

Ask 3: oh yeah!

Ask 4: Hmmmmm, by the way, a cool question!)

Oscar. If not for the incident, then he would have remained an ordinary trollfaces and would live an ordinary life, things with work are unknown)

Gill. If he survived, like his father, he would help his father with his store and his father, in the future continuing his father’s work). But if his father died, Gill, having left the orphanage, will find those who killed his father and burn them, and then would create his own store on the basis of his father's store as a memory.

Fred. If he had not met with the Weeping God, he would continue to live peacefully in the city. In general, Fred was not as closed as it seems, in addition to a friend, he sometimes talked with one girl. In general, he would engage in creative activity - writer)

Photographer. If it were not for his incident and the murder of his friend, he would continue his work with a photographer with a friend, later might cooperating with large newspapers)

Simia. If the car had not knocked her out, then she would have escaped from home later, and later, playing the guitar, or recording music)

Springy. If it were not for his act and hyper-beam of his mother, then Springy would like to grow up, to communicate and support children with disabilities as in his past, raising their spirit)

Sharp and Sweety. These brothers had a chance, but fate ordered cruelly. Sharp wanted to be a psychologist, before that solving problems with his anger. And Sweety wanted to be a kindergartner because he loved fun and children)

#trollge #trollge incidents #ask omg #oc: simia #oc: springy #oc: photographer #oc: sharp #oc: minor #oc: ted #oc: melfi #oc: fred #oc: sweety #oc: slick #oc: oscar #oc: gill #too much tags lol #acid refuge incident

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

This ask is a bingo card free space to talk about Stephen King stuff, cuz your last ask makes it seem like you have interesting stuff to say.

I don't know about interesting, and these are more personal opinions than anything else rather than meta of any kind, but I guess I can give it an answer.

Stephen King is a great novelist. I will start off with that immediately. The Dark Tower Series, while I have my gripes, remains one of my favorite fantasy series to this date (the first four books at least, after that is... for the second half of this post). Carrie, despite being his first novel, is iconic and memorable for a reason and packs a hard punch even when you know the Prom is coming.

This isn't really King so much but while there are many shitty film adaptations of his work there are several unbelievably good film adaptations to include The Green Mile, Stand by Me, the reboot IT Part 1 (Part 2 was... alright but not nearly as good), The Shining, and I'm sure others I either haven't seen yet or am momentarily forgetting about.

He's not one of my favorite novelists, but he is very good, and he's written some great works.

That said, he has his hang-ups and weirdness that he will almost always dump into a story.

What I was referencing in this post was that Stephen King has certain... I guess we'll call them Stephen King tropes. These are things that will pop up more often than not in Stephen King novels. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but you get an idea what to expect if you read enough of his work.

Rape/Sexual Abuse

There's a lot of rape in Stephen King novels and a lot of the time it's fucking weird.

IT, infamously, in the book has a gang bang scene where all the twelve your old boys have sex with the girl to save the universe. (No, seriously, this happens in the book. Funny that no film adaptation kept that one).

In The Dark Tower series we have the incubus/succubus that shows up more than once, and yes, part of it is that the story is based on Arthurian lore where there is canonically rape that's very important (Morganna's seduction of/sleeping with Arthur under false pretenses) but it's also just... really really uncomfortable and weird.

It's not every novel, but sometimes you see it and you just want to ask King, "Why?"

"Why, Stephen King, am I reading this scene which I'm not sure needed to be in this book? Did you really have to put this in here?"

The Stephen King Villains

Stephen King has a few types of villains, there's your primordial inhuman evil that takes advantage of human weakness (see the hotel in The Shining, the cemetery in Pet Semetary, IT in IT, etc.) and then there's your human cast of villains.

These vary too, but there's a certain flavor of them that I don't see anywhere else, and that's his teenage villains.

Usually, they themselves turn out to be victims of domestic abuse, which informs their violence in turn as they're caught in a tragic cycle, but you get these hyperviolent/vindictive kids who are just going to fuck up your life for little reason.

(The closest non Stephen King counterpart I can think of is Harry Potter's Marauders and specifically Sirius Black whose goading Severus Snape into nearly getting eaten by a werewolf is exactly the kind of shit that would happen in Carrie.)

I actually do like his villains, both his eldritch evil and the human pawns, and I like that the humans do tend to show depth in that they have reasons to become what they do and that usually a choice involved to become worse for some reason.

That said, they are a trope of his, and you know them when you see them.

Other Tropes

There are other things that come up, but as I haven't read most of Stephen King's works, or even most of his famous works, I don't feel comfortable extrapolating in the case that there really are counterexamples out there.

I've just come to expect that when I read Stephen King I'll get great stuff but I may also get fucking bonkers things as well. Sometimes the bonkers aids the story and sometimes I could do without it.

#stephen king #anti stephen king #meta #opinion

[moved05]

🧚‍♀️ elf.maid (Discord)

🧚‍♀️ 6842-5633-7797 (Switch).

🧚‍♀️ 764659094 (Genshin UID)

hi hi, my name is myskia (theorised to mean 'bat' in Old Swedish - it is found on a runestone, other meanings may also include 'to darken', 'twilight', 'gloom' and 'dusk').

interests; majorly interested in all things to do thats whimsical, fantasy + gothic themes, supernatural creatures + morbid themes etc, all fascinate me + 99% of things i like includes one of those things 😭

👾 gaming - skyrim, stardew valley, hogwarts legacy, elden ring, bloodborne, witcher, wizard 101, alice:madness returns, legend of zelda twilight princess, angels of death, the witch's house, dragon age inquisition, Ib, Outlast, Sims 3 Supernatural + more

👻 films/tv series/books - beetlejuice (musical), the dark crystal: age of resistance, what we do in the shadows, v for vendetta, dune, matrix, hannibal tv series, hannibal movies (silence of the lambs, red dragon etc), avatar, house of the dragon, the witcher, twilight, the crow, the munsters tv series, the addams family, monster high, disney films, LOTR, interview w/ the vampire, the vvitch, the lost boys, queen of the damned, van helsing, scooby doo, the craft, hocus pocus, crimson peak, sleepy hollow, 99% of tim burton films (nightmare before christmas, frankenweenie, coraline, corpse bride, alice in wonderland, sweeney todd, beetlejuice, Edward scissorhands etc), casper the friendly ghost, my sister the vampire book series, room on the broom, + lots more 😭 basically anything whimsical, witchy and spooky i usually love 😭

🎃 anime + manga - soul eater, death note, shiki, elfen lied, madoka magica, sailor moon, the cat returns, castlevania, berserk (+ manga, tw warning tho), witch hat atelier, siuil (girl from the other side) + more, i am getting back into anime + manga so pls send me recommendations 😭

🦇 music - zheani, moonspell, nightwish, björk, kate bush, cher, emilie autumn, chelsea wolfe, rob zombie, nina hagen, yeule, switchblade symphony, the birthday massacre, cocateau twins + so many more,this list is gonna get too long 😭 i'll have my spotify in this post somewhere, check #🦷 mp3 / #🧚‍♀️ mp3 if you want to find more i haven't listed here

🐈‍⬛ fave creatures + other - zebra jumping spider, hercules beetle, luna moths, death hawk moths, black witch moth, dragons!!, black cats, worms, leeches, white plume moth, ghost slug (first found in my country! 😍😭 tho i think the theory is they accidentally got here), mermaid purses, moon jellyfish, poison frog + glass frog, silver foxes, wolves, magpie (my fave bird, why do they sound like a machine gun but look so pretty waa 😭),

🌙 misc - the colours purple/black/lavender blue/dark green, fascinated with the culture surrounding death, the ocean + space, collecting teeth, weird medieval art (like fighting snails, tooth 'wyrms' or skeletons tending to gardens 😭), welsh mythology (love celtic mythology in general though), abandoned and/or haunted places, the smell of soil after rain (petrichor), elves and fairy faith, crystals, amethyst (birthstone), astrology (i like both western + vedic!), thelema, norse mythology, sword / knife collecting, foraging, the poison path (usage of poisonous plants in witchcraft/ritual), carnivorous plants, anything lore-wise about hedge riding (using trance to "fly" or astral project), dreams / dream symbolism / dream dictionaries etc, divination (tarot especially).

#intro #SoundCloud