Stephen King - Blog Posts

"Inseparable" Part Five

“‘Maximum hydration and acne preventer’?” Patrick stared at the box in his hand, then at the gooey face mask Y/N was placing on her own face. She snorted and put it on, fixing her wet hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. 

“Oh, yes. You’ll have the prettiest face of them all, ‘Trick.” She smiled devillisly, snatching the box from Patrick’s hands and opening it. He grunted and looked at her dresser, and then to the dirty pile of clothes she left in her bin.

The purple lace hidden inside of the shorts she wore a while ago caught his attention, and he questioned who she bought those for.

Hopefully not that dumbfuck Aiden from her physics class. Y/N went out with him once, and Patrick had scared him away after their ‘date’.

Patrick didn’t like to sharing. Especially not what he considered to be his property.

Y/N blew away a stray, wet hair that got into her eye as she looked over the directions for the face mask. She had taken a shower right before Patrick had arrived and didn’t have the time to blow dry her hair.

She hated having wet hair, and the way it felt on the back of her neck. It made her cringe, and Patrick used to pour water on her head all the time in the fifth grade when he found out. But she broke his nose after a while, and he hasn’t done it since. 

“We should totally watch a movie.” Y/N suggested while sitting in Patrick’s lap, putting the front of his hair into a ponytail to get ready for the mask.

His hands were resting on her hips to hold her steady and he watched her tongue poke out of her lips as she got more frustrated with his hair falling out. She clicked her tongue and moved forward more, tightening her legs around him so she didn’t fall.

The whole time, Patrick only stared down her shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and had on a baggy white shirt, and he took his opportunity.

He thought of giving her a hickey for fun, but remembered when he did that in eighth grade and ended up with a busted lip, so he decided against it. 

“If it ends with a blowie then you can choose.” He grumbled when she started applying the grey mask on his forehead, his grip on her hips tightening. 

“No, and loosen your fucking hands. I’m going on a date with a guy Nicole thought I’d like, and I don’t want him to think I’m a whore.” She smiled and booped his nose with the brush and resituated herself on him, pausing when she felt something she wished she hadn’t underneath her.

“‘Trick.” She stared at him, scared to move.

“Nessie.” They stayed still for a long time, not sure what to do in the situation. 

“How is this gonna end?” Y/N asked, absolutely terrified of what she thought his answer might be.

“I have a few ideas.” Patrick grinned and moved his hips to egg her on, and he licked his lips at her. 

“Yeah. Well you get one, so pick wisely.” She furrowed her eyebrows and held her hand to his chest to stop him, and he pouted like a kicked puppy.

“Oh?” He dragged out the syllable, “So I can get my way?”

“Patrick.” She warned again, her fingers gripping his shirt and her other hand tightening into a fist, very ready to swing on him.

It wasn’t the first time Y/N sat in his lap and he got a hard-on, and especially not the first time Patrick tried to convince her to “fix his problem”.

It never worked, though. And it always ended with him getting hit somehow. 

He snickered, looked down at her breasts, then back to her eyes. “Nightmare on Elm Street.” 

“What?” Confused, she tilted her head. 

“‘What?’” He mocked, “It’s what we’re watching tonight.” 

Patrick leaned back on the bed, and crossed his arms behind his head. She looked surprised at the switch up for a second, then tried to move off of him. His hands swiftly moved back to her waist, and he pushed her onto him harder. He looked amused, the exact opposite reaction to hers. 

“Not even a lick?”

“No.”

“Not even a suckle?”

“No.”

“Not even-”

“Patrick, I swear to fucking God. I will blow your top head off instead of your bottom one with a gun.”

He grimaced and let her go, and she quickly stood up and took the boxes for the masks to her trash can, but not before reading how long they’d stay on. 

“Can you last twenty minutes without jerking off?” Y/N asked him, her goo-covered eyebrow raising playfully at him. He sighed dramatically and lifted his arm up to fake cover his eyes, peeking at her from under them. 

“I guess.” He rolled his eyes and sat up, and she smiled and turned around to grab the remote. Realizing it fell onto the floor, she bent down to pick it up, and her shorts rode up.

Patrick stared at her and groaned loudly, hands reaching up to take out the ponytail that was still in his hair. 

“You’re killing me, babe.” He grinned, and she looked back at him and scoffed.

His smile only grew more and he got up off the bed, and looked her dead in the eyes as he started to undo his belt. She glanced down at his crotch and back up, the same way he did her breasts. 

“What the hell are you doing?” She reluctantly asked, her hand gripping around the TV remote. 

“Changing.” He simply said, dropping his jeans. He only wore black boxers and a shirt now, and he looked away to go into her bottom drawer to pull out his pair of grey sweatpants that he gave Y/N whenever he wanted to change at her house.

Her eyes stayed trained on him, and she pointed the remote at the TV and turned it on. He put the sweatpants on and grabbed his crotch to “readjust” it, winked at her, and flopped down onto the small sofa in front of her TV.  

"Inseparable" Part Four

Nobody questioned Patrick’s return when they saw him, especially considering he’d disappeared like that before. The next day consisted of skipping their weekend detention and hanging around in the junkyard that Y/N's cousin owned, and getting high while playing golf there.

When she got home though, she immediately thought of Nicole and how she had acted weird on their last call. Why did Nicole get awkward when she mentioned the clown? Y/N flopped on her bed as a headache started up, and she sat up to take off her dirty boots and socks.

She let her hair down from her ponytail to try to get some of the head pressure relieved, and stood up to walk to her dresser where she took off all her jewelry and placed it there.

Her mind still raced with her thoughts as she changed into her sleepwear which was just short shorts and one of Patrick’s band shirts that she stole.

Placing her hands on her hips, she clicked her tongue and made her way to her nightstand where her phone was.

Y/N dialed Nicole’s number three times, and each time she got no answer. She looked at her clock and it was only 11pm, meaning she was probably with some boy.

Y/N looked at the rug on her floor while she thought of what to do for the rest of the night. Then she had what she thought was an amazing idea. 

"Inseparable" Part Three

As she laid back down in bed with Patrick she tried to fall asleep. Yet to no avail, she couldn't. Patrick woke up later on in the morning, slinging onto her like a wild tick; a very unlikely thing for him to do.

She eventually got him to calm down and managed to get him to latch off, after some swearing and somewhat empty threats. Still questioning everything that happened, she pressed him even further about his dream and why he was acting like he was.

While he explained his dream, Y/N only got more confused. None of it made sense to her at all. Flying leeches? Some red and white clown? A blue fridge? He was frustrated when she said she couldn’t understand, and she told Patrick that it was only a dream after she got him to calm down again.

Y/N tried her best to get him to believe her, and soon the room fell silent, save for the heavy breathing and occasional sniffles. She felt he was leaving something out, something important. Wanting to find out, she offered to go on a walk to get some fresh air.

They walked along their usual path and talked about Y/N's week to clear the tension, and it seemed to work. Patrick was easier and his normal ass-hatted self, but still rather jumpy.

They were joking around about how some kid Brandon had actually pissed his pants when Henry said “I’m gonna beat you like how your mom beat my dick last night,” when Patrick had stopped and kneeled to re-tie his shoe.

Y/N had looked over the playground while waiting and saw something floating by the swing set. Frowning, she squinted her eyes to try to see it better. It was the red balloon from earlier.

“‘Trick, look!” She tapped Patrick’s shoulder and whispered. He looked over to where she was pointing, but as soon as he did, it disappeared.

He uttered a ‘huh’ dumbly and watched the empty swing go back and forth, and his skin got colder each time it did. Y/N sighed and pouted a bit, “Never mind.”

Patrick looked up at her and studied her face as she kicked at the gravel on the pathway, his eyebrows furrowing. He didn’t like the way Y/N made him feel sometimes. How it felt like he had tapeworms in his stomach anytime she’d accidentally touch him, or why he always felt like he had to keep the gang away from her so they didn’t do anything stupid.

Or how every single time she’d cry about her day, he’d get a little jealous of whoever made her cry. Sure he felt bad for her, or as much as he could anyway. But her tears should be for him to see, and him only. Just for him. 

He knew what those feelings meant. The last one, at least. He excused it, though. Blamed it on puberty, and he’d get rid of it by finding some town slut to ride his dick.

But the other feelings? He hated those. Sometimes he’d think about killing her so they’d stop. He couldn’t bring himself to, though. Patrick kind of liked Y/N, and not in the way he wanted.

"Inserparable" Part Two

Y/N ended up staying the night at Patrick’s, mostly because he didn’t want to tell her anything and because she didn’t trust him enough to be alone. She looked at the clock, and it was just passed midnight. Sighing, she looked over at Patrick, who was drooling and hugging a stained pillow. She tilted her head, questioning the white stain near his chin. Y/N started playing with her fingers, picking at her nails. She was lost in her thoughts, up until Patrick started twitching.

“Patrick?” She whispered, sitting up straighter to watch him closer. Patrick started whining, his face pulling into a deep frown. He started muttering “no” and “stop”, and Y/N started to worry more. She tried to shake him awake, but he wouldn’t budge.

When Patrick eventually woke up, he was shaking and saying he didn’t want to go back to sleep, pleading that she stayed up with him. Y/N had never seen him like this, ever, and was deeply concerned. He kept saying how it was real. How all of it was.

She was shocked by this and kept asking what he meant, to which he couldn’t respond. Patrick said how he didn’t want to speak its name, how it would find him if he did. Y/N was very confused, and she didn’t know what to do. He was holding onto her waist as she played with his hair, hoping it was calming him down enough. She noticed he fell back asleep, and she used the blanket to replace her body as she stood up off the bed. Y/N started to make her way to his landline, dialing a number and watching Patrick while she waited.

“Huh?” A tired voice said, sounding like they just woke up. 

“Hey, Nicole. Sorry, did I wake you up?” She asked, biting her lip. Y/N didn’t know why she was so scared, she talked to her friend many times about Patrick. 

“Nah, you’re good. I was just watching The Outsiders, getting wet over Ponyboy and all that. What’d’ja need?”  Y/N shook her head at Nicole’s response, laughing lightly. 

“I found Patrick. He was running around in the sewage system. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, it scared him. Badly. He’s having nightmares now.” Y/N told Nicole, fiddling with the phone wire. 

“Damn, that sounds awful,” Nicole yawned, smacking her lips obnoxiously. “What’s his nightmare about?”

“I don’t know, obviously something bad. He mumbled something about a clown though, and a balloon?” Y/N waited for Nicole’s response, but the other end was silent. “Nicole?”

“What? Oh, yeah. So a clown, huh? Did he, I don’t know, happen to give a description? Or like, say what it looked like?” Nicole asked, clearing her throat after. 

“No, he didn’t. Why? Do you know something?” 

“No! Nope, noda. No, I uh, I do not. Was just curious, that’s all. Look, I love our late night chit-chats, but I’ve gotta be somewhere tomorrow. So, uh. Night!” And with that Nicole hung up.

Y/N got even more confused. Why was Nicole acting this way? Maybe she knew something Y/N didn’t. It didn’t matter now, anyway. It’ll be her problem in the morning. For now, Y/N just needs a good night’s rest. 

"Inseparable" Part One

Y/N L/N and Patrick Hockstetter had been friends since they were in kindergarten. Their friendship began the day he gave her a pencil bag filled with dead flies in Mrs. Smith’s class.

He had always enjoyed teasing Y/N, since the minute they met. Yet for some odd reason, she had always tried to befriend him. Nobody understood why, granted he always pulled on her pigtails, but she never minded it. 

They were Derry’s dynamic duo, terrifying twins, even. They were always in the same location. If Patrick was there, Y/N was dragging him along and arguing with him about something stupid. If Y/N was there, Patrick was right next to her, giggling at others' misfortune around them.

They were inseparable. They had a bond no one could ever achieve with them. Nobody understood it, they always fought, bickered, even fist-fought. But they always remained together, no matter how many sucker punches they threw at each other.

A while after Patrick started screwing with her and giving her dead bugs, and sometimes rodents, she started giving him trinkets too. Except, socially accepted things, like jewelry.

The first ever piece of jewelry she gave him was a ring when they were in the second grade; it was purple and silver. She got it for a dime at one of those cheap candy and toy machines while leaving a grocery store with her mother.

She assumed he liked it because she never saw him take it off, and when he outgrew it he put it on a necklace. He always denied liking it though, giving excuses that she was just so annoying that he didn’t want to hear her complain about him not wearing it.

Y/N knew better, and always smiled when she saw it around his neck.

That was until now. Y/N paced around her room in a state of panic, gnawing at her fingernails and being lost in her thoughts. It’d been a week and three days since anybody had seen Patrick, and she was a nervous wreck.

Usually, this wouldn’t have made her so scared, Patrick could take care of himself, hell he’d gone four days without telling anyone where he went. But more kidnappings and murders of children and teens around town made her worry.

Y/N had asked his mom if he had gotten home on Tuesday night after hanging out with her at the barrens, but Patrick’s mom said she hadn’t seen him since he left with her.

 “Oh my fucking God,” She whispered to herself, stopping her feet from the circle she was walking in, “Jesus Christ, he’s one of the missing kids.” 

The rest of the Bowers gang had stopped looking for him after the second day; they knew he’d come back with only a few scratches. But Y/N had a gut feeling she couldn’t ignore. She fiddled with one of the rings he had given her, biting her lip as she looked at her door.

Y/N cursed, grabbed a flashlight, and put on her shoes. As she was running down her stairs, she almost tripped when she saw what seemed to be Patrick going into her kitchen.

“Patrick?” Her voice was shaky and hopeful, but when she entered the room it was empty. Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair and making her way out of her front door. She jogged on the path she and Patrick would usually walk on when they were bored. 

They’d talk about stupid shit, never sticking to one topic for a conversation. Then they’d make it to the park and laugh at the kids falling, especially when one of the two was upset over something. She always enjoyed seeing his eyes light up when one of them would cry, no matter how odd it seemed.

His eyes would crinkle, sometimes small tears would form, he’d show off his teeth, his lips would tighten. His lips looked soft, yet they’d be chapped and dried over all the time. Y/N would ask Patrick if he wanted some when she’d apply her chapstick, but he’d always tell her no. Sometimes Y/N would catch him staring at her lips a little too long when she’d apply it, and she’d wonder if he actually really wanted some-

A screech from two of the swings on the swingset pulled her away from her thoughts, and she stopped to stare at the playground. Her and Patrick used to sit on the swings all day long after school when they were kids, and they’d compete to see who could get the highest.

Y/N  pointed her flashlight at them and watched the two swings slowly go back and forth, a red balloon tied to the one Patrick would always sit on. 

She tilted her head at it, a confused look on her face. She could’ve sworn she’d seen that balloon before. Y/N then shook her head, realizing she was getting off track. 

“No, he wouldn’t be here. I’d have found him already.” She whispered to herself and looked sideways to the path she was following, then grimaced. “Or a cop would’ve…”

Y/N continued on the path, putting her hands in the pockets of the jacket she was wearing. She almost tripped over a rock and bit her lip in frustration, cursing and kicking it against a tree.

When she did, she smiled when she saw which tree it was. Patrick and her had marked it up with profanity when they were younger, and they used it as a guide to get to the barrens.

She stood by one of the sewage tunnels, peering into it and sighing. She hated the smell and what she’d find in there, but Patrick always grabbed her wrist and dragged her into it anyway.

They’d smoke and get high in there, every now and then stealing a bottle of whiskey from the store and drinking together. Not caring that her shoes were getting soaked in the gunk water, Y/N walked inside. 

“Patrick!” She called out, stepping in further and further. It took about twelve minutes of yelling before she thought she’d heard him.

It very well could’ve been desperation and her brain playing tricks on her, but she cried out again. She murmured a small 'dammit', and started to turn around until she heard him clearly.

“Nessie?” She heard him call, and she whipped her head around and ran further.

There he was, covered in blood, dirt, and only god knows what else. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Patrick!” She sharply cried, running over to him. “The hell are you doing here?! Don’t ever run away like that again-”

Patrick panicked and shushed her, putting his hand over her mouth and looking behind him in a fear she’d never seen before. 

“We need to get the fuck out of here. Right now,” He hissed quietly, taking his hand off of her.

“Where’s the damn exit?” She looked at him weirdly and was going to ask him what was wrong but decided against it, taking his hand and leading him out.

 The clock said 8:46 pm as Y/N sat on Patrick's bed, playing with a loose string on his black blanket. She chewed on her lip, and let go of the string, standing up to walk out of his room and to the linen closet in his hallway.

After grabbing the safety kit she forced him to keep when he first got hurt with her, she sat it on his bed and opened it, laying out all the supplies she would need to fix Patrick up.

She heard the pipes creak when Patrick turned off the water, and a while later walked out with a towel around his waist. She watched him as he grabbed clothes from his dresser, and he looked at her, and then the kit on the bed.

“Fuck. No.”

--

She eventually got him to sit on the bed, even though he whined and groaned about it. He huffed when she gave him a hair tie, and he roughly took it from her hand as he put his hair up in a bun so she could have access to his neck. 

“You know if you wanted me to eat you out, you could’ve asked.” He snickered, smirking at her as she flashed him a look of disgust.

“If I wanted to fuck you, I’d have done it already.” Tightly smiling, she uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and put it on a cotton ball. Y/N started to dab it on his cuts, sticking her tongue out in focus.

Patrick stared at her, a blank look on his face. He didn’t even notice that she was done until she ripped open a pack of gauges and placed one on a stitched-up cut he got in the sewer. 

“When the hell did’ja do that?” His eyebrows furrowed, his hand pushing away the cotton pad and inspecting the stitched cut.

“When you were fantasizing about your porn stash,” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, continuing to put the gauge back on his cut. She taped it up, and jokingly slapped it. “Doctor Miller is finished with her work. How satisfied are you with my service?” 

“I’d be much happier with a blow job, if it isn’t too unprofessional?” Patrick leaned his head to the side, a hopeful smile on his face. 

“I’d rather kill myself-”  Y/N stood up, placing all of the supplies back into the kit and starting her walk to the closet.

“You should get dressed, and then I wanna talk.” He sighed, grabbed the pile of clothes he had set out earlier, and went back into his bathroom to change.

When Patrick walked out in a pair of skinny jeans and no shirt, he walked over to the pile of his original clothes and pulled out the chain with his ring on it from a pocket of pants. He clasped it on and sat down on the edge of his bed, dramatically flopping on his back to look at Y/N. She was sitting at the bed’s headboard, picking at her nails. 

“So,” She refused to look at his eyes, already knowing that they were filled with either frustration or anger. “What the hell happened to you back there?”

Margaret White Denied Entrance from Heaven

(Just after Margaret White died, she finds herself above the clouds in front of a golden gate, decorated with an eye. In front of said gates are Sera and Deerie. The former having a disgusted look on her face and the latter a smug one. Nonetheless, Margaret is excited.)

Margaret: Is this Heaven? Have I pleased the Lord enough to get here?

Sera: Think again, Mrs. White.

Deerie: Mmm yeah no, sorry. But I’m afraid your abuse of your daughter, manipulating her, before finally trying to kill her has cost you your ticket to enter. Yeah, no.

Margaret: WHAT!? What are you talking about? Everything I did was in Heaven’s name! I deserve to be here!

Sera: No you do not. All your beliefs are nothing but ridiculous lies just to keep your daughter in line. Most of them don’t even make any sense: “Acne being God’s way of chastising you”? “The first sin was intercourse”? I’ll have you know the first sin was in fact disobedience.

Margaret: Everything I did for my Carrie was to protect her, and when I stabbed her in the back with that knife, it was to free her from witchcraft and her sins.

(As Margaret keeps blabbering on, Sera facepalms in annoyance and Deerie files her hoof, uninterested in her excuse.)

Sera: It doesn’t matter, because of your sins and false beliefs in your religion, you are banned from ever entering Heaven’s gates.

(Shocked, slack-jawed, and wide-eyed, Margaret throws a tantrum; scratching herself and pulling her own hair as she did when trying to manipulate Carrie to not go to Prom.)

Margaret: NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! This cannot be! I did everything for Jesus! Let me into Heaven! You can’t do this to me!!!

(Sera, unamused at Margaret’s immature outburst, turns her back on her and is about to leave before commenting,)

Sera: You know, it’s delusional hypocrites like you who give Heaven a bad name.

Deerie: So yeah. Sorry to have to do this but… you’re going to Hell. Bye! ^_^

(A portal suddenly appears under Margaret’s feet, and she falls down, screaming as she does so.)

This one took a whole lot longer to work on, especially with having to get the details in Sera’s hair, wings, and dress right. I had thought about working on something like this for a while now. And let me tell you, watching Margaret getting denied by Sera is as satisfying as a big fat slice of catharsis pie! Not to mention I took a little inspiration from this piece from BlackWolfStar15: https://www.deviantart.com/blackwolfstar15/art/Contest-Entry-Margaret-Gets-Rejected-By-Heaven-884506113. Anyway, I hope you all like this. Like I said, it may have taken a lot more time and precision to get this done, but it was all worth it.

Margaret White from Carrie belongs to Stephen King and MGM

And Deerie and Sera from Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel respectively belong to Vivienne “Vivziepop” Medrano, A24, and Amazon Prime

Carrie & Matilda

As Matilda Wormwood does some research through the Chamberlain Archives, wanting to know more about the history leading to the events of the Black Prom, Carrie White’s ghost looms over the young girl, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I had been meaning to do something like this for a while since I got into painting this for a while. A picture for a potential movie poster or graphic novel of a crossover a lot of us want but can’t due to copyright: Carrie White and Matilda Wormwood.

I like to imagine the story taking place some time after the events of Matilda (the 1996 film version) in which Matilda begins to have visions of the old town of Chamberlain, Maine raided by ghosts, led by a very sad girl in red. Somehow she visits Chamberlain to investigate, asks the surviving townsfolk about what they recall what happened and why before finding a volume of the town’s archives. Later on, she confronts Carrie’s ghost, sympathizing as well as empathizing with the teenage ghost before somehow helping her realize the error of her ways and finding peace. In other words, my own take on the Laika stop-motion film ParaNorman.

Carrie belongs to Stephen King

Matilda belongs to Roald Dahl

A Bloody Spectacle

“I will cast abominable filth upon you; make you vile, and make you a spectacle.” ~Nahum 3:6

A triple crossover of Little Shop of Horrors, Carrie by Stephen King, and Nope by Jordan Peele. This piece brings out the themes of spectacle and the terrible consequences that come if we are not careful about it.

As Jean Jacket spews the bloody remains of its latest victims over poor Carrie White, standing barely safely above the anticipating pod of Audrey II. All three show the catastrophic results of how we are not always aware of how terrible the actual story certain events originated from really are or how dangerous what we are seeing can be.

P.S. Always wanted to try making something like this after connecting all three horror stories together by themes.

Little Shop of Horrors belongs to Roger Corman, Alan Menkan, and Howard Ashman

Carrie belongs to Stephen King

And Nope belongs to Jordan Peele

For legal reasons this is a joke

I love losers named Richie