#fierceathlete

@fierceathlete said: “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.”

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ☪︎ . *. ⋆ OKAY, MAYBE IT WAS A BIT ... out there to come back here again. especially after having barely spent more than thirty seconds here on his own, the last time spent pulling nancy out of it's admittedly TERRIFYING grip, but here he was, back in the upside down and panting after having alerted a nearby swarm of demobats after tripping over a vine he thought was a root.

but that wasn't the only thing on their asses now. after having tripped on the vine — which was something that could have avoided entirely if they'd just buy another fucking gun instead of having to retrieve the one will left in the upside down — they probably had alerted vecna, the vecna, the cause of all this strife between the two worlds in the first place. first they'd come up with a terrible plan, and now they were potentially the target of the most POWERFUL being both of them had probably encountered in real life.

❝ yeah, i know, i know, ❞ he quietly responds in frustration, mostly aimed at himself and his dumb ideas more than anything else. ❝ just buying another gun would have been the better option. ❞

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.  It was dark. Silent. The only sound Billy could hear was his heartbeat --- and it reverberated in his very bones as the pace quickened. No stranger to the terrifying monsters that lurk in the shadows, Billy wondered if he was having another dream. Being possessed by a creature from another dimension, forced to slaughter over fifty civilians, then abandoned and lost in the Upside Down for eight months were enough to sign him up for a lifetime supply of nightmares. There was no telling what horror awaited him every time he dared to close his eyes.

Eventually, the dark began to dissipate like a thick fog, slowly revealing his surroundings. Blue eyes blinked as he saw the small, rundown auto shop come into focus. The sounds of night soon followed, along with a chill in the air that him thankful he had his jean jacket. The details were far too distinct for a dream. As he stood and looked at the night sky beyond the opened garage door, Billy tried to recall how he'd gotten to such a place.

His car had broken down, eerily starting events off in the same manner as the night he'd been possessed. Knowing a gas station wasn't too far away, he started walking. That's when the fog rolled in. A fog unlike anything he'd seen in Hawkins. It became so thick that it blocked out his view of anything until ---

--- he found himself in the abandoned garage.

There was something off about the place he was in, as though it weren't quite real. But without the large black vines and floating particles in the air, he knew it wasn't the Upside Down. Whatever it was, he had no idea how to get back.

"Fucking bullshit. Not again," he mumbled to himself as he headed out of the shop and towards the field of tall grass. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit one up to calm his nerves as he began his search for any sign of civilization. The sound that met his ears made him freeze instantly. A blood curdling scream from far away pierced the night. He turned, looking for the source, his mouth half open in surprise as his cigarette dangled from his lips.

                           they make an ODD DUO —with her quick legs outsmarting the slow beast’s tumble after , knife in tow , michael lurches forward , suddenly — desperately . . . but is too slow for the athlete. but by dumb luck , he grabs her lithe appendage in a strong grip , pulling her back by the leg.

                                            ❛     . . .      ❜        it’s almost cocky.

There was no place like home, but even Haddonfield couldn’t boast the kaleidoscopic spectacle of this fairground. Each ride and attraction was an assault of color, lights glaring in all the candy coloured shades of a child’s dream, the cacophany of ecstatic screams that would be mistaken for murder anywhere else. Shrieks and laughter were loudest around the haunted house, named Moonlight Massacre in crimson, dripping paint -- anointing a structure whose facade tilted and waned in the same queasy motion as a seesaw, creaking and moaning from speakers shrouded by a fog machine. It was the most popular attraction of the evening, the masses flocking to get their one good scare for the last night of October.

@fierceathlete​:  “ I’m just setting your counter on fire. ” MARKIPLIER MAKES: || accepting

❝  uh, no.  ❞      he looks offended at the thought.       ❝  i’m not gonna get fucking grounded for setting the house on fire.  set your own counter on fire, man.  ❞

@fierceathlete​​ :  Meg is here to "lovingly" punch Stu in the gut real quick.

❝  hey, meg wha-- motherfucker ! ❞