#GOING EXTRA SPOOKY THROWING ON EVERYTHING I CAN

[faggotwalkwithme]

IT'S FRIDAY THE 13TH LETSF UCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[solxamber]

Maybe a Skully request for him learning the reader's birthday is really close to Halloween? I just think he'd get excited to hear the reader's had a Halloween themed birthday every year because of it, and due to it not being ON Halloween its like having two in 1 year, would absolutely be his dream if he doesn't already do that

Skully J. Graves x Reader

I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope you like it <3

You casually mention your birthday while lounging in Ramshackle, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, yeah. My birthday’s next week. It’s always super close to Halloween, so I’ve had a Halloween-themed party almost every year."

Skully, who was dramatically arranging some black and white decorations in the room (for "aesthetic purposes"), suddenly freezes. He turns toward you slowly, his eyes widening with a mixture of awe and reverence. He drops the cobweb-covered garland he’s holding and rushes to your side in an over-the-top theatrical flourish, coat sweeping across the floor.

“What did you say?!” he asks, his voice high, almost like you’ve revealed some ancient secret.

You blink at him. “Uh...my birthday’s next week?”

“And every year…” He leans closer, eyes locked on yours like you just said the most magical thing in the world. “...it’s Halloween-themed?!”

Grim, who’s curled up in front of the fire with a snack, snorts. “Pffft. Why’s that such a big deal? We don’t even get extra tuna just ‘cause it’s spooky time.”

Skully completely ignores Grim, focusing all his energy on you. “This is...this is...this is the dream.” He grabs your hand and dramatically bows over it, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “You’ve been living my ideal life all this time, and I never knew! You, my friend, have been blessed with not just one, but two Halloweens every year!”

He gets this far-off, dreamy look in his eyes, as if he’s envisioning a world where he, too, has two Halloweens, one on your birthday and one on the actual holiday. "A prelude Halloween, and then the real Halloween...It’s a masterpiece of planning, a work of art." He lets out a breathy sigh, “Jack Skellington himself would be proud!”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal…” you try, but Skully’s already on another planet, his face lighting up like a jack-o’-lantern.

“Do you know what this means?!” He suddenly grabs both of your shoulders, eyes wide with the joy of someone who’s just unlocked the key to eternal happiness. “We can have TWO Halloween parties in a row! One in your honor, and then the official Halloween! Two nights of pure, spooky glory!” He releases you, spins dramatically, and gestures around the room. “The decorations, the costumes, the endless dark colors—just think about it! It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of!”

Grim rolls his eyes, crunching loudly on his snack. “Yeah, yeah. And where’s my tuna in all of this? I’m not seein’ how this benefits me.”

Skully waves his hand dismissively at Grim. “You’ll get all the tuna you want, little furball. We’re talking about a double Halloween extravaganza! This is bigger than any feast of fish!”

Grim’s ears perk up. “Double the tuna, huh?”

“I said parties, not tuna,” you point out, but Grim’s already on board.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go with double the parties, double the snacks,” Grim says, throwing in his vote for this wild plan. “I’ll bring the fireworks.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “No fireworks inside the dorm, Grim.”

Skully looks ready to faint from excitement. “Imagine it...we’ll start with a pre-Halloween bash for your birthday. Dark, moody decorations, not a single bright color in sight. No candy—just the eerie emptiness of true Halloween spirit.” He twirls around, his cape billowing behind him. “Then, on the real Halloween, we’ll raise the stakes even higher. There will be no sugar. No colors. Only shadows.”

Grim looks horrified. “Wait, no candy?! That’s...that’s sacrilege! You can’t have a Halloween without candy!”

Skully turns to Grim, his voice deadly serious. “The only true treat...is fear.”

Grim groans. “Ugh, you’re the worst.”

Skully turns back to you with a grin. “What do you say? Two Halloweens! Double the spooky goodness, twice the amount of dark, colorless celebration...”

You laugh, watching the pure joy radiating from Skully. “You’re absolutely obsessed.”

“I am obsessed!” he says proudly, puffing out his chest. “You are living proof that Halloween is not confined to one day. It is a lifestyle, a way of being. And now, you and I...we shall celebrate that lifestyle together. Forever!”

Grim mutters something about “weirdos” and “no candy,” but you just shake your head, feeling both exhausted and entertained by Skully’s antics.

“Well,” you say with a grin, “I guess I’d better start planning for two spooky parties this year.”

Skully nearly faints from happiness. “This...this is everything I’ve ever wanted!”

Grim groans dramatically. “Great. Two days of weirdos and no candy. Can’t wait.”

Skully, in all his dramatic, Halloween-obsessed glory, was in for a treat. And now, you’ve somehow roped yourself into throwing a double Halloween bash. Lucky you.

Masterlist

[yoyomomiko]

[ONE] — Ghosts = $$$

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, cartman being cartman.

(a/n): first chapter is out and honestly I don't really know where this is going!! also, I'm extremely sorry for the short length of this chapter :< --- usually, first chapters are always shorter! i'll try my best to make the other chapters longer :)

wc: 1932

★ m.list

★ series m.list

[NEXT] ->

The cafeteria was a chaotic mess as always. Muffled chatter, students fighting, and the occasional shout from the lunch staff scolding some kid for trying to sneak an extra carton of milk. You sat at the usual table in the far corner, picking at your food. Across from you, Stan and Kyle were arguing about some documentary they watched in History, while Clyde was halfway through his second slice of pizza.

"Alright, assholes, listen up!" Cartman's voice cut through the arguing boys. He slammed his tray onto the table for everyone's attention, the loud sound making Tweek flinch so hard he almost spilled his coffee.

"Oh, great, what now?" Stan groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"You're gonna thank me later, Stan." Cartman cleared his throat, glancing at everyone sitting at the table. "Because I just came up with the best idea of my life. No, of your lives, too, because you're all gonna be a part of it."

Kyle raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Let me guess, some new way to scam people out of their money?"

"Yeah, Kyle, because having ambition is such a crime." Cartman shot back, rolling his eyes dramatically. "But no, this isn't just a scam. It's a business opportunity. A gold mine. And all you losers have to do is stop being such whiny little bitches and listen to me for five seconds."

"Dude, just get to the point." Stan muttered, his hands resting on top of the table as his brows furrowed together.

Cartman smirked, leaning forward on the table as if he was about to deliver a secret. "Ghost hunting."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the distant crash of a tray hitting the floor somewhere across the cafeteria.

"Ghost hunting?" Clyde repeated with a mouthful of pizza.

"Yes, Clyde, try to keep up." Cartman snapped. "Think about it. Those dumbass ghost hunting shows on TV. People eat that crap up! We can charge idiots in this town hundreds of dollars to 'investigate' their haunted houses and get rid of their spooky little Casper problems!"

Kyle shook his head with a sigh. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Even for you, Cartman."

"It's not stupid!" Cartman shot back, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to make Tweek jump again.

"People are stupid, Kyle. They'll pay us to run around their creepy old houses with flashlights, pretending to find ghosts! And if there's no ghost? We'll just make one! Bang on some walls, throw some stuff around... Boom, paranormal activity."

"That's literally fraud." You pointed out, resting your chin on your hand. "You realize that, right?"

Cartman waved you off as if you mentioned something as unimportant as the weather. "Pfft, no one's gonna care. We'll make them sign waivers. Legal waivers make everything legit!"

Stan exchanged a doubtful look with you, then glanced back at Cartman. "This sounds like the kind of thing that gets us arrested. Or worse, sued."

"Oh my God, you guys are so dramatic." Cartman groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Look, do you want to spend the rest of high school broke and boring, or do you wanna be rich and badass?"

"Rich and badass does sound kinda nice..." Clyde admitted, earning a glare from Kyle.

"Clyde, seriously?"

"What? I need the money! My dad cut my allowance because I spent it all on skins in Fortnite."

"I can't believe I'm surrounded by morons." Kyle buried his face in his hands.

"Ghosts aren't even real!" Tweek blurted, his hands shaking as he gripped his cup. "What if we mess with something we don't understand? What if we summon a demon or-"

"Tweek, for the love of God." Craig interrupted, his voice flat and bored. "You're not summoning anything. It's fake."

Tweek's eyes darted to Craig, then back to Cartman. "B-But even if it's fake, what if- what if people find out?! What if we get exposed or something?!"

"Tweek, no one cares about your paranoia." Cartman rolled his eyes. "Besides, it's not like we're actually gonna run into any ghosts. We're just taking money from idiots who think their houses are haunted because their furniture makes weird noise."

"I dunno, dude." Kenny finally spoke up, voice muffled by his hood. "What's the cut? Like, how much are we each getting?"

"Ah! The voice of reason! Don't worry Kenny. We'll split it... Fairly."

"Fairly?" Kyle immediately narrowed his eyes. "That means you're going to take the biggest cut, doesn't it?"

"Uh, duh, because it's my idea." Cartman shot back. "But you'll still get plenty. Enough to buy whatever poor people stuff you need, Kenny."

"Works for me, I'm in." Kenny shrugged.

"Dude!" Kyle exclaimed, looking betrayed.

"What? I need money!"

You sighed, glancing around the table. "So let me get this straight." You started, mentally preparing yourself. "You want us to break into random people's houses, pretend to find ghosts, and charge them a fortune for it? Do you even have a plan for how this is supposed to work?"

"Of course I have a plan!" Cartman replied, puffing out his chest. "Step one, we make a website and some fake business cards. Step two, we spread the word around town. Step three, profit."

"That's not a plan." Stan muttered, leaning back in his chair again.

"It's a great plan." Cartman's brows furrowed together. "And you know what? If you don't want in, fine. But when I'm rolling in cash and you're stuck eating this nasty ass lunch food, don't come crying to me."

Stan groaned, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine. I'm in. Only to make sure you don't burn someone's house down."

Kyle threw his hands up with a groan and a roll of his eyes. "Oh my God. You're all insane."

"Come on, Kyle." You smirked, nudging him with your elbow. "It could be... Interesting."

Kyle stared at you as if you just suggested jumping off a bridge. But after a moment, he sighed heavily. "Fine. But if this ends in a disaster, I'm blaming all of you."

"Perfect!" Cartman grinned, looking around at his newly recruited 'team'.

"Welcome to the South Park Paranormal Crew, bitches. First job is tomorrow night. Bring flashlights and maybe some fake blood."

Craig glared at Cartman. "Tweek and I never said we were joining."

"I don't care about you losers, go sit on a dick or something." Cartman shot back.

Craig's eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze burning holes through Cartman. "You know what? I'm in, fatass." He spoke through gritted teeth, to which Cartman smirked.

"I-I guess I'm in too." Tweek stammered, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"Amazing! What do you guys say we have a meeting at my house this night to prepare for tomorrow?" Cartman held a smug and confident look.

"Do we have a choice?" You sighed, already tired of this.

"No. Eight o'clock sharp!" He declared. "Don't forget that, fuckers!"

.

.

.

.

Later that night, the group crowded into Cartman's basement. The space was a mess, an old couch shoved against one wall, half empty soda cans all over a coffee table, and a mysterious stain on the carpet that no one wanted to investigate. You sat quietly between Kyle and Craig, who were both visibly annoyed.

Cartman stood at the front, a whiteboard behind him covered in messy scrambles of ideas that looked more like the ramblings of a lunatic than a business plan. He held a marker in his hands, which he twirled dramatically before slamming it against the board.

"Alright, assholes." He began, pacing in front of the group. "Step one of becoming the greatest ghost hunters South Park has ever seen: branding. We need a website, a killer name and a look that screams 'these guys are legit'."

Stan rolled his eyes from his spot on the couch. "It's hard to scream 'legit' when you're using your mom's basement as headquarters."

"Shut up, Stan!" Cartman snapped. "Do you have a basement we can use? No? Then sit your ass down and let the professionals handle this."

Craig crossed his arms, leaning a bit closer to you, his knee brushing yours. "You don't even know how to make a website, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Cartman lied, puffing out his chest. "It's easy. You just... Click some buttons and stuff. Besides, we have Kyle for that."

Kyle straightened, glaring at Cartman. "Excuse me? Since when did I agree to be your tech support?"

"Since you're the only one here who isn't a complete moron when it comes to computers!" Cartman replied, his tone annoyingly smug.

"Watch it fatass!" Stan snapped as Craig snickered.

Kyle opened his mouth to argue but stopped when you nudged him gently. "You might as well just do it." You whispered. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Kyle sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but I'm not doing this for free."

"Whatever, Jew." Cartman turned back to the whiteboard. "Now, let's talk names. We need something catchy. Something cool."

"How about we call ourselves 'Paranormal Posers'?" Craig deadpanned, earning a laugh from Kenny.

"I've got it!" Clyde exclaimed, clearly excited. "What about 'The Phantom Chasers'?"

"Lame." Cartman dismissed immediately, crossing it off the list. "We need something badass like 'South Park Paranormal Commandos'."

"Or we could just call it what it is." Stan muttered. "'Cartman's Latest Scam'."

"Do you want to get sued, Stan?" Cartman shot back. "No one's putting my name on this thing."

After another twenty minutes of ridiculous suggestions, and several rounds of arguing, you all finally settled on a name. Specter Squad.

"Simple, memorable, and cool as hell." Cartman declared, underlining it three times on the board.

.

.

While Cartman and the others brainstormed more ways to make themselves seem legit, Kyle sat at Cartman's ancient desktop computer, typing at it furiously.

The homepage was basic but effective.

A bold header reading "SPECTER SQUAD: South Park's Premier Ghost Hunting Team" in glowing green text, complete with a stock image of a haunted house in the background.

"This looks so fake." Kyle muttered to himself, shaking his head as he uploaded a photo of the group. It was a hurriedly taken selfie from earlier that night, with Cartman front and center, beaming like an idiot, while everyone else looked irritated.

"Fake is fine." Cartman said, leaning over Kyle's shoulder. "People don't care about professional. They care about scary. Make it spooky."

"Spooky costs extra." Kyle shot back.

The rest of the group gathered around as Kyle added more details to the site.

Services

- Full Paranormal Investigation

- Ghost Removal

- Cleansing Rituals

Reviews

Janet H. - "Specter Squad saved my family from a scary ghost! Worth every penny!"

Sal F. - "I thought my apartment was haunted and they proved me right. Highly recommend!"

"Who t-the hell is 'Janet H.'?" Tweek asked, pointing to one of the reviews.

"Some lady I made up." Cartman replied, completely unfazed.

.

.

With the website finished, you all moved on to advertising. Clyde and Kenny volunteered to print out flyers, which they plastered all over the school the next day. On lockers, bulletin boards, and even the bathroom stalls.

Cartman, meanwhile, moved to social media, creating an Instagram page and spamming hashtags like #HauntedSouthPark and #GhostBeware.

"You think anyone's actually going to believe this?" Craig asked as everyone watched Cartman upload a blurry photos of an attic claiming it was 'evidence' from a recent investigation.

"Of course they will." Cartman replied confidently. "People are dumb. Trust me, by this time tomorrow we'll have our first client."

★yoyomiko ★miko

[cloveroctobers]

SWEET DREAMS — Terry Richmond [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: It’s really making me happy that I have someone new to write about! And now I get to do that some more during my favorite season? You know I had to! Thanks for all the previous love on my first work about this stunning lion looking man! Hope to do more for the next season too 🤩

WARNINGS: Get your sage & holy water ready! This fic includes — Fluff, grief, and Mike is alive! Most likely language, written with a black woman in mind, & this ended up much longer than I intended! Basically…fuck around and find out?

SYNOPSIS: Life is short, shorter than you can imagine but sleep can feel like a eternity.

Firstly this is inspired by the haunting of hill house just a little + PROMPTS can be found here & I’m using: 25. “Well, it is a seance.” / “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.” + 28. Playing with an Ouija board.

<- read my previous spooky anthology prompt here.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭

Terry remembers her roller set digging into his collarbone as they lounged on their couch together one (always) warm autumn afternoon. She often complained about wash days but each one was different when it came to how she wanted to style it for the next two to three weeks. He helped her roll and clip the back of her head once she started to whine that her arms were about to fall off. He may have worked her too hard in the gym two days ago but regardless, dealing with a crown like this would always be a task, so he didn’t mind taking on some of the weight.

He made sure to kiss her temple once she stated that she can handle the rest, while he left her to get started on dinner. It was always a rule between the two to have dinner at the table, since they hardly got the chance to experience that in their own upbringings. Majority of the time, this rule was followed but that day she struggled to keep her head upright as she shuffled around the waterfront raised french provincial home.

Terry was pretty commanding and even guided her to the table once everything was ready, although she wanted to throw a tantrum, a tender kiss to her lips snapped her out of it as they sat across from each other to have dinner. Once that was over? He had no issue lounging on the couch for a while; her nodding off with the aroma of rosemary being prominent from her roots.

“We should be fall shopping since scary movies aren’t really our thing.” She croaked, through slits in her eyes, as some football game was playing on the flatscreen.

Terry snorts, “I told you I was down for: it’s the great pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”

“What are we, five?” She sassed.

Terry leaned away to peek down at his girl, “Huh? You’re more of the scary one out of the relationship than I am.”

“…SO?” She huffed, followed by a yawn that ripped through her lips.

Terry chuckled, “yeah you must be real tired because that comeback was not challenging enough.”

She hums, tightening her crossed arms as she closes her eyes once more. Terry loops an arm across her chest, leaning the elbow of his other arm along the arm of the couch while pressing his knuckles against his mouth, eyes focused on the game now while he let her get her nap on. He already knew the deal, that he wouldn’t let her sleep too long since she had to go into her regular shift down at the library the next morning.

She’s been taking up extra hours, (since the mortgage rates continued to go up rather than down around here) even went in on her day off for four hours before she came back home to get started on her hair. So he’d wake her up so this nap didn’t disrupt her night routine in the next thirty to forty-five minutes.

Terry, always the active one and grew tired of the game—since he wasn’t rooting for a particular team anyway—left her with a honey colored Sherpa blanket to finish out her slumber and ventured outside underneath the house, through the carport to his workshop to see what he can get into. He had his timer set on the Apple Watch she got him last Christmas, although he was used to just tracking time on his regular wrist watch, he appreciated the gift.

She came and found him before time was up, arms sneaking around his waist while Terry’s humming along to Luther Vandross’, “Don’t you know that?”

He was too in his zone, fixing up Mike’s bike and jamming to old classics that he didn’t even hear her come in, which he should scold himself for but with the way she held onto him so lovingly, nuzzling her cheek against his back, made him put that on hold for now.

“Having a good time without me, Grandpa?” She teases while Terry turns to face her.

He runs a thumb over her cheek as she smiles up at him, “Never. You’re just who I was waiting for, grandmomma. All you’re missing is the moo-moo.” He jokes back, using his other hand to flick one of her rollers which she tries to smack his hand away to not mess with.

Soon that hand is up and intertwining with her’s as Terry leads them into a sway to the beat. She’s well enough rested as she grins up at him with a slight shake of her head, knowing Terry’s in a good mood now that he has her out here slow-dancing in this muggy workshop.

“Who knew that your simba looking self would be a big softie?” She tells him as he leans towards his woman.

He keeps his intense eye contact locked only on her and stops humming to reply, “You secretly love it.”

“I do…and you too, I guess.” She jests with a whisper, also inching forward so their lips can meet once more.

There’s a red light behind Terry’s eyelids before he decides to open them. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for a while and picking up on the chirping of birds, buzzing of bugs, and the possible motor of a neighbors’ nearby boat in the water. His senses were always heightened. It’s late, he knows it but he doesn’t move as the door to the back patio across from the bed is pushed open.

There she is, surrounded by the orange sunlight that fights against the fog. It’s almost too bright that he can’t make out her facial features, when he knows he usually can with his eyes closed.

“Good, you’re up.” She says closing the door behind her but the opacity still blocks out her features yet not her hair, “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

He wants to move but finds his body stiff and unmoving. There’s a furrow of his thick brows as they start to search the brightness of the room, which is a contrast of what it’s been like for months. Terry flicks his eyes downwards, trying to move his fingers but they stay put.

He feels the dip of the bed and the clinking of a utensil against a teacup that looks an awful lot like his mother’s. She takes a sip and sighs while she then says to Terry, “This feels familiar doesn’t it?”

Terry swallows, his throat feels extremely dry and as if a lump has formed there. He wants to cough but makes no motion to do so. He keeps blinking, hoping that he can figure out what’s going on but part of him feels like he should already know.

“Don’t worry, honey. Just be thankful that you got the prettier version of me to haunt you, instead of whatever I was forced to see when I got like this.” She informs Terry, leaning over to finally show him what he remembered her to be.

The softness of her eyes, the way she sounded, the way her tongue pressed behind her front teeth when she smiled along with the way she smelled.

“I just hope you keep having sweet dreams and not what the night brings.” The last of her words echo off his ears before Terry is able to sit up with a sharp gasp of air.

His hand goes to his throat, massaging the space and clearing it as his wide eyes look around the room for her but she’s no longer here. He feels the beads of sweat appearing on the back of his neck, and the vibrating of his phone already tells him that it’s one of three people that’s probably calling him. Terry reaches over to take a peek, declining the call and sending a text that he would catch up with them later, then drags himself into the bathroom to get ready for another long day.

The obnoxious ringing of his doorbell, makes Terry stride quickly to the door to reveal his cousin, Mike along with their old friend, Summer McBride. She’s got her hands full while Mike straightens up from his position of getting ready to send a horse kick to Terry’s front door.

“I’m convinced you lost your mind.” Terry says to his family member, who just grins at him, “And I know auntie Josie taught you some manners, help Summer out, man.”

Mike scoffs while Summer sends him a knowing look with her doe eyes, “She almost chopped my hand off when I tried to take the bag from her, fam. So I did try.”

Terry steps aside to wave the pair in before saying to the short haired woman, “I told you that every time you visit, you don’t have to bring anything.”

“The only good thing my family taught me,” Summer speaks over her shoulder as she makes her way through the foyer, “was to never show up empty handed and this is nothin’.”

Terry and Mike unfortunately got to meet her (racist) family down at the usual court dates Summer had to attend. Every time they turned around her ex husband was having her down there and although Terry attended more so than Mike—not that it mattered—he had his own trauma of not wanting to be in any more courtrooms, they all showed up for one another in various of ways.

“Tell that to my still stinging hand.” Mike comments while the blonde sets her things down onto the wooden dining table.

He heads into the kitchen while Terry exhaled before moving around his own home as well.

“Oh, you complain more than my own kid!” Summer sassed while Terry gives a small smile at their bickering.

He finds himself tuning them out as he checks on the sides again before turning the stove off. When he turns back around he sees Mike rubbing his hands together in excitement, “what’s on the menu, cuz? You never answered the texts?”

Terry inhales as he glanced over his shoulder at the various pots and pans, “Nothing too crazy, thick cut pork chops with three options since I’m not sure what Summer prefers: hot sauce, applesauce, or smothered in gravy and onions.”

Mike scoffs, “well aren’t you a kind hearted son of a bitch. How come I don’t get options when we have dinner together on Thursday’s?”

“You’re just a picky eater and don’t nobody got time for that.”

Mike sucks his teeth, “you did all that extra work and watch Summer like her shit borin’ and plain.” He turns back to the blonde who stands by the side of the island counter, awaiting her answer with his brown eyes.

Summer sheepishly smiles, “I actually brought a mini hot sauce in my bag if it wasn’t an option.”

“See,” Terry laughs at Mike’s shocked face, “we got to know our friend by now, she ain’t regular.”

Summer questions, “Thank you?”

“Yeah it’s a compliment, Goldilocks. Now tell us what you did bring because if it’s coleslaw with raisins? I’m taking my plate to go.” Mike informs while Terry pinches the bridge of his nose followed by a chuckle, before moving around the kitchen to start grabbing plates.

Summer frowns, “do I look like a coleslaw kinda woman, Michael? And lucky for you, I can’t cook so I just bought over some fall inspired things that we can all try later.”

Mike pretends to gag, “this lady tryna to kill us with that pumpkin shit.”

“Mike, clear the table for me man, so we can have a clean space to serve ourselves.” Terry encourages while Summer just folds her arms and sticks her nose up at Mike’s actions before circling around to look at the prepared food until it was time to bring everything over.

Dinner was never awkward by any means. This wss a routine that they picked back up, having Sunday dinner or if they couldn’t make it or if Terry wasn’t feeling up for it they would come over for leftovers on Monday. Since Summer moved closer to where Terry and Mike resided in Lullin it was easier for her to stop on by. On Thursday’s Terry and Mike would mostly spend time at Mr. Liu’s for dinner. Although they had a business together where they saw each other every day, it was always important to continue their bond outside of work with food.

That’s been instilled in them since they were children, meeting up at Terry’s grandmother’s house and Mike’s grandfather—Terry’s great uncle—would always come by with Mike underneath his arm. That’s what started their bond thanks to their grandparent’s tight sibling relationship.

Sometimes Terry would even put on (grandpa, as she would like to call it) music while they carried on a conversation, it would mostly be Mike and Summer debating over something while Terry intently listened. If you didn’t know him, you would probably think he’s blocking them out but he could repeat back everything that was said. Since Mike was the only drinker and the pumpkin beer was mainly for him, he deemed it as not bad, shocking Summer who mocked him into giving her some credit and he even asked if he could take the remaining three pack home with him.

This was all after they stepped in to clean up the kitchen, Summer was on dish duty, Terry was putting everything into containers and making to-go boxes for the two, while Mike sipped and wiped down the counters and placed the decorations back on the dining table like how she used to have it.

Soon they were all seated on the couch, binging some ridiculous show Summer put them all onto before Mike pointed out that Summer never showed them what was in her large reusable bag that she brought with her. The blonde peeks at the time on her spot on the two seat sofa and sighed, “I guess now is a good enough time as any.”

Mike’s eyes are already low lidded as he’s lounging on the couch and looks over at Terry who simply shrugs at him.

“I’ve been thinkin’…Terry hasn’t been getting the best sleep lately, rightfully so and I thought maybe there was a way to get rid of that weight in your heart.” Summer speaks as she brings the bag over to the living room.

Terry blinks but there’s confusion in his light eyes, “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not!” Summer argues, “Sure you’re going to those therapy sessions but I know a sleep deprived person when I see one, believe me.”

Mike mumbles before taking a final swing from the bottle, “Blondie ain’t wrong, cuz. Normally you’re on your game and you always push through—don’t get me wrong—but I caught you sleeping in the office lately and that ain’t like you.”

Terry looks back and forth between the two but still speaks calmly, “so…this was your plan this dinner? To plot on me and have some sort of intervention?”

Mike shakes his head, “I don’t know what summa summa summa time brought with her, I don’t play no parts in that. I just know the anniversary of losing her is coming up and we just want to make sure you’re good, is all.”

There’s this slight ache that wants to punch through the numbness in his chest but when Terry sits up, burying his elbows into his knees, he’s able to make it subside some.

“…Because we care and we show up for one another.” Summer added, “and you started telling me about one of your dreams before in pieces but they were still so vivid. So I thought maybe she’s trying to tell you something.”

Both sets of eyes flicked to Summer as she turned to the bag that sat next to her on the sofa, her hands digging through the bag to pull out a board.

“…I know she fucking lying.”

There in her lap sat an Ouija board.

Terry drops his head while Summer blows out a breath and tries to plead her case.

“Before you all go houndin’ me about doing white shit, I just want you both to know that this was very effective for me. I got the chance to speak with my pawpaw—

“Oh yeah sure, Paw-Paw!” Mike does air quotes while Summer waits for him to be done.

“…He’s the only stable adult I had in my life and talkin’ to him through here instead of at a gravesite did me a helluva lot good. I just thought it could help you too.” Summer speaks, making Terry lift his head to meet her eyes.

Terry and Mike have known Summer for a while and she’s always been genuine. Maybe this did help her grieve her grandfather, Terry always gave people the benefit of the doubt and the chance to show their character or right their wrongs. He didn’t think Summer would purposely steer him wrong yet he’s seen some things going through training and being a marine.

He didn’t break then.

He still didn’t break when he lost her.

He couldn’t.

“You got me?” Terry finally finds himself asking Summer after a brief silence, who holds his stare before slowly dipping her head.

Summer affirms because Terry was keen on words, “I do.”

Mike wasn’t having it so Terry and Summer moved to the office that used to belong to her. Summer sets the board on the built in desk once they pass through the double doors. Terry grabs a chair from the main desk that’s in the center of the room for Summer and grabs the second from another but much smaller built in computer desk off to the side by the windows for himself.

“You’re going to have to walk me through this since this isn’t my expertise. I normally don’t mess with spirits and if this ever gets out to my grandmother—

“It’ll be our little secret and Mike’s.” Summer squeezes his shoulder before motioning for him to sit and then drags her bag in between the chairs, “it’s simple work really. We light a candle, you have something that was special to her, and we call upon the spirit realm to reach her. Then she’ll talk to us through the board.”

Terry’s expression held skepticism but Summer double checked if he wanted to go through with this. He said he would after pausing, feeling a draft at the back of his neck. He been cut the air off on the first day of autumn and was more of a let the fresh air in while she once preferred the automatic timer for the AC.

Since the evening was here already, Summer didn’t have to make the office dark. She closed the double doors per Mike’s request and lit the candle.

Playing with an ouija board was not on Terry Richmond’s bucketlist.

Ever.

“So—

Summer starts but Terry is glancing around him, “Did it just get cold in here or is it just me?”

The blonde also peers around herself and around Terry towards the wall on his right that shielded the other closed door that led to the loop of the rest of the home.

“Well, it is a seance.” Summer tried to ease her friend’s worries with a crooked smile while Terry just blankly stared at her from underneath his lashes.

“Not yet,” he mutters and fiddles with a trinket that belonged to the late love of his life.

A third time Summer asked if he’s ready before asking the second most important question, “What did you bring?”

Terry’s whole hand was wrapped around one of the many trinkets she once collected. It started in twenty-twenty when lockdown happened. The depression was hitting and she needed something that brought her out of it, she couldn’t safely continue doing piano lessons like she wanted once the library had to shut down for a while. This was her side hobby turned hustle, being musically gifted with the piano and composing.

Most of her sheet work was safely in one of these drawers.

It was really something to watch her get in her zone. Eyes closed and dainty fingers just barely touching the keys but the music always flowed and captivated. Terry was more into the physical connection with his body whereas the mental was more on her. With lockdown, Terry still knew how to manage and pushed himself even harder with keeping his body right, whereas she fell into a reading slump for awhile and started to play off key on the keys (which she hardly ever missed) along with her sleeping habits becoming problematic.

She’s always loved little trinkets, while she joked calling Terry a grandpa because of his music choices, he also joked that she was grandpa’s baby. The obsession with Calico critters actually brought her out of depression some and although she would wait weeks on weeks for the packages to arrive on their doorstep thanks to shipping delays, he never forgot learning how important these were to her.

And how by placing one, specifically from the new collection at the time, the hedgehog family, Maxwell the son and brother was placed right on her keyboard that used to rest on the main desk behind Terry and Summer. Apparently he was the pianist out of the family and was that little source of encouragement that watched her play. Sure it was kiddish by first glance but many don’t realize they have to heal their inner child to live. So you can look back at whatever you dealt with as a child and make them see, as you grow into your adulthood that this was all worth it.

Terry had no problem listening to her view on her latest obsession once the teasing was out of the way. He even tried not to be a little jealous that this toy got to give her some joy back and find her passion for piano again. He was stuck listening to her gift from around the corner instead of taking one of the chairs and sitting it in backwards in the same room to listen like he used to do. She had plenty of trinkets all over the house here and there or in plenty of storage boxes she got from tag sales. Yes they were toys but people aren’t just people, they have stories.

They talked about children before and Terry even speculated that she maybe keeping a certain secret from him (she wasn’t) once the overload of figurines started to take over but Terry wanted to be married first. Plenty already had a lot to say since they lived together, bought a house together without being married but what worked for them didn’t have to work for everyone else. She was a product of divorce because of infidelity, Terry was a product of a single hard working mom who raised and provided for him mostly whenever his grandmother didn’t step in to help.

She and Terry agreed that their marriage had to be the best example of love, they didn’t have to try very hard but they wanted the way they loved to be what their kid should expect. That love can kind, patient, fun, overwhelming, have unity, it should feel and show all the good things but also something that can be built and shaped within that unity when it got tough. They didn’t want to repeat a cycle or screw their future kid up but Terry had to remind her that there’s no perfect parent. No perfect love story but it could be perfect enough just for them two. Sometimes she had her head way up in the clouds, she was the dreamer and sometimes he had to reel her—not down but beside him again. To see that dreams are beautiful yet sometimes reality can be a nightmare and not on purpose.

They could always handle it together and not particularly with only one taking the lead.

This hedgehog full of hair as big as her’s, whenever the shrinkage stopped playing around! symbolized a lot. The rest of Maxwell’s family was around here somewhere and this is why Terry chose this one specifically to bring out because trinkets maybe of little value as a standalone but once you get them into your hands they become so much more.

Terry wished he had infinite time with her.

He’s been so lost in his grieving that he missed out on the candle blowing out on its own. The scent of the blown out wax hits his nostrils and he loosens his grip on the critter as he sits up now.

“Terry? You alright?” Summer questions, although her doe eyes are searching around the office.

He hums, not sure how to answer that as he just got hit with multiple memories.

He missed her so much.

The candle lights itself again and Summer meets Terry’s eyes, her hands clasped right in her lap, indicating that she did not do this as the lighter was placed back on the desk and away from the ouija board.

“…are you here with us?” Summer says her name first, while deciding to be the one who asks.

Terry feels himself holding his breath, his chest feels tight as Summer reaches out for the critter to place above the ouija board. She raises her fingers to Terry, who lightly shakes his head, leaving her to do the honors of placing them on the planchette.

Within seconds, Summer’s hands are moving over to: YES.

That makes Terry rub at his goatee, feeling his heart race. He peeks at Summer who already has her eyes on him, “you’re not playing a prank on me are you?”

“I swear I’m not. This is the real deal and if you want proof? Ask her something and I’ll keep my hands off this time.” Summer encourages while Terry starts to bounce his knee.

He thinks about what he should say, anything that he asks and if the planchette moves on its own without Summer’s hands, he just might lose his shit.

“Were you alone when you passed?” Terry struggles to get the words out and Summer squeezes his shoulder, knowing what he’s getting at.

He was on the phone with her just an hour before she died. Terry wasn’t the biggest fan of her driving alone at night but she was dedicated to her job and drove out an hour and forty-five minutes to fight another round to keep the library afloat. If Terry and Mike weren’t swamped with their own business that weekend, he would have taken the drive with her. It went much longer than she expected and Terry encouraged her to just stay at a hotel for the night and take the drive back home in the morning.

There was nothing out of the ordinary on the call, the insomnia started to kick back in again for her recently—which is why she wanted to get the drive over with—and Terry claimed it as stress but she always vouched that it was something else.

Someone else.

He would wake up in the middle night, hearing sharp breaths and when he would roll over to see her face…He knew something was wrong. There were warm tears gliding down her cheeks and majority of the time she would be frozen in fear or fingers scrunched up as she balled up the sheets. They made appointments and medically they couldn’t find anything wrong but of course some sleeping pills were encouraged that she didn’t want to take.

All she kept saying was the figure that lingered in the dark it had a top hat, a hole in its chest, and the blood that dripped from its fingertips always flicked towards her, almost as if it was conducting a symphony, as it came close to the bed before she snapped right out of the paralysis.

The planchette shifts on its own over to: NO.

Terry scoffs out a breath, head wanting to drop as his suspicions came to light. The investigators concluded the crash as an accident but Terry always felt like it was more. They claimed she either fell asleep at the wheel or fell into cardiac arrest first and that’s what led to the collision with the tree but cars just don’t randomly end up on top of trees. Swerving to avoid something else on road was certain but not at this type of impact.

This confirmed it.

Before he can ask more the planchette is moving again to spell out: I-T-S-H-E-R-E-T-O-O.

“Terry?” Summer whispers, picking up on the sound of a piano but Terry relocated her keyboard from the office down to the workshop some time ago, “this didn’t happen with the seance I did for my paw…”

He doesn’t hear the symphony Summer was hearing but he gets a whiff of a smell he’s familiar and loved being intoxicated with. He looks up from his lap and peered over his shoulder, to see her sitting in a rust colored dress on top of the desk with her back to them, “Good thing the person I want to see is already here.”

Good on his part but bad for Summer as she starts to pant at the dark silhouette by the window.

She speaks to Terry, “I told you the sweet dreams don’t happen at night, didn’t i? Now look at what Ms. Summer’s about to see.”

He swallows, locked in only on her because of how radiant she appears as Summer gets to her feet, chair falling behind her while she whips around to let out a scream, which she struggles to cover once she gets sight of what only she and her can see but not Terry.

Taking his eyes off her for a second, Terry gets to his feet as well, reaching out for Summer but her blue-green eyes begin to change to a cloudy milk color as she holds onto her chest, fighting for her breath.

“The fuck is happening?!” Terry yells as he grabs onto Summer’s arms.

The voice that used to be so sweet and loving changes as she floats over to him quickly that if he had been watching he was sure he would have had whiplash, a gush of cold waves over Terry’s frame, almost bringing him to his knees but of course he fights against it, “he’s winning, you welcomed him in.”

There’s a knocking and wiggling of the knobs at the double doors and it sounds like Mike but Terry only feels his body shuddering as Summer slumps over to the side. He catches her before she can hit the ground. Terry still holds onto his friend as they both are lowered to the ground for different actions being done to their bodies. Terry still isn’t able to see what is taking control over Summer but he feels the frigidness of her hands while he tries his best to keep his friend up right.

She’s holding onto his face now, caressing it as her smile is wicked opposed to pleasant. “You can grieve now,” she tells him in a voice that no longer belongs to her.

That’s when the burning happens and Terry is yelling out in pain, using one hand to squeeze at his chest. He’s palming at his shirt, attempting to peel it off but raises it to see her name being carved into his pec.

He’s down on his knees, one arm holding onto a comatose Summer, chest burning and aching with the touch of her. A caress to his cheek allows a tear to spill from both corners of his eye.

A wink, a smile, and the humming of an old classic tune is all that is left but Terry still finds himself reaching out for her, doubling over as she steps back. A hand goes to her chest, patting just where her name is on his own before fading away from his view.

The shuffling of the board can be heard but Terry can’t move from his position as the double doors are yanked back by Mike who runs into the office to his aide.

The ouija board reads: S-W-E-E-T-D-R-E-A-M-S

Once it stops at the last letter, a sweaty Terry feels his eyes close followed by a cold yet gentle kiss upon his cheek.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𓉸ྀི ๋࣭

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[rinski]

SH2R Review

I don't usually do this, but we live in extraordinary times and I have Opinions.

So here is my review of the new Silent Hill 2 Remake. (tl;dr: when it's not bad it's... good? kinda?)

If you go into this game holding up the original and looking for all the ways the remake falls short, like that Bobvids reaction video, you will have no shortage of material to work with. The remake is inconsistent and I legitimately do not understand what they were attempting to achieve with some of the changes they made. This game is incredibly easy to make into something profoundly disappointing if that’s what you want to do. Like Bobvids points out, almost all of the most iconic or emotionally-powerful scenes from the original were fumbled. Not like “they tried to do something different and it didn’t quite work,” no no, no: They were fumbled. They dropped the ball and it shattered like glass upon impact. It's ironic: The game has what it calls "Glimpses of the Past," which are little shrines to iconic scenes and objects from the original game, with their own bespoke camera angle and a little jingle, but then they somehow manage to fail at preserving the scenes people care about most.

If you're reading this, we have both probably been passionate about this game and franchise for a huge chunk (if not the majority) of our lives on this dumb planet, and seeing someone botch something we’ve managed to hold precious for so long can be very painful to watch. 

But there’s also a lot to legitimately like about this game that using that lens will obfuscate. And I’m generally of the mind that we should try to scavenge for whatever joy we can find, wherever and whenever we can, because the world fucking sucks in general. And besides, it’s not like we haven’t had to endure other SH games over the years that ran the gamut from “aggressively mid” to “well at least it’s funny in a bad b-movie kinda way.” I think the best way to enjoy this game is to go in with the assumption that basically everything you care deeply about is going to be butchered in some way, so that you won't be hyper-focusing on those mistakes when the game actually manages to do something good. By all means jeer and throw popcorn at the screen whenever they mess something up—that's a lot of fun too!—but don't let the bad completely shadow the good, especially if it's only bumming you out.

To be clear: I'm not arguing that anyone should buy the game. Other people already have, and their playthroughs are free to watch.

The game is overly long, which leads to some pacing problems. They fill up some of the extra space with places and story beats that feel on point, but a lot of it is filler with only the faintest, somewhat-sour Silent Hill flavor. They do some interesting new things with the combat and enemy AI, but that also gets old quickly because combat is more mandatory, more frequent, and there's only like 3 different enemies in total.

The characters are all different enough that I think comparing them to the originals is just going to make everyone sad. I do not love most of the new takes on the characters. But I also do not hate most of them. At times, they’re even surprisingly good. 

I like the new James most of the time. He's different, sure, but he feels more like a pathetic worm man hiding behind a facade that he's only barely able to maintain. His voice cracks with exertion and desperation as he kicks downed enemies, and after he hears a spooky noise he asks a wavering, "hello?" There are times where his facial acting is incredibly well done and there are times where he basically doesn't react at all, like his "k bye" exit from Angela's final scene that's worse than if they'd just teleported you to the next room with no transition.

The first two Eddie encounters made me roll my eyes, because he feels like a caricature of the original. They made him look and act a lot grosser in the remake, like they imported the original into a character creator and pushed all the middle sliders to one extreme or another. But despite nothing about his design or initial characterization saying “this was made by someone who appreciates subtlety and nuance” he still managed to have some legitimately subtle and nuanced character moments that are their own thing, separate from the original version. When James asks him, "You're gonna go out there alone?" and he gives that slight smile and a distant, barely audible "yeh"? That's good shit.

I think my hottest take is that the new Angela is Good, Actually. I love the original Angela. I think she was perfect. This is not her. Trying to draw any comparisons between the two is a shortcut to feeling depressed and disappointed. There are several interactions with her that actually hewed too close to the original version, which didn’t work *specifically* due to these changes. And her finale is nowhere near as good. Despite all that, I like the new take. She stands on her own as a different (but obviously similar) character. I like her new VA, I like her new scenes, and the new Abstract Daddy boss fight is, I think, the absolute highest point the remake manages to hit. 

Maria is the one character where I legitimately don’t understand what they were going for. Even putting the original aside and letting the new Maria be her own thing… what… *is* that thing, exactly? To start, she’s barely in the game at all—she's absent during many of the scenes she was present for in the original. When she does interact with James, she’s so inconsistent that I can’t get a sense of what they intended her character to be. Hot, cold, charming, socially awkward—in any case it definitely doesn’t seem like they intended her to be “the Mary James fantasized about,” so then… what *is* she? James and new Maria’s overall vibe is “people who only barely tolerate each other because they have a shared friend group." In fact, one of the better interactions between Maria and James is the lead ring scene, where instead of being flirtatious, James dejectedly accepts the ring with a flat, “Oh… thanks...” like she just spat in his hand. So ok fine, they don't like each other this time around. But in the finale she still claims to be able to provide James with everything Mary couldn't, which... no? I don't get what she's attempting to provide, but whatever it is, James certainly doesn't seem into it.

Overall, the environments and music were amazing and on-point, but there were also times where neither was true. The non-otherworld hospital in particular struck me as generic to the point where I’d believe it was made from asset store prefabs. And the newer version of Promise (Reprise) that plays after the video tape is… weirdly up-tempo? Like, to the point where it undermines the tone of the scene (don't worry, it wasn't great anyway). 

Look: being a SH fan has been tough for *multiple decades* now. And I have no love for Bloober Team. They most certainly did not stick the landing here, and even if they did, I would be reluctant to give them credit for it.

I understand feeling passionate about the original. *I* feel passionate about the original. I understand how someone could experience this remake while hating every second of it. I believe I understand how Bobvids feels too, because he’s objectively correct: The remake does not treat any of your most precious memories with care.

And that’s why I wanted to write this. Because it’s very easy to view this game through a lens where it sucks shit, is disappointing, ruins your enjoyment of the original, and spells doom for the future. This game provides a scenic vista full of eye-catching trash fires where all the famous landmarks should be. But if you choose to look elsewhere, away from all the hot garbage, there’s a lot to see that’s perfectly fine or even beautiful. And it makes me sad to imagine all that going ignored because the trash fires burn too brightly.

And also: trash fires can be fun too, right? When they're not bumming you out, at least. Given the choice between "mid" and "trash fire," I'd choose the latter every time.

Silent Hill 2 came out in 2001. Since then we’ve had SH3 in 2003, SH4 in 2004, Origins in 2007, Homecoming in 2008, Shattered Memories in 2009, Downpour in 2012, PT in 2014, and, most recently, Short Message and Ascension. 

We have been scrounging for food and sustaining ourselves on dumpster crumbs for a very, very long time. So let’s not throw away this opportunity to eat a bite or two just because the chef is a piece of shit and the food is partially spoiled: A lot of what’s on offer is perfectly edible. It’s not the best food, no, but we're already used to picking through garbage for a few savory morsels. And within that context, SH2R is a smorgasbord for anyone willing to eat around the moldy bits. 

I recommend we eat what we can, while we can, because we're not likely to get a better meal any time soon.

[astr0disiac]

⚠️IMPORTANT UPDATE⚠️

People have told me that I don't owe anyone an explanation, but I hate going back on my word.

Hurricane Helene and Milton have displaced me and my family drastically. Thanks to some friends in high places, I have been able to find some stability again while our house is under construction. They know who they are, and I am forever grateful. And because of midterms being thrown off, I've had to throw myself into my studies while simultaneously getting my house in order. I had to pick up other jobs because my other one was completely closed after the storm due to renovations. So I do apologize for the wait, it wasn't supposed to be this long. I am safe, so there's that!

As a treat, I will be posting BLOOD ON THE TRACKS, starting October 26th-31st to celebrate the last few days of the spooky month. There are only 5 chapters, but the last one may be an authors note, or and extra day in case I fall behind again. They will be posted at 10PM EST.

In terms of MISTY, it will be put on hiatus as BLOOD ON THE TRACKS has become my priority. The good news is that I can use some of my experience with the storm to finish writing! The bad news is that I may not be able to MISTY before the new year. I really wanted to finalize it by it's one year anniversary, but that may not happen. There are only 3 chapters left, but I'm trying to tie up themes and loose ends so that the ending is cohesive and makes sense. I was going to post the next chapter last week, but I've been so unhappy with it, and felt it was way too short compared to other chapters. It wouldn't have been satisfying for either party, and I would rather take my time and produce something I'm proud of than rush to make readers happy. It will most likely be posted in November. That being said, TIANAMI TUESDAY'S will also be on hiatus while I play catch up. Hopefully everything will be back to normal by December, and the new Tianami story I'm working on will be posted in the new year *wink*. That is the plan, but life is unpredictable. I won't make any concrete promises, but know that I am doing my best to create content for yall.

Kinktober is obviously cancelled which works for me because I didn't really want to do it. Requests are open for any writing prompts to make up for it! If I do end up posting the few that I have, it will be on AO3 so that I can backdate it and make it look like I'm a consistent author. I may do another month challenge, because they truly are fun, but this month is a no. I do apologize for that! Maybe next year.

I'm so sorry for all these problems and apologies, and I will make it up to you all. I simply ask for a bit of understanding as I try and return to normalcy.

In the mean time, please enjoy this excerpt from BLOOD ON THE TRACKS.

Every time Tiana grew near, Nanami felt strange.

No, it wasn’t the presence of bashfulness usually found in juvenile couples, they had been married for five years now, and dated in high school. There was nothing to be shy about.

And no, it wasn’t an intense desire that lurked in more sentimental moods, not even with Tiana’s lingering finger tips ghosting over his warm body in the cool of the night.

That’s what made the feeling even stranger.

It was dark.

It was plain odd.

Nanami had a very keen sense of discernment when it came to the beings beyond; he had retired from a life of sorcery 3 years ago, but to Tiana he had simply retired early from a day job as a regular salaryman. He couldn’t divulge her into such dangers, being together was already a risk in itself. Not to mention, Tiana was very superstitious and had a certain level of discernment of her own. While she called them “loa”, Nanami knew them as cursed spirits. Some may call them demons, ghosts, phantoms, the paranormal; they were all very similar by how they interacted with the physical realm.

And that was usually by causing some sort of mischief and a sense of despair.

An influx of cursed spirits had begun to infiltrate their home, hiding in dark corners or shaded areas, skirting around the borders and slithering under their floorboards. It would wake Tiana up at night in a frenzy, and while the spiritual cleansing she did with her sage and incense helped, it didn’t permanently rid themselves of the problem. So Nanami, who didn’t even break his exorcism streak to help the daunted citizens on the streets of New Orleans, found himself back on the clock around the clock. When he decided to move here with Tiana, he knew he was bound to run into those fleshless beings, he just never expected them to run amuck in his own home.

Especially to this extent.

Thank you for your support! See you soon!

[thetownwecallhome]

OOC: My biggest regrets regarding this webcomic. And, what's to come.

(( bad grammar intended.

In case you're worried I'm being badged by bad reviews and/or "focusing too much on the bad"--- no. These are self-criticisms I've always had about this comic. It's always a joy to see you guys like it so much and there are some comics I love more than others and return to reread just for myself; but I think it's fine to have a healthy self-critical lens about your work sometimes. Just as long as you don't go 2000s-era Lucas and try retconning everything. So without further ado:

>Dislike the earliest gag where Jack complains about being 'fat'.

>Keeping art consistent and low-effort so it wouldn't take so much work.

>Introducing the Holiday leaders like I did. So underwhelming.

>"Mothball" [*sideshow bob grumble of pain*]

>While we're on it that earlier depiction of Clown being a jerk to Sally and Sally needing to be pepped-up by Jack to feel good about herself. Like 'Mothball' is needs a serious rewriting of dialogue to make it bearable ((to me)).

>"Packing Up" for reasons that should be painfully obvious later when I finish making Halloween Town comics. (it goes against current continuity in my headcanon)

>Really I regret how I wrote Sally and Jack a lot throughout the years. You can tell I was battling different takes about the characters and rationalizing them. I made Sally way too demur and Fluttershy-ish when she's not that kind of shrinking violet meanwhile Jack's either too kind and mature or too wrapped in guilt. For Sally I think I was operating on the logic that og-Carolyn-Thompson-script-softspoken-Sally > better then how she is in the movie because someone in my life was trying to convince me Sally was underdeveloped, and with Jack it's being hit w people saying he's an absolute incel or got away with everything in the film* and my coping by giving him more obvious guilt. Though, in fairness, Oogies Revenge, Kingdom Hearts and the fanbase didn't help that disparity by claiming Jack's just a cinnamon roll. Half of the reason "Ask Jack Skellington" prompts ever existed is so I could have an excuse to make Jack the spooky-doofy manchild of terror he is. I neglected that part of him for so long and he and Sally would be so upset with me. I failed you my babies.

>I think the joke of Jack being way too naive about how violent the other holidays actually are and/or oblivious to what adults use Halloween for is overdone in my work. I've done that gag like four times now I think.

>Unnecessarily hating on Lock, Shock, and Barrel for no reason. I think it shows just how much I didn't care for the characters before Zero's Journey came out.

>The Beetlejuice ask/reply comic from like 2015 or 16 whatever is not canon.

>Jack and Sally were too smexual in my earlier gags. Good god I REALLY hadn't figured out my asexuality, or theirs, for that matter.

>Like Jack suffering more +being too riddled by guilt, I think I made Oogie way too OP in my Oogie's Revenge (the prequel story to the entire comic) outline.

>This is a problem I have with all of my work but I hate the walls of text and run-ons all the characters do. It takes me out of my own fanfiction when it's just so obvious when I'm talking vs when the characters are. "Sally and the Doctor suffers from this a LOT".

>So many decisions made regarding plotpoints and plotlines that I think I muddled along the way or did way too quickly as it's obvious I don't have an exact outline for any of this fan stuff I'm throwing out. I really wanted to emphasize Harley and Mayor's blooming romance more than I did. They deserved so much better.

>AUGHTHEAWFULSELF-EDITED TEXT I DID IN 2015-2016 WAS TORTURE WHY DID I EVER THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA???!

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All of this is to say, one day, if Oddities or my patreon makes enough dough and my SSI sitch isn't so fragile or fluctuating- I really wanna hire a beta editor/artist to be my extra pair of hands in sprucing this comic up and making it more articulate, readable and complete for my liking. And yes, it HAS to be a hired job. I can't promise big bucks but I refuse to hand that kind of responsibility to someone without compensation. This comic's too big.

As far as what to expect from the comic after this year, here's all I can tell you for my endgame plan:

I plan to go until 2027, when this blog will be 13 years old.

I want to make next year special as it'll be 31 years of Nightmare Before Christmas then.

You're gonna get a new character soon. Don't worry; they won't distract from the og cast too much. In fact they literally go to jail.

More of Halloween Town in the human world to come.

More Wolfman and Vampire brothers shenanigans.

Jack and Sally past tyme.

One of these final years Ima do something really special with the other holiday worlds and leaders. You'll see.

None of the characters will double die but I will be basically ripping off a spongebob episode.

No one from Halloween Town is ever going to meet anyone from New Holland. You are going to get a Beetlejuice character, but not a full blown crossover.

))

[player-1]

If anyone wants some move references for the Abyssals (cause I'm going to use them in the future for my fic and it's not like the wiki or Nexopedia is going to include it anytime soon), here you go! I put the lists in dark mode so they're easier to read, but I want to also put in my two cents on their potential battle style below (and any moves present in the main story or excluded from main moveset is marked with a +):

Venefelis: While being the "ringleader" in this whole mess, Venefelis sure knows how to throw down some pain in a pretty reckless manner; obviously after going through a crisis about why the Abyssals even exist if all they're meant to do is kick the bucket however they want to (and with Kroma failing...again). And yes, even if she kept using Psy Ray every chance she gets in the gauntlet battle, it made a bit of sense why she used the Ghost ultimate too (though Phantom Abyss is moreso speculative since every single time before she can use all four moves, she gets knocked out :'). Besides, she lived in super-undead limbo for a millennia so she must've tapped into that spooky power one way or another...Also fits the Schrodinger's Cat allegory all the way for me (fic-wise I mean, but that's going to come eventually 🙃).

Rotramus: A good chunk of his moves inflict status effects that could easily slow down anyone chasing after him (ie. The Guild); and even if he doesn't use it battle-wise, I like that his only healing move is Natural Heal that connects to his dex entry with just sleeping deep in the woods whenever he wants. Still, I'll try some other time on how similar his moves are to Nara if he's all about vibing with everything but betraying his mission/the other Abyssals.

Pluvean: First off, for someone so desperate to be killed, why in the world was he so tanky!? Nevermind being the first Abyssal you typically fight, those scales must've been a pain to get through before...-Anyway! Besides being really trigger happy with Tsunami in his battle, his moveset does connect to his desire not to fight and instead inflict status effects and/or absorbing or reflecting anything that comes his way (still ironic if his whole mission was to die). Other than that, I like the little touch of him also using Solar Charge despite being in a ice cave since it possibly connects to Palmaya (or even using Sonic Scream to get someone's attention and receive the axe too).

Inominox: So many Wind moves, so many...Which is an given since he's a petty vulture, and a good amount of his moves connect to slowing his enemy down w. ailments, ignoring defense and speed to make them more easier pickings while also making himself more agile and evasive against any stronger foes; also having a good chunk of Freeze status wind attacks since I hc that he made the Frozen Tundra his previous hunting grounds. The one thing I was confused about was him using Double Slash, but I guess it was a tiny filler move (or just to imply his wings are sharp enough to cut through earth/stone too).

Helevolk: He is angy all the time and it shows on both ends, which is fair for a giant blind lizard that does nothing but dig wherever he wants. But one thing I noticed while going through the roster was Helevolk knowing Conflagration (the Nexomon equivalent of Explosion/Self Destruct) which gives me the very interesting thought on if he used it when he was finally cornered by the Guild or Laterian hunters...If Nexomon 3 has the chance to finally explain his backstory or when he was killed, I'm all for it.

Caelesa: Ah yes, Caelesa "everything but the kitchen sink" Nexomon. For being a mystical deer that was literally born to run away from danger, I find it extra funny that your first (and only) battle with her has her throwing out purely offensive attacks at you that aren't even in her main moveset; especially when Rocknite Blast replaces Rock Wall and Thunder Blast replaces Dark Flow (increases enemy stamina use). Still, isn't it strange that the Normal-type Abyssal that knows nothing of her creator has almost all the hallmarks of using multiple elements like Metta? Other than that, I headcanon that she uses the crystals around her rings for her elemental moves, so I'm all for her creating a bullet hell or just making that giant patch of land in the game into a rodeo ring :).

Volcel: Volcel has a similar move scheme as Rotramus with status moves and Inominox's accuracy and evasion, but I was interested to see that all his main Electric moves that mostly use Puzzled instead of Paralysis for obvious reasons (especially when his story moveset uses Thunder Blast for paralysis and Blooming Spores for poison...Maybe his scales are poisonous in some way?). Besides also avoiding conflict and a Guild member mentioning offhand that Volcel actually vanishes from their radar for months at a time before they caught him (most likely exploring/resting on Precursor Mountain), his aversion to humans as a whole does make sense in not understanding their culture as a whole (since he sees a giant pot of soup/Tyrant bait as poison).

Braccus: It's already a given that Braccus is a walking bulldozer move-wise, though I was also surprised that he uses two ultimate moves like Venefelis (Solar Flare and Meteor Shower respectively), though the former could relate to his location in the depths of a molten-hot cave system (though the reason why that wasn't where Helevolk was or just switched the gimmick to that other cave is beyond me). Still, he also has a good amount of physical moves (which he has clear jock vibes to me) and even using Pummel in his story moves, though I doubt he's that fast since he's the slowest of the Abyssals in Speed but pure size and strength will do the talking for him.

Kroma: And finally, here's to the youngest Abyssal and the necromancer supreme of Immortal Citadel, with her moveset being pretty keen on the ghastly vibes of her powers to control ghosts and possible mind-control techniques (Haunting, Arcane Curse, Snake Eyes, Sleep Song, and such). With her story moves, I was honestly surprised that she doesn't naturally know Dark Mist (since she possibly uses it to kidnap Eliza to finally finish her goal); though EMP and Psy Field also fit the psychic/ghost theme too for obvious reasons. And even if it sucks that we don't get any additional info on Kroma's impact of the Citadel, I was pretty interesting on why she has Constrict in her main moveset (since it's a chance kill if the target is 15 levels lower)...Does she just use her ghost powers for it or what?

[kariachi]

Okay pern fic with one of my rp pairs, Sjeyn and Taso.

Little blue menace, that one, you have to love him.

~~

It had taken two weeks from the Hatching for Sjeyn to figure out that if Tasogareth was quiet, she should go find out what exactly he was up to.

Some may argue that this should have been apparent from the start, when his third act of life was to playfully try to steal his brother’s food, but she would counter that these people had experienced moments of rest that duty and dragon had denied her at the time.

As it was, she had developed the habit of, whenever she could take her mind from whatever work she was doing, reaching out to press against his mind. If he was loud and talking of siblings, whers, and play, then all was good and she could go back to work. If he was quiet and talking naps, practicing things from their lessons, or listening to stories from the older dragons, he was up to something.

She’d been told once it was unkind to assume Taso never practiced their lessons, but that wasn’t the issue. That big, beautiful, blue brain went a dragonlength every heartbeat and he was always happy to throw it at something. The problem was that he figured these things out quickly and was in no way scared to twist them into a new game. She loved Taso with all her heart, but his games tended to be trouble, and he had enough mutations going on that more trouble was the last thing they needed.

It was with this thought in mind that she stepped back from vegetables she’d finished chopping and headed out of the kitchens with a simple “Taso” that everyone understood. As soon as she hit sunshine Sjeyn scanned the Bowl for him, continuing to press against his mind while he grumbled and insisting he was napping in a lie that would’ve convinced anyone who wasn’t his rider. Small though he was- the smallest non-dwarf blue hatched in Benden in recent memory and among the smallest hatched since the days of Lessa- he was distinct enough in color and mannerisms to be easily recognized even at a distant glance. His lack of presence was readily apparent.

Which meant he was in the Caverns. The smaller weyrlings from the clutch could still get down there, and he would likely be able to the rest of his life. Heaving a sigh, Sjeyn pressed a quick hope for information into the nearest where that wasn’t sleeping, waiting patiently for her answer of which path he’d last been seen heading for. It wasn’t one used often, dug out back during the Second Interval for extra storage anymore used for old Threadfighting gear and memorabilia that was drug out for weyrling lessons and nothing else. Some of their Weyrbred clutchmates had said they were haunted, with entire spooky stories about the gruesome deaths in the depths, but Sjeyn had never taken it much seriously and didn’t intend to change that. But they were definitely the kind of stories to form ideas in Taso’s head.

Certainly, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d run off to investigate some scary story, though he’d been just a baby the first time.

It was only when she was far deep into the tunnels, enough to wonder if maybe he’d changed course at some point, still not getting a truthful answer out him, that she figured things out. When she started hearing sounds coming from up ahead, garbled, echoing voices that she could have sworn she would be able to understand if she only went a little further, a little further, a little-

“Taso,” she called out, unable to keep him from feeling her confusion and, she would admit, pride over their bond, “do you have any limits?” She could feel him preen back, smiling despite her best efforts to stay stern as the spotlight of his eyes opened in the distance.

I can’t do words, he admitted, but I can get pretty close. Snickering, Sjeyn shook her head.

“It wasn’t bad enough you mimicking everything else in the Weyr,” she said, picking up her pace to close the distance between them, “you have to bring the humans into it too.” His eyes swirled in bright blues and purples as he stuck his head out of the little alcove he’d cozied up in, pressing it against her torso as she scratched lovingly at his crest.

Well, I would hate for you all to feel left out…

[xf-cases-solved]

a+ addition and a+ photo set edit. they are so respectful of one another. even when they're fighting with each other, they're respectful. the first things we hear either of them say about the other is positive. scully saying he was the best behavior profiler in the vcu, and mulder telling her he read and liked her thesis. (you could argue that he was being slapstick and dismissive, but you'd be wrong, bc years later that mother fucker quotes her thesis off the cuff at her to prove a point, i fully believe that the porn folder on his computer is just a pdf of "einstein's twin paradox: a new interpretation")

[i had to go back and add a read more after i finished this bc i ended up rambling for 84 years again, my b]

and you're so right about them both defying the other's expectations. this episode shows how mulder is totally willing to accept it with grace, and even admiration, when she proves him wrong, like how he tells her, "you were right," when they catch tooms in the parking garage after he argued he wouldn't come back there, or later when she's berating him for being so Extra™️ with the other agents, he's like, "maybe i thought you caught the right guy [and wanted to be thorough in my investigation as a result]"

and scully obviously defies his just by standing by him. i think it's also probably extremely meaningful to him that at NO point does she ever join in on the "playful" bullying of him. not just in this episode, but ever. it's like you said. SHE can tell him he's fucking insane, but the second someone else does she is ready to throw down. and mulder fully knows the difference between scully's, "i respect your intelligence and think very highly of you, but the words that came out of your mouth go so far beyond my scientific worldview that i have no choice but to point out that you are fucking bonkers," vs everyone else's "ha ha, spooky mulder and his silly aliens and his career he ran into the ground"

idk man. i think that in addition to just mutually recognizing the intelligence the other possesses, and having a shared need for truth and justice, they also are exactly what the other needs in terms of their insecurities

mulder wins scully's heart by treating her as an equal from day one. even when he was suspicious of her, he never once insinuated she was lesser due to her gender, and in fact just immediately assumed she would understand complex topics. like in his slideshow where he has that chemical compound? he put that in there as a "gotcha!", except in order for it to be a "gotcha!" he had to have just deduced that she would be smart enough to read and understand that there was something wrong with it. he didn't trust her, but he never once doubted her intelligence, and as soon as he realized she was on his team he instantly started to check in with her and take the time to consider everything she had to say, even when they were in disagreement, and he just like. never stopped doing that. he's still doing that to this day

and scully won mulder's heart in a very similar way, like you said. she, too, has never doubted mulder's intelligence the way everyone else does. the reason she gets so "🙄😒🤬" at him when he says ridiculous things is bc she knows for a fact that he's brilliant. and he adores the fact that she actually challenges him in a way that matters. how many times has she said the words "for the sake of argument, let's assume xyz"? no matter how impossible she thinks his theory is, she is always willing to at least play in the sandbox with him (often in order to point out his flaws in logic, but hey, she's still playing). he literally tells her, verbatim, that her doing so SAVED him. she is a deeply principled person, with a firm belief in science, but she is willing to entertain his ideas, giving him someone to intellectually challenge him and make him be better, without ever making him feel inferior. (and! and!! the trust she puts in him? i'm thinking specifically of "folie á deux," where she shows him that, when it comes down to it, she will put her trust in him above her ingrained principles as a scientist. that? that has to mean the world to mulder, who values truth and trust more than anything else)

i have completely lost the plot here. i think this post used to be about "squeeze"? who knows. my adhd meds wore off hours ago, bro, i don't even know if i have a point besides that they are equal parts complementary to and foils for one another, and it makes for the most intense, enduring love story ever to be on network television, or anywhere else for that matter. they invented soulmates

and also they both desperately need therapy, but that's a different post altogether ✌🏽 😘

today we are sitting in our office at 6 in the morning thinking about...

that scene in "squeeze" that everyone knows by heart, where mulder asks scully, "do you think i'm spooky?" and it's very cute and weirdly sexually charged like all of their interactions are, but also that scene is really important to their character development actually??

this is episode three, and with the understanding that these two are unhinged and kind of speedrun the whole "i would die for you, you're everything to me, you jump i jump, etc" thing, ostensibly they're still getting to know one another, and, more importantly, mulder's still trying to gauge if scully is hashtag legit. like, his gut tells him that, yes, for some reason the fates aligned and made it so the shadow government fucked up real bad and actually sent him an ally instead of an enemy (and also she's not hard on the eyes either, just sayin'), and also she held a security operative at gunpoint for him just one episode earlier, so i think by this point he does genuinely trust that she doesn't have a secret agenda

what he is LESS certain of, however, is whether or not she is going to want to stick around once she fully understands just what a fucking bummer it is to be fox fucking mulder, resident hoover building loser. like she is this literal genius agent and medical doctor, who's professional and hot and kind, and she could easily have an extremely promising career ahead of her, and he doesn't think she understands just how detrimental it is for her to go all in with him. and this case, with these by-the-book buddies of hers, is the first time they are really facing that issue head on

going back to the aforementioned scene, mulder is testing her. through that whole bit, he's testing her. ("why didn't they ask me about the case?" "bc they're my friends and they're more comfortable with me" "why would i make them uncomfortable?" "bc of your reputation" "rEpUtAtIoN?? who has a reputation???") like he is trying SO hard to get her to stop talking around the issue and just say "they think you're a fucking freak, mulder," which ofc she won't, which is why, when she gives him the perfect set up with, "they think your theories are..." he IMMEDIATELY swoops in and asks, "spooky?"

and then he looks her in the eye and asks, "do you think i'm spooky?"

and he says it in his joking tone, but i fully believe that there is a genuineness there. he already knows before talking to colton and his cronies how the conversation is going to go, and he doesn't care, bc he doesn't care about their opinions, but he DOES care about her opinion, and i think that scares him. i think it's been a very, very long time since he last gave a shit about what someone thought of him, and he's extremely uncomfortable. i think that's why he goes so hard just seconds later with the straight faced "aliens are actually grey" thing with colton. he doesn't do it to taunt colton, or for his own amusement, but bc he wants to show scully flat out, "this is what they think of me, and this is how i am going to act in response. can you handle it? can you handle being a social pariah? or do you think i'm spooky?"

the theme comes up repeatedly in this episode, actually. he outright admits to being territorial over her, but in the same breath gives her permission to work on the case with colton instead of him, bc he KNOWS what a shit meal she's been served by the fbi, pairing them up together, but then she's like, "hmmm, idk, i think you must know more than you're saying and i wanna know what it is," and he is so delighted, bc not only does it mean that she's really committed to finding the truth, not just closing the case as fast as possible, but it also means that she's choosing him over them, and that N E V E R happens

but later in the episode he also makes the remark about how in thirty years she'll be "head of the bureau," which is another peek into his mind grapes, showing us that he's still very stuck on this idea that working with colton & friends is going to make her suddenly come to the realization of "oh wait, what am i DOING with this loser??" he's afraid of that happening, and he's afraid about the fact that he's afraid of it in the first place, and bc this is mulder and scully we're talking about, and neither of them are physically capable of saying what they're feeling, he just keeps making jokes and quips and being a dick to colton (who deserves it, but still), bc the alternative is admitting to scully, "hey, i really like your company and would kind of really very much like it if you didn't leave me for the cool kids agents," and he's not going to do that. not just bc of the vulnerability aspect, but bc he would view it as selfish, bc he fully believes that being stuck with him is bad for her (lol i wonder if that will become a theme throughout the entire series ha ha)

but anyway, turns out his worries are unfounded, bc it turns out scully will take being mrs. spooky over climbing the career ladder any day

"do you think i'm spooky?"

"no, i think you're a fucking nerd, now shut up get me my own desk. if we push them together we can play battleship, and then later we can get to know each other carnally"

or something

they're in love, your honor

this is only episode THREE

unhinged

[aces-fav-husband]

Straw Hat Pirates Halloween/Autumn Headcanons!

Tags: SFW, GN! reader, can be read as platonic or romantic (minus Chopper’s part, which is purely platonic), literally just what the title says.

Warnings: None!

A/N: Happy Halloween! I think I wrote a lot more for Franky and Robin than I did for anyone else, but please enjoy my silly little headcanons. <3

Luffy

This boy loves everything about Halloween. It’s easily his favorite time of the year.

Him, Sabo, and Ace would work on their costumes for days on end, using whatever they could scavenge up in Grey Terminal, Dadan’s shack, and random shit they found in the woods.

Absolutely went as Shanks at least once.

Makino would always insist on making costumes for the three of them, but would always get turned down. This was something the brothers bonded (and competed) over and they wanted to do it without help.

If she finds their costumes, though, she will do her best to touch up their shoddy stitching while they were away.

Luffy, Ace, and Sabo have definitely tried to trick-or-treat in High Town to get the best candy. It’s the perfect time to sneak in- no one would question a couple of little kids running around in masks and shitty costumes, right? It’s just part of the spooky Halloween aesthetic, isn’t it?

Yeah, they stood out like sore thumbs among all the store-bought, clean, not-spooky costumes.

Luffy still makes his own costumes every year, and he has the weirdest and most poorly-made costumes you’ve ever seen. He puts in a ton of effort, though. Every costume is made with his own blood, sweat, and tears, and he takes a lot of pride in them.

“What are you supposed to be, Luffy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

It isn’t. He’s supposed to be a vampire, but looks more like a starved, mangy gorilla.

He throws a mandatory costume party on the Thousand Sunny every Halloween. There is no getting out of it. If you try to get out of it, Luffy will whine your ears off until you agree and then drag you back to his room so you can help him with his costume.

He still sucks at sewing.

Help him make his costume and he will love you forever. He’ll try to help you with your costume in return, of course.

If you bought a costume, he’ll try to “upgrade” it. How he thought werewolf fur would be an upgrade to what was supposed to be an angel costume, you had no idea. It’s the thought that counts, I guess.

He also eats all the candy and sweets Sanji prepares. Sanji has to prepare extra batches in secret just so you and the rest of the crew can eat.

Knocks himself out pretty quickly, though. He parties hard and crashes even harder after all that sugar. Will fall asleep on you and get clingy.

I feel like his favorite Halloween treat would be caramel apples, especially if Sanji goes the extra mile to make them Halloween-themed. A caramel apple that looks like meat on the bone, completed with some “scary” blood (red food dye), is something he will go insane for.

Zoro

Zoro also loves Halloween, but for all the wrong reasons.

Any holiday used as an excuse to drink sake, and Halloween is no exception. This man gets absolutely plastered during Luffy’s party.

You will have to pry the bottle of sake out of his cold, dead hands after his liver fails.

Chopper is so concerned. Please babysit Zoro so he doesn’t actually die.

This mf cannot be trusted around kids during Halloween. If the Sunny is docked at some random island, he’ll find a way to sneak off (probably intending to buy more sake) and end up terrorizing the trick-or-treaters. Will scare the shit out of them and laugh.

Will scare the shit out of you and laugh.

No one is safe, except for Chopper (unless he’s really drunk).

Tells super shitty scary stories.

For the love of god, don’t let Zoro leave the ship. You will not be able to find him for the rest of the night. Don’t let him go alone, at least.

If you go with him, good luck.

If there’s some sort of haunted house close by, you guys will end up going in there.

Huge plus if you scare easily. He feels strong and dependable when you cling onto him. And he’ll poke fun at you for getting startled by the jump scares.

If you don’t scare easily, then you can both make fun of the shitty jump scares.

Zoro puts in no effort when it comes to his costume. Either buys a really shitty mask from the store or goes crazy with the fake blood. Sometimes both.

Always incorporates his swords into his costumes, too.

“What are you, Zoro?”

“A zombie swordsman.”

“All you did was put fake blood on your old clothes, though.”

“And?”

Compare him to a used menstrual product and he’ll kill you. Possibly already got into a fight with Sanji over that.

He’s probably one of the last people awake, even if he is extremely drunk. You’ll have to drag him to bed while he mutters nonsense.

His hangover the next day is horrible. He will not be able to do anything. Either tries to sleep it off or complains about it endlessly. He wants you to stay with him in both circumstances.

Zoro isn’t a big fan of sweets, so I don’t think he has a favorite Halloween treat.

Nami

Nami loves all things autumn, Halloween included! Just not the scary shit.

Hay rides, corn mazes, pumpkin patches, apple orchards, fall festivals- she loves it all (except for carving pumpkins because they smell like ass). If she gets the chance to go to any of those, she will take it and drag you along with her.

Will also drag you along with her when she goes shopping. Although that activity isn’t a fall-exclusive one, she still loves it. Will try to get you to buy a matching outfit.

Also makes Sanji get pumpkin spice as soon as it starts being sold again. In a modern AU, she would get that Starbucks pumpkin spice shit all the time.

She loves baking. Bakes an excessive amount of pies and cookies and pumpkin breads (just another reason for Luffy to love autumn).

Bellemere absolutely went all out during Halloween/autumn for Nami and Nojiko (to the best of her ability), so October is a super nostalgic and a slightly melancholy time for her. Especially since she couldn’t celebrate for a long time because of Arlong.

She wants to spend as much time with you and the rest of the crew as she can and go all out with decorations. Will absolutely talk about old memories of hers if you give her the chance.

But onto the actual Halloween headcanons.

Nami would take you to go costume shopping with her, but would buy it behind your back and keep her costume a secret up until the night of Luffy’s party. Her and Usopp would try to do a group costume theme, likely dragging you and Chopper into it while they’re at it.

Either works perfectly or everyone’s theme ideas are too different, so you scrap the plan.

You know that one quote from Mean Girls?

“In Girl World, Halloween is the one day a year when a girl can dress up like a total slut and no other girls can say anything else about it."

This 100% applies to Nami. She will pull out the sluttiest costume you’ve ever seen.

Like… you’ve seen lingerie that covers more skin.

“Is this supposed to be your costume..?”

“Obviously. I’m a cat- didn’t you see the ears?”

She’s just wearing lingerie with a cat ear headband.

Loves Luffy’s mandatory costume party. She’s the one that decorates for it, helps Sanji with the food, and plans out all the activities. She wants everyone to have as much fun as possible, so there are lots of party games and themed sweets.

Will get into a drinking competition with Zoro if you and the crew place bets on them. She’d do it for some extra cash.

Will get fucked up and you’ll have to send her to bed early, but she’ll have no regrets (if she won). All smiles and happy that she got to spend the night with the people she loves.

I feel like her favorite Halloween treat would be fruit flavored gummies, but her favorite fall treat would be peach and berry cobbler. She also hates candy corn.

Usopp

Similar to Nami, Usopp loves autumn and all the festivities that come with it, but he lowkey hates Halloween.

Like, he enjoys the pumpkin carvings and the costume making, but he hates all the scary stuff that comes with a holiday like Halloween. Haunted houses? Spooky decor? Monsters? No thank you. He could barely handle Brook.

A victim of Zoro’s scares. </3

Will get upset with you if you purposefully scare him or set him up to be scared. Be nice to him please.

Swamps himself with personal projects for October. You’re always invited to hang out with him in his workshop as he distracts himself with his creations (and hides from Zoro).

Make sure you drag him out every now and then to do non-spooky activities. I suggest a petting zoo or some sort of farm. Maybe a nice hike to take in the beautiful scenery.

Absolutely loves bonfires and making s’mores. Just don’t tell any scary stories, okay? His heart can’t handle that.

He also loves autumn candles, cinnamon brooms, and scented pinecones. Him and his workshop smell so goddamn good.

This man is the king of carving/painting pumpkins. He makes the coolest designs every year and he has a lot of pride in that. He wins any competition having to do with aesthetics. He always harvests the seeds for Sanji to roast.

He makes the autumn decorations for Nami. Wreathes, cute scarecrows, little paper leaves to string up around the Sunny- that kind of stuff.

Also this man totally crochets and knits shit for you and everyone else on the crew. Expect a sweater when it starts getting cold.

Him and Robin work together to make Chopper’s costume. With the two of them collaborating, they make literal art for the reindeer. Will make you a costume if you ask.

Obviously makes his own costume. He’ll go as less scary versions of classic monsters or heroes from whatever comic books he finds in the New World. Asks for your input when he hits mental roadblocks.

“Hey (Name), do you think my costume would look better if I added this to it?”

Shows up fashionably late to Luffy’s party. Which is completely intentional and not because he started questioning some of his design choices for his costume and had to make some last minute changes.

Spends a lot of the night eating and dancing.

Is super proud of himself when he wins a game and gets smug about it.

He knocks himself out pretty early, but not as early as Chopper. Wakes up glad that Halloween is finally over and still feels some residual pride after winning.

Usopp’s favorite Halloween treats are pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. He’s festive like that. Keeps a jar of them in his workshop so he can snack while he works.

Sanji

Sanji did not give a shit about Halloween for the longest time. He couldn’t really celebrate it with his family (“you’re above that”) or on the Baratie, so Halloween was just another day for him.

That is, until he found out about slutty costumes.

Now he goes crazy for Halloween every year.

Other than that, he doesn’t really have any interest in the holiday.

He is, however, very interested in the farmers markets that always pop up at this time.

He’ll invite you to go with him and help him pick out the best seasonal ingredients.

Corn, apples, potatoes, squashes, sweet potatoes, eggplants. Also snags some spices so he can make a pumpkin spice blend for Nami.

Like this mf gets everything. You struggle to keep up with him as he explains what dishes he’s going to make with all the produce.

Would also go apple/berry picking with you. He finds the ripest, sweetest fruits ever.

Him and Nami exchange new dessert recipes all the time.

The kitchen has seasonal decorations, but nothing flammable and nothing close to the stove/oven. (Luffy tried to hang one of Usopp’s wreaths above the stove and almost caused a fire.)

Doesn’t really give a shit about his own costume, but he always looks really good in whatever he picks.

He goes for simple costumes that don’t heavily alter his appearance. Think butlers, vampires, devils, cowboys, etc.

He does buy a ton of accessories for his costumes, though.

“Do you really need this for your costume?”

Yes he does.

Spends all day working on the food for Luffy’s party, with the help of Nami and you. Super spent at the end of it, but very proud and happy.

Makes the food Halloween themed and tries to give it some nutritional value.

He also makes actual food and snacks and not just desserts/candies.

Sanji definitely wasn’t the biggest fan of the Halloween party at first, but it very quickly grew on him (totally not because of the sexy costumes).

Absolutely shits on Zoro for the insane amount of fake blood he uses on his costume. Zoro shits on him for picking a boring costume.

He has a ton of fun at the party though.

Doesn’t get as wasted as Zoro, but does drink.

Drunk Sanji is super funny tbh. Cracks some really funny jokes and manages to tell some really good stories.

Is complete ass at some of the games, but he doesn’t care. He can have fun without winning.

Another person who goes to sleep kinda early.

Sanji’s favorite Halloween treat would be chocolate covered pretzels, maybe peanut brittle. He loves the combination of salty and sweet. I also feel like he would enjoy black licorice.

Chopper

Chopper had never heard of Halloween. Well, he’s heard of it, but never really knew what it was.

Whenever he and Dr. Kureha traveled around Drum to help people in October, it was all the children talked about.

Dr. Kureha would always brush him off when he asked about it, saying that it wasn’t anything he should preoccupy himself with (she didn’t want him to get hurt again).

But once that he’s with the Straw Hats and they explain the concept to him? He goes fucking crazy for it now.

Not for the horror aspect of it, but he adores the costumes and the trick-or-treating.

This mf also goes crazy for fall festivals.

When you finally stop at an island that has a fall festival, Chopper practically drags you off the Sunny to go.

Agua frescas, funnel cakes, donuts, cookies, fried chocolate bars, huge ice cream cones, cotton candy, milkshakes, etc. He loves all the shit that you can eat/drink there as long as it’s sweet.

Ends up getting a bad stomach ache though.

Gets kinda frustrated and sad when he struggles to win any prizes.

You have to explain to him that the games at the festival aren’t meant for you to win and he gets mad at the people running the games for scamming.

You finally win (or steal) a massive stuffed animal for him and he loves it. He shows it off to everyone when you finally get back to the Sunny.

He is in awe of the color of the leaves. They’re just so pretty and he’s never seen anything like it.

He likes stepping on the super crunchy ones.

That gives you the idea to make a massive pile of leaves for him to play in.

He loves it. Makes leaf-angels, throws leaves everywhere, buries himself.

He invites you to play with him and you both have a blast.

He never has to worry about his costume, since Robin and Usopp always make it for him.

His costumes are always adorable, even if he’s supposed to be a monster or something spooky.

“Your costume is so cute, Chopper! Are you a bat?”

“It’s supposed to be scary!”

Him and Luffy party so hard on Halloween night.

Eats almost as much candy as Luffy and passes out in a similar way.

Dances with you and plays as many games as he can before the sugar crash takes him out.

You have to carry him back to his bed before he falls asleep on the floor. He has a smile on his face and thanks you for making everything extra fun.

Chopper’s favorite Halloween candy would be candy corn and those pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies.

Robin

As a kid, Robin used to love Halloween and go all out for it.

All the archeologists would decorate the library inside the Tree of Knowledge with things like fake spider webs, paper ghosts, and small pumpkins to make it fun for Robin.

She always had the cutest costumes. She would dress up as her favorite book characters or archeologists she looked up to.

She wanted to stay inside and continue studying, but the professors managed to convince her to go outside and be a kid.

Would share her candy with Professor Clover and everyone else and end up passing out at the library.

She has not celebrated Halloween once since the fall of Ohara.

Not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t. She either couldn’t go out without fear of being recognized or whoever she was working under at the time wouldn’t let her.

Fast forward and she’s with you and the Straw Hats. She’s finally able to celebrate it again and she is lowkey excited.

Reads scary stories and gothic novels all October to get herself into the spooky mood.

She’ll invite you to sit next to her by the campfire as she tells everyone the most horrific scary story you have ever heard. Usopp dies inside.

Her morbid sense of humor really comes out at this time of the year, which is occasionally directed towards Brook.

If there’s a haunted house/hay ride, scary maze, escape room, or anything else like that, Robin will going and will be taking you with her.

Chuckles if you get scared and tries to warn you when there’s an upcoming jumpscare (she can see them coming from a mile away).

Out of all of the scary activities, escape rooms are her favorite. The majority of the time she can figure them out easily, but once every blue moon, there’s an escape room that requires more effort than usual.

Always let’s you help out with the puzzles. Escape rooms are really boring if only one person is doing all the work. She wants it to be fun for both of you, not just her.

Bonus points if you both are actively being chased/hunted while in the escape room. The added tension is so exciting for her, even if it isn’t particularly scary.

She would also love petting zoos. Her favorite animals are the goats. They’re just so goofy and she can’t help but love them.

Robin makes her own costumes and they are always beautiful.

Definitely goes for a classic gothic vampire for her first Halloween with you and the Straw Hats.

Goes the extra mile with accessories.

“Wow, Robin, your costume is gorgeous! I love the fake bone jewelry.”

“Thank you, but these are real.”

You can’t tell if she’s serious or if it’s her sense of humor.

In a modern AU, she would try to get you, Franky, and Chopper to all go as the Addams Family. Chopper is Pugsley and you and Franky have to fight over who’s going to be Gomez and Wednesday. Robin serves cunt as Morticia.

She’s always the first one to show up for the Halloween party.

Wins quite a few of the party games that Nami set up, much to Usopp’s chagrin. She lets him win a few to boost his ego.

Takes you to dance with her when Brook plays slower songs, listening to you talk about whatever you’ve been up to leading up to the party.

Drinks a lot of red wine, but doesn’t get plastered like Nami and Zoro. Looks elegant as hell while she’s drinking in her costume.

She’s the last one to go to bed. If you stay up with her, she’ll tell you a little about her past Halloweens and forgotten traditions.

Robin’s favorite Halloween treat is sour gummy worms. She loves sour candies and the fact that they resemble worms makes them perfect for Halloween.

Franky

Franky fucking loves Halloween. Always has, always will. If Halloween has 1,000,000 fans, Franky is one of them. If Halloween has 1,000 fans, Franky is one of them. If Halloween has 1 fan, it’s Franky.

Loved going Trick-or-Treating with Tom, Kokoro, and Iceburg. Halloween was something they all loved and they celebrated it with gusto.

He still competed with Iceburg, though. Who had the better costume? Who got the most candy? Who could finish their work in time to go Trick-or-Treating?

Iceburg usually took that last one.

But the sentiment carried over after Tom’s death and Franky grew up.

The Halloween parties that the Franky Family would throw were insane. Nobody outside of the Family was invited, but tons of people turn up anyway.

Like, Franky knows how to throw a party. Tons of food, booze, and cola were present, along with good company. These guys would go crazy for hours.

No one in Water 7 gets sleep on Halloween because the Family will be blasting music into the early hours of the morning.

He is always so hyped for Luffy’s Halloween party. He will talk your ears off about all his plans for October and the party.

He loves going apple picking. There’s something so very therapeutic about being in the orchard and finding the best apples with you.

He makes his own homemade cider with the apples you both picked, which is pretty damn good.

He’s also a sucker for cookouts. Sanji usually handles all the cooking, but Franky will be on the grill. Don’t argue with him.

It isn’t on par with what Sanji makes, but he puts his heart into those hotdogs and burgers.

Makes a really good steak, too. Once again, not Sanji-levels of good, but the man knows his way around a grill.

Would go into shock if you asked him for a well done steak. Why would you do that to a perfectly good piece of meat?!

Always helps to set up for the bonfires.

Makes the most s’mores. He always sets the marshmallows on fire, though. He claims that charred marshmallows are the best.

You can hear the crispness of the poor mallow as he bites into it. That mf is fossilized.

Builds animatronics for the party and they are the coolest things ever. They look so realistic and scary and they’re amazing.

Modern AU Franky would recreate FNAF as per Luffy’s request. The Bite of ‘87 will happen.

Franky also makes his own costumes.

Well, he makes the accessories. He has to buy the clothing part of it. It’s not that he can’t sew- he can -it’s just that he sucks at making clothes.

He prefers to go as traditional monsters like Frankenstein, werewolves, ghosts, etc.

He also will put on Halloween makeup. Will gladly let you apply it for him if you’re good with makeup.

One of the only times he will put on pants is if he’s wearing a costume. Even then, he tries to think of ways to still achieve the look he’s going for without wearing them.

He loves matching/themed costumes. If you match with him, it’ll make his year. He gets so happy and excited.

“We look super good, (Name)!”

Goes so hard during Luffy’s party. He has been looking forward to it for weeks and he is not afraid to let the world know that.

He drinks a ton of his homemade cider and cracks a bunch of jokes.

Loves everything about the party. He wants to do everything he possibly can.

He’s the first to start dancing and convinces you and your crewmates to get out onto the dance floor with him.

He’s really good at dancing tbh. Dancing with him is a blast.

Gets wiped out after a while and has to sit down and recharge with a cola. There’s a 50/50 chance that he will end up falling asleep before he can get to the cola.

Franky doesn’t really have a favorite Halloween treat, but he loves anything homemade. He destroys all of Nami and Sanji’s baked goods. If you make him something, he will gladly eat it and tell you it was super delicious.

Brook

Brook feels pretty neutral about Halloween. He hasn’t celebrated it since he was a kid and doesn’t have much interest in celebrating it now (unless partying is involved).

His favorite part about this Halloween is that no one bats an eye at him being a skeleton. And that he gets to make 10x more skeleton jokes than usual.

(And the sexy costumes.)

He loves autumn, though! His first autumn outside of the Florian Triangle makes him really emotional.

Gets pretty melancholy when he thinks about how much of his life that he missed, but is very grateful to be alive in that moment.

If you really like Halloween, he will gladly participate in Halloween activities with you.

He’s not a huge fan of haunted houses or corn mazes.

He has gone to haunted houses with you before and he ends up scaring the actors when they realize he’s a real skeleton.

He has to turn down multiple job offers.

He really likes pumpkin patches and fall festivals, though!

They’re so lively and colorful and they make him feel happy to be alive. Especially seeing how excited the other people (and you) are to be there.

Speaking of colorful, he loves going on nature walks and taking in the color of the leaves changing. He’ll collect any leaves that he thinks are especially pretty and show them to you.

Being out in the wild with all the natural beauty inspires him.

He writes multiple songs while he’s out there. The majority of them are rock and roll, but there are some more classical songs mixed in there.

You’re the first one to listen to all his new songs.

He’ll whip out his old fiddle and play hauntingly beautiful music, then switch to his guitar and put on a Soul King performance.

He also loves walking around and looking at all the Halloween decorations with you. Brook loves seeing people be passionate about things, even if it’s something he doesn’t have much interest in.

When it comes to costumes, he usually just buys something related to the dead/undead.

Ghosts, zombies, the Headless Horseman- that kinda stuff.

You could throw a white sheet over him and recreate that one Spongebob Halloween special.

BUT, if he finds a really good silicone mask that looks mostly human, he will wear it for shits and giggles.

“I’m just bones underneath! Yohohohoho!”

Thinks that it’s peak humor.

He always parties hard and Luffy’s Halloween party is no exception.

He’ll bust out the new rock songs he wrote earlier that month and preform them for everyone.

Drinks a lot of booze and gets wasted.

Also gets a lot more vulgar.

But he keeps the mood lighthearted and cracks just as many jokes as Franky.

At some point does stand up comedy when he gets drunk enough.

It’s not bad.

Ends off the night with one final song before heading to bed.

Brook would say that his favorite Halloween treat is candy bones, but it’s really anything with peanut butter.

Jinbe

Jinbe is also really neutral about Halloween. 

It isn’t really celebrated by anyone in the Fishman District, excluding a few young children who were fascinated by human culture.

It is celebrated in Ryugu, though.

When he first returned to Fishman Island, he was asked to participate in some of the Halloween activities.

He gave out either the best or the worst candy and didn’t dress up for it.

He doesn’t know what the point of Halloween is.

Doesn’t really get the appeal of the horror aspect of it, either. Why would you intentionally scare yourself?

He’ll still go with you to haunted houses and listen to you talk about anything horror-related, of course.

He prefers the Trick-or-Treating and costume aspects of the holiday. It’s kinda strange but cute.

Since this is his first time celebrating Halloween with you and the Straw Hats, you have to explain a few of the traditions to him.

In exchange, he shares some of the Fishman Island traditions with you.

Pumpkin carving/painting becomes a favorite activity of his quickly. Not only is it fun, but he likes the idea behind it.

He likes the outdoor activities, like picking out pumpkins at the pumpkin patch and bonfires.

Jinbe tells the best bonfire stories ever. They aren’t scary (that’s Robin’s job), but they are super entertaining and funny.

He sets a few marshmallows on fire, but not intentionally. Eventually he gets the hang of it and roasts golden brown marshmallows every time.

He gives them to you, Chopper, and Luffy since he isn’t the biggest on sweets.

He also likes going to the fall festival with everyone.

He goes on a few of the rides with you, but they aren’t his favorite things in the world. He prefers the games.

He is godly at carnival games. There isn’t a game that he can’t win.

When it comes to costumes, Jinbe doesn’t put much effort into them.

He usually just throws something together with whatever’s in his closet.

Doesn’t overdo it with accessories either.

Tbh he doesn’t know what he’s going for, he’s just throwing shit on that’s vaguely Halloween-esque.

“What are you, Jinbe?”

It’s whatever you think it is. You gotta use your imagination.

He participates in all the party activities, but he spends most of his time drinking with Zoro and talking to you about life.

He will start dancing once Franky gets on the floor. He’s a good dancer tbh.

He participates in a few of the games and activities at your request, but usually sits out.

Wins any card games.

He makes sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be and alive before he goes to his room.

Thanks you for a fun night before he goes to sleep.

Jinbe’s favorite Halloween treat isn’t much of a “treat”- it’s pumpkin soup. He likes how smooth it is and loves the taste of pumpkin.

[pedrito-friskito]

the warrior and the witch - part two

summary: pero’s life and yours become deeply intertwined, although fate has other plans for you both.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, cursing, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit), depictions of assault (not sexual), drinking, more blood, a bit of yearning, a bit of longing, a bit of angst 👀

a/n: part 2! I’m glad y’all are liking this as much as I’m enjoying writing it 🧡 the magic is real and the spooky vibes are keeping me going!!

PART ONE 🍂kay’s autumn adventures🍂 PART THREE

It becomes far to easy for him to fit his life into yours. You slot together all too perfectly, and not just when you’re tangled up in bed together, sharing breaths and stealing kisses.

His horse shares the pasture with yours. The trunk at the end of your bed is soon filled with his clothes, as well as your own. You fix him tea each morning before you tend to your growing orchard together, more trees filling the field beside the cottage. He lets you teach him how to bake, his versions of the tarts and pies you make for the village a little sloppier, but you’re quick to assure him they’re just as delicious.

His swords hang by the door, left untouched for longer than ever before, but still within reach, to be used if trouble should come looking. He’s nearly half a world away from the Wall, but Pero still feels himself looking over his shoulder, his brow hard as he surveys the horizon, every cart or horse that comes past the cottage making him get to his feet, watching it disappear over the hill, waiting until he’s sure you’re safe.

“You worry too much, love,” you tell him. You’ve taken to using the same nickname for him that he has for you, though yours is always in his native tongue. Amor. Mi amour. Mi dulce amor. “Nothing will harm us here, I made sure of it.”

You’ve shown him your handiwork, the protective spells and charms that surround the cottage — and its inhabitants — from the outside world. You know what you’re doing, and he knows you can handle yourself. Gods only know you survived long enough with out him, and he’s told you as much.

“I did,” you reply, a smile appearing on your lips that he instantly wants to kiss, “but it was a lonely life.”

“And now?”

“And now,” you repeat, crawling closer to him, pinching his chin between your fingers, leaning up to ghost a kiss over his scarred cheek, “I have you, my bed is never empty, and my heart is forever full.”

Your words send a flurry through his chest, warmth spreading out and coating his lungs like a summer rain. The old witch’s words echo in his mind constantly. Her soul calls to yours. He thinks it’s the truth, knows it must be the truth; with everything he’s seen in the world, the notion that there is another soul on this plane that sings the same song as his, it seems feasible. It seems less and less farfetched with every day he spends in your presence.

You have a gentle way about you, a demeanour that makes him wonder why the people of the village judge you so harshly, why they throw insults and ignore you. You take it in stride, even on the days when he accompanies you, still offering your help where you can, sneaking extra tarts to the poorer children who have no coin to spend, leaving baskets of apples on the doorsteps of families who have too many mouths to feed and not enough to go around.

Your magic is something else entirely. He’s awed by you each time you use it, from the simplest things — the front door of the cottage swinging shut with a wave of your hand, the blankets turned down on the bed with a twist of your wrist — to the most complicated.

When the land grows cold and the snows come, he takes his horse into the forest, a sleigh drawn behind him to collect firewood and whatever hunting he may come upon. A wolf crosses their path, spooking the horse, Pero tumbling from his saddle, landing hard in the snow. The horse loses its balance and topples sideways, crushing his leg beneath the beast’s massive weight.

Barely a moment passes before he hears your heaving breaths, the dark blur of your skirts and heavy winter cloak flashing through the forest. You’re at his side in an instant, your hands frozen and your cheeks equally so, but you don’t seem to notice, your focus on his horse. He watches, wincing in pain, as you take the beast’s large head between your palms, your mouth moving with soundless words, eyes fluttering shut, lashes fanned against your cheeks. The horse makes a quiet noise, blowing hot breaths that turn to steam in your face. Slowly, the beast gets to its feet, knees bent in the snow, easing his weight off Pero’s leg until it’s completely gone.

The pain doubles and you abandon the horse, eyes flashing something silvery and bright as you crouch before him. You take his face in your cold hands, thumbs swiping his cheeks. “What hurts?” you ask, your voice hoarse as he’s ever heard it, thick as anything. You cradle him to your chest, peppering the top of his head with kisses.

“My leg,” he grits out, one arm curling around you, holding you close if only to offer some of his warmth. His other hand squeezes his thigh, trying to will the pain to ebb even slightly, but to no avail.

You press a wet kiss to his temple before leaning back, disentangling yourself from him, moving to inspect his limb. Your fingers are nimble, gentle as they can be, probing at muscle and bone until you’re satisfied, your brow pinched as you work.

“Broken?” he asks, wincing hard when you prod a particularly sore spot. “Fuck.”

“No,” you tell him, shaking your head. “Something’s out of place.” Your fingers glance across his knee, and he nearly yelps as the pain spikes. “There.”

You move back up closer to him, one hand under his chin while the other settles over his on his thigh. Your fingers span his, your palm cool against his hot skin. He feels your nails dig into his chin, lifting his face until his eyes are locked with yours.

“This is going to hurt,” you tell him, “but you’ll feel better after, I swear it.”

“Just do it, amor,” he grits out, pushing his forehead against yours.

You kiss him as you do it, light flaring from your palm as your hand moves down to his knee, closing around the joint and shifting. He groans into your mouth, the pain searing through his limbs like a white-hot poker. Your kiss is only slightly distracting, but once his knee is back in place, the pain subsides, and your hand continues to move, something more akin to the warmth of a candle flame seeping through his muscle and bone. Your chest is heaving, and he lifts a hand, pressing his palm to your chest. Your heart races beneath your skin, your breaths short and staccato, and he pulls away from you slightly, searching your face.

“Amor, you are shaking.”

“The pain,” you breathe out, swaying slightly in his grasp, “is it gone?”

It is, he realizes. The warmth from your magic had faded, his knee returned to its rightful place, but there is no pain. No remnant of the injury, not even the ghost of an ache left simmering beneath his skin. Nothing.

“What did you do?” he asks, his voice dropping low, his hand lifting to your cheek. He calls your name as your eyes flutter shut, open again slowly. “What did you do?”

“I took it,” you murmur, barely above a whisper as your eyes roll back and you collapse into the snow.

Now it’s his heart that’s racing. Your body has gone cold, any trace of warmth sucked clean from your bones. Terror isn’t the right way to describe how he feels as he scoops you into his arms and starts to run. His knee makes no complaints, his body focused on only you, getting you home, getting you safe, getting you warm. His horse follows dutifully behind, snorting lowly as it drags the sleigh along.

He nearly kicks the door down, slamming it shut with his boot as he carries you through to the bedroom. Pero lays you on the bed, your prone figure making his heart skip in his chest. You’re still breathing, but it’s shallow, too slow. Quick as he can, he stacks wood in the hearth, strikes the flint on the kindling and tends to the fire until he can feel the heat start to permeate the room.

Then he returns to you. Your cloak and dress are nearly soaked through, your boots caked in snow. He nearly snaps the laces trying to pull them off of you, tossing them over his shoulder, not caring where they land on the floor.

Most of his time with his mercenary friends was spent in the heat, but some of them had travelled elsewhere. One man had been as far north as north goes, to the sprawling, snow-capped mountains. He’d told tales of the cold, how he’d nearly died on one of the peaks, and a young woman had saved him from freezing to death. “She stripped me down, stripped herself, and lay with me,” he’d told them, a glint in his eyes as he remembered, reminiscing. “Her body heat warmed my own, slowly and surely, gently enough not to shock my heart, and come morning, I was right as rain.”

The man’s words echo loud in Pero’s mind as he yanks back the layers of fabric on the mattress. You’d sewn two new blankets as the cold grew nearer, and he was thankful. He peels your clothes from your body, letting them fall in a wet heap on the floor. He pushes you beneath the blankets, pulling them to your chin, and then strips himself. Still, his knee makes no protest, no pain sparking up his leg at all as he rids himself of his cloak, boots, clothes. The fire crackles in the hearth and he slips into bed.

Your body reacts to his closeness, immediately turning towards him, a low moan bubbling from your lips as he pulls you into his arms. He tucks your head beneath his chin, scooping you onto his chest. Your limbs sprawl wide, but after a moment, your hand twitches, knuckles cracking as you curl your fingers around his shoulder.

“Pero,” you groan out, your voice laced with pain, and he moves your head back gently, searching your face.

“I am here, amor,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the space below your eye. “Stay with me. I need to get you warm.” His hands start to roam, flattened palm skimming every plane of your body. The chill that’s wormed its way beneath your skin starts to dissipate, every pass of his hand soothing it away. You sigh contentedly, your lips pressing to his jaw as he caresses you. “What did you do?”

A few moments pass before you speak. Your strength seems to be returning, your weight lifting onto one elbow, planted beside his head. Your eyes have that shine to them still, that streak of silver he’s never seen before, and you lean in close, your mouth brushing against his before you offer an answer.

“I took your pain.”

Your voice cracks as you say it, and Pero’s brow pinches. His hands have stopped at your waist, your skin warmed to match his own, and he squeezes you slightly. “Have you done that before?”

Slowly, you shake your head. “I’ve healed before, but never…” Your gaze drops. “I couldn’t bear it, seeing you in pain like that.”

Something in his chest splinters. He growls as he moves, turning you onto your back slowly, planting his hands either side of you and hovering above your warmed body. “Never again, amor,” he tells you, brow creasing, and you reach up, smoothing your thumb over the line in his forehead. “You understand me? I can take the pain. Whatever this world throws at me, I have learned to endure it. I can endure it. Pain is bearable. Meaningless.”

“Pero, I—”

He leans down, silencing you with a kiss. “But losing you, that is not.” The words are spoken against your lips, and you let out a little noise, a whimper that reaches his ears and zips straight down his spine. “I cannot lose you. I will not.”

“Nor I you,” you reply, breathing the words back into him. There’s a slight chill in the very tips of your fingers as you twine them into his hair, but the rest of you is fully warm again, knees parting to make space for him between your hips. He seeks out where you’re the warmest, the heat that envelops every part of him when you let him inside. 

Pero kisses you soft, then harder. Rougher. He pours his frustration and love and awe out into his kisses, pushing only just hard enough, pricking at your edges until you’re keening and begging for more. As he drags his mouth down the centre of your chest, he pauses, listening for your heartbeat.

It still races, rioting in your ribs like an untamed bird, but for a different reason entirely.

He settles himself between your legs, mouth finding all the right places, all the places he’s come to know as well as his own body, and your voice is light, airy and dripping with pleasure.

“Love.”

+

The snow starts to melt, and Pero comes to you with a request.

“I need to send a letter.”

It’s not an odd request by any means, but when you probe him further, finding that he wants to write to his friend, William — the man who had kept him alive on the Wall as they fought the Tao Tei, had released him from prison when he was captured afterwards; you’ve heard the stories many times now — there’s one issue.

“I do not know where he is now,” Pero admits, frustration evident in his face. You’re inside the cottage, him pacing the kitchen floor while you tend to dinner, a pot of soup bubbling away over the fire. Soot has found himself on the large table that takes up the middle of the kitchen, perched in the middle, little mediator that he is, ears twitching as he listens to you two talk. “But I must write to him, let him know I’m alive and well. I owe him my life, after all.” He comes to stand beside you, puts a heavy hand on your hip, leans in to kiss your temple. “Our life.”

You crack a smile, turning your face and catching his lips on yours. “You have much to thank him for then,” you reply, lifting a hand and stroking his cheek with your knuckle. “We both do.” You jut your chin towards the sitting room. “There’s parchment, and a quill and ink. Once you’re done, Soot will take it.”

Pero’s eyes slide to the animal perched on the table, one brow lifting. “The cat?” he asks. “How will he know where to—?”

You silence him with another kiss. “Write your letter, Pero Tovar, and trust your witch’s magic, yes?”

He scoffs a little laugh, but then a flush creeps up his face, cheeks and ears turning bright red, and his gaze drops to his now folded hands. “There is one other problem, amor.”

“Yes?” you inquire, returning to the soup over the fire.

“I cannot write.” His voice is so low you barely hear him, and when you turn, the look on his face makes your heart ache. He’s staring down at his face, refusing to look at you as you draw closer. “I have been a warrior all my life. I was never…I don’t…I cannot…” He breathes out a heavy sigh, broad chest deflating, and you reach for his wrist, curling your fingers around. “What are you…?”

Wordlessly, you pull him from the kitchen and into the sitting room, snapping candles to life as you reach the small desk in the sitting room. You pull a piece of parchment from the stack there, flip open the jar of ink and reach for a quill. “Tell me what you want to say,” you say, keeping your voice purposefully even.

He stares at you for a long moment, searching your face. For judgment, you think, but you keep your eyes stuck to his, the corner of your mouth lifted, the hand not holding the quill resting on his knee, rubbing your thumb back and forth. Whatever he’s looking for, whatever opinion he’s thinking you must have, he doesn’t find it, and after a moment, his lips quirk the same as yours, and he starts to talk.

William,

I hope this letter finds you alive and well. I am both, and I have you to thank for it. Until my last day, I will owe you my life. 

After we parted, I carried on down the path, followed whatever fire had been ignited in my chest by the witch’s words. And, my friend, I must tell you, I found exactly what I had been searching for. I found a woman so unimaginable, so beautiful and wondrous, and I believe what the witch told me that day. Her soul calls to mine, and my own sings a new song in return. A song of love.

I write to you because I must thank you, my friend. Without you, I would have rotted away in that cell, or would have died upon that Wall many moons earlier. But I did not, because of you. Because of your kindness. I know I was not an easy companion at times, and I would have deserved a much worse fate, but you did not allow it. And if you had, I would not have what I have now.

So, I thank you, William. Should you ever need an old warrior’s swords, mine are forever at the ready for you.

Be well, my friend.

Pero Tovar

Before you sign his name, you slip the quill into his fingers, adjusting them until he’s holding it properly. Slowly, you guide his hand to make the letters. It’s a little shaky, the curve on the P a little wider than you’d write it, but all the same.

“There,” you say once it’s complete, standing from your seat to find a cloth to wipe the quill off. Pero stares down at the parchment, his brow creased once more. “What is it, love?”

“Would you teach me?” he asks, blinking at the letter once before his face turns back to yours “To write and…” He pauses, swallowing hard, throat bobbing. “To read.”

You step back towards him, abandoning the quill. You slip your arms around his neck, settling onto his thick thigh, feeling his muscle tense beneath you. “Of course I will.”

“There’s no spell, is there?” he asks, pushing his face into your collar, lashes fluttering against your neck. “To spare me the embarrassment.”

You laugh softly, kissing whatever part of his head you can reach. “There are some things that can only be taught, love.”

+

The snow has nearly melted completely when Soot returns.

Just when Pero thinks you can surprise him no further, you always seem to, and the letter was no exception. Once the ink had dried, you’d rolled up the parchment, fetching a small piece of ribbon to tie it with, dripping candle wax on the seal and pressing one of your rings into the liquid until it hardened. Then you’d returned to the kitchen, pulling Pero along with you.

The cat still sat perched on the large table, and chirped curiously at you when you approached. “We need a favour, sweet thing,” you cooed, setting the rolled parchment on the table and reaching out to pet Soot’s head. He purred happily, leaning up into your touch, licking at your fingers and nipping at your palm when you scratched under his chin. “Pero, open the window,” you requested, and he lifted a brow, but crossed the kitchen and did as you asked.

You leaned down and whispered in the cat’s ear, and there was a flash of bright light. When it faded, Soot was gone, and in his place sat a regal black falcon, wings twitching and talons scratching at the tabletop. The bird nuzzled into your touch as you fastened the parchment to it’s leg, then climbed onto your arm when you offered it. Pero just watched, awestruck, as you carried the bird toward the now-opened window. As soon as the wind beckoned, rustling your hair as it moved into the cottage, the bird took off, disappearing through the window and into the sky beyond.

And now, winter giving way nearly completely to spring, the bird returns. You’re outside, tending to the slowly blooming apple trees, while Pero is chopping firewood. With a loud squawk, Soot lands on the fence that surrounds the cottage grounds. And there’s a new roll of parchment tied to his leg, this one bearing a different coloured seal.

Pero takes the parchment from the bird, and as soon as you’re within reach, Soot leaps at you. There’s a flash, and he lands in your arms in cat-form once again, purring like mad as you cradle him close and shower him with affection. “Good boy.”

The wax seal cracks under Pero’s fingers as he unravels the parchment. He can feel you watching him, waiting to see if he’ll turn the words towards you, but he doesn’t. You’ve been constant with your lessons, he an eager student. You’d have him reading all hours of the day if you could — to help build his confidence, you claim — but while it takes him a moment to sort out William’s bent scrawl, the words are familiar.

“What does it say?” you ask, rocking Soot in your arms, still scratching at his chin. “Is he well?”

Pero just stares down at the words for a moment, trying to sort through the thoughts that have gone wild in his mind. “He…” He trails off, contemplates handing the parchment to you, then thinks better of it. “He’s close. In the mountains, two week’s ride from here. He’s asked me to go help him. There are other mercenaries in the north, he says, but he needs someone he trusts.”

He doesn’t look up at you until he’s done talking, the edge of the parchment nearly crumpling in his grip. When he finally does, his breath catches in his throat. You’re just staring, your hands buried in Soot’s fur, and your eyes are like pools of glass, tears lining your lashes, threatening to drop.

“I have to go, amor. I owe him my life. It’s as I told him: my swords are his.”

You nearly drop the cat, spinning on your heel and sprinting back to the cottage. Pero calls your name, but you ignore him, the door slamming shut behind you. The parchment crumples into a ball in his fist, and he heaves a sigh, following the path you made back to the cottage. He half-expects the door to be locked, keeping him out, but it swings open with ease.

As he steps inside, he hears the bedroom door slam loudly, and a moment later, Soot appears in front of him, his fluffy head cocked to the side, those strange amber eyes — eyes that had been in the skull of a falcon only moments earlier — peering up at him.

He does not want to go. He does not want to leave you. In fact, as soon as his eyes read the words, as soon as he realized what his friend was asking, it was as though his chest wanted to cave in, the ache already palpable, the thought of leaving you making his whole body revolt in protest.

He does not want to leave, but he must. Pero Tovar owes a debt. He spoke the truth in his letter; if it were not for William’s kindness, he would not have the life he has now. He would not have you.

So, go he must.

Pero waits, hopes that you’ll walk back out with something akin to a smile on your face, though he knows it’s doubtful. He sinks onto the settee in the sitting room, elbows leaned on his knees, face in his hands. He’s at war with himself, the battle raging in his mind. He cannot betray you; he cannot betray William.

He cannot betray himself.

He waits until the sun disappears beyond the horizon and the cottage sinks into darkness. He lights candles and builds a fire, busies himself with one of the many books stacked on your desk, if only to distract his mind from what’s happened, what’s to come. Soot finds a perch along the back of the settee, his long tail curled over Pero’s shoulder, his quiet purrs rumbling in his ear.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the bedroom door opens.

He hears your soft steps before he sees you, the book flipping closed in his hands as he sets it aside. The moment you set foot in the sitting room, your entire body is bathed in firelight. The clothes you’d worn earlier in the day have been discarded, replaced with a simple white shift that turns nearly transparent as you move, the orange glow that fills the space covering your body.

Pero calls your name, but you make no show of answer, your gaze bright as it had been that day in the woods, when you’d taken his pain. Soot meows in your direction, but you seem to ignore him as well, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet right in front of Pero. There’s a…glow about you, something emanating from deep within, and he swallows hard as you plant warm palms on his knees, curling your fingers inward and pulling his legs apart.

“Mi amor,” he starts, but you shake your head, your mouth a hard line as you put yourself between his thighs. You tilt your face towards him, and his breath hitches when he sees the tear tracks on your cheeks, your red-rimmed eyes and wet lashes. “Please.”

You still say nothing but reach up to your neck, pulling a leather cord that’s strung around your throat. He sees a flash of silver as you lift it over your head and loop it over his, and when he looks down, there’s a heavy ring strung on the cord, the metal etched with runes and symbols he doesn’t know the meaning of, but has seen scrawled in the margins of your books, marked into the walls of the very cottage he’s come to call home.

“Come back to me,” you speak finally, your hands settling either side of his face. “Swear to me, you’ll do what you must, and you’ll come back to me.”

His chest is tight at the tone in your voice, the way it cracks on the words, the way you’re nearly sobbing by the time they’re all out. Your face is so close, your lips so inviting, and he pushes his nose along yours, tipping forward until his forehead is against your own.

“I swear it, amor.”

You move then, gathering the hem of your shift as you rise up, planting one knee either side of him and settling down into his lap. Soot scampers away and Pero blows out a breath. The air has grown thick between you, something magical and ethereal settling over both your bodies. He reaches for you, curling his hands around your waist, sighing into your mouth when you lean down and kiss him.

It’s slow. It’s slower than any coupling you’ve had since you first laid eyes on each other. It burns low and syrupy, as gentle as the warmth of the fire that permeates the room. Pero skims heavy palms up your thighs, sneaking beneath the fabric that covers you. He groans when he finds your body bare underneath, his head falling into your sternum as you start to move against him, tangling one hand in his hair, the other digging into his shoulder.

Any other night, and he’d splay you out on the floor before the fire, drink the nectar that lies between your legs straight from the source, keep himself there until you see stars, until he’s so ravenous he can barely contain himself, before plunging into the depths of your body like a man possessed. Any other night, and he’d grip your hips and flip you over, have you on all fours sprawled on the rug with his hips slamming into your ass, spanking you hard until there’s mark shaped like his hand on your cheek, until you’re begging for him, leaning up on your knees until your back is against his chest, breathing heavily and desperate for more.

But tonight is not any other night.

He watches your face as you move, gripping your hips and letting his thumbs ride the curve of them. You kiss him hard, then soft, then hard again, nipping at his lip and pulling soft groans from his mouth. When your hips start to roll down into his, he tips his head back, baring his throat, and you don’t hesitate to duck your face against it, teeth closing around his pulse, sure to leave a mark.

He’s hard as a rock beneath you, cock straining against the laces of his pants, and he can feel you growing hotter, feel the heat growing all over you, concentrated more and more with every roll of your hips. “I need to feel you, mi amor,” he groans out. “Please.”

“Yes, yes,” you mumble, lifting enough to give yourself access to his pants, yanking at the leather laces holding them closed. He’s shocked you don’t tear right through the thick fabric, the desperation in your features and movements only making him want you more. “Yes.” You groan the word when you finally have him free of his confines, wasting no time, pumping his hard cock twice in your soft palm, leaning up on your knees and sinking down onto him. It steals the breath from his lungs, your name groaned off his lips as you kiss his face, lining the ridge of his scar with your affection. 

You chase each other’s pleasure like that for hours. He sneaks a hand between you to rub at your nerves, drawing tight circles that make you gasp into his mouth. You go impossibly tight around him, bearing down on his cock, making stars burst behind his eyelids until he spills himself deep inside you. He tries to pull himself away, but you won’t let him, keeping him buried deep within you, forcing his eyes on yours, watching his face as he cums. It seems endless, the pleasure, roiling through your bodies like tidal waves on a beach, crashing over and over until both of you can scarcely breathe.

The sun is starting to break over the horizon by the time he carries you to the bedroom, holds you close and pulls the blankets over you both. Later, he’ll fill his pack, take his swords to Tomas in the village to have them sharpened, make sure his horse is suited for the journey. He’ll chart his path to his friend, slide into the saddle, and make his way, and every step he takes away from you, he knows his heart will feel heavier than the last.

That will all happen later. Now, he just needs to hold you.

+

You hadn’t expected it to be this hard, living without him.

You curse yourself, at first — you survived without him for so long, surely you can take a few weeks alone in your own home? But it seems impossible, right from the first night. The bed is too empty, the cottage too quiet. Soot seems to notice, more sullen than you’ve ever seen him, taking to lounging on Pero’s side of your bed, his meows and chirps much quieter than before. Even your horse is lonely, spending more of her days hiding in the shade than roaming the pasture.

A shadow casts itself over your life, and you know there’s only one thing that will remove it.

You’re tempted to send letters, to send Soot to find him in the mountains, but you know what he’ll say. Once the realization settled in that he was actually leaving, you tried to bargain, tried to prove yourself useful, that your magic could keep both him and William alive in their quest.

“You will be a distraction more than a help, amor,” Pero had answered, kissing your forehead and brushing past you as he gathered his things for the journey. “You are safer here, in our home.”

Our home.

The problem is, no matter how much magical potential is etched into the walls, now without the other half of you, it doesn’t feel like home, not by a long shot.

You spend more time in the village, finding yourself half asleep at the smithy’s kitchen table more often than not, Lena keeping your cup of wine filled and distracting you with stories. Their children are a blessing, both of them much more comfortable with you now, their faces excited when you arrive for dinner, both of them laughing with glee when you appear with pie for dessert. Lena tells you to stay whenever you like, often keeping you talking long into the night until it’s too dark for you to walk home by yourself, inviting you to spend the night in their spare bed. Even Soot is invited to stay, often spending his nights curled up with the children.

The trouble with wine, and the amount you find yourself drinking with Lena, is that it makes you hazy. Your mind heavy, you magic erratic, and your tongue loose. But, it’s an escape from your sadness, even just for a little while.

“Do you think he’ll come back to me, Lena?”

The woman barks a laugh, sipping her own cup, biting into one of the apples you’ve brought. “Whatever do you mean, sweet thing?”

“Pero,” you grumble, resting your arms on the tabletop, leaning forward and resting your head atop him. “I worry, day in and day out. Worry he’s dead, worry he’s alive and warming the bed of another woman.”

Lena reaches across the table and smacks you in the head. Hard.

“Ouch!”

“If you every say such a thing like that again, I’ll hit you harder,” she says, pointing a finger at you, a hard expression on her face. “That man loves you like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” She leans back in her chair, her face going wistful. “Where I come from, we have a name for that, you know. Love like yours.” She turns her head towards the back of the house, where Tomas had disappeared to bed hours ago. “Love like mine.”

She’s quiet for a moment, so you probe: “What do they call it?”

“Twin souls,” she answers, a happy smile on her face. “You carry a piece of him, and he you. You know each other better than anyone else, and when you finally meet, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.”

You balk at her, remembering the feeling you had that first night with Pero Tovar, that beast in your chest that had been sated by his touch, that had retreated into the shadows of your heart while he was by your side, but now rose to the surface, angry and pacing like a hungry animal.

“He will come back to you,” Lena says, biting into the apple again. “I know it, and you know it, too.”

It seems as though the village starts to realize Pero is no longer with you. A few of the kinder faces in the village ask after him, nodding silently when you admit he’s gone to help a friend. To the more unkind ones, it makes you a bigger target.

Farrell uses it to his advantage. He’s worse than every before, cornering you on a daily basis, his shadow following you around the village, to the point where you can’t even bring your apples or pastries to the square anymore, not without him appearing out of nowhere, blocking your path and hurling insults.

“Why are you still here, bitch?”

“That man of yours, he finally figured out what you are, didn’t he? Left you to rot on your own.”

“You don’t belong here, witch.”

It’s endless. Darker, louder, sinking into the marrow of your bones and leaving you full of fear. It gets to the point where Lena and Tomas refuse to leave you alone in the village, keeping you in their home overnight not merely out of kindness, but necessity.

But you need to go home. After nearly a week straight spent with them, you wait for the perfect night. You wait until you see Farrell make his way into the tavern, peek through the window until you’re sure he’s drank enough to keep him at bay, and head quickly down the road that leads to the cottage, Soot at your heels. You don’t think you’ve ever walked the the path so quick, your steps nearly a run, your breaths heaving as you come round the bend and the cottage comes into view.

And you nearly fall to your knees.

The windows are broken, glass shattered everywhere you look. The door hangs on it’s hinges, bowed inward, marks that only could have been made by an axe marring the wood. Your heart climbs into your throat, and you fear for what awaits you inside. Soot lets out a mournful meow, but follows you dutifully towards your home.

Inside, it’s just as bad — no, worse. Every room is ransacked, furniture upended, your books scattered on the floors, pages torn and ripped to shreds. Your plates and cups shattered to pieces, candles broken and wax smeared on the floors. In the bedroom, it’s more of the same — your clothes ripped and strewn across the floor, Pero’s scattered amongst them. The bed is flipped on its side, blankets burned in some places, torn in others.

Everything you own, broken. Destroyed. Ripped to shreds.

“I thought I might find you here, witch,” a horribly familiar voice calls, pulling you out of your shock and sending you reeling in a new way. “Do you like what I’ve done with the place? I think it looks much better this way, don’t you?”

Farrell stands in the doorway, a drunk grin on his face, a large axe in his hand, leaned on his shoulder. Anger swells inside, and you go to surge forward, magic brewing in your gut, but—

—you can’t move.

The awful man gives you a dark grin that makes your blood boil. “You think you’re so clever, bitch, but I’ve outsmarted you this time. Done some research of my own, figured out how to stop you.” He juts his chin towards you, towards the floor.

You look down and see markings carved into the wooden planks. A perfect circle, runes you recognize, some you don’t, but as a whole, it’s all too familiar. You’ve seen it in your books, seen it used before to keep rogue witches from harming themselves, harming other people.

A holding circle.

“Fuck,” you grit out, hands curling into fists as your sides. “Let me go, Farrell.”

“Let you go?” he repeats, his tone nearly taunting. “Just like that? Oh no, I’ve got other things in mind for you, witch.” His eyes glitter in the dark, and Soot hisses loudly, the fur on his back standing up as Farrell steps closer. You flick your hand at the cat, pointing in the direction of the broken window.

“Go,” you hiss at the cat, and he blinks at you once before scurrying away, leaping through the window and into the night.

You look back, and Farrell is right in front of you. Another blink, and his hand flashes out, slapping you hard, hard enough that your teeth rattle in your skull and your head snaps to the side, cheek instantly singing with pain.

“Not so easy to heal yourself inside this, is it?” he quips, the sickening grin returning. He gets closer to you, and you want to retaliate, want to hit him, punch him, anything, but you can barely move. It’s the point of the circle, to weaken you. And he just keeps talking. “It’s a pity, really, that that man of yours isn’t here to watch me. But I’ll enjoy the show all the same, don’t you worry.”

“You don’t want to do this,” you tell him, gritting your teeth as the pain flares in your face. “He’ll come for you.”

Another slap is delivered, this one to your other cheek, and your head is ringing. And another sickening grin.

“I’d like to see him try.”

+

The battle ends with blood.

Pero is not surprised. He knew it would end this way. His swords in his hands, armour on his back, comrades by his side. Until he found you, he knew that was his lot, what he was destined for. Once he had you, he wondered if it would turn out different, if he’d live a long life by your side, if you’d grow old and grey together. Did witches age the same as mortal men? He’s still not sure, but he wondered.

But, it appears his lot as remained the same. Death by steel, what feels like a million miles away from you, his soul screaming at him to turn back, to go home.

William is the first to fall. He does not go willingly, which does not shock Pero by any stretch. Multiple knife wounds, an arrow through his knee, another through his side, but it’s the third through his chest that is the final blow. Pero can only watch as his friend falls to his knees, as blood pours from William’s mouth, as he says his final words before falling completely.

“I am sorry, my friend.”

Pero roars with rage, swings both swords wildly, striking down as many of the assailants as he can. More bodies fall, blood sprays, but he misses the smaller man lurking in the shadows. Misses him completely until he feels the blade buried in his gut, his entire body screaming with pain as he falls. He can feel the life pouring from his wounds, staining his clothes and armour and the ground beneath him.

Flat on his back, Pero Tovar stares up at the sky, his swords held loosely in his grip, and waits to die.

The assailants must think him a lost cause as any, because they leave off after taking the treasure William had been hunting. He hears them mutter in a tongue foreign from any Pero knows, sees their shadows lurk over him before they disappear completely.

He lies there, until the sun falls and the moon takes it’s place. He waits for the darkness to come, for his life to slip away like dust in the wind, waits to see what comes after this, what awaits a marred soul such as his.

The dark never comes. His eyes slip shut after a time, but not in death, only sleep. And when he wakes, he wakes, and find his body made whole. His wounds are closed, his breath strong, and for a moment, he scrambles, looking around, waiting to find you crouched beside him, your eyes bright with magic, ready to curse you for taking his pain again. But then he feels the aches in his bones, the simmered pain where the wounds had been, and he realizes, you’re not here.

You’re not, but the ring you had given him before he departed is. He feels it sitting heavy against his collar, the metal not warmed by his skin, but cool, as your hands had been when you healed him.

A bit of your magic, even here. Keeping him alive, keeping him whole. Helping him come back to you. Helping him stay true to what he swore. He can still hear your voice in his head.

“Come back to me.”

And he will. He must.

—————

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[andsheloved]

(fall)ing for you

pairing ~ bucky barnes x gn!reader

summary ~ spending a halloween date with bucky barnes!

word count ~ 1.4k

warnings ~ fluff! stereotypical halloween/fall celebration things, pre-established relationship, bucky being a dork, vague descriptions of a haunted house (a clown jumps out at some point but nothing too spooky, i just wanted to make sure i tag it just in case!), mention of (fake!) skulls and bones

a/n ~ so, i moved to a new area a while ago and there is an absolute disturbing lack of halloween things, coming from an area that celebrates halloween and general fall-exciting-times like crazy, i am talking EVERYONE has pumpkins out, corn mazes and haunted houses wherever you step, specialty drinks and foods for halloween and fall at all the local places, i very much find the lack of the fall/halloween spirit disturbing, SO i decided, why not do some fun headcanons about a lil halloween date to fill the pumpkin shaped hole in my heart! i hope you all enjoy this lil dash of fall fluffy goodness! mwauh!

It definitely is not his idea to go all out with celebrating Halloween, in fact, he can’t even really remember the last time he put out any type of decoration. Maybe before… everything, he might have seen his mom put a pumpkin or two out on his front porch in October, but he never actually did anything for Halloween. So when you brought up going to a fall festival, he was a bit, confused, to say the least.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

I mean, how could he ever say no to you when you smiled at him like that.

Though he can’t quite wrap his head around what ‘it’ is.

But you two set a date for it anyway, even though he kind of has absolutely no clue what he’s getting himself into, and that fact alone makes him a bit nervous, being honest with himself, he’s pretty sure he would follow you anywhere, regardless of whether he knew where he was going or not.

When he picks you up for your little fall soiree, he doesn’t bring flowers, oh no, he decides to go with the theme.

Bucky shows up at your front door with a tiny bouquet of the most vivid, colorful bunch of fall foliage you have ever seen. All wrapped together tightly with some twine that you can tell must have taken him ages to tie together.

“Happy Fall, Doll”

He looks up at you from the bouquet with the biggest, almost annoyingly proud grin on his face, holding out the (can he even call it a bouquet? It’s just leaves? Okay well he’s going to call it a bouquet) bouquet to you.

It’s the type of smile a child gives their teacher when they’re presenting a science project.

But gosh, what you wouldn’t give to just have him stay just right there while you grab your camera to take a photo of him.

When you finally get to the festival, the sun is just beginning to set, and the sky looks like something out of a postcard. It is absolutely perfect fall weather, if not a bit chilly, but you learn you don’t actually mind the cold all that much when Bucky throws his jacket around you.

And he really doesn’t mind the way you look in it. He figures that even if he were freezing to death, he would still let you wear it.

You couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit silly wearing it. You can tell it was modified a bit to fit, well, you know, a highly trained super-soldier and former assassin, but you can’t really bring yourself to care when you’re surrounded by the warmth of him, and the tangible reminder that he’s yours, just as much as you’re his.

Pumpkin picking! He couldn’t lie, he did think it was a little stupid at first, “Why would I go try to find a pumpkin, covered in dirt, when I can go into any craft store and find a perfect, plastic one of my own there?” But about three minutes into your search, you notice he is now fully inspecting each pumpkin you point at.

He is picking each one up, testing the weight of each one, holding them and handling them with the utmost care, brushing off any extra bit of mud or hay, fully scanning every inch of it for any moldy spots or bruises. He is very, very serious about it now.

“What about this one?!” You point at what you believe to be the most faultless Pumpkin you have ever seen, even when you pick it up, you think it looks absolutely perfect.

Bucky thinks otherwise.

“Look at it! It’s all lopsided! And it’s all green and black on the bottom!” You gasp a little when he takes it from you, tossing it lightly up into the air. “See! Baby, it’s not even weighted properly! You don’t want it rolling around your front porch every time some wind rolls by.” He hands the pumpkin back to you, only to grab another one from the ground, holding it barely an inch from your face for you to see. “Now this one, this one is perfect. I mean look at it!”

You can’t deny that his is absolutely the most perfect pumpkin you have ever seen, like something out of a Homes and Gardens magazine. Not a single brown spot or any speck of dirt, and as he throws it just as he did the last pumpkin, you notice the almost blinding glint in his eye as he sighs dreamily “It’s perfect.”

You didn’t know anyone could look at a pumpkin with so much love, and even though you did see a bit of bruising on the pumpkin yourself, maybe it was the fact that he loved it so much that made it so perfect.

Guess that makes you pretty perfect too.

“Well, I guess that’s the one!” You exclaim, and you can’t help but smile at the excited gasp that escapes his lips. You almost tumble into the dirt with the force at which he kisses you.

Maybe you should take him to pumpkin patches more often.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” he repeats, making sure to place gentle kisses all along your cheeks and on the tip of your nose.

When it gets a bit darker, and a bit ~spookier~, you notice he tenses up just a little.

“Hey, are you doing alright? You know we don’t have to go through the haunted hou-”

“Are you crazy! We are doing the haunted house, I’m sure it’s not even really that scary anyway…:

You look at him for a bit longer after he responds, making sure that he’s not just saying that to say it.

But he smiles at you and squeezes your hand like he can read your mind.

So you two set off towards the haunted house.

The facade is a little cheesy; a massive cutout made from flimsy wood panels, secured to what looks to be a massive tent, shaped to look like an eerie castle, with a faint strobe light flashing up at it. For a moment you think to yourself how Bucky is probably right ‘I’m sure it’s not even really that scary anyway…’ But as soon as you step inside, you realize you couldn’t be more wrong.

You glare up at Bucky as he holds you securely in front of him, “Doll, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re behind me” He winks, and you grumble something to yourself about ‘stupidmanhandlingsupersoilders’

But as a man in a clown mask jumps out at the two of you, forcing you to press further against Bucky’s chest, you’re suddenly very thankful for your personal man handling super-soldier.

You couldn’t really say you paid any attention to the rest of the house, focusing on looking straight ahead and straight ahead only as you placed your hands over Bucky's around your waist. His low chuckle brought you just the slightest bit of comfort every time an actor popped out from a window or hidden door.

“You’re okay Doll, look! They’re not even real!”

You slowly gathered the courage to look around you, turning your head to see some very obviously plastic skulls and bones surrounding you in the fake graveyard.

You could almost roll your eyes at yourself, this is what you were afraid of? Some styrofoam bones? You found yourself giggling at the thought

“See? I told you it wasn’t that bad” He added, squeezing his arms around you a little tighter.

The two of you walked through the rest of the house like that, laughing at the almost hilariously unrealistic props, pointing out where you thought someone would be jumping out at you, it almost became a game.

“What did I say! I told you it wasn’t gonna be that scary!”

You wished you could wipe the wicked smirk from his face, “I was terrified!”

“You had fun!”

“Yeah, but I was terrified!”

“Weren’t you the one asking me if I even wanted to go through it?”

If you weren’t so exhausted from attempting to contain yourself from bolting through the house as fast as you could, you would’ve kissed that stupid knowing smile off his lips.

Well, maybe you weren’t that tired.

When you two finally got back to your apartment, Bucky suddenly stopped in front of your doorstep.

“Is everything oka-”

In an instant, he was running back to the car with a speed you don’t ever think you have seen him sprint at before.

You squinted to see what he was digging for

But then he ducked his head out of the back seat, holding triumphantly, the pumpkin.

“Almost forgot,” he said, returning to place it ever so gently beside your front door, “Perfect” he sighed.

“Yeah” You replied, leaning your head against his shoulder as you turned to look up at him, “Just perfect."

thank you so so much for reading! i really do appreciate it! want more bucky? check out my masterlist ! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! bucky + autumn is just, mm, so good! my heart is warm! anyways, i hope you are all doing so very well! mwauh! and happy fall (and halloween if you celebrate) to you all! i hope it is filled with all the happiness and warmth you could ever ask for!

[tigerkirby215]

5e Vex, the Gloomiest build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Horace “Hozure” Hsu. Made for Riot Games.)

Writing this build in a dark room late at night, super tired and stuff... Stuck inside cause of this dumb virus... AFKing in TFT for a Prestige skin like a tryhard... It’s kinda aesthetic, ya know?

GOALS

Another person to kill... Shadow? Can you handle it? - You don’t need best friends: you’ve got your Shadow. He’s the only cool one, because he’s basically you.

Ugh. Can we get some rain clouds in here? - No one likes a debbie downer, but everyone loves a good scare!

Man, walking suuuucks - Nowadays even the anti-dash champion needs a resetting dash. “Do the thing, Shadow.”

RACE

I could make Vex a Harengon to justify her rabbit ears, but she doesn’t really do much “jumping.” That, and I didn’t buy Wild Beyond the Witchlight. So Halfling still works good enough for a yordle. Your Dexterity increases by 2, and while your movement speed goes down to 25 you have Halfling Nimbleness to move through people who are bigger than you. You’re also “Brave” for advantage against fears (when you hang around the Shadow Isles stuff really isn’t that scary) and of course have good ol’ yordle Lucky to reroll Nat 1s.

Halflings are normally pretty cheerful but Ghostwise Halflings are perfectly dark. You’d normally increase your Wisdom by 1 but I’d recommend increasing your Constitution instead. But I mean, it’s not a big deal if you take Wisdom instead. It is only +1. You also get Silent Speech to keep to team chat with 30 foot telepathy. I mean, they have to understand your languages but at least you don’t have to tell everyone what you’re talking about. And oh yeah you obviously speak Common and Halfling.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Turns out when you don’t release any new yordles for (wait it’s been 5 years since Kled was released? Holy shit) people end up wanting them.

14; DEXTERITY - Just because you don’t like walking doesn’t mean you’re slow.

13; CONSTITUTION - Imagine dying like a normie.

12; WISDOM - Vex isn’t sad because she’s pessimistic. She’s just realistic.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You’re too cool for school. (And I needed everything else more.)

8; STRENGTH - Ughhh I don’t wanna lift heavy stuff! I’m tired...

BACKGROUND

I guess you’re technically a Haunted One, even if the black mist is the best thing that ever happened to you. You get proficiency in Arcana and Survival as well as two language of your choice to talk to your "allies.” (I guess one of them has to be exotic or whatever.) (I’d personally pick Sylvan as the language of yordles and whatever language the majority of your party knows as your second choice, but that’s just me.)

The thing that sucks about having a Heart of Darkness is that everyone keeps trying to help you, thinking that your sadness (and the living shadow on your back) is something to be fixed. I mean, at least you can get the NPC normies to help you, as long as you don’t spook ‘em. “No doctors! I told you: being sad makes me happy.”

(Artwork by @ToggleD0wnFall on Twitter.)

THE BUILD

or whatever...

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting as a Sorcerer for saving throws and stuff. Also proficiency in Intimidation and... Persuasion, I guess? Look, persuading people that you’re fine “no really” is a skill too.

I wonder what Sorcerous Origin we’ll pick... If only there was one based entirely on shadows and darkness... Oh hey Shadow Magic. As a Shadow Sorcerer you get Eyes of the Dark for 120 feet of Darkvision to see with your dumb Halfling eyes, and Strength of the Grave which will let Shadow take a hit for you. (As long as you make a good Charisma save.)

But of course the main appeal of a Sorcerer is the Spellcasting. You can learn 4 cantrips from the Sorcerer list and two level spells: For cantrips Mage Hand will let Shadow pick things up for you, Mind Sliver and Sword Burst will keep loud people off you both up close and from afar, and Prestidigitation will let you do all sorts of normie yordle magic. As for leveled spells Shield and Mage Armor are both kinda mandatory for some Personal Space.

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

What? Did you really think we wouldn’t get at least some support from adults? Work for that cool gloomy dude Viego and make a pack with The Undead. That’s because Undead are super dark and morbid and have a Form of Dread: as a bonus action you can turn on your Doom and Gloom for 1 minute. You get some temporary hit points, fear people when you hit them, and are immune to fears yourself. You can transform a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

You also get Pact Magic, which is different from normie Spellcasting because you get the cool stuff done with just a Short Rest. Anyways you can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Minor Illusion to have Shadow trick some normies and Eldritch Blast to Eldritch while you Blast. You can also grab some first level Warlock spells like Hex to mark people you don’t like, and Arms of Hadar if you really need your Personal Space.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get their Eldritch Invocations for extra stuff that you don’t have to put effort into. While Armor of Shadows does exist it’s honestly better for you to cast Mage Armor with a spell slot, so with that being said take Agonizing Blast to agonize while you blast and Eldritch Mind so you can keep your concentration around annoying people.

You can also learn another spell like Hellish Rebuke, because people just keep barging into your Personal Space!

LEVEL 4 - SORCERER 2

Now that you can agonize your blasts it’s time to go back to Sorcerer. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently don’t do much other than give you more spell slots. You can turn your Warlock slots into Sorcery points though, which is good because they come back on a Short Rest but the rest of your magic does not.

You can also cast another spell like Earth Tremor, to slow people down with Looming Darkness and sunder the land with your edginess.

LEVEL 5 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers finally get Metamagic! Empowered Spell will allow you to maximize your damage and retain your role as an artillery mage. Alternatively if you want to guarantee fears in your foes take Heightened Spell to give them disadvantage to resist Shadow’s influence.

If you want Shadow to stick around then Dust Devil will swirl around for quite awhile. Alternatively Shadow (Magic) also teaches you Darkness for free, and you can cast it with 2 Sorcery Points to see through it! Your friends can’t see through it, but you can team up with Shadow for some powerful combos when you can see them but they can’t see you!

(Artwork by @jpdiasarts on Twitter.)

LEVEL 6 - SORCERER 4

4th level Sorcerers get the first of many Ability Score Improvements, but I can’t take Fey Touched every time for Flash. That, and we won’t give into basic yordle society. So let’s get value out of our Halfling race with the Second Chance feat. Along with +1 to your Charisma you can also use your reaction to make an enemy you can see attacking you reroll their attack roll, potentially making them miss.

Don’t use this against an attack that you can Shield against, but if someone gets a really good roll you can use this to get your Personal Space back! You can only use this once per combat though (it comes back when you roll for initiative!) so make sure to use it when it matters to keep your spell slots in check.

Oh and you can also learn another spell, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Shocking Grasp will help you push people away if they get too close (folk tend to react poorly when zapped by a tazer!) As for leveled spells Web will keep foes from dashing around, and is also pretty flammable. Huhn; wonder if that’ll be useful.

LEVEL 7 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers get gifts from the Ruined Queen Tasha in the form of Magical Guidance. You can use a Sorcery point to reroll a d20 if needed, potentially squeezing a success out. Don’t use this all the time (even if Warlock slots means you’ll have plenty of Sorcery points to spare) but this can be very useful in an emergency!

You can also learn third level spells and hey: Fireball may be a normie spell, but it’s still pretty effective. It’s maybe a bit too flashy to be Looming Darkness but it’s a good source of AoE damage which isn’t as loud and annoying as Shatter.

LEVEL 8 - SORCERER 6

All this time being a Shadow Sorcerer and Shadow hasn’t even done anything for us! Well how about you go out there and get some work done, Shadow? For 3 Sorcery points you can summon a Hound of Ill Omen to target a foe within 120 feet of you.

Shadow is basically a Dire Wolf except he’s Medium, has temp HP equal to half your Sorcerer level, can move through stuff (but takes damage if he ends his turn in stuff), and automatically chases whoever you told him to go for. Shadow will appear 30 feet away from the person you told him to get, and will chase after him like I said. All he’ll really do is attack the target you told him to though; he won’t even opportunity attack unless it’s the person you told him to chase. But if Shadow’s near someone they have disadvantage on their saving throws, which is pretty cool. (Unfortunately it’s only against spells, not your Form of Dread.)

Speaking of saving throws: Slow is a really great way to keep normies from running around doing annoying stuff. And you don’t have to hit Shadow with it which is pretty cool.

(Artwork by @Lauriquess on Twitter.)

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon: if you want a really small Shadow go for Pact of the Chain, and if you want your cool necklace go for Pact of the Talisman, but we’ll be going for Pact of the Tome because you’re mostly a spellcaster really. (And we definitely don’t have enough cantrips.)

You get a Book of Shadows (See? Books can be cool!) with three cantrips: take Thaumaturgy to be extra spooky, Vicious Mockery for some sick teenage burns, and Sapping Sting to make normies fall over when you fear them. Some might say that 10 total cantrips by level 9 is a bit overkill but look on the dark side: you’ve now got a cantrip for basically every type of saving throw in case you can’t hit with Eldritch Blast!

Honestly none of the Pact Boons are particularly important for Vex so I picked the one that made the most sense. Feel free to take something more practical since 10 cantrips is admittedly overkill.

Oh and you can learn more Warlock spells, so now it’s time to finally take Misty Step. For Flash!

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: getting more Charisma for better spellcasting is probably a good idea.

You can also learn another spell, and hey look another cantrip. For your cantrip even if more damage options are kinda overkill by this point Chill Touch inflicts Grievous Wounds, which might be useful. You can also grab another second level spell and Blindness / Deafness (which is on the Undead list) is far more useful than any of the other normie options you’d have at this level anyways.

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation, and even if you’ve got a resetting dash you’re still a squishy mage. So grab Tomb of Levistus for Zhonya's Hourglass.

You can also grab third level Warlock spells now! Remember how I took Fireball and complained that it wasn’t a good replica of Looming Darkness? Well Hunger of Hadar takes your Concentration but it’s a lot edgier!

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Undead Warlocks have become Grave Touched by the mist, and can make mist of their own! Along with being able survive without eating, drinking, or breathing you can turn any of your damage into necrotic damage. If you’re in your Form of Dread however you can add one extra damage die to whatever you’re using to get people to buzz off, adding to that morbid and macabre aesthetic.

You can also add another spell and if you’re bored with Shadow being a wolf how about you make them a Summon Shadowspawn? Weaponize your Fury, Despair, or Fear (I’d honestly recommend Fury since it has good synergy with your Dreadful Aspect) and work together with Shadow to deal with all your annoying foes! I’d also suggest replacing Hellish Rebuke with Counterspell, because even if the former fits better the latter is way more useful.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks can finally activate Shadow Surge. Relentless Hex lets you mark a foe with Hex and then dash to them. And technically you can move Hex around after the fact to reset your dashes! And while you’re at it you may as well grab Dimension Door for Summoner Teleport.

You could also upgrade Summon Shadowspawn to Summon Aberration if you so desire, but Summon Shadowspawn is more than strong enough and far more fun and thematic.

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 8

Another Ability Score Improvement. Yay. Cap off your Charisma for the best spellcasting you can get out of Shadow. You can also learn another spell, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation: even if it’s kinda ineffective Ascendant Step is still pretty useful to have Shadow carry you around. I mean yeah it’s slow but not that much slower than walking for you, and Shadow can lift you up in the air. “Shadow; carry me...”

You can also learn 5th level spells. If one guy’s being particularly annoying Negative Energy Flood can get them to shut up and work for you. Alternatively if you want more Personal Space Antilife Shell is on the Undead List and will make sure normies keep faaaaar away.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 10

Are you ever so sick of everything that you just want to explode? Necrotic Husk has two benefits: for one you’re resistant to Necrotic damage, and immune while in your Form of Dread because being around Viego for so long means you’re used to his work.

But additionally when you are reduced to 0 hit points you can use your reaction to drop to 1 hit point instead and cause your body to explode! Each creature of your choice within 30 feet of you takes 2d10 + your warlock level in Necrotic damage. You do gain 1 level of exhaustion after using this, and after using it once you can’t do so again until you finish 1d4 long rests. So I’d perhaps use Strength of the Grave first unless you really need to lash out.

I hope you weren’t expecting more spells because you aren’t getting them from Warlock: just a cantrip. By this point we’ve honestly got far too many cantrips so I dunno maybe just grab Prestidigitation again and swap it out from Sorcerer when you get the chance.

(Artwork by @DukkoArt on Twitter.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 7

Finally back to our yordle roots: 7th level Sorcerers get 4th level spells like Storm Sphere for a sphere of darkness and angst. But I mean the real benefit is that you get more Sorcery points let’s be real.

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess. Spooky winds and stuff. Either this level or next level depending on your DM.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 8

Your last Ability Score Improvement... You’re gonna have to ask: what’s more important to me? More Metamagic, or more Eldritch Invocations? If Metamagic is to your liking take Metamagic Adept for Careful Spell and Distant Spell along with two more Sorcery points to use on them. If you like Eldritch Invocations though Eldritch Adept has a ton of options as a level 10 Warlock. I won’t tell you what invocation to take (they’re all great boosts but none of them shout out at me as something you should prioritize) as there are plenty of options to make your own Vex now that they’re all grown up.

I can at least tell you what spell to take: none of them! Wait until next level!

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells which means you’ve finally caught up to your Warlock slots. And look at that: the good wish Tasha gave you one last way to weaponize Shadow. Bigby’s Hand does a bunch of cool stuff and is pretty much the ultimate way to make Shadow crush some normies. (Most literally.) Alternatively if you want to borrow from Viego Enervation will let you heal from the mist and also do some damage. Great if you’re stuck in a corner with a bunch of annoying normies.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 10

Our final level is the 10th level of Sorcerer for one last spell, one last cantrip, and one last metamagic option! For your metamagic it’s honestly about time you take Quickened Spell to up your DPS. For your cantrip take Mold Earth to dig holes in the sand and brood. And as for your leveled spell? Honestly I just like Synaptic Static, and there isn’t much else I want anyways.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

We’re all doomed. But you’re more doomed - 5th level spells pack more than enough punch, and you’ve got plenty of them. Warlock slots will always be at your fingertips, and Sorcery points give you plenty of flexibility too!

I can feel it: someone’s happy over there! - Along with giving you a temporary hitpoint shield Form of Dread puts a nice bit of CC on all your abilities. Keep enemies scared and sad with tons of Doom and Gloom!

Ugh. Stop copying me Shadow! - Hounds of Ill Omen are cool. Summon Shadowspawn is also cool. Bigby’s Hand is especially cool. And hey: even your lower level Concentration spells like Hex? They’re pretty cool too.

CONS

Ughhhhhhhhhh this is gonna take foreeeever! - You’ve got limited fumes, even for a coffeelock. Form of Dread has limited uses and there’s only so much spell slot melting you can do to get your magic back.

I’m dancing... Happy? - You’ve got a really boring set of really normie skills... and if you’re playing Vex the way she’s meant to be played you’re probably not going to use any of them except for Intimidation.

Yup; the glass is half empty - Half your levels are Sorcerer levels, meaning you’re squishy. You’ve also got Mage Armor on which guess what: also means you’re squishy. People who hit teenagers sure are lame but it’s really not hard to Power Word Kill you.

But I guess you’re pretty cool overall. Shadow’s an alright partner and you can spread Ruination even without Viego. Trudge around and get people to frown for once. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting the world to be sad. But do try to at least be happy out of character, because we play games to have fun. I mean, who’d play a video game that just makes you depressed and angry?

(Artwork by @AzzylumArt on Twitter.)

[izzyfandoms]

platonic dlampr having a meal together?

Everyone - Meal

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1 @yourneighborhooddisaster @alexxander-the-gay @full-of-roman-angst-trash @selfcarejanus

Masterpost

"Can someone please pass me the garlic bread?" Patton asked, speaking just loud enough that he could be heard over the noise that was the current conversation.

Remus immediately picked up the plate that held the garlic bread, and Patton began to give him a grateful smile. But then Remus raised the plate above his head, as if ready to throw it, and Patton winced in anticipation.

However, luckily, before the plate could be thrown, Roman reached across the table and snatched it right out of Remus's hand.

"No, you monster!" Roman protested, taking the dish out of Remus's reach. "You're going to get garlic bread everywhere."

Remus rolled his eyes, a look on his face that said he thought his brother was stupid.

"Uh, duh. If it goes everywhere, some of it will get to Pat, and therefore he will have his garlic bread."

Remus began to reach over the table, but before he could, an extra arm grew underneath one of Janus's, and he held out his hand between the twins. All eyes turned to Janus, as he looked at Remus with an unimpressed expression.

"As much as it pains me to say this, I think Roman is right in this instance," Janus said. "Do not throw the garlic bread, Remus."

Patton gave Janus a smile. "Thank you, Jan."

Janus gave him a single nod, before he pulled the arm back and it disappeared into his body. Patton then turned to Roman, smiling at him, too.

"Can I have the garlic bread, please, Roman?"

Roman smiled back at Patton, giving him a nod, before he turned to Logan, who was sat between them.

"Will you pass this to Pat, Logan?"

Logan nodded, taking the plate of garlic bread and passing it to Patton.

"Thanks, kiddos!" Patton said, taking a piece of garlic bread off of the plate and then placing the plate back down onto the table.

The six of them resumed eating for a few moments, the conversation resuming, but it was clear that something was wrong. Remus wouldn't stop fidgeting and interjecting with crude comments, which was normal enough, but he seemed more bored and agitated than usual.

Of course, as the self-appointed father figure of the sides, Patton could not just let that slide.

"Is everything alright, Remus?" Patton asked.

Remus let out an aggravated sigh, dropping his cutlery and tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. He leant back in his chair until it was on two legs - which perhaps would have been concerning, if the sides could accidentally injure themselves in this area of the mindscape.

"I'm bored," he complained. "This dinner is boring. Couldn't we, I dunno, get strippers or something? Or zombies that can smash our skulls into tiny little pieces while we feast on each other's brains?"

Patton's nose wrinkled at that suggestion, but before he could figure out a reasonable compromise, Janus spoke.

"Would you be less bored if I gave you a straw to eat your spaghetti with?"

Remus leant forward, the front two legs of his chair hitting the floor with a loud bang that made Virgil flinch and then glare at him, which went unnoticed.

"Hell yeah!" Remus cheered. "That sounds fun! I can pretend I'm eating wiggly worms!"

Janus waved his hand and a green straw appeared in his gloved palm. He reached across Virgil - who was sat between Janus and Remus - his arm stretching until he dropped the straw onto Remus's plate. Remus immediately picked it up, delight crossing his features.

But before Remus could begin to eat his spaghetti with a straw - a difficult task, in Patton's opinion, which Patton knew as he'd tried it before - an idea seemed to come to him. His face lit up.

"Ooh! Can I turn my spaghetti into actual worms?"

Virgil immediately let out a disgusted sound.

"Gross," he said, his nose wrinkling. "That sounds absolutely disgusting."

"Exactly!" Remus cheered, completely unoffended. "Do you want worms, too? I'm sure daddy'll say yes if you want it."

"I would literally rather die."

Logan cleared his throat. "There is no need for comments like that, Virgil," he said, before turning to Remus. "Remus, if you wish to eat worms instead of spaghetti, you may, just as long as you understand that nobody else wants to do that."

Remus pouted. "Fine," he whined. "If you guys are gonna be boring."

Virgil rolled his eyes, before his gaze met Patton's, and Patton shrugged. If Remus wanted to eat worms instead of spaghetti, that was his choice. Patton wasn't going to stop him, especially if it meant his whole family got to share a meal together.

Patton smiled to himself.

Not too long ago, a meal with all of the sides together would have been impossible, but now it was a reality. Gosh, he really did love his family so, so much.

[carloswilliamcarlos]

Whodunnit (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, infidelity/cheating, alcohol mention

A/N: IT’S TIME FOR CHARLIE PORN. Yes this is essentially just a remix of Lights Out. I have no original ideas but I am horny, take it or leave it. Also Sackler is there too this time.

Words: 2.2k

“It was a dark and stormy night,” the speech begins. And strangely enough, it was. 

As if cued by god herself, a crack of thunder tears through the sky. Lightning illuminates the room just for a moment, strobing everything inside in ghost-white light. The hostess, her hair done up in dramatic curls and lips lined in dark red. The guests in masks and top hats, expressions frozen for an instant. Shadows splash onto red brick, splattered against the walls in grotesque angles. You jump, holding on tighter to Sackler’s sweaty hand. Behind you, a low chuckle. 

You don’t need a flash of light to know whose breath is tickling your neck. 

Charlie. 

Of course he’d find it funny that you leapt into the air when thunder crashed. He always did love seeing you surprised. And he’s surely amused at your body curling closer to this child of a man who could do less to protect you than a puppy. His words, of course. At least, that’s what you imagine. 

You’d locked eyes as you circled up for the story just moments ago. Your pulse still hasn’t slowed. He was gorgeous, all in black from head to toe, with a blood red mask tied around his eyes. His hair was so long, so dark, he towered over you and looked like fear incarnate, so dangerous and so beautiful your skin flushed hot at just the sight and…

...and Sackler looked nice, too.

It’s a scene from a nightmare already, your boyfriend and the married man you fucked in a stairwell last week in the very same room. Locked in at a murder mystery party with your entire theater company. On a dark and rainy night. Until someone solves this goddamn mystery and you can run home and take out every ounce of wet frustration on the man whose hand you’re gripping so tight now your nails are leaving marks.

“Hey,” he whispers at you, shaking your grip off. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, slipping your fingers out through the gaps and wiping your palm on your vintage slip.

“Who murdered Madame Millicent? The answer sets you free. The clues are all around you… I suggest you look closely,” the hostess stage-whispers with a flourish. She takes her role very seriously. 

“I think we should split up,” you tell Sackler without as much as a glance his way. You’re acutely aware of how slowly Charlie’s moving behind you. 

“What?” Sackler pouts. “I don’t know any of these people.”

“You don’t have to know them, you just have to find clues,” you retort, words rushed. 

“But I came here to be with you.” Sackler’s hands snake around your waist and he bends down to your height as you cast a glance over your shoulder. “I wanna do bad things to you in the dark,” he mumbles against your skin. And it’s right at that moment you and Charlie lock eyes again. 

You push Sackler’s hands off you. It takes a few swats and shoves just to peel them away.

“You will,” you tell him, swiveling your head back around to look him in the eyes. “I promise, you will, just… Come find me. In a little while. Come find me in the dark and you can do whatever you want.”

You manage a little smile then, and Sackler seems more than titillated. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you take in the smell of him, all warm spice and cinnamon and just a little too much cologne. With a final squeeze of your waist, he steps away, walking backward into the darkness with a cheeky grin and tripping over the edge of the coffee table on the way.

Charlie’s nowhere to be seen. 

Everything’s hushed now, almost silent. Only the “Spooky Halloween Ambiance” playlist carries through the speakers and winds around the room. You might have been spooked if you hadn’t helped the hostess find it on Spotify earlier this morning. 

Pairs of figures move around in near darkness, looking for answers. There’s only candlelight now, and not much of it. You only hope these clues don’t involve much reading.

Another crack of lightning gets you moving, taking step by cautious step from room to room, looking for anything that will get you out. You pass the kitchen, stocked with cocktail glasses and extra swirls of orange peels. The bathroom, where a group of girls is deciphering a lipstick message on the mirror. 

And then there’s the library. 

You’re sure there must be something in here you need. 

You step into the room and lock the door behind you, not wanting to give away any solves you find. It’s so, so dark, you can hardly make out the edge of the wooden bookshelf as you graze it with your fingers. Slowly, you make your way along the shelf, skimming over book by book, looking for anything of interest. There are no sounds but your own shaky breath and your pulse rushing in your ears. And then you feel it. 

A large frame pressing up against your back, just close enough so you know it’s there. It’s warm, it’s solid, it seems to wrap all the way around you. And then a hand, ghosting over your hip, traveling inch by daring inch to rest in the center of your rib cage. 

“Adam?” you whisper. It’s Adam, you’re sure. It’s Adam, your boyfriend that you love. That’s what you tell yourself as his scent surrounds you. The scent of cool peppermint, and parchment, and the plastered walls of a certain familiar stairwell. 

He doesn’t answer. Not even a nod. But your fingers come to rest over his anyway, and your back pushes against his chest anyway, and you tilt your head so slightly to the side anyway, so he can bite your pretty earlobe just. like. that. 

You tug his hand up over your breast, squeeze his broad grip around it and sigh when his thumb grazes over your nipple, poking out through the shiny fabric of your slip. He swipes over it again, and then again, until it’s hard and straining and you’re rolling your hips back into his groin.

He kisses your neck, at first just a tingling tease, and then a hard, deep, suck that makes your whole body throb. His left hand reaches around to rest on the bookshelf in front of you. You can just make out the shadows of the veins that run down his long, thick fingers, over his wrist, and up under the fabric of his sleeve. 

Now it’s his turn to guide your right hand, still clutching your breast, down along your own side, over the sultry swell of your hip, behind your back and between your bodies. He leads your hand between his legs and along the thick, hard, hungry length the waits there, tenting the fabric of his trousers and twitching at your touch. His breath brushes your ear as you run your hand back and forth, teasing the tip and trailing all the way down the length. He lets out a breathy, shaky, drawn out “yes,” so quiet you can only hear it because his lips are pressed right up against your ear. 

It sounds… enough like Sackler, you tell yourself again, and even in the confines of your own mind, you know you’re a dirty fucking liar. 

The figure steps back just a bit then, pushing you forward so you’re bent at the waist and pressed up against the shelf. You hear a zip and feel the sudden chill of air on your ass as he flips your skirt up and over it. 

The velvety length of his cock slides between your legs and along your panties, giving your aching cunt just enough friction. It moves back and forth and back and forth again, and your hips are canting in time, rolling with it to wring out every drop of pleasure you can. His warm hand runs up the length of your back and down again, squeezing the curve of your ass and digging his fingertips into it. 

It’s just then you hear a fit of squeals erupt in the next room over, and both of you freeze. The girls must have solved the lipstick riddle. You may not have much more time. 

So you rock yourself back against him again, willing him not to stop, to keep going, to give you what you need, right fucking now. 

And he does. 

A nimble finger pulls your panties to the side and his tip is pressing into you, sliding between your wet, swollen lips and stretching open your tight entrance. You can’t help letting out a whine, you just can’t, and thank god his hand flies up to clamp over your mouth. If only you could do the same as he pushes into you, buries himself deep inside in one long, slow, thrust, because he’s grunting louder than he should be and he’s spitting out a pleasure-heavy “fuck” and that’s not Sackler, you know it now for sure, and you don’t fucking care. 

His hips pull back and push forward again, harder this time. Your knees shake and you rest your ass against his weight, letting the entire length slide way, way up inside you and back out again, in a rhythm that’s all at once frenzied, and fluid, and fucking filthy. 

You’re letting out little squeaks, little moany puffs of air every time he thrusts into you. You can hardly catch your breath, and the hand over your mouth isn’t making it any easier. His left hand against the bookshelf drops down around the front of you and between your legs, resting against your clit so it presses into it with every forward thrust. You’re surrounded by him, by the way he makes your body writhe, by the sound of his own breaths through gritted teeth. You fall back against him further and further, until he’s almost entirely supporting you, canting you upward will every jolt of his hips, and you start to come all the way undone.

In one move he throws you both forward so you’re pressed flat up against the shelf, your cheek resting on the cold, smooth wood and your breasts rubbing against volumes of Chaucer and Poe and Keats. He moves the hand on your clit in circles then, buries his face in your neck, and fucks you hard and fast and furious until you’re cumming all around his cock and it’s throbbing in gratitude, pumping his sticky white seed so far inside you, you swear you can taste it. 

And then he’s out. 

He’s out, and he’s pulling your panties back over your pussy to catch whatever threatens to spill out. There’s another zip, and your skirt falls back down, and the sweat dripping down your back suddenly feels so cold. 

Your breaths both slow down. And you don’t touch. And you don’t speak. And you’ve never been more grateful for the darkness that hides expressions neither of you want to see. 

You walk to the door and rest your fingertips on the handle. 

“Thank you, Adam,” you mutter, hating yourself as you do. It’s met only with a bitter scoff, and you open the door and slither out, your legs still shaking. 

Adam’s in the living room with a couple of guys who look to be taking shots out of a teacup. He gives you a big smile when he sees you and waves you over. 

“Where were you? I couldn’t find you,” he asks as he pulls you in by your hip. You turn your face sideways to dodge his kiss, which lands on your cheek. 

“Guess it’s just a mystery.”

Adam’s all goofy smiles when everyone reconvenes in the living room. It didn’t take him long to make new friends. The volume picks up in the gathering crowd and the hostess makes her way back to the front for her big finale. 

“A crime did happen on this night, but will you guess the culprit right? Let us see if you found the clues, tell us, who do you accuse?” 

She shines a flashlight into your eyes and you squint against the yellow light. “What?”

The hostess drops the act, just for a moment. “Who do you think did it?” she urges you, and it wasn’t until now you remembered why you were all even here. 

Through the light, you can see Charlie standing at the corner of the room, his gaze cast down to the floor. He looks up through his lashes at you, a pout painting his face. 

“It was you,” you say. 

The crowd shuffles a bit as they look back to him, and he reaches in his suit jacket to pull out a little red card printed with a single word: MURDERER. He flicks it to the floor and glares your way. 

“Guilty.”

Hands clap on your shoulders and Sackler shakes you happily. Everyone’s cheering. The party’s over. But you can’t hear a thing. 

Amid the bustling crowd you lose Charlie for a second, and like a ghost, he’s gone. 

The only proof he was ever there is the lingering smell of peppermint, and the creamy white sin dripping down your thigh.  

__________

Don’t mind me, just tagging some Charlie loving pals hiiiiiiii

@direnightshade @contesa-lui-alucard @babbushka @sacklerscumrag @ohdamnadam @cowboy-kylo​