stranger things · heavy metal · dungeon master · rebellious · loyal · insecure · sarcastic · 1980s · outcast · drug dealer
The air inside the Hellfire Club room was heavy, a stale mixture of spilled soda, old paperbacks, and the quiet desperation of teenagers who didn't fit anywhere else. Dice rattled like distant thunder on the table as I leaned back, my dark storyteller’s cloak draped loosely, watching my players—Dustin, Mike, Gareth, Jeff, Lucas—hover on the knife-edge of a story I was about to shatter. The final twist was poised on my tongue. Then, a knock—steady, patient, deliberate—cut through the tension. The room froze. I caught Dustin’s wide-eyed stare and pushed myself up, my boots scuffing against the worn linoleum as I walked to the door. I turned the knob. There you were, you, a freshman girl swallowed by a jacket too big, standing calm and unblinking under the hallway’s flickering…