Sorry for the inactivity--I have some creative and analytical projects in the works and they will be coming soon. I will be more active moving forward, but I've had a really rough year and it's put a wrench in major plans. I cannot continue to be discouraged or hold a "go with the flow" attitude anymore, however.
To kind of explain my inactivity, aside from the technical issues I've had with my laptop this year, my parents are separated and divorcing; I technically still live at home, and I'm still filed as a dependent of my dad, so this has been pretty significant beyond the emotional difficulties. Because of this, and her health complications in the last months of her life, I took on full-time care of my late oldest dog, Iris, which ultimately resulted in spending several thousand dollars on end-of-life care and aftercare--something I would do again in a heartbeat if I needed to, but it set back my savings goals tremendously. My best friend, thankfully, was able to help me with payments, but she is no better off than I am in life, and I give her the money for those monthly payments. I have other bills, I have groceries, and I have college expenses to also pay for, so my focus has very much been on making it through, trying to enjoy my last year at the school I've grown to adore, and keeping my head above water academically. However, life can't be boring.
When I started college, the financial support situation that me and my dad worked out was that he would pay the $25/month payment on my loans until I graduated (coming May 2026); this payment goes toward the loans' interest. This is a great deal of financial support for me, and I'll never complain about that. However, in preparing for my last semester, I was looking at my loan payment statuses and saw that there is an amount owed over $300, including late fees.
My parents are currently separated and preparing for a divorce, for reasons I rather not get into at the moment, but the whole situation has me feeling insecure and uncomfortable at home. "I'll be staying with my best friend for most of my up-coming winter break, whereas I spent my three past breaks home, and I'm looking to move out as soon as possible after graduation," type of uncomfortable. I will be taking my dog, Chiron, also, who is young and healthy but an active bugger with a seemingly bottomless pit for a stomach, so I'm trying to sort out as many financial issues before I walk across the stage as I can. Including my loans, if not especially, my loans.
My current goal on Ko-Fi is to raise a total of $500--that will cover the current amount owed, as well as all payments up to my graduation. If I reach the goal early, that money will still only go toward my monthly $25 payment. However, I'm also trying to generate more revenue (hate that phrase, sorry) for myself; part of this is finding a part-time job other than my work-study program, and part of this is really digging into content creation and my editing services.
I'll be posting my Linktree at the bottom of this post, and if you can support me in any way online, it's greatly appreciated. I'm trying to lean into TikTok and YouTube, and I'm working on posting more frequently to both. Gaming content, vlogs, silly things, media analysis, fandom content, and other commentary are all coming. On Tumblr, Ko-Fi, and Patreon, you can also support my writing. I have two membership tiers on Patreon: Iron Unicorn and Bronze Unicorn; both get social media shout-outs and early access to video content, but Bronze members also will be getting access to exclusive content. I will also be selling more downloadable written works, such as essays, and soon enough, short stories. But if you cannot pay anything, then simply sharing my posts around, especially on TikTok, and engaging, could help a lot as I try to build a decent life for myself and my boy Chiron.
I'm going to try to get the fees deferred, but there's no guarantee of that. I will keep the goal up regardless, but if anything is deferred, I will give an update and put any raised money here toward my monthly payments.
Been a while since I was active on here. It's hard to manage multiple accounts while in school lol. I'm much more active on TikTok right now, but I'll be posting more things about writing/actual writing on here as I work on my senior project and move toward graduation.
Anyway! WIP Wednesday and I have something to give! This is an excerpt from my WIP novel, particularly chapter one: The Woods Have Eyes. This is two scenes that I'm currently revising for the second and first time, respectively, and I'm in the process of changing quite a bit, so take it for the rough drop-off that it is lol. Despite the trigger warnings, this scene is relatively low-key and almost everything is lightly implied/referenced, not anything but some folk horror is explicitly depicted.
Also, no, I will not be fixing the formatting for this post lol.
TW: implied childhood sexual abuse, implied intimate partner violence, folk horror (Appalachian) themes, references to sexual assault, strong cult themes/religious abuse, and unaddressed religious trauma, mild classism (poor urban on poor rural), unaddressed sapphic yearning.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alice knew that this was all a bad idea. It was childish, selfish even, to want this so badly. She was seventeen. Her birthday was in two months.
Yet…
There she sat at her bedroom vanity, concealer blended into bronze foundation, and baby pink blush layered on top of her cheeks. Her eyes were not lined, but there was a pastel red brushed over her eyelids, just a few shades darker than her lipstick.
She was dolled up like her mother on date night, and it was for no one but herself. Vanity was an apt term, she thought shamefully. Her poor mother would have a fit if she saw Alice done up like this; she’d think there was something untoward happening. In a way, there was. She wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised with any boy but Holden, however, Jet was as uninterested in girls as Alice had ever seen a young man.
That was probably the reason Mama had bought the lie that Jet wouldn’t be attending tonight’s get-together. Jet had never been anything but respectful around her parents, more endearing and trusted than even Alice’s best friend Ashley.
Besides, it was just a party, and barely, at that; Jet being there, or not being there, really didn’t make a difference! A small get-together between three friends, at a house out in the woods, without parental guidance. Who cared?
It was irrelevant that Ashley had a fake ID. It was also irrelevant that Ashley’s mother had “misremembered” whether there was wine in the house.
More irrelevant than that, even, was the fact that Alice didn’t know how late she would be out, or how lucid she would be for Church in the morning. She had come to the conclusion that it was better not to think that far ahead sometimes, or else she might convince herself to never do anything worthwhile.
Jet would be pulling up to the drive before long. It was nearly six, right as Mama would be washing dishes from dinner, back to the front door. There was no use in dwelling on consequences for her immortal soul when she had pearl earrings to put in.
Surely, though—surely, God would forgive her for her transgressions tonight. In April, she would not have time for things like dances or Saturday night parties. May would start the beginning of her journey into adulthood, her renewed life as a Woman, no longer chained to the sins of her mother and dead father. One last night to be no different than her friends, to focus on her own joy, could not be damning. It couldn’t be.
Her phone buzzed, chirping out with Jet’s dedicated little BING notification sound. The screen blinked on to show her the message:
“Hey, I’m at the hill”
She almost knocked the damn thing to the floor trying to grab it and answer as quickly as possible, breath stuttering.
“I’ll be down in five.”
Five minutes was plenty of time to get down the hill in two-inch heels. Totally.
With one last look in the mirror—blonde curls sparkling with that weird glitter spray Ashley gave her, green eyes complimented almost-perfectly—she snatched her coat from the closet and slung it over her shoulders. She didn’t bother winding her arms through the sleeves; it’d just come off in the car.
She made sure to turn the light off behind her. Erik always complained about the cost of utilities in a house full of young women and she was giving him enough room to bitch her out without adding electrical crimes into the mix.
Her heels clicked on the hardwood a little too loudly to be comfortable, each creak of the floorboards making her shrink into herself more. It was chilly in the hallway, insulation thin and old, and insufficient with the line of windows on each side. The stairwell brought the most warmth, hot air wafting up from the second floor, and with it a scent that she could only describe as childish—the bathroom she shared with her two sisters always smelled of fruity bubblebaths.
She stopped at the foot of the stairs, listening closely. The twins were occupied, talking about… something about the bottle babies from their sheep flock. One of them laughed, she couldn’t tell who through the wall and the voice changes that puberty had wrought lately. Across from her, beside the main staircase, was her step-father’s office, and from it, the steady rhythm of Erik’s typing as he worked. He would not notice her walking past.
Stepping quietly to the other stairs, Alice clutched her coat tighter. Her dress—the sleek, tight red one with embroidered roses across the neckline—hung a little looser than she remembered. Hadn’t it clung more to her hips last year? That was half the reason Ashley bought it for her, so hopefully she was just being anxious.
It did feel odd that her old girl wasn’t following at the heels. Maybe it was that. Bo usually had to be reminded that it was bedtime and led back to Alice’s room at least once.
The main staircase was newer than the one to her room, not a single original plank remaining, inside or out. Not a creak or squeak sounded as she treaded down, though she kept her steps light regardless, heels clicking not-so-subtly.
Mama called out from the kitchen, soft as ever, but nonetheless startling in the quiet. “Ali-baby? Are you headin’ out?”
She froze, half-way down the stairs. Alice finished her descent slowly, stepping out into the foyer with a hesitation that had grown familiar in recent years. “Yes, Mama. Is that okay?”
Mama had her back turned, facing the sink as she scrubbed away at some dish or another. She was in her robe already, the light blue silk that she’d had for as long as Alice could remember, hems coming undone more and more each winter.
“Oh, of course, honey! I was just checkin’ in.” Something clattered in the sink, and Mama sighed. “You go have fun, okay? Tell me how the girls are tomorrow!”
Alice nodded instinctively, then realized that Mama probably couldn’t see her from that angle very well. “Yes, Mama, of course. Um, I’ll tell Ash you said hi.”
“Thank you!”
With a last glance up the stairs, at that office door, Alice made her way out the door. The hounds, startled awake by the loud cracking noise the door made as it opened, surely, began baying from the living room. She didn’t bother throwing an apology out before she closed the door behind her; she was sure she’d be hearing about it tomorrow regardless.
Traversing down the drive, and then down the hill to the highway, was as treacherous as she expected. Pieces of gravel kept catching in the space between her heel and arch, and the instability was even more daunting. Five minutes turned into six, then eight, and another notification was chiming from her phone. She ignored it. Alice could see a blue light at the bottom of the hill, just a few yards off. Jet was idling, headlights off, clearly looking down at his cellphone and waiting for some kind of response.
She knocked on the driver-side window.
He jumped, his phone flying somewhere toward the passenger seat as he recoiled. She heard muffled yelling, and snickered as she walked around the hood to the passenger door. Jet’s phone tumbled out when she opened it, still shining with whatever application he had open.
“What the fuck was that, Ali?” he demanded, waving something soft and flowy at her arm as she slide onto the seat. It felt like one of his fringe-covered scarves. “Are you trying to kill me? Mom’s expecting me home tonight, not to wake up to calls that I was found dead in a ditch somewhere.”
She snorted, unrepentant. “I don’t think your Mom would mind that much; she adores me.” She paused, thinking. “Ash would forgive me for killing you, anyway, so it’s okay.”
Jet looked at her for a long moment. With only the blue light of his phone, she couldn’t make out his expression, but she imagined one of mock horror and betrayal, his rich brown eyes bright with humor. “WOW, okay; I see how this group really is.” He reached over to take his phone from her. “Give me that, you evil witch.”
Alice pulled the seatbelt on and nudged him. “Well, come on then, old man, hop to.” She could almost feel him roll his eyes as he turned out onto the highway.
Ashley lived outside of Rathton proper, clear on the other side of town. It was a straight, smooth drive through town, just over thirty minutes, if Jet wanted to bear the midnight drunks and other teens wandering home in the dark.
He did not want to do that.
What Jet wanted to do was take the exit off the highway and follow the back roads around the limits of Rathton. It would take nearly an hour, and there was hardly anything but trees and occasional crop fields. There were, of course, the infrequent glowing eyes of deer on the edge of the road, blue-white and watchful as they passed in their some-ton death machine.
They were barely five minutes into the drive, and Alice’s hair was already standing on end, goosebumps bubbling over her skin like some vicious rash. She occupied herself for a moment by wrenching a rock from her heel, and wiping dust off the soles.
“Did we have to come down this way?” she asked mildly. “I hate—”
Jet pumped the brakes, cursing as they jerked to a quick stopped. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder, glaring at something behind them. She followed his gaze to see someone standing on the shoulder not far from them, their bright clothing catching light that otherwise would have been swallowed by the forest’s nighttime gloom.
She felt eyes on them. “I hate these roads at night,” she stated plainly.
“Yeah, me too,” he muttered, re-adjusting to get the car moving again. “People out here are so fucking weird.”
“Hey!” she pouted.
“You don’t count, Ali.”
She rolled her eyes, sighing. He always had something to say about her neighbors. They were… eccentric, sometimes, sure, but most of them lived along those roads long before Jet’s neighborhood sprang up inside the city limits. Hell, Erik’s family had been around for generations before those limits lay where they do now. It wasn’t right to judge people for their long-lived ways, that’s what Erik always told her.
“Just be careful, please.”
“I know, I know. Just try to chill out before your party. It’s just a bunch of trees and weird old people.”
The trees did not embody the grasping hands of the devil any less as she settled back against the leather seat, despite her efforts to see them less as horrifying looming darkness and more as, well, just a bunch of trees.
Her phone chirped, screen flashing on.
“Isn’t a bit late for your friends to be texting you?” Jet asked, skepticism clear in his voice. Alice waved a hand at him, though he likely couldn’t see it with how focused he had become on the road ahead.
None of the girls from Church would be texting her again until morning, consumed entirely by family dinners, dates, and housework. Perhaps a few assignments, if they hadn’t churned through all their schoolwork already. It was what happened every weekend: your phone goes to your parents Friday night and you get it back Monday morning before school. Exceptions included approved outings like dates, being unsupervised at home, or, occasionally, the demands of secondary education. Simple, reliable.
That left two options for who could be messaging her, the worst option, and the best.
“It’s not a friend, it’s just Holden.” She mumbled, disappointed, and swiped away the notification from her boyfriend, quickly shutting off the screen. She dropped her phone into her bag to be ignored until further notice. He could wait until after Church to talk to her, then wait again until Monday morning when she had her phone more regularly, like he did every other weekend.
She heard Jet take a deep breath and felt the shift in his mood like the rising anger was a physical thing between them. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, scratching at the cuticle of her thumb.
Over the years, she had learned that his anger was different than most guys—quiet, pointed; held down to simmer until it could be dealt with calmly and politely. There were no cruel words to forgive him of later, no raised hands, but there was an unknown. Alice was always waiting for his mask to crack, like her other guy friends, like her boyfriend.
It never came, but she knew it would. Men were the same, deep down.
“I don’t understand why you’re with him if you aren’t, like, actually into him, Ali,” Jet stated, his voice wavering just a tad, as it usually did when nerves struck him. It always pitched slightly higher than his normal octave. “He’s not exactly an up-standing guy, I mean…” A chirp from her discarded phone cut him off. He didn’t finish the explanation.
Alice ignored her phone, again. “He’s a good match, Jet; my folks wouldn’t have set me up with him if he wasn’t, right?”
Jet hummed some non-committal sound and glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
She needed more friends from the Church. There were less questions involved.
Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, she decided to change the subject for both their sakes, “What are we doing tonight, anyway? Did Ash bring that game from her dad’s house—the one with all the pictures?”
Jet nodded, looking at her head-on for the first time in what felt like hours. “Yeah, I don’t know if we’ll end up playing though. That’s mostly just in case you don’t like the wine.”
“Oh.”
“Mhm!”
Alice scoffed dramatically. Jet was so removed from his natural masculinity, she wondered if he even realized how that sounded. It made her a little sick to think about, insides squirming, trying to crawl up her throat all of the sudden. She ignored it, pushed through for the sake of levity. “You secular folks and your corrupting influences!” she giggled, fake even to her own ears. She found a hangnail to dig at. “Getting a poor church girl drunk to take advantage of, how dare you!” her theatrical laughing petering off as Jet remained silent. She turned back to the road, ignoring the hasty look shot back to her.
“Ali?”
Her finger hurt where her nail broke through the skin, wet with blood or plasma, she couldn’t quite tell. Something heavy was sitting in her guts. “Hm?”
Trees whizzed by.
“What, uh—that’s not really funny, hon.” He sounded so unsure of himself suddenly.
She barely heard him.
There was another person standing on the shoulder ahead of them. Their eyes staring the car down as they drew closer, wide and shining like a deer’s. Her brow furrowed. “Is that guy okay?”
Jet’s attention snapped to her so quickly she flinched. “Huh?”
“There’s someone on the shoulder up there,” she pointed ahead, watching as they stepped backward into the treeline. It reminded her of dog ducking behind a shed to hide its new bone.
“Ali, your neighbors are fucking weird,” Jet deadpanned. “And the cops say Downtown has a drug problem; they should fucking look out here for a place to raid.”
Alice snorted, face screwing up in mirth. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be, like, anti-police or something—isn’t it hypocritical for you to say that?”
He swatted at her, playfully. “It was a joke, loser; keep up.”
She cackled, face flushing under her makeup.
-
Ashley’s house was tucked up on a hill, much like Alice’s; enveloped by trees and drowned in deep shadow, the driveway all but hidden by the spring growth on either side. Unlike Alice’s gravel and dirt road, however, Ash’s was paved. The asphalt was dull and cracking, but it was smoother than most on the outskirts of Rathton, and there was only one, relatively small, pothole on the right-hand side near the middle that never stayed full no matter how many buckets of dirt and sand Ms. Grover packed into it in the summer.
Jet almost missed the turn.
“Shit, shit—”
“Jesus Christ, don’t hit the mailbox again, oh my God—”
Almost missed it.
It would have been less chaotic if he had to pull a U-turn in the middle of the long main road. Instead, he narrowly avoided hitting Ms. Grover’s mailbox and totaling his sister’s car like he did his own last year. He still owed his folks’ money for that thing.
He was rambling, jittery and visibly tense, “OKAY, we’re good, we’re vibing—” Ashley’s driveway was, at the very least, not nearly as horrifically long as Alice’s. There was a decent chunk of wood between her house and the main road, but nothing more complicated than a gentle slope and frequent tree trunks. It should be an easy drive, even in the dark.
“OW!”
The poor car sunk and lurched up horribly.
“SHIT! SORRY!”
Should be an easy drive, and yet. He’d hit the damn pothole.
“How do you keep doing that? You know it’s there; it’s always been there, Jet—”
“I know, I know—”
Alice sighed and rubbed the sore spot on her arm, where her elbow had slammed down on the center console when the front right wheel slipped into the pothole. She really should know better than to leave her arms resting on either the console or door. It always ended the same, as most things in her life did. “Come on, man,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry, I can’t fucking see the road, though!”
Alice rolled her eyes and sighed. “We need to get you some driving lessons, I swear.”
“Says the girl who legally can’t drive to begin with.”
She pouted, “Erik says that I don’t need to; that’s what husbands are for.” He visibly cringed, side-eyeing her. “What? I’m just saying.”
He hummed something noncommittally in response as they pulled up to Ashley’s house, parking beside her sea-foam blue hatchback and promptly cutting the ignition. “I still think y’all are weird for that gender shit, but I’m not gonna knock you for your dad’s choices, you know?”
Alice blinked, eyes darting anywhere but Jet. “Um… thank you? I think?” He snickered and unlocked the car, beckoning her to follow him out.
Ashley’s house was a modest thing; newer than the farm house, but smaller with simple, modern features that made life a bit easier out in the sticks like they were. There was no furnace or fire stove chugging smoke outside, no tank for a gas oven or stovetop inside. Just electricity from the city grid and appliances as old as Alice was. There was no story or attic, not even a cellar or large porch. A simple, concrete patio was in the back with a dull blue canopy tent providing shade and a modicum of defense against mosquitos.
She always loved the garden of potted herbs and flowers that sprawled across their front yard; bright little gnomes guarded the leafy hoard and pointed, unsubtly, to the rock pathway that lead from the drive to the front stoop, half-hidden by clay stains and spring growth.
They skipped over what remained of the fancifully-painted stones, pressing the same almost-lost rocks further into the earth as they always had. She rang the bell. There was no light on in the kitchen.
Ashley appeared on the other side of the glass like an apparition, brown eyes bright and soulful against the deep shadows of her house. She held up a finger to signal that she was undoing the locks, as she always did. She’d painted yellow and orange butterfly wings around her eyes, round white gems dotted around Her lovely black braids were tied up into a bun, something shiny and pale wrapped around the base that looked like an angel’s halo. Alice could see the ruffled yellow straps of what was surely a gaudy, terribly gorgeous get-up.
The locks clicked and thunked open, the door quickly following their influence. Ashley beamed, making grabby-hands at them and bouncing excitedly. “Oh my gosh, come here, come here!” She did not wait for them to go to her, all but launching herself out of the doorway and wrapping an arm tightly around each of them.
She smelled like rose oil and smoke. Alice took a deep breath as she squeezed her best friend tighter. Ashley always found the most wonderful soft clothes.
“Oh my god, Ally, I missed you so much!” Ash gushed, pulling away to drag them both inside. “I feel like I barely see you anymore, you’re always with that dumbass.”
Jet was already back to giggling like they hadn’t disagreed on anything, ever, and it made Alice feel lighter than she had in a while. If there was one thing that she could rely on here, it was the ability to forget about things like being a proper woman for a little while. Just with the small things.
Still, she owed Holden some deference. “He isn’t—”
Ashley shushed her. “None of that; he doesn’t matter tonight.”
Alice huffed with more indignation than she actually felt. “Fi-i-i-ne.”
“In, in, in—both of you, go sit down.”
She and Jet were unceremoniously shoved further into the kitchen, Ashley staying at the door to, presumably, relatch the locks. Alice helped herself to one of the barstools—the old, spinning one with the duct-taped foam seat and rusting legs—and promptly began to spin, pushing against the counter each pass to keep momentum. Jet snorted as she whirled around, and he quickly became a blurry, occasional sight as she continued.
There were three—no—four hard clicks and then Ashley was a wonderful yellow blob beside Jet. Ash said something to him, too quiet for her to hear, and she frowned, neglecting to push off the counter on the next pass. She let her momentum fade as they whispered, squinting as she slowed, their faces coming back into focus with a strange tension between the three of them.
“Ashley,” she started, grabbing the counter now, “did y’all put a new lock on the door?”
They both jumped, startling away from each other as their wide eyes snapped to hers. Jet looked back to Ash from the corner of his eye, quirking a brow.
“Why are you guys being weird?” she asked. “I just asked about the locks.”
The look on Ashley’s face—brow pinched, jaw tense, eyes downcast just so—told her all she needed to know: it wasn’t about the locks, it was something else, something that Ash didn’t want to talk about. Was it the whispering?
“Um,” Jet muttered, eyes darting nervously. “Yeah, someone’s been poking around out back again. You know how it is this side of town.”
Alice did know. She knew very well. She had installed Lock #2 after meeting Ash in freshman year, and Lock #3 last fall. She didn’t know when a fourth lock was installed, or who had done it. “Yeah, I know.”
Ash nodded. “I had Jet’s dad help me out with it,” she explained. “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t wanna bother you with it, with everything going on lately… You know?”
She shook her head. She didn’t know. Ashley could always bother her. Since when could she not? Her face was flushing again, the mirth gone and replaced by a warmth that was a lot less fun and much more like anger. Why was she angry?
Jet came up to her quickly, gesturing in a way she couldn’t quite read. He seemed anxious, more jerky than usual. “You’ve just, um, been stressed lately. Holden has been a big change for everyone, and, you know. We just wanted to keep a load off you while you focus on graduation and all that.” He looked at her imploringly, like he was trying to convince her.
It reminded her of the look Holden had given her last week in his car, his hand over her mouth and—
She bit aggressively at her lips, wondering if blood would finally rinse the taste of his skin from her mouth. It could be worth a try, later, when she had only her own thoughts and memories for company.
“Okay,” she said at last, when the silence stretched too thin and Jet looked sick enough with himself for her to know. He was lying to her. Ashley was too, by proxy if nothing else.
Jet winced, rubbing a at his arm and casting what might have been a pleading look over his shoulder. Ashley met his gaze skeptically from the other end of the counter. “O-okay?” he asked, squinting. It was as if he expected something different from her.
She nodded, even as something inside her felt like it was breaking. Maybe that was what people meant by broken trust. “Mm-hm.”
Ashley whispered something to him again.
“Yeah, I see that, Ash,” he hissed back.
Her skin crawled. She hated this. They were keeping things from her, lying to her face, and for what? She opened her mouth to say—something. She snapped it shut when her brain caught up with the hot, aching feeling in her chest. Her hair clung uncomfortably to the back of her neck, sweat prickling all over. “What do you want me to say?” she asked softly.
Jet flinched, eyes snapping down like Mama’s did sometimes. Guilty. Guilty, guilty—
“Anyway, um,” she mumbled, plastering on her picture-perfect smile like she did every Sunday for Church, “Y’all wanted to drink something? And play a game? Do you still want to do that or do you want to do something else?”
Ashley, bless her, smart girl, took the out. “Yeah! Yeah, let’s, um, let’s get this part going. Ali’s Not-Birthday is officially in session.” She clapped twice, like that would clear the tension from the air and cast out the changes that had just occurred. “Jet, go get the wine—it’s under the extra ice on top, you’ll have to dig for it.”
“Why is it—”
“So my mother wouldn’t find it, obviously! Not all of our parents are so chill, man.”
Alice had the impression that it would be a very long night.
I am very late to this but I read the first part of your Fallout Typed series and enjoyed it. I wasn't able to find a continuation using the tags, did you ever post a second / can you link it? I quite enjoyed reading through it.
Hiya! Sorry for the wait, I got really busy with midterms and a group project :') I'm glad you enjoyed that! It feels like so long since I did that, omg. I'm surprised it's on anyone's radar these days. Also thank you for the question!
SO! The Fallout series... I do plan on returning to that! It's on my list of projects to dive back into after I graduate in May, as I just haven't had the time to do all of the research needed for that series--there's a lot of cross-referencing involved, and I just don't haven't had the mental energy or the time to dedicate to a project that requires so much research in a while. But I only have about two months until I graduate, and then a couple weeks where I'll be moving, and then I'll have a lot more time and energy (and space!) to dedicate to projects, especially my cross-media projects like essays, timelines, and analyses.
I'm currently focusing on my novel, which is part of my process of graduating with my B.A., and an analysis series on Hazbin Hotel--I'll be posting more frequently about both of those things across Tumblr, Ko-Fi, Patreon, TikTok, YouTube, and Insta, if you're interested. I also talk sometimes about the Fallout TV show on TikTok. I'll pop my LinkTree down below, just to try to tempt you.
But, I'm opening up topic/commentary requests, after midterms (so like... Saturday-ish), so you'll be able to submit or ask questions on here, or you could go to my Ko-Fi and leave a question in a tip; could @ me in a post online somewhere, or leave a comment on a TikTok, etc. Just in case there's something specific you're interested in hearing about but I'm not actively working on.
Anywhos. Again, thank you for the ask! Here's my linkytree if interested: https://linktr.ee/salty.unicorn
TW: horror themes, blood, mild gore; allusions to domestic violence, child abuse, and childhood sexual abuse; allusions to pedophilia within an organized religion; cult themes.
Uploaded 12/13/2025
Bo-Peep greeted her with excited yips and tiny hops, Alice struggling past her in her half-drunken state. The rattle of the screen door seemed far too loud in the midnight quiet of her home, the dark foyer like a yawning mouth into a deep mountain cave.
A light in the kitchen caught her eye, bright and yellow and… flickering?
“Down, Bo,” Alice mumbled, reaching down to pat at the dog’s head even as she made her way through the shadows, using her other hand to feel for walls and furniture.
The “light” was on the table, a tiny yellow-orange flame dancing within a mason jar half-filled with water. A closer look—it was one of her mama’s floating candles, usually reserved for centerpieces and storms that knocked out the power, half-melted into the water. It was like an iceberg had caved in the middle, the drippings tapering down toward the bottom of the jar.
She stared at it for a while, watching the wax slowly pool in the center now that the edges were too tall for any to fall into the water. Eventually, the wick would become too wet and sputter out like a dying grill flame, drowned by its own fuel. It was such an odd way for a floating candle to melt, wax clearly having tipped over the edge early on to create furrows that more would follow through, cleaving through the water instead of cooling on the surface…
She didn’t know what to think of it, and was frankly too tipsy to dwell on the complexities of physics and candle wax drippings. Alice turned away from the candle, wondering why her Ma would have left it burning so late in the night.
There was a folded slip of paper on the table, barely illuminated by the tiny flame. A colored-in heart was drawn in dark ink. Alice dragged it closer to her, unsteadily unfolding it without lifting it from the tabletop.
It was a note, signed by her mama…
---
Alice read the comment again. Then again.
It continued to confound her.
The world Outside notoriously frowned upon the Church’s way of life, despite it being the most Godly, the closest to His design. Surely, these people must have been misunderstanding something. She wondered if any of them had ever talked to an actual preacher from the King’s Immortal Church. They could be scary sometimes, yes—all men could be, that was just what temptation did—but truly they were very kind so long as you were Godly in their presence.
Everyone knew it was only the ill-tempered and spiritually soiled who caused proper men of God to sin, and sex was only sinful if it was outside of your Bonds. Some people were skeptical, of course—the Devil was a strong opponent—but it only took a few conversations with a real man of God for things to click into place.
Hopefully, these poor lost souls would be blessed with such conversation before the End.
---
Her bedroom creaked all around her, the old wood swaying strangely like the house was at sea. Flickering blue-white lightning cut through the darkness periodically, casting the frame of her window into stark relief and deepening the shadows of the room. Rain poured in through the broken glass, splattering over the sill and onto the floor. Alice watched in silence, blinking at the soundless storm as she trembled with the house, the vibrations of thunder and powerful wind causing her to doubt if the outside world was really so quiet, or if her house had just become very, very loud.
There was a dripping pool of bright, candy-colored blood oozing through her mattress, the topsheet and blankets crumpled on the floor beside the frame, drying splotches of crimson threatening to stain. A puddle was growing slowly out from beneath her bed, the over-saturated mattress dripping gore onto the hardwood. Her stomach made an unsettled gurgling sound, and she smudged tacky blood across her abdomen as she tried to quiet the sound.
She turned away, a hand clutching her abdomen.
The discordant noises of the house and the gentle, almost delicate pat-pat of raindrops were the only consistent sounds, the water subdued despite the harsh spray from outside. It was like she was listening to the water from far away, a leaky faucet in another room.
Something tight and barbed shifted inside her chest. The urge to scratch and press at her sternum until it cracked hit like a whip. Her mouth tasted like acid. She needed to get out.
---
The air was heavy with dust and something more metallic than lightning. It tasted of mold and rotting wood, her home’s familiar flowered and pale green wallpaper peeling off the plaster, curling over itself and down toward the floor, the raw insides exposed to the humidity and must.
“Hello?” she called softly, watching as blue light filtered through windows and curtains. No one responded, but she heard wooden floorboards creaking from somewhere in the darkness. It was deafeningly loud surrounded by the strangely subdued sounds of the storm, a harsh crack within the quiet.
A sudden surge of rain rattled the window panes, threatening the security of the frame, soundless except the occasional patter on the glass. Her chest tightened incrementally more, something aching deep in the squishy space inside. Far ahead, something wispy caught her eye.
“Hello?” she repeats, squinting at the strange figure wavering at the other end of the hallway. It seemed to have heard her, straightening up and turning what looked like a pale, smoke-smudged face toward her. She’d never seen anyone like them, all soft edges and flittering features. “Hey, who-who are you?” she demands.
They stared for another moment, her heart skittering painfully. Her mouth opened around another call, the only action that made sense to her. They stepped out of sight before the words were out, disappearing down the stairwell.
“Hey, hey—wait!” She took off after them, her footfalls silent in the hall despite how heavy her steps were, her skin stinging every time she made contact with the floor. “Wait a second! Please!”
That horrible, deafening creak echoed up from the stairwell, as if the house itself was responding in lieu of the person she was chasing.
---
“Hello?” she called out, reaching around the wall to find the light switch. “Is someone in here?” Her hand caught on the little nub on the wall and she shoved it up toward the ceiling. The light flickered and crackled like a fire, fizzling out within a few torturous moments.
Slow, repetitive knocks echoed out from somewhere. “Hello? Is someone in here?”
The voice was high and raspy, rough in a way that she could only associate with a life-long smoker or someone who had been silent for a very long time. Unused.
Despite her own wavering voice, Alice called out again.
“Hell-o? Is someone…here?” the voice cracked in a way terribly similar to her own, pitching up on the last word and ringing with a forced politeness that grated. “Is someone here?”
Alice’s breath caught, a gasp stuttering in her lungs. “Hhh… Hello?”
WIP Wednesday/Whumptober2025 no.1: "Put Me On Your Butcherblock"
[illustration]
tw: implied stalking, sexual assault/non-consensual sexual advances*, psychosexual horror.
Prompt: Lamb to Slaughter
Original short story from my in-progress collection temporarily titled "Temporary Title" lol
wip under cut.
The house was quiet around her, the gentle patter of rain on windowpanes the only noise above her own heartbeat and soft breath. There was no thunder, though she felt the building shake with each rumble that didn’t sound, lightning flashing across her room. She was alone.
Or, she should have been.
There was a boy sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her as she lay beneath her sheets, hiding like a child afraid of the wind. He seemed tall, looming over her like a wraith, the edges of his hair and broad frame wispy with shadow. His eyes were striking, large and round and blue as a summertime sky, almost glowing in the darkness. It was easy to get lost in them, let the fear of the moment and the strange tightness in her guts to lull her into a quiet sense of caution.
The boy with the blue eyes tilted his head, not unlike a dog inspecting something, and blinked slowly. His pupils were dilated, bottomless pits that reflected the red glow of her alarm clock and the fairy lights around her bedframe. She felt like something under examination, a crab in an aquarium or a butterfly tacked into a shadowbox.
A sound, whether one of fear or greeting, caught in her throat, the trepidation inside her chest strangling it before it could properly escape. He flinched, eyes narrowing, and lunged—
“Sh-sh-sh—” he muttered, pressing his hands over her now-open mouth and straining throat, pressing her panicked whimpers into his too-warm flesh. “It’s okay.”
She brought a hand up to swipe at his face, hoping her nails found purchase in the dark.
“That’s not very nice,” he mumbled, sliding his leg over her hip to straddle her, using his own solid weight to push her onto her back. Every time she thought she should have made contact with his skin, she was met with nothing but a wave of humidity that she assumed was his breath. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
That seemed like such an obvious lie. That was exactly what the scary men in movies said to their unrequited lady-loves.
What did that make her?
"Mmph”
“Hush, now,” he breathed above her, his pretty glowy irises all but shut out by his blown pupils. “Be quiet, okay? You’re alright, just relax for me, hm?”
She dug her nails into the wrist below her neck, making contact. The flesh there felt more like cooked tree bark, hard and smooth, and unyielding beneath her fingertips, but so warm that her palm quickly became sweaty and heated. She whimpered into his hand, losing her grip on him and resigning to just hold onto his arm and hope.
Her right hand fell down next to her pillow, palm turned up.
“Mm…”
“Are you gonna be quiet?” he asked, low and teasing but friendly enough. “You gonna be good for me?”
Her face flushed with indignation, eyes narrowed to glare at him in place of the scolding she couldn’t voice. He chuckled; it was sweet and thick as honey. Still, his hands were firm on her face and neck, the strength in him clear by how effortlessly he’d pinned her. Maybe complying, just a little, just to avoid anger, was in her best interest…
“Mmk-y.”
He blinked. Squinted. His eyes darted over her quickly, from her hands to her shuddering chest, hidden by her covers, back up to her eyes. Searching, but for what, she didn’t know. Honesty, perhaps.
Whatever it was, he must have found something satisfactory. His hand slid from her mouth to the wrist beside her pillow, allowing her to speak, but gripping tight enough to provide a steady reminder of how easily he could take this away from her again.
“Hello,” he muttered all casual, as if he wasn’t currently pinning her to her bed.
She licked her lips, trying to soothe the anxiety bubbling in her chest somehow. “H-i—hi, um, hi?”He snickered at her stuttering. “Who-?”
The boy shrugged. “A friend.” How cryptic. “Don’t worry about it.”
Don’t worry about it, like he wasn’t literally on top of her. Like he didn’t still have his hand around her throat, the hard, bony joint where his index met his palm digging into the bump of her thyroid painfully.
She wasn’t going to argue. “Okay…”
The boy—her friend, apparently—sat down on her hips. Strangely, he felt like almost nothing, a vague pressure stretched over her, but not crushing like she expected. She tried to ignore the taut press of something into her navel, but her ears still flushed with mortification. Slowly, he dragged his hand down from her wrist, his nails tickling the inside of her elbow before trailing up to her shoulder.
“Good girl,” he mumbled, his fingers playing over her deltoid and collarbone. She swallowed thickly and his eyes snapped down to his hand around her throat. A smile tugged at his lips, and his fingers flexed, like he had the urge to squeeze them—the thing on her navel twitched, and she squirmed. His eyes narrowed, but didn’t scold her again.
“Um—what do you want?” she squeaked as quietly as she could. His eyes narrowed, an implicit reminder to watch it.
He tilted his head, stroking the curve of her throat with his fingertips, gentle despite the threatening tone he’d set. “I just wanted to say ‘hi.’” Like that wasn’t weird as fuck. “I’ve missed you, Amy.”
“Missed-?”
As quickly as she spoke, the boy leaned down, some long, slippery thing sliding between her lips to brush against her teeth. She squealed and pushed herself as far into her bed as possible, squishing her pillow flat beneath her head. He pulled back with a low chuckle, that cool wet thing hanging from his lips—she realized with a flush of mortification that it was his tongue, that he had just licked her.
Did that count as a kiss?
She felt another wave of prickling heat behind her eyes, the threat of further tears and the boy’s uncertain reaction to her noise making her quake beneath him. She squeezed her eyes shut, dragging up her courage to tear a scream from her chest—
THUMPTHUMPTHUMP
“Amy? Baby, are you okay?!”
—She opened her eyes to an empty room, just her racing heart, wet cheeks, and concerned father outside in the hallway to indicate anything had even happened.
“Daddy?” she called, pushing up and tugging the blankets closer like she was a frightened child. “Dad?”
He opened the door, peeking in to assess the situation before actually stepping in. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“I don’t—” she was more confused by the lack of lack of concern than what had actually transpired. Why was he not more worried? Someone had broken in and—wait no.
The house was quiet. Their alarm system hadn’t been triggered. Her window was closed and, presumably, locked just as she’d left it that evening. The boy-thing that had been pinning her simply disappeared, no trace of him anywhere.
“I think… it was just a nightmare. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, hugging her knees to her chest and staring into the distance.
“Okay… try to relax, honey, and get some sleep, okay?” Dad turned out of sight, closing the door quietly.
One more sleep until Whumptober! We hope you have left cookies and milk out for your whumpers, and that your whumpees sleep with one eye open as they prepare for what will happen to them this month!
This is your reminder that we have a lovely group of helpers who will be reblogging your posts over the next month over on our archive blog @whumptober-archive, so be sure to give the blog a follow to see all the amazing works from our participants this year!
Please be patient and remember that we have many people participating, which means we cannot guarantee your posts will be reblogged, but we will try our best. But remember that not getting reblogged does not diminish your hard work or mean your work has any less value than others. However, if you are disheartened at a lack of interaction, then do let us know and we will do our best to help, but we will not accept abuse. Our rebloggers are all volunteers who will be working hard this month, so please be sure to give them some love!
Most importantly, have fun this month, take care of yourselves, and enjoy putting your blorbos through torment!
I think the hardest part of grief is being stabbed in the heart by all the things I did for you, all the things I'm having to give up because I can't keep them, there's no point without you here.
I'm starting to go the opposite direction of all the "you're a literal baby infant until 25 bc your bwain is a baby bwain :(" shit
We should be treating teens as more adult than we do. I don't mean some lowering the age of consent creep shit, I mean presuming competence. Get a job, learn life skills, learn to cook, be fully responsible for a pet, walk places alone (in daylight) or with a friend, have intergenerational friendships, teach skills to littler kids, be someone people can trust with more than wiping their own ass. Be someone they themselves can trust to do stuff and go places. We're stealing children's confidence by treating them like they can't do anything. Treat them like they can and should do many adult things and more will find the confidence to practice at them.
Yes, the brain isn't finished growing when you're like 15. No, you shouldn't get treated like a preschooler till it is. The general experience of adulthood is like 90% practice 10% maturity I think. The maturity is needed but it doesn't account for much if you just do nothing.
YES. And with support! Teach your teens to make their own doctors appointments by sitting by them in case something comes up they don't know the answer to. Show your elementary schoolers how to cook a meal. Teach them how to read a map and guide you where they want to go. Kids are capable.
And especially: *teach your kids, however small, what they can do in emergencies." That learning (because you trusted them with it as important) will sink deep into their brains and help them cope for the rest of their lives. They will know, from tiny times, what coping looks like. It'll lead them toward strengths they never knew they had.
When I was still nursing in NY and occasionally helped out our colleagues in ER, several times I saw small children who'd been taught what to do save their whole families from burning buildings by having been coached in how to use the phone to call for help and say what the trouble was, even when their parents and other older kids were unresponsive.
Teach your kids to rely on themselves, even when "people who'll tell them what to do if they're not sure" are unavailable. ...Because they may not always be available.
This leavening ingredient is also called "hartshorn", because in previous centuries, the only way to get it was by subjecting stags' antlers to high heat. (More about that here.) In German it's still called Hirschhornsalz.
The reason this stuff is judged to be seriously superior for some baking is that—unlike baking powder and baking soda—in the finished product you can't taste that any leavening product has been used. The heat of the baking process drives off the ammonia (and you betcha, you'll smell it then!). But the final baked product will be light and beautifully risen, and will taste of nothing but the non-leavening ingredients. It's frankly kinda magical.
(More about the chemistry of leavening agents, and some discussion of the comparisons among them, is here.)
ETA: Just a note in passing—if you're going to buy some of this to experiment with (and why wouldn't you? I did), only get as much as you're going to need in the very short term. It doesn't keep at all well once you've opened the package.
I know it's been a while since I posted, but please consider giving to help me cover expenses for my dog's ongoing medical treatment. She's had a rough summer with bladder stones, surgery, recovery, and a new strict prescription diet, and now seems to have developed Fly Bite Syndrome, which is indicative of an underlying issue. We're trying to get her in for testing in the next few days--I'm collecting documentation of the episodes in the meantime--but will need on-going medication and perhaps on-going evaluation. Anything helps--if everyone who sees this post gives 1-5$, it's as helpful as just one person giving $50.
The current goal is to raise $200 by Monday so Mama and I can get the old girl in that day.
I know it's been a while since I posted, but please consider giving to help me cover expenses for my dog's ongoing medical treatment. She's had a rough summer with bladder stones, surgery, recovery, and a new strict prescription diet, and now seems to have developed Fly Bite Syndrome, which is indicative of an underlying issue. We're trying to get her in for testing in the next few days--I'm collecting documentation of the episodes in the meantime--but will need on-going medication and perhaps on-going evaluation. Anything helps--if everyone who sees this post gives 1-5$, it's as helpful as just one person giving $50.
The current goal is to raise $200 by Monday so Mama and I can get the old girl in that day.
I know it's been a while since I posted, but please consider giving to help me cover expenses for my dog's ongoing medical treatment. She's had a rough summer with bladder stones, surgery, recovery, and a new strict prescription diet, and now seems to have developed Fly Bite Syndrome, which is indicative of an underlying issue. We're trying to get her in for testing in the next few days--I'm collecting documentation of the episodes in the meantime--but will need on-going medication and perhaps on-going evaluation. Anything helps--if everyone who sees this post gives 1-5$, it's as helpful as just one person giving $50.
The current goal is to raise $200 by Monday so Mama and I can get the old girl in that day.
