#Glitter & Ghouls 2023

[camliristarfallen]

Glitter & Ghouls 2023 Performance

The scene: 

A winter-dark forest, the trees are devoid of leaves, their trunks a stark black against the snow that swirls around them. The sky is equally bleak; thick, gray clouds loom overhead, heavy with yet more snow just waiting to fall. A silver slice of the moon occasionally peaks through those ominous clouds, emitting just a sliver of light here and there. 

From behind one of the trees a figure appears. A mystical Fae, dressed in darkened leather and fur, camouflage in the sparse light from the moon. The figure is tall and willowy, with fiery red hair, large blue eyes, and wings of the shearest gossamer in tones of gold, black and gray. 

In her hand, the fae carries a lantern, its golden light creating a diminutive circle of brightness around the individual. The faerie’s wings sparkle in the light from the lantern, revealing just how thin and delicate they are. It’s almost unbelievable that such frail looking wings could carry the fae very far, even with as lithe as she is, but as the scene unfolds, they do just that.

As a haunting piano melody starts, she spreads her wings and flutters between the trees, holding the lantern out to light her path. Beneath her, the snow swirls and billows in the wake of her flight. Fresh, downy flakes make their way down between the trees, erasing any evidence of the faerie’s existence. What could have brought her out on a night like this?

After a short flight, the faerie comes across a clearing, not big enough to be a farm, but there is a cabin and some raised flower beds on the far side of the clearing. A short path of worn stone, the kind that would feel smooth and warm beneath your feet in summer, leads to the cabin. The cabin itself looks abandoned; no lights shine in the windows, the door hangs askew in its frame, a few of the windows are broken, there is peeling paint and missing tiles from the roof as well. Upon closer inspection of the area, it would seem it has been vacant for quite some time. The flowers and crops in the beds are shriveled and dried, some of the stones around them have slipped out of place, the once vibrantly green grass is brown, as if starved for water. 

The faerie pauses just outside the clearing, resting a hand on the broken down fence that circles the area. She tips her head to the side, like a cat listening for mice in a barn. Her large, luminous eyes take in the small expanse, scanning for anything out of place. After standing completely still for a few long moments, she seems satisfied that she is alone there. 

Instead of flying to the cabin, she creeps closer on silent feet, her boots making diminutive indentations in the snow on the stepping stones. Her free hand hovers over a small dagger sheathed on her belt. She seems overly cautious, especially given it’s the dead of night, in the frigid winter. Breath plumes out in front of her as she breathes, a small, white cloud that moves almost as slowly as she does. Quick eyes dart back and forth, still scanning for any threat. 

Finally, she reaches the cabin, and peeks inside one of the windows, staying as still as she can as she takes in the interior. Satisfied that nothing lurks inside, she carefully pushes the door open. The hinges are rusted and seem to scream in protest, a sound made even louder given the hush of the glade, the quiet of the snowy, glittering night. She cringes and goes completely still, on high alert, peering into the woods beyond the homestead, wings up and ready to fly at a moment’s notice. 

Silence won out as the fae listened, and she discreetly made her way into the cabin, leaving the door open to maintain the peace around her. Snow swirled around her ankles, fanning out on the floor of the deserted interior. Taking meticulously planned out steps, the faerie moved to a large cabinet that sat in one corner of the single room. It was old, solid, worn wood, extremely heavy, and had a magical lock on it.

Glancing around once again to ensure she was alone, the faery chanted a spell, her fingers glowing radiantly in the stygian room. Anxiously, she pulled the door open, taking a leather-bound book off of a shelf within. Like the lock on the door, the book was enchanted, she the fae once again recited a spell. As she intoned the spellwork, the book itself glowed blue, and opened on its own, flipping to the last used page. 

The page where her human lover was supposed to write the instructions for her to follow so that they might leave their homeland together, and escape the oppression they were sure to face for their union. As the pages settled, her anticipation and hope rapidly dissipated when she read what was on the page. 

“We found him. You’re next.”

A shriek of despair caught in her throat, but, somehow, she forced it down owing to the fact that it would certainly be enough to bring the guards and rangers charging down on the little homestead. The once warm, safe cabin that she had shared many a night with her lover, whom she had met at a market. They had ate, drank, cuddled, slept, and dreamed of a life free of persecution, banishment, and possibly even death. A union such as theirs was forbidden, and had been for decades. 

Silently, the faerie put the book away, and re-locked the door to the cabinet. Thoughts spun in her head like the snowflakes that swirled on the floor of the cabin. She knew there was a chance that they would be caught before they fled, they hadn’t exactly been careful the last few months. But… Maybe he was still alive. They could have taken him captive. It was possible… 

Deep in her heart she knew he was dead. She turned, and leaned her back against the cabinet, dropping her head in her hands, letting the tears that had gathered in her eyes fall, as she tried to stop the sobbing. How long she sat there she did not know, she would sit there for the rest of her life if she wanted to. 

However, a sound from outside stirred her from her dismal thoughts. It was a small sound, the soft whisper of leather against stone, a foot moving as soundlessly as possibly towards her. Her heightened sense of hearing picked up the barely perceptible scrape of the boot, and she knew she was caught. They had been lying in wait for her. 

Panic threatened as she tried desperately to think of a way out. The cabin had only one door, but there was a set of narrow windows along the back, perhaps she could shimmy her way out of one. She moved, her near preternaturally-quiet movements making the snow whorl around her feet as she moved to the window. Digging her fingers in under the sil, she pushed upwards, but nothing happened; the window was painted shut. She ventured to the other window and tested it as well, but this one was nailed shut. 

She whirled around to face the door, shadows now moving outside in the pale moonlight. It had stopped snowing, but the air had turned bitter cold, freezing the top of the snow so that it crunched beneath booted feet. Terror flooded her veins, making her blood thrum in her ears, deafening her for a moment. There was a chance she could outrun them, being fae, she was lighter, faster, and had wings, but she had to be able to get outside first.

Dashing for the door, she held her hands out in front of herself and whispered another spell, this one flinging a ball of frozen arcane energy at the wooden barricade hanging haphazardly in the door frame. The old wood exploded into splinters and she sprinted through, foolishly thinking it would catch the humans outside off guard. 

But it did not. 

Armed men surrounded the clearing, some with bows and arrows, others with guns. Those the faerie might be able to outrun, or fly upwards fast enough to be out of range. Unfortunately, they had come prepared; in their midst was a sorcerer, a tall, lean elf with long, protruding ears, dressed in heavy woolen robes. He scowled at her as she emerged from the cabin, giving a barely perceptible shake of his head, as if he was sorry, or ashamed, of what he was about to do.

She crouched, preparing to spring up from the snow-slicked ground and into the sky, but, without warning, it was as if her breath had been stolen from her. She clawed at her throat, gasping to try to pull the frigid air into her lungs. But it was for naught, she felt herself becoming light headed, and dropped her hands, sinking to her knees. 

The faerie felt other magic coiling around her to keep her still as one of the human men, perched upon a golden horse, gave an order to the others. He did not speak her language, but she knew what the order meant; a death sentence. Hysteria rent through her again, and, although she still could not draw a full breath, she raised her hands and mumbled another spell, hoping it would carry her far enough away from the sorcerer that she could leap into the stone gray sky.

It did propel her forward, away from the sorcerer’s spell that gagged her, but not enough so that she could get free. She sprang up to her feet and started to run towards the other end of the clearing, desperate to be away from here. At the moment she was almost there, poised to vault over the fence and become airborne, she heard his voice, he said her name, and asked her to stop. 

She had no choice. 

Turning, the faerie faced her true love, who was bound with chains around his wrists and ankles, and sported a black eye and busted lip, his beautiful blue eyes clouded with anguish and surrender, his soft, blond hair caked with dirt and blood, and she knew, they would die together. 

Because in the end, nothing else mattered.

[shhtickerbook]

Little Chocolatier

Finally finished my Wonka agere fic!

tw: crying, nightmares, bedwetting, hurt / comfort

-

also posted this on Ao3

Willy Wonka came tumbling down the laundry chute, a pile of sheets piled over him like a stereotypical ghoul. It had been a very long day selling chocolate around the city, his pouch of sovereigns jingled like an instrument as he walked.

Lugging himself out of the laundry cart, Willy smiled weakly up at his friends who were finishing up for the day. Placing down the pocketful of coins on abacus’ table, who picked up his spectacles from his desk.

“Let me get these counted up for you Mr Wonka, I’d say we’re making more and more money each day”

The man spoke as he counted out his coins, Willy nodding. His head was feeling a little odd, like he hadn’t had the best sleep for a while. His days revolved around chocolate and chocolate only, and of course still trying to catch that little orange man. Willys body ached from running from police all day, and for once it was hard to keep his usual chipper and positive energy. His head just felt a little out of gear.

“You okay Willy?”

Piper was hanging up sheets, but had noticed the slight change in the chocolatiers body language. He quickly jumped in reply, putting on his smile and charm.

“Of course! Just a little fatigued. I better head to bed”

He chirpily replied, before making a quick exit to head up to his room. An early night was what probably he needed, to clear the cobwebs from his mind. It was always strange when he felt like this, like a fog overcame his senses. Things just seemed louder, too bright. He just needed some time to rest. The sight of his room wasn’t exactly warming, the metal framed bed teetering on edge, with a yellowing sheet and thin mattress. It wasn’t pretty, but it was the only home he had right now. At least until he made enough money to open his store. Then he could purchase his own house, with enough room for all his friends to move in.

Humming softly as he got changed into his nightclothes, he watched the rain beginning to drop from the sky and glittering against the oil streetlights. This was the only good part of the room, able to see all the way down to the glowing light of the gallery gourmet.

“One day Mamma….”

-

A young Willy wonka awoke in a fright, feeling his centre of gravity tilt for a moment before being thrown from his bed. He had been flung to wooden floorboards, swaying back and forth. It was his canal boat home, but there were no lights, and the once comfortable and cosy furniture was decrepit and molding.

There was a huge roar from outside, howling wind and torrential rain pour. Willy tried to get to his feet, stumbling from the imbalance. What had happened, where was his mother?

“Mamma? Where are you?”

He called out, managing to find the shape of the ladder in the dark. It was incredibly difficult to try and ascend it with the boat rocking back and forth. The boy was immediately hit by a spray of water when he opened the hatch. The canal boat was racing down the water, a terrible storm hitting in every direction.

“Mamma!”

Willy sheltered his face with his elbow, a gust of cold wind causing his favourite scarf unravel and be sucked away. Usually they tied the boat up when bad weather came, he couldn’t even recognise where the boat had been blown to. A sudden flash of light flashed in front of his eyes, disorienting him before a gigantic bang threw him back. Thunder and lightning, it was one of the very few things that frightened him. Usually his mother would hold him close when it thundered, humming a soft tune to drown out the bangs. He wanted nothing more than to find her, where in earth had she gone, why had she left him alone?

His threadbare boots skidded against the wet floorboards, the boat bowing up high in the water. Scrambling he attempted to hold on to anything, but it was no use. In one awful weightless sensation, the boy was thrown from the boat and plunged deep into the choppy freezing water.

-

“Mamma!”

Willy jerked up from bed, clutching at his chest as he began to hyperventilate. His room was filled with darkness, his oil lamp had long burned itself out. But the darkness was quickly replaced with a flash of light from outside, followed by a bang. Flinching violently at the noise, still disoriented from waking up. The dream had felt so real, like he could still feel the cold water he’d been plunged into…

Oh dear.

Frantically he felt around his sheets, sighing out in despair when finding them cold and sopping wet. This was a problem of which that had only happened from time to time, and up until this point it hadn’t occurred whilst he’d been saying at Scrubbits. Willy felt his eyes watering, Mama always helped him when he was young and this happened. It had happened once or twice on the ship, but thankfully there was a very kindly second mate with the same problem who had caught him one evening hunting for sheets.

Sheets… that’s it. He was literally living at Scrubbit and Bleachers, all he had to do was sneak down and wash them, dry and make it back to his room. Although when he stood up and felt the cold breeze through the warped window, all his confidence disappeared and all he wanted to do was curl up and cry. Willy didn’t think he’d ever wanted his mother more in his life, he certainly didn’t want to deal with this.

His head felt fuzzy and strange, vulnerable even. Thankfully a small stuffed creature had been spared from the mess, a floppy knitted bird was strewn against his pillow. Willy picked up the ratty bird, his name was Chester the toucan. Mama had made him when he was a baby, told him stories about where the flocks of birds lived. They even cracked open cocoa beans for food, not the bitter nibs, but the soft sweet flesh surrounding them. Chester was his most loyal companion, so with a deep breath, he tucked the bird under his arm and gathered up the soaked sheets, carefully tiptoeing out of his room.

The creaking floorboards didn’t help his attempt of stealth, but he managed to make his way down the hall and down the stairs. The freezing cold rain and wind felt agonising in just his damp pajamas when he made it outside, the silly man completely forgetting to slip on shoes or any kind of coat on beforehand. The rain was getting torrential, with a deep rumbling in the distance. Willy managing to sprint across the cobblestones to the laundry room just before another bang rang out.

-

Abacus Crunch was a very light sleeper, so when the thunder and lightning began, he resolved to just sit and read for a while until it had passed. He quite enjoyed this kind of weather, he’d read in a book that the sound of thunder created a kind of “white noise” that helped one relax. And his keen hearing picked up on the sound of somebody getting up, but he thought nothing of it. But then he heard the sound of a door loudly open outside, and couldn’t help but stand up to investigate. His pocket watch read that it was 12:35 in the morning, so nobody should be outside at this time. Mrs Scrubbit and Bleacher had threatened any fool who left the building out of hours with multiple gruesome punishments.

So when he peered through the window to see what looked like Willy Wonka darting into the washhouse, he couldn’t help but be curious. What on earth was Mr Wonka doing at this time of night, and in his pajamas of all things?Too peculiar to ignore, the man stood up and put some sensible clothes on to investigate further.

-

Willy really wished he had brought some kind of light with him, the inside of the washhouse looked rather unnerving with only the moonlight and flash of thunder illuminating the interior. He felt around the walls until he found a shelf, scrambling until he found the shape of a candle, box of matches not far behind.

It took a few attempts to strike the match, his shivering hands struggling to get the damn candle lit. But on the fourth attempt he got the old stub of candle alight, having to settle with the puny flame to guide him. He couldn’t just throw the soiled sheets in the hamper, someone for sure would find them tomorrow and question. There was no choice but to wash them, dry and redress his bed. A bitterly cold draft swept through the building, his wet pajamas feeling icy against his skin. With his precious candle being snuffed out in one single breeze.

He groaned in defeat, swallowing anxiously. Wondering just how he was going to do this on his own, he wanted to go back to bed but his bed was now wet and ruined. What was even wrong with him right now? Willy Wonka was the most independent, confident person you could know, why was something as silly as a bad dream and thunder making him feel so unsettled. The knitted toucan in his arm was the only thing he could find some comfort in right now, his button eyes glinting in the moonlight. Holding the bird close to his face, it’s very faint chocolate smell still there from years past.

Taking a deep breath he walked in further, trying to find a washtub. Eventually feeling around to find a large wooden vat. As he was about to dump the sheets inside, to his horror he heard the door loudly creaking open, a yellow light appearing from atop the stairs.

In a panic Willy grabbed at his curls, breathing beginning to hitch. Heavy footsteps echoing down the stairs, the possibilities of who it could be racing through his brain, before coming to a horrifying conclusion. Bleacher. If he found him like this he would never ever hear the end of it, he’d be humiliated beyond belief. The terrible man would probably parade his sodden sheets like a flag to everybody, laughing at stupid Willy Wonka bedwetter.

Willy didn’t know what to do, sliding down to the floor behind the washtub. The steps continued down, watching the warm light fill up the room. In a few moments his hiding spot would be for sure revealed.

“Mr Wonka?”

It was a deep voice, but not gravelly and sinister. A gentle baritone rumble, sounding kind. Although feeling relief that it wasn’t Bleacher, the panic still remained of being caught. He stayed silent, hopeful he would leave. But as Abacus walked further, there was no place left to hide, the man turning a corner to see the chocolatier doing his best to stay in the shadows.

“Oh I’m fine- please just go back to bed”

He squeaked out, but his tone only concerned the other man further. Abacus approaching further with his lamp, illuminating the boy in its shine. In the warm light there was no way to hide his predicament, a terrible silence between the two. Abacus had been concerned as to what on earth was going on, but his expression softened when seeing the chocolatier clutching a handful of sheets in his wet pyjamas.

“Ohh”

Abacus breathed out sympathetically, watching as the Willy Wonkas face crumpled before he looked away with tears in his eyes. A huge lump had formed in his throat, everything felt like it was closing in on him. He couldn’t help but hold onto the silly little bird for security as he felt tears fill his eyes.

“Oh dear boy, it’s quite alright”

Abacus placed the lamp on a table before approaching, his heartstrings being pulled at the sight of the poor boy. He looked so very vulnerable and afraid.

“I’m so sorry”

Wonka admitted quietly, feeling so ashamed. But the kind tone of the older gentleman was weakening his defences. Unable to hold back a small sob, as his body folded in on itself. Abacus was certainly shocked by the reaction, having never seen the man so emotional. Of course he had every reason to feel embarrassed, but it wasn’t something Abacus hadn’t seen before being both a father and grandfather.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, it happens to the best of us”

He spoke gently, putting an arm around the chocolatier. It was the straw the broke the camels back for Willy, the comforting voice and affection only making him think of his mother. More tears bubbling over as he couldn’t hold it back anymore. The fuzzy feeling in his head felt even stronger, all he wanted was to be held and to be secure.

Abacus knew that this situation was probably very embarrassing for him, but this kind of breakdown made him think that there was more going on in his head than the accident.

He felt Willy Wonkas knees buckle underneath him, so he held him up before guiding the pair over to a bench. It was clear he needed to get whatever this was out of his system, the mathematician holding an arm over his frame and allowing him to whimper into his shoulder. Although feeling so very embarrassed, Willy couldn’t help but cling to the man, especially when another crack of lightning rung out.

“Ah I see, I gather you’re not a fan of fulgur tempestas”

Abacus had begun to rub small circles into his back, remembering how his Sons were very comforted by the simple gesture. Willy looked up in mild confusion between his tears, not understanding what word was said. Perhaps it was made up, like he usually did when he couldn’t find a rhyme for something. Abacus just chuckled softly.

“Lightning, you’re afraid of it?”

Willy just hunched up a little and quickly nodded with his head turned away, it was a very silly thing to feel so afraid of. It was odd to see Willy Wonka seeming so.. small? Even with his tall lanky frame it felt as if he was holding a scared little boy.

“Now, it’s quite late and getting very chilly. How about we get you more comfortable? You’re shivering”

He patted him on the back, but Willy just looked down anxiously at the sheets still clutched in his hands.

“No need to worry about those, I’ll take them personally and get them cleaned. Nobody has to know”

Standing up, he pulled the damp sheets from his grasp before carefully folding them and placing them in an old washtub behind his desk. Sighing sympathetically at the boys forlorn expression, but gave a small smile when seeing a little creature tucked away under an arm.

“Is that your companion?”

He gestured at the knitted toy, Willy blushing at first and trying to hide it. But Abacus sounded nice about him, not like he was going to poke fun. Hesitantly he presented the bird, his bean filled head sloping to the left. Abacus chuckled as he saw it clearly, it was a very charming little toy.

“Chester.”

Willy spoke extremely quietly, chin to his chest selfconsciously.

“Hm? What was that?”

He leant in closer, holding a hand to his ear.

“Chester, his name”

His voice was so very small, not his usual confident chirpy tone. Yet again Abacus felt his heartstrings being pulled upon, the fatherly instincts in him taking over when he heard that little voice.

“That’s a very good name.”

For the first time that night Abacus caught a small smile from the boy, but it disappeared when a low rumble from outside growled ominously. He held the bird close to him again for comfort, which was a very sweet sight. It truly was as if Willy Wonka had transformed into a small child, his entire body language and demeanour seemed different. Abacus took a step further and bent down a little to his sitting level, holding out his large hand.

“How about we head back to your room and I help you get sorted, you’ll catch your death in those wet things”

His tearstained face looked up, not seeming quite sure. A part of him wanted to stand up straight and assure he was completely alright, he could take care of himself. But when he saw the kind expression on the older man, all he yearned for was his comfort and security. So he accepted the offer, holding onto his hand tight as he stood up.

Abacus couldn’t hold back the sympathetic smile as he guided the boy out of the washhouse, the desperate grip in his grasp reminded him so of his son many years ago. When they made it back outside, he handed Wonka the oil lamp whilst he pulled out his umbrella.

“Now, only a quick walk back inside, could you carry the lamp for me?”

The pair briskly walked through the rain to their accommodation, Willy holding on for dear life throughout the thunder. He’d been so afraid of being caught, but right now he couldn’t feel more grateful to be with in the man’s protection. His head was feeling at its fuzziest. Thankfully it only took a few seconds, Abacus folding up the umbrella once they had made it back inside. Willy had his hands full with the oil lamp and knitted toy, Abacus taking the oil lamp back from his grasp.

“Well done, thank you.”

The simple praise made Wonka glow inside, feeling genuinely proud of such a simple simple task. As quietly as they both could, they ascended the creaking stairs together until they came into Willy’s room. Once they entered the room, Abacus immediately noticed the stain across the mattress. The sight of it making Willys face burn red in embarrassment, but the older man was completely unbothered.

“Alright then, have you got a spare nightclothes?”

Abacus turned as he rubbed his hands together, Willy just standing there with a shrug. He hadn’t brought many clothes with him here, just his signature velvet outfit, a few shirts and only one pair of pyjamas. The other man just sighed in amusement, especially when noting the large amount of chocolate related instruments and inventions in comparison to how little clothes he owned.

“Well, you sit there and I’ll be back in just a moment”

Obediently he sat down on the stool, feeling a little worried about him leaving even if for a few moments. Sqomething about him taking control made him feel wonderfully secure. After Mamma died he had nobody to care for him, no one to tell him what to do. It strangely felt quite good for somebody else to take control. When Abacus returned, it looked to be a large pinstriped sheet in his hands.

“Now this will likely be a bit large on you, but it’ll have to do for now.”

He unfurled the fabric, revealing a white and pale blue pinstripe nightgown. One that would certainly go past Wonkas feet, but the gesture was very touching. Everything abacus was doing for him right now was just.. so kind? Why was he doing this for him? Once again his face screwed up, softly crying as fat tears spilled over.

“Ahh”

Abacus placed the gown on his lap before kneeling to the ground. (With some difficulty with his aching joints) Pulling out a cotton handkerchief from his pocket before dabbing at his cheeks.

“You’re feeling right out of sorts aren’t you?”

The chocolatier just nodded tearfully, allowing his hot teary face be mopped up so carefully. Abacus even getting him a glass of cold water, even if it tasted rather metallic from the Scrubbit plumbing.

“Now I’ll sponge your mattress out, then we can just turn it over for tonight.”

His deep voice narrated, making it his responsibility to make sure the boy could sleep comfortably tonight. Meanwhile Willy changed from the damp clothes into the large nightgown. It smelled softly of lavender soap, much nicer than the usual musty odour of his old pyjamas. Although It came far past his feet, even trailing down like a brides train. When abacus turned from the now turned over and fresh bed, he couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the sight of him.

“Certainly is rather big on you, but it will have to do for tonight.”

He spoke with a smile, guiding a hand on his shoulder towards the bed. He had stripped it and replaced it with fresh smelling sheets. Just before hopping into bed, Willy turned to his case on the desk. It was busy at work pumping out chocolates, but his goal was to turn a little golden handle a few times. It wound for a few moments before a series of notes began to play, a music box tune. A familiar song that always brought him comfort, the exact one his mother would hum under her breath.

“It’s getting late Mr Wonka, perhaps it’s time for you to get settled in bed”

Giving a tap on his shoulder, Willy turned to see his kind expression, holding open the blanket. With a nod he followed, climbing into the now clean and dry bed. For the first time since his mamma was around, he found himself being tucked into the bed. For a moment Abacus wondered what he was doing, bearing in mind that Mr Wonka was indeed a young adult. But there was something about his behaviour right now that didn’t seem usual.

Willy stretched out in bed, pulling the knitted toucan out with his beak poking over the blanket. When Abacus went to leave up though, Willy sat right up in bed with a concerned expression. Upon seeing the reaction to the idea of his departure, Abacus paused for a moment.

“How about I stay for a little while?”

His body relaxed at the statement. Willy didn’t quite know why, but he really really did not want to be away from Abacus right now. Pulling up a stool next to the bed, he noted how Willy began to settle at his presence. Thinking for a moment, he asked the question that had been brewing in his mind for the past hour.

“Im not saying this to offend- Willy, but would you say that you sometimes have a little trouble.. staying grown?”

The question startled Willy at first, trying to process what Abacus had just asked him. He thought for a little while, so much so that Abacus could practically hear the cogs turning round and round in his head. That fuzzy feeling in his head, how sometimes everything around him felt so overwhelming. The overstimulating sensation of feeling so vulnerable. He pulled both his knees up to his chin, finding himself chewing on his thumbnail.

“Maybe..”

Abacus put an arm around the boy, who leant into his shoulder. Perhaps this was simply an outlet that he needed, from what he knew about the chocolatier he had to raise himself after his mother died. He also vaguely remembered from reading from an old psychology textbook that this kind of behaviour could be a result of trauma too. A kind of mental regression response.

“Well i don’t see any problem here, it’s okay to need some extra help and support at times.”

Abacus felt an overwhelming urge to take care of this little boy, especially when seeing the way he held onto the little knitted bird. If this was what he required, he was happy to oblige if he needed him. Then he had a thought, remembering what he was doing before all of this.

“Would you like it if I read you a story? I was in the middle of re-reading an old favourite of mine earlier.”

Willy perked up a little, he couldn’t read books very well. Even with Noodles current teachings, he had vague memories of his mother reading to him, so he nodded furiously. With a smile, Abacus rose up from the stool to return to his room, finding the discarded book lying face down on his desk.

Willy was still tucked beneath the covers, waiting in anticipation. With the book tucked under his arm, Abacus took his place on the stool beside.

“Now this is a very good story, it’s called the Wizard of Oz”

So Abacus began to read the story aloud, Willy taking his place by leaning into his shoulder. Feeling the rumble of the man’s chest as his deep baritone voice narrated the book. At first he tried to follow the words with his voice, like how Noodle taught him so. But it became too muddled for him to follow, all the letters seeming to dance around. Instead he focused on the small inked in illustrations, tracing them gently with his fingertip. He paid attention to the story though for as long as he could, but he couldn’t feel his eyelids drooping. He hadn’t even gotten to the second chapter when he could feel himself drifting off, but he felt a sense of peace that he hadn’t felt in quite a while.

Once the chocolatier was well and truly out of the count, Abacus gently closed the book as to not awaken him. Not before tucking the sheet around his sleeping frame, the boys thumb discreetly tucked away in his mouth. With a smile he crept away, deciding to leave the oil lamp to burn itself out Incase he awoke.

“Goodnight dear Wonka.”

[followmybones]

Bones' 2023 Halloween Event 🎃

Goblins, ghouls, and sheet ghosts, it’s that time of the year again, Halloween. We’re talking too much glitter, unsettlingly realistic makeup, and even fake teeth; there’s the perfect costume for everyone. Put on a mask or even ditch the shirt for the night, but what better way to celebrate Halloween than with a couple's costume! Have you ever wondered what costume you and your favorite character would wear together? Well, I'm here to help, with this very infomercial-sounding event intro! 

This event is open from now (28 September) and ends 20 October. I want to ensure that I have enough time to get everything done so that everything will be ready to post the weekend before Halloween! 

This is a selfship-based event which means for this event, you get to choose the character your post is about! In return for joining this event, you’ll get what costume I think would fit you and your character, a photo or two of the costumes, some runner-up costume ideas, how I think your character would come up with the idea for your costumes, and a few extra hcs about the costumes.

Rules for this event: 

One character/post per person

Anyone is allowed to join, anons are welcome.

If you want to send in an ask for an OC + character instead of yourself, that's totally fine!

Everything will stay sfw, at most it'll only be suggestive, so I ask that you keep the ask you send in sfw as well. This blog and event are for people of all ages, and I would like to keep it a safe space for everyone. 

I have every right to deny a request for any reason (it’s unlikely, but still).

This is just for fun, so if you don't like the results, don't send me hate, it's for funsie, it's not that serious.

To find out what you and your fav (selfship or platonic) would wear here is what you should include in an ask to join this event:

First off, what character do you want your post to be written for? A list of the fandoms and characters I'm accepting for this event can be found at the bottom of this post. 

Tell me about the relationship between you and the character of your choice! Are you guys dating, just friends? What is your relationship like, are they the sun to your moon, are you two idiots in love, rivals to lovers, frienemies but somehow still besties, help me get to know the dynamic between you two!

I’d also like to know about you, describe your personality in a few simple words, and maybe include your pronouns! I'd like to get to know your vibe a bit!

Tell me a bit about how you dress, specifically; do you tend to dress feminine, or masculine, do you not care, do you dress androgynously, somewhere between masc & fem in a genderless way that keeps people guessing? Or is there any particular way you’re not comfortable dressing? Is modesty important to you? Seems silly, but I want to make sure I don't recommend costumes that might make you uncomfy or give you dysphoria/dysmorphia.

A broad category of costumes to get me started in a general direction (examples: cute, scary, character costumes, something silly, one of the classic cheesy couples costumes, retro/period costumes, anything you can think of that’s still pretty general)

Who’s idea was it for the costumes, did you come up with the idea, did they, or did someone else suggest it? (Ultimately for the purposes of this event, the character will be the one “picking” the costume).

Not required, but maybe even tell me how the conversation about the costume went, did you have to convince them? Did they have to convince you? Were you both mutually excited about it, or are you just doing it for a costume contest because you want that gift card that the first-place winners gets? 

Quick suggestion: not required, but if you plan to send in an anon ask, maybe sign it with an emoji or something to make sure you know which request is yours

Quick note: everything will be written with a modern AU in mind (kinda), this is mainly for arcane and my hero, since the rest of what I write is still pretty built into the world we live in

Characters I'm willing to write, organized by fandom:

Arcane:  Jayce, Viktor, Silco, Vander, Ekko, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn

Obey Me:   Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon, + Luke (platonically only)

MHA:  Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta, Ejiro Kirishima, Fumikage Tokoyami, Tsuyu Asui, Ochako Uraraka, Momo Yaoyorozu, Mina Ashido, Kyoka Jiro, Hitsohi Shinso, Mirio Togata, Nejire Hado, Tamaki Amajiki, Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, Nemuri Kayama (Midnight), Hawks, Dabi, Tomura Shigaraki, Toga Himiko, Twice (Jin Bubaigawara)

COD: MWII versions of task force 141 (Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price) + Alejandro & Rudy 

Haikyuu: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Kei Tsukishima, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Daichi Sawamura, Kōshi Sugawara, "Suga", Asahi Azumane, Yū Nishinoya, Ryūnosuke Tanaka, Kiyoko Shimizu, Hitoka Yachi, Tōru Oikawa, Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki "Makki", Hajime Iwaizumi, Tetsurō Kuroo, Kenma Kozume, Takanobu Aone, Kōtarō Bokuto, Keiji Akaashi, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Satori Tendō, Shinsuke Kita, Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya, Rintarō Suna, Kiyoomi Sakusa 

Feel free to shoot me an ask or message me with any questions you might have. I hope to see you all in my asks! Enjoy your spooky season, and stay safe out there <3

[taybatwo2]

Lenore Loomington Doll Review Part 2 of 2

Let’s finally take a look at her dress (the post before this one looked at her accessories and in box photos)! Ugh, that belt thing just keeps getting in the way of everything and will NOT sit well on her torso.

Lets remove the offending piece to actually look at her dress…

Much better (I was so afraid of breaking her clip, I had her hanging from her neck for many of my photos). I love that the cut of the dress is WAY different to any other Monster High dolls I’ve seen, and I like the idea (I assume) behind it: looking at silhouettes of plants and animals on a night sky.

Buuuuut I feel like it could have been elevated a bit more for such an expensive doll. Give us some glow in the dark/sparkly dots acting as stars going up her skirt, finish her sleeves and dress train with some lace, oh, or maybe sew some “vine like” ribbon/fabric hanging off of the train or sleeves. Oh! And I feel like her short black lacy piece is kinda a second thought, I’d have made it longer in the back or give it a more ragged cut (so it’s not so reminiscent of a tutu or petticoat). I say this all, because both the color and the cut was honestly better executed by:

The one you got vs the one you ordered. Yeahhh, it very closely resembles Moonlight B.B’s dress (shirt/skirt), but feels like a poor rip off due too MGA’s looking a lot more tailored (and use of multiple fabrics) and a more expensive clothing piece. more review and doll comparisons under the cut:

Aaaand here it is off the doll:

The dress is not hemmed around the bottom of the dress or sleeves, but I don’t see them fraying any time soon. I like how thin and flow-y the fabric is it makes it look a bit ethereal. And oh? But what’s this?? A secret secondary dress/slip??

What a cute little surprise. It’s fully hemmed, has a little lace on the bottom, and has a bit of a stretch to it. Also, Lenora’s arms are wrapped in plastic to prevent staining.

Here it is off the doll. Be forewarned, I low key struggled redressing her. That larger dress didn’t want to nicely slide back over her smaller dress.

Let’s finally take a look at Lenore’s face.

My Lenore’s eyes are printed up a bit too high and her lipstick is both smudged and incorrectly filled in in the top left side. 😬 At least a little bit of acrylic paint can fix her lips….

Her glitter tears are really pretty and seem pretty well attached and her “ghost mask” is a lovely addition to her face (it’s a nice gradient).

It took me awhile to notice she has cute little pink eyelashes mixed in with her black ones.

Her side profile and lightly pointed ears (by the way, the back of her head is marked as 2023). I do wish her eyebrows were a bit darker and looked like Rochelle’s worried ones (@mistyxxart’s, on instagram, drawing of Lenore is what I WISH her eyebrows looked like).

This artwork is fangtastic and has given me so many fun ideas on how I want to upgrade my Lenore.

Lenore is pretty well covered now; let’s look at how she compares to come other ghouls (I apologize for many of these photos being a bit blown out - the lighting in my kitchen is kinda sucky).

The OG Spectra!!! Two very different ghostie ghouls. Monster High’s oldest vs MH’s newest. Spectra has clear body parts, no ghost mask, and colored sclera. She also has kanekalon hair vs Lenore’s saran. I think they stand on their own as pretty different characters honestly.

Let’s let a few more come across the veil.

So many ghosts!!! Ari, Ari, what are you looking at?!? Sweetie. Stop longingly staring at Spectra.

Okay, so they actually don’t seem to have very much in common with Lenore either. Ari has a milky/shimmery body (much more akin to the Haunted releases of ghosts) and Lenore has a shimmery body without looking like she has milky skin. Her shimmer has more of a blue tinge than the yellow tinge that Ari’s has.

The Create a Monster Ghost (I always forget how hard they went on her outfit: skulls amassed behind a fence with a blood-dripping belt; I love it when MH sneaks in stuff like that), has the ghost eye mask (I don’t like hers as much as Lenore’s) and uncolored sclera like Lenore, but her pupils are black - like Ari’s. Both CAM ghost and Spectra have clear limbs.

There is something these ghouls all share in common:

Mother of PINK! The Monster World must have very limited shoe material that ghosts can wear and it’s all in similar shades of pink and magenta.

I wonder how she compares to the Haunted dolls…? POOF!

Ask and you shall receive! Technically River is a grim reaper and Kiyomi is the daughter of a noppera-bō, so not just comparing “ghost ghosts,”but why not throw them in here too?? Porter, Vandala and Kiyomi all have very milky skin, Lenore’s plastic is very opaque in comparison with that pearl/shimmer finish.

~shimmer shimmer~ Porter has colored sclera like Spectra and Vandala doesn’t have black pupils, like Lenore. I wonder if there is a reason for some ghosts to have colored/regular sclera and pupils. Maybe it’s a ghost genetic trait like attached ear lobes….

River was wondering what all the hubbub was about in comparing them to this new ghost. Well, until I told River how much Lenore cost compared to them. River couldn’t say much, but just proudly showed off her clear limbs: “I cost less than a third of that and I have clear limbs!” ….I wonder how she’ll react when I tell her the ghoul that received her original head sculpt idea cost double Lenore’s price.

And POOF!

What a lovely menagerie of MH ghosts (pretend like my Symphanee got here quick enough to also be in the photos).

Perfect! Can’t even tell….

Oh! And Vandala brought her girlfriend Sirena along so I could compare Sirena’s skin tone to Lenore’s. Her skin glitter is not as fine as Lenore’s and she has a yellow tint to her skin….I wonder if Ari’s and Sirena’s is due to age.

Hand splat in face.

Before I wrap up, let’s compare Lenore to some MH dolls that look like the main ingredients they blended up to create Lenore.

Your progenitors!!! (my G1 Twyla has been de-glued with LA’s Totally Awesome, but her bangs are discolored and are waiting to be retrobrighted this summer). Hmmm, a dash Twyla’s skin color, a major helping of Vandala’s face mold and monster type, and an inspirational sprinkle of Amanita’s outfit and pieces.

I can see the comparisons with G1 Twyla (more in person than in a photo). Lenore’s skin has a purple hue from the pearly finish. Also, Lenore’s hair streaks are more baby blue than the minty green of Twyla’s hair color. They both have pink eyes, and wear dark colored clothing.

Now, Lenors and Amanita, look like they could have been in the same line (when I actually have Lenore fully dressed). Amanita believes that she would have still been the only deluxe, store exclusive of the line. “Maybe you could have been like the Big Lots or CVS exclusive to Gloom and Bloom.” Amanita! That is uncalled for! “You’re right, how about a K-Mart exclusive because they’re as dead as she is.” Lenore thinks this is one plant she doesn’t want in her garden.

They both have long wavy hair, flower shoe clips (but Amanita’s is sculpted to be a lot more three dimensional and it’s painted).

Both have extra make-up around the eyes, a hair decoration/accessory, and a thin, slightly see through dress covering a surprise mini dress (I still feel like Amanita’s has more detail, but that pleather portion will rot off someday).

Yeah, she is more than welcome to pose. I think that Amanita might have pulled off the look a bit better…. :/

And a face comparison!

Similar, but Amanita’s/CAM Vampire Girl’s head sculpt is not the same.

Avast ye!! We might have a match! Vandala’s face does look closely the same (I should have taken out Vandala’s earring for all of these photos)…

Hmmm…..

Hmmmmmmm…..

HMMMM, Lenore’s ear looks a little bit more defined (when I don’t have the light GLARING right ONTO it).

Man, Vandala, I need to de-glue your head whenever I get more LA’s Totally Awesome in. You are a grease ball!

Well, Lenore might have used Vandala’s head sculpt base, but they went in and refined some parts…like her chin being a bit blunter, her nose and ears being a bit more defined, her lips might be a bit bigger (or they were just over painted).

Whelp anyways….Lenore…Lenore….I am glad I bought her, as she has some cute surprises, a lovely face, soft hair, but she’s very overpriced from the get-go and would have (in my opinion) not gotten such backlash had she been released to stores and Mattel creations as a 40-55 dollar G1 release and if she had not been SO HYPED UP!!

What are your thoughts? Would you buy her? What would you change?? Do you think Mattel has a huge wheel in their board room to spin and assign value to their dolls? Should I double check pictures to make sure they turned out alright before I put all my dolls away?? (Yes, yes I should).

[copiousloverofcopia]

💖💗 Happy Valentine's Day!!!💗💖

Here is my FINAL Lupercalia/Valentine’s Day fic for 2023!

Don't worry I still have some letters to post!

Hope everyone is indulging in lust and love today! I know I will be 😏

Without further ado here is my Valentine's commission from the wonderful @kawaiic featuring her OC Saccharine and Copia!

This Night Was Made For Us

Some NSFW below the cut!

Also available HERE on AO3!

Commissions are still open! Please see pinned post for carrd info with heart mug site.

art of Sister of Sin Saccharine by @kawaiic

The sun was shining brightly in from the window of the sisters’ dormitory and the sound of Primo’s song birds twittering away, trickled in from just outside. Saccharine stretched out in bed, waking up with a huge smile on her face and a warmth inside her heart that was unmatched. The sister always had a sweet disposition, but today was a special day. It was the first day of Lupercalia.   

Tonight was the beginning festival dinner and everyone would be there for the celebrations including Papa Emeritus the Fourth. Since their confession of love for one another had been spoken, it made this year’s Lupercalia more special than ever before. It was always a magical time, one that Saccharine held the most dear to her heart. This year, she had decided to go all out. Her plans and preparations would include a fantastical display, one she was sure would wow them all. Especially one very timid and sweet Papa. 

She got dressed in an adorable deep red pinafore dress and corset. Straightening out the line of red lace along the bottom, before pulling the corset laces to perfection over her white puff sleeve blouse. A beautiful bow—adorned at its center with a golden grucifix brooch, was perfect to finish off the look. Saccharine gathered her long brunette hair into a delicate braid. Crimson red bows the base of her neck and at the tail. Adding a bit of flare to her hair, before reaching for just a small touch of blush and a bit of gloss on her lips as she smiled in the reflection in the mirror. 

“I got this!” she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. She slipped on her red pumps and grabbed her wicker basket before heading out the door. Bounding out to the hall, minding her step, she was ready. Keep close watch over her basket so as to not lose a single Valentine. 

She had spent weeks making them. Each one, cut from layers of cardstock by hand, decorated in lace, topped with small crystals, and sprinkled with just a touch of glitter. No two were alike and each made with love for everyone who resided within the Abbey—ghouls and siblings alike. Saccharine wanted to let everyone know how much she cared for them, and as she made her way toward the kitchen she handed them out to everyone she saw. The recipients’ faces, lighting up at her generosity and being touched by her joyous spirit as she passed them by. 

When finally she arrived, Saccharine burst through the kitchen doors. Immediately grabbing her apron and gathering up all her memorized ingredients. The sister was intent on making enough pies to feed the entire Ministry for the night's celebrations. She promised to single-handedly bake them all–plenty of cherry, strawberry, and even raspberry ones for Primo, for all to indulge. 

Before she knew it, a cloud of flour, sugar, and determination was thick in the air. Suddenly Saccharine could hear the scurrying above on the overhang of the oven. "Ah! Buongiorno Gnocchi, Rigatoni. I hope you both are well this morning. Although I must say you best not let Sister Imperator catch you in the kitchen." She giggled. The little rats, watching her intently as she worked on her pies. "Oh before I forget these are for you." 

Saccharine reached into her pocket and grabbed two tiny cubes of cheese, each carved into the sweetest little hearts, and handed them to the rats. "Surely I couldn't forget you guys today. After all Lupercalia is for everyone." She smiled. Gnocchi and Rigatoni, more than happy to nipple away at her gifts. Saccharine took a moment to wipe some flour from her cheek, taking a quick glance at the clock before panic set in.

“Oh no!” she said, scrambling to get on her oven mitts on before pulling a pie from the oven. The sweet smell of strawberries, and pastry crust, hitting her nose with exuberance. “Oh thank Lucifer it’s alright.” she sighed, relieved, exhaling through pursed lips. 

“What are you doing all alone in here sorella?” said a voice from behind her. It was Terzo preparing to stick a finger into one of the settling pies. “Whatever it is, it smells delicious.” he purred until Saccharine gave his hand a friendly swat. He quickly pulled his hand back shaking off the pain a moment when she spoke. 

“Papa, you no better than to sneak a taste. The pies are for dessert tonight.” Saccharine chided. Terzo sucked in his lower lip, a wicked smile pulling at the sides of his mouth as he continued. 

“But sorella, surely just one taste won’t hurt?” he hummed.

“Uh…” Saccharine began before catching sight of Nova appearing in the doorway. She was a new ghoulette in the Abbey, bound by Terzo, and already so in love. She was extremely sweet and already such a good friend to her. The sister couldn't help but think the ghoulette had the most beautiful wavy hair. She had even loved to brush it, as the two of them spent time together in the sibling common room. 

Now that normally sweet face was scrunched into a scowl as she approached them. “Papa! So this is where you’ve run off to!” the ghoulette hissed, realizing that of course he had been flirting—an Emeritus speciality.  

“Ah si amore, you see the smell called to me.” Terzo laughed nervously as Nova furrowed her brow, her tail whipping back and forth so hard it cracked the wind against it. “She loves me, I swear.” he laughed once more as Nova rolled her eyes. 

“The pies smell delicious Saccharine, I can’t wait to see you tonight for the big reveal.” Nova wiggled, sending a smile and booming with excited energy.

“Big reveal?” Terzo asked, looking back and forth between them, completely confused and covered in flour from a bag he managed to spill over. 

“Oh no worries Papa, it's just something I have planned for Copia. A surprise so no telling ok?” the sister explained, hoping that she would not have to explain more. Nova shook her head letting Saccharine know there was nothing to worry about. 

“Ah well that makes two of you. I hear mio fratello has a surprise planned too.” Terzo explained.  

“Oh?” the sister exclaimed, her heart immediately beginning to pound inside her chest. What could it be, she asked herself. Her fingers tracing over the hem of her apron. Nova broke the silence between them.

“Well I guess we will find it all out tonight, see you later sister.” she said, sending a wink to her as she yanked on Terzo to come with.

“Oh no wait! I have these for you!” Saccharine called as they went to leave the kitchen. She handed them both their Valentine’s from the basket, a big smile spreading across her face as they took them. 

“You are simply too kind, sorella, I don’t know what mio fratello did to win the affections of such a charming sister, but he is a lucky man indeed.” Terzo admitted as Nova nodded, pulling him out of the kitchen, leaving Saccharine to finish tending to her pies. 

Copia was pacing in his office. A well worn spot in his expensive antique Serapi rug, picked out by Sister Imperator. He wondered if she would notice. One of a million thoughts flying through his mind as he palmed the square box inside the pocket of his crimson red swallowtail jacket. 

He adjusted his black Victorian-style shirt, pulling down on his ruffled sleeves to even them out before looking at his paint, for the tenth time, in the mirror. Everything tonight must be perfect, he told himself. His nerves set on edge as a knock came at the door. It was Primo. 

“Ah fratellino! I knew I would find you here.” the eldest Emeritus brother applauded. He brought himself over to the black wingback chair in the corner of the office and made himself comfortable as he spoke, “Still nervous I see?” 

“Wouldn’t you be?” Copia admitted, the look of concern ever present on his face. Unable to be completely hidden by his Papal paints. 

“No and If you think about it I don't think you would be either…well maybe not as much.” Primo chuckled. Copia sat opposite him on the lounge, tapping his gloved fingers and bouncing his leg. Primo reached out to place his hand on Copia’s knee, halting his movements and bringing his attention back to him. 

“Listen you, have the ring I gave you, si? It was my mothers fratellino so I should hope you still—” Primo began barking at his younger sibling. 

“Si, of course of course.” Copia said, giving his pocket another pat. Primo’s face once again relaxed with reassurance.  

“Then you are set.” Primo shrugged. Copia became quiet for a moment. His brother made everything sound so simple. Could things really be that easy? Nothing else in Copia’s life had ever come to him as easily as his feelings for Saccharine. His whole life, he had struggled to prove himself. Even his ascension within the Ministry had been fraught with trials and tribulations, never knowing he was an Emeritus until after the miter had already been placed on his head.

“But what if she says no. I mean we haven’t exactly known each other long but I just…”

“Just what?” Primo remarked, convinced that Copia was overthinking as he always did. 

“...can’t live without her.” he confessed, the words hurting his heart as they left his lips. A truth he could no longer deny.

“Then that is all that matters. You will see. I think the sister will surprise you.” Primo said, standing up from the chair. His old bones cracking and popping as he made his way back to the door. 

“Maybe you’re right…” the reigning Papa hummed under his breath. Primo smiling and shaking his head. 

“I am always right. I will see you tonight for the festival dinner.”

“Ok.” Copia replied, his gaze falling back to the floor at that damned rug. 

“Oh and fratellino…do NOT lose the ring.” Primo groaned as he left his brother to his thoughts.  

The smell was intoxicating as Saccharine made her way through the labyrinth of rose bushes that lined Primo’s garden. The beautiful shades of red, pink, and white—a testament all on their own to the celebrations that were to take place this night. The garden was a magical place and one that held the most precious of memories. As Saccharine made her way deeper inside, she stumbled upon the just person she was searching for—Sister Rosemary. 

The sister, who also went by Rose, was a convert that had arrived at the Abbey a few years before Saccharine. Her forehead was adorned in a brand, she herself made, after averting from the Catholic church. She had to be one of the most friendly siblings within the Abbey and was the go to person within the infirmary. Always mixing and concocting new salves and potions to help others with their ailments. Tonight however, she would help Saccharine with a different request. 

“Ah Sister! Give me just a moment.” Rosemary said as she set down her mortar and pestle before disappearing into the greenhouse. She reemerged only a few minutes later with a large sack that held out for Saccharine to take.

“Oof, is this all of them?” Saccharine asked, amazed at how heavy the bag was. Sister Rosemary began nodding her head. 

“Well actually I sent another bag off with Cumulus earlier. But hey, they are all freshly plucked and none of them wilted as requested.” she assured her. “Do you need any help carrying that back Saccharine?”

“Oh…no thank you. I think I will be just fine, but I have something for you too.”she told her as she handed Rose her Valentine. 

“This is very kind of you sister. I am sorry I dont have one to give you in return.” Rose sighed. 

“Oh! It’s no worries. You have done so much for me already. They were a perfect idea, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“You’re welcome, but I should tell you the roses were Primo’s idea. He said he wanted things tonight to be special for you.” Sister Rosemary admitted. Saccharine did a double take, did Primo know about her surprise? 

“Well thanks again I must get ready, I will see you inside?” Saccharine asked, lifting up the heavy bag and gently tossing it over her shoulder. 

“Of course.” Rose nodded, sending the sister a smile as she headed back through the garden maze. 

All of her preparations had been made. The valentines all handed out with the exception of one–Copia's. Saccharine wanted to save his for after the surprise. Her beloved Papa had been detained for most of the day, caught up in his own preparations and obligations to the Ministry.

It was almost time. She touched up her makeup in the first floor restroom, hearing the hum of the ghouls tuning their instruments in the Great Hall. A smile spread wide across her face–dinner was starting. She walked quietly down the hall through the crowd of ghouls and siblings. 

Everyone was dressed in their best Lupercalia attire. Decked out in dresses and suits, like a sea full of black, red, and pink as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t often that the siblings were allowed out of their clerical clothes, and Saccharine couldn’t help but enjoy getting to see everyone’s personality shine through in their chosen garments. She smiled at everyone as she walked, her heart pounding in anticipation of the one person she had still yet to see. 

She looked forward to the moment they'd see each other. Her heart longing for him somehow even more today than ever before. This thing between them had only grown, multiplied, and flourished since the night of their dance under the light of the moon. Their romance, having blossomed so much that Saccharine no longer could see a future without him in it. 

She found herself drifting as she navigated the hall, her mind swept up in daydreams of the two of them together. It wasn’t long before the haze of her thoughts cleared and the vision of her Papa’s office door filled her view. Finally, she thought to herself as she knocked gently on the door. When there was no answer she carefully began to open it, “Hello?” 

“Sweetheart? Is that you?” Copia said as he locked eyes with her. His demeanor, changing from the nervous and fretful man he was moments ago, to the love sick Papa that only had eyes for her. Saccharine ran to him, arms wide open as Copia scooped her up in his. Spinning her around and planting the softest kiss to her lips.”Amore you are truly breathtaking today.” he smiled. 

Saccharine’s face flushed a delicate shade of pink. A color that only added to the beautiful features of her sweet face. “I can already hear Aether and Mountain getting the band in order for dinner. Are you ready to head over?” she asked him. Copia smiled once more, gently feeling the box inside his pocket and nodded to her. 

“Bene, mia principessa, sono pronta se lo sei.” Copia replied, holding out his arm for Saccharine to take.  

“Absolutely,” she began, “I just hope Rain remembered to bring all the pies.” she laughed, Copia joining her.  

“We can only hope.”  

The couple entered into the Great Hall, equally as embellished as the siblings. With its lavish display of romantic colors and flowers that filled the room with the most wonderful scent. The mood was definitely set for a perfect evening. Saccharine and Copia quickly made their way to the head table. The two of them, taking their seats beside Secondo and his Prime Mover Ren.  

“Oh Saccharine you look absolutely beautiful!” beamed Ren at their arrival. 

“Oh my, so do you!” Saccharine smiled back. Secondo’s Prime Mover was heavily pregnant with the fourth of their children. She glowed despite being tired, having been busy in the infirmary all day with her own responsibilities. Yet somehow found time to help with the evening’s surprise. She was so kind and Secondo, normally the hard and stoic Papa, was a huge softie in her presence. The man doted on and protected her as if she were made of glass.

“Soon, si?” Copia asked as the ghouls placed the plates of pasta in front of them. Secondo smiled, taking Ren’s hand in his before giving his reply.

“Very. We are so close, we have been trying to get things going.” he smirked, Ren turning to whisper in Saccharine’s ear just what exactly that meant. Her words, sending a flash of redness over the sister’s face. Neither Ren, nor Secondo were ever shy about their own personal enjoyment of the cardinal sin—their bountiful family proof of that. The forwardness, a bit much for Saccharine as she laughed it off and twisted up a fork up of pasta from her plate. 

Dinner was going wonderfully. The conversation between those at the table was full of energy and intrigue. The smiles and hearty meal had made the room filled with satisfaction and happiness. Saccharine finished her last bite as she caught sight of Sister Rosemary and the ghouls out from their seats. It was finally time for her to give Copia his surprise. 

“I will be back in a few, I must go powder my nose. Please excuse me Papas, Prime Mover.” she said as she stood up from her seat. 

“Okie dokie.” Copia smiled as she dismissed herself from the table, but not before Sister Ren grabbed her hand.

“You’ll do great.” she whispered, sending Saccharine a wink as she made her way to the front of the Hall. The sister nodded with determination in response. Copia tried to watch as Saccharine walked away, but Ren called his attention back to the table to help distract him from the real reasons she had taken leave.

“Papa, so when are you going to pop the question?” Ren asked, Secondo shooting her a look, “What? I want this to happen before I go into labor and miss it all.” she laughed, Copia joining her.

“Tonight is the night. I have never wanted anything more in my life.” he said. Secondo smiled over to Ren and placed his hand on the swell of her belly.

“I know the feeling.” the second Emeritus son hummed as he planted a kiss on Ren’s forehead. Before they knew it the lights began to flicker. The whole room, looking around in confusion as to what was going on when finally lights remained off, leaving them in blackness. Only the small candles adorning each table, illuminating the room. 

Copia went to stand up and see what was the matter when suddenly the band began to play once more. Prime Mover Ren, pulling him back down in his seat as his curiosity began to grow. The lights turned back on and suddenly Saccharine was front and center before the Hall. She stood, flanked by Cirrus and Cumulus on one side and Sunshine and Nova on the other. Copia was taken back and unsure of what to make of everything until she began to sing. Her voice, energetic and full of passion as she and the ghoulettes standing beside her started to recant in song the tale of the moment that changed everything.  

 🎵I was so new— unsure of what I would do–🎵she sang, spinning around. The ghoulettes, leading in to hang on every note as they left her lips. She hopped on the piano at sat in the corner normally used for practice as Cumulus sat down to play. A performance unlike anything they’d seen more in front of the whole Abbey.  

🎵To the garden I made my way, as the flowers called to me. My known destiny not far away🎵

“Destiny? In the garden?” Nova asked, giving the crowd a wink. Saccharine, singing her response. The story of her and Copia’s first encounter unfolded in melodic bliss. A group of siblings joined them. Swirling and twirling around her as she continued to sing her heart out. Copia’s own heart swelling inside. He could have never imagined something so wonderful. His beautiful sorella’s voice, filling his soul with all the love that Lupercalia could ever hope to hold.

 🎵The roses were in bloom that day🎵she continued, the words belting out of her with so much power and love. The ghoulettes, beginning to clap to the beat when suddenly a cascade of rose petals fell from the rafters like the confetti at Rituals. Copia looked up only a moment to catch Dewdrop and Rain, hanging above, waving down to him from above as the red petals shone in the lights like glitter. A brother of sin went to take Saccharine’s hand, helping her to spin. Copia could feel a bit of jealousy creeping up as the sibling went to dip her but instead she  bopped his nose. Tonight—no doubt she would truly be his in all ways. 

🎵”I never knew a Satanic Pope could be so charming.” I said as you stepped away. I knew then I would love you for all always….��� 

She finally began to walk towards the table. Copia’s heart was pounding harder and harder as she made her way towards him. His whole body, responding to her beauty as only a lover’s could. He knew that he wanted her always and in all ways there was to want someone. Longing to make her sing more, and more in his own way. She stopped before him, finishing off her song.

🎵After all it's true— I’m in love with you.🎵she finished, tears pricking at her eyes as she pulled out her Valentine to give to Copia. Without a second passing, Copia pulled Saccharine in and kissed her. His tongue, dancing with hers as he held her so close. Their hearts, syncing in their embrace. He pulled back a moment to catch a breath, his mind already drunk in thoughts of things to come. 

“Oh sweetheart, così incredibilmente bello, Lucifero stesso è stato serenato dalla tua voce. I have something for you too.” Copia smiled, his eyes beginning to well up with tears.

“Oh.” Saccharine replied when it dawned on her that Copia had dropped to one knee. She took a deep breath. The sister, hardly able to believe what was happening right before her eyes. Copia pulled out the small box from his jacket pocket. Saccharine now unable to hold back the tears that spilled over her cheeks, knowing what was coming. 

“There is nothing I want more Saccharine than to spend the rest of my days with you as my wife. My lover, my partner, my Prime Mover. Would you do your Papa the honor of marrying me?” Copia asked. His words, filled with conviction and desire. There were never two lovers that fit as soulmates as much as Copia and Saccharine. 

“Yes! Papa—Copia!” she answered, Copia once more pulling her in to kiss him. The whole Abbey cheered and clapped around them as Copia slipped the ring onto her finger. Bringing her hand to his lips, kissing it. She would forever be his.

“You have made me the happiest man alive dolce.” 

“And you have made me the happiest woman.” Saccharine smiled through her tears. 

The rest of the night was a blur, nothing recalled but their love, the faint hum of celebration, and the lingering taste of champagne as Copia walked Saccharine back to the Papal suite. It was unspoken between them, but the desire had been building up and was on the precipice explosion, as the dewy-eyed lovers heading inside. Not moments in, Saccharine caught sight of the roses that trailed across the floor.

“Seems I’m not the only one who owes Primo some more roses.” Saccharine giggled marveling in the romantic gesture.  

“Seems not.” he responded as he watched her light up, taking in the Papal suite for the first time. 

“Oh Copia, it's beautiful here. So elegant and fancy…almost too fancy to touch.” she laughed, Copia taking her hands in his. 

“Sweetheart these rooms are just as much yours now as they are mine. We are to be wed, partners in all things. There is nothing that I have that I don't wish to share with you.” 

“My love.” the sister cried, the two of them gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. They had somehow made their way back to the bedroom. Saccharine could see the blanket of rose petals spread across Copia’s bed. Candles lit all around the room, setting a romantic atmosphere with an intent that was too obvious to deny. “Copia?” she asked him, waiting for him to tell her what he had planned. 

“Sweetheart I was hoping, you know since it's Lupercalia…and well you are to be my wife…that..ah…we could…that we could worship in lust. Becoming one in his name. Do you…do you know what I’m asking you?” Copia stuttered, the light freckles on his face brought out more with his blushing. Saccharine’s breath hitched within her chest. Her eyes shimmering in the candlelight. 

“I–I do Copia and I…I want it too.” she replied, blood swirling around in her veins and settling in her core. The heat between them, burning intensely as Copia’s eyes fell over her body. Without another word he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Their eyes locked as the two of them carefully undressed before each other for the first time. 

“Tu sei veramente la creazione più bella di questo mondo. Sono stregato dalla tua bellezza amore mio. I thank Lucifer every waking moment for bringing you into my life.” Copia vowed. 

“As do I.” Saccharine cried, feeling her heart pounding away as Copia stripped himself of the last of his garments. Copia hovered over her in the bed, her breathing labored and skin ignited with a stroke of his fingers between her breasts. "Are you nervous?" Copia asked, noticing her trembling.

"A little." Saccharine admitted, biting her lower lip as he smiled down at her. She lay there, in their now shared bed, all the dreams and imaginings of what this moment between them would be like, flashing through her mind. 

"I am too." Copia confessed, "but there is nothing I want more amore...nothing." The waves of desire overwhelmed them both as Copia brought his mouth down onto hers. His body, warm against hers, sending a quiver down her spine. Their bare flesh pressing into one another's for the first time. 

She could feel his sex hard against her. His need for her, growing as she melted into his kiss. He gently caressed her breast, Saccharine letting out a moan against his lips. Copia, pulling back a moment, looking over Saccharine’s body. His gaze committing every curve, freckle, and mark to memory as he drank her in. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked her, his eyes trailing to the space between her thighs. She nodded yes, wanting him to touch her just as much. Copia’s mouth returned to hers before his hand sank between them, running gently over her folds. The heat inside her radiating with his touch. Copia and Saccharine, both letting out a moan as his fingers slipped inside. She was already so wet for him, so ready as he gently glided through to her core and pressing up into the spot he knew would send her hips up from the bed and a moan from her lips. A delightful sinful feeling, washing over them as he continued his ministrations. Saccharine’s body, responding to his touch as if she were an instrument played by expert, yet delicate hands. Her hips, lifting to help guide him where she needed him to touch her. Craving more and more friction between them. 

“Oh Copia…I need you.” she moaned, her fingers entangled in the sheets. Petals of roses, staining her skin as she pressed hard against the bed. Copia ceased all movements to listen to her. Hear her pleas before his animalistic need might cloud his judgment. 

“Are you sure amore…sweetheart if you aren’t ready, we don't have to continue.” Copia assured her, but Saccharine pulled his lips back to hers. Kissing him hard and wrapping her legs around him to pull him down close to her. 

“I am very sure.” she said with conviction. Copia didn’t need to be told twice, immediately pressing into her most intimate flesh with his own. Both of their mouths, falling open as they became one. His sex, pushing deep inside her as Saccharine held him close.  

Copia's mouth was brought down to her breast–kissing and nipping as Saccharine gasped and mewled. His mouth, quickly returning to hers once more. The two of them, dancing together, bodies wrapped together in lust. Copia filled her out inside as Saccharine conformed around him.

Their bodies, fitting together perfectly as if they were made for one another. It wasn’t long before she felt the pleasure building up inside, her body shaking and trembling with him inside her. Feeling Copia this way was unlike anything her imagination could conjure. A thrilling sensation beyond anything she ever had known before, now promised to be hers forever. 

“I love you.” Copia said as he got close. His movements, once soft and gentle, gained pace and depth. Worshiping her with every ounce of his being. Saccharine began writhing beneath him, crying out his name as she began to tumble down. 

Before she knew it, Copia had flipped her over on top, both of them giggling as she slid back down onto his length. "Ah…" she sighed as her thighs held tight around him. 

"I love you too...Oh Saccharine, you feel so good around me." Copia purred. Saccharine, herself was unable to control the moans that left her. She rolled her hips in time with his thrusts, Copia began panting and groaning. Her body pulsing and squeezing around him so deliciously. The two of them, reveling in the sensations made between them. 

Copia brought his hands up to cup and knead Saccharine's breasts, her head falling back in pleasure. There was an intense surge, a crash of lust and desire hitting them both hard until they could no longer contain it. Loving making together, wrapped up in each other's arms, two becoming one in the name of Lucifer. Copia's rhythm began to falter as he got close, grabbing tight to Saccharine's hips

She moved up and down on him, with her hands on his chest. Fingers buried deep in his nest of hair. Her body unable to hold back from her orgasm any longer, she came hard around him, crying out his name into the night.

“Sì, sto venendo per te…ah!” Copia whined as he released deep inside her. They continued to move, slowly returning from the heights of passion climbed. A consummation of their feelings for one another made complete. As the wave of their efforts dissipated and they held each other close, Copia ran his fingers through Saccharine’s long hair. Picking rose petals from it as she nuzzled her against his chest. 

“You know I have been waiting to do that with you for so long…but I am kind of glad we waited until tonight though because it was more perfect than I ever thought it could be…” Copia began.

“Me too.” Saccharine smiled up at him. Her beautiful face, glowing in the candlelight. 

“Really?” he said, a tone of disbelief in his voice. Copia, still amazed that anyone could truly love him, but more so that this gorgeous creature somehow could.

“Oh Copia I have wanted to be yours for so long too. What took you so long to ask me that?”

“I didn’t want you to think this was a passing thing. That I only wanted you for carnal conquests. I am not my fratelli. I have never wanted something that was meaningless. And while they both have that now, this has always been what this has meant to me and I wanted it to be special. For you to know, as I took you, that you were truly mine and I, yours.”

“Tonight…my love, everything was perfect. Best Lupercalia ever.” Saccharine assured him, giving out a lightheaded laugh as Copia went to kiss her forehead. His eyes filled with love and adoration as he gazed upon her in their shared post climatic bliss.  

“You know sweetheart, Lupercalia, Valentine’s Day… no matter what anyone chooses to call it…this night—-this night was made for you and I.”

Notes: 

Bene, mia principessa, sono pronta se lo sei.- Well my princess, I am ready if you are.

così incredibilmente bello, Lucifero stesso è stato serenato dalla tua voce.-so incredibly beautiful, Lucifer himself was serenaded by your voice. 

Tu sei veramente la creazione più bella di questo mondo. Sono stregato dalla tua bellezza amore mio.- You are truly the most beautiful creation in this world. I am bewitched by your beauty my love. 

Sì, sto venendo per te- yes, I'm cumming for you.

[rylandfalkov]

Ryland's Glitter & Ghouls Show 10/14/2023

After his introduction, the stage lights shut off and completely darken the area for a few moments before flickering back on to reveal a scene from what appears to be a practice room. A set of large mirrors line the stage facing the audience with a ballet barre running the entire length of them. In the center stands Ryland, who seems to be practicing and stretching for an upcoming show, dressed in nothing but a pair of black dance shorts that nicely showcases all of the dancer’s taut musculature. 

Ryland lowers his leg from the barre and steps away from the apparatus before prepping and performing a precise triple pirouette with ease. He ceases his rotations facing the audience, reaching back to brace a hand against the barre before lifting his right knee and then extending his leg up to the side in a nimble développé. At the same time, a shadowy, amorphous blob begins to creep across the length of the mirror until situated behind him, where it begins to take shape into a looming figure of something inhuman. Ghostly tendrils snake out from within the confines of the mirror, straining towards the oblivious dancer.

He releases the barre and grips the raised leg to lift it higher until he’s in a full standing split, demonstrating the tiniest taste of his flexibility. Lowering that leg back to the ground, he preps once more with a brief crouch – but before he’s able to jump into the air, the tendrils coil around his ankles and cause his upper body to lurch forward as he nearly falls onto his face. Quick hands manage to catch him, but the confusion in his expression says it all: Something was holding him in place!

It’s dead silent, aside from the very faint noise of fracturing glass as a spider-like pattern begins to splinter upwards from the base of the mirrors. Ryland rights himself, clearly still unable to move as the confusion rapidly turns into trepidation. His breath hitches at the unnerving sound, slowly twisting his torso to gaze into the void which was now escaping from its glass prison. 

He freezes just before a thundering **CRASSSSSSSHHHHH** echoes through the performance space as both the mirror and spotlights shatter all over the stage. The last thing the audience would see is Ryland being forcefully flung towards the audience before everything goes quiet and pitch black.

Eventually, the noise of a generator rumbles on as the emergency lights flicker to life, illuminating the crumpled heap that is Ryland laying on the ground at the very front of the stage and twisted into a shape no mortal should be able to achieve. Facing away from the audience, one leg is extended up towards the back of his head with the other twined around the front of his body. Shoulders appear to be dislocated with one arm dangling over his head and the other pinned beneath him: An unsettling sight to behold!

Despite his distressing appearance, he suddenly jolts up into a sitting position with his back to the audience as all extremities are shifted into their proper place. Both hands reach up to touch at his face, then at his neck, before aiding him in wobbling up to his feet. The glass cracks beneath his bare skin, yet doesn’t seem to bother him nor cut into his flesh. Shoulders roll and hunch forward to make his spine slightly protrude as both hands lift out to either side and begin to frantically shake before transitioning into small, jerky movements, accompanied by the amplified sound of, what one can assume, are joints frenetically popping.

Ryland stills for a moment, shoulders sinking as he releases a final exhale. Without warning, his entire upper body WRENCHES backwards with a cacophony of *CRACK-CRACK-CRACKing* so the man is now bent backwards, nearly in half! With his face directed towards the audience, they can now see the inexplicably gaunt cheeks, the sallow skin, and the black stained lips as his mouth falls agape. Closed eyelids open wide to reveal only the bloodshot scleras of his eyes, shrouding him in a malignant and unhallowed aura. There he remains frozen and unblinking in this horrendous stance before cloudy, greenish-yellow irises with slitted pupils gradually roll into place asynchronous of each other. 

His entire body convulses as arms elongate towards the ground and both shoulder joints twist and pop upwards towards the sky, making him appear as if his head had been put upon his body backwards. Hands flatten on the stage before he takes a few erratic steps in this unnatural bridge, abruptly skittering in a frenzied manner across the space and halting as that nebulous gaze stares out at the crowd. 

Walking one hand beneath the other, he steadily swivels just the upper half of his torso around so his chest is now facing the ground, but abdomen is still positioned up towards the sky; a shockingly appalling and painful looking stance. Lips part in a sinister grin, flashing blackened teeth. Clearly whoever this is, whatever this is, it’s no longer Ryland.

With a sudden and brutal jolt, Ryland flops face down with body spasming as the new host gets itself accustomed to its chosen home. Palms press against the stage, raising his elbows and head to glare out into the audience once more with demonic eyes. The lower half of his body lifts, arching from just below his rib cage. Legs elevate in unison behind him, pointing up towards the sky and continuing to arc further and further until his entire torso is bent in half backwards! It would seem as if the man no longer had a spine if it weren’t for the faint staccato of crackling joints. Both calves come to a rest atop his shoulder blades, with feet pointed out towards the crowd.

Knees bend and the tips of his toes brush against the ground to either side of his head before legs fan outwards and back into a center split, all while maintaining this freakish position and that malevolent gaze fixated upon the audience. Hips and legs lower until the split is now flush to the ground, and for just a brief moment Ryland’s expression turns to that disorientation and fear. However, he is not allowed to wallow in that feeling for long as he’s violently YANKED backwards by some unseen force, SLAMMING his body hard against the broken mirror. More glass shatters around him as he’s dropped unceremoniously to his feet.

He staggers forwards with a limp, shoulders slumped with arms and fingers held in rigid, angular shapes. He crouches at the lip of the stage, baring those blackened teeth; the restrained tensity in his body suggesting he’s about to lunge. Instead, he grips the lip of the stage and evenly raises both legs up into a proper handstand with his back facing the audience. Then he lowers his legs to either side into a center split, overextending the action to a harrowing degree as feet dangle down towards the stage.

With his upper torso completely stationary in the handstand, his bottom half rotates towards the audience, more and more severely until the man is once more almost bent in half backwards. Knees bend and legs shift inwards until they touch and lower steadily over the edge of the stage until his rear is essentially touching the back of his head. Grotesque and repulsive, yet graceful and impressive at the same time.

He touches down and frees his hands from the stage, righting himself before squatting down mere inches away from the front row. A guttural growl escapes his throat as a tendril of black ichor drips from one corner of his mouth. He extends a clawed hand towards those closest, although before he’s able to make contact he’s once more forcefully YANKED back mid-stage and held frozen in place mid-air. With a few sickening *CRUNCHES* following in quick succession of one another, shoulders pop out of place one by one, then arms and legs splay out, warped and twisted like a marionette.

A look of agony and dread floods his features as his head gradually seems to be forced over to one side in an extreme angle. With a quick *SNAP* of his neck to that side, he’s released from his invisible bonds and crumples into a contorted and gruesomely positioned heap on the ground. His body twitches a few times before fully going slack as the black, shadowy figure vacates him, hovering over the lifeless corpse before RUSHING out over the crowd with a frigid gust.

@succulent-tart

[dionysia-does-stories]

Haud Your Halloween

Cringetober 2023, Day 31: HALLOWEEN!!

On AO3

Rating G - 1,335 words - Original Work - Halloween Traditions & Lore

Summary: A little girl, Alice is depressed that there will be no real ghouls, ghosts and fairies out on Halloween after she learns that the doorway to the otherworld is through elevated earthen mounds--and she lives in Florida where the world is flat.

Story:

Some merry, friendly, country-folks, Together did convene, To burn their nits, and pou their stocks, And haud their Halloween

-Robert Burns, Halloween

This Halloween was not going according to the plan Alice’s parents had devised. Her parents had the sort of relationship where you planned everything down to the millisecond so you could spend as little time as possible interacting with each other. That philosophy bled into their parenting style. Most of the time if Alice was raised by anyone, then she was raised by her older brother. Wolves might have been better role models then Alice’s brother, Jonesie. But they wouldn’t be half as much fun.

The problem was that Jonesie had been reading to Alice from a book of old Halloween traditions. The pages were filled with the really good stuff. Ghoul stories of headless men and women walking the Earth. Halloween hosts who’s parties you may never escape. The dead come back to life to walk the Earth. And the most important piece of information. The tradition that was currently causing a problem. The location of the Halloween goblins, ghouls, fairies, (or as Alice had began to say with unintelligible accuracy to anyone who would pretend to listen, the Aos Sí)

Aos Sí meant people of the mounds. That’s where the otherworld was. Where the fabric between dimensions thinned and magic seeped into the human world. And Alice was distraught about it. Because there were no hills in Florida. That is where she lived. In stupid flat Florida where there was no magic and no fairies could ever come to visit. This was the greatest tragedy of her young life and her parents thought she was being dramatic over nothing.

What was even the point of Halloween now that she knew the ghouls and fairies couldn’t reach her?

“Isn’t that a good thing?” her mom had asked, “Aren’t ghouls and ghosts scary.”

Alice had looked up from where she was crying on the bed. “Life is scary,” she declared with the eerie foreknowledge of childhood. “The point is to be scared but to live fully and well anyway.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” her mother conceded, “But I do think you’d be happier if you went trick-or-treating anyway.” She left Alice’s room.

Her dad had left an hour ago. He’d only budgeted two hours of his time for “family Halloween activities” to begin with. When a temper tantrum had been imminent, he suddenly had to get back to the office.

Halloween this whole year had been a fight. Mom had wanted her to be a princess. Dad had wanted her to be “you know, the thing with the glitter.” Alice had spent hours thinking about it. She’d agonized, doodled some ideas, agonized some more. Finally, she’d settled on being a tooth fairy. Her costume had 300 real teeth. Not human, as she’d reassured her mom, teachers, classmates, and that woman at the grocery store. (One of them was human but nobody other than Jonesie needed to know that—It was her brother’s old baby tooth after all.)

Alice wished Jonesie was here for the holiday. But he was a teenager and that meant celebrating Halloween in a very specific way. Jonesie was off getting drunk and kissing girls (Why? Alice had no clue.) They’d read a Halloween tradition about young men playing a sport where they chucked flaming logs at each other. Jonesie had convinced (like it was hard) his friends to play. Alice was a little worried they were going to get hurt (or set the swamp on fire). But at least he was properly celebrating Halloween. Even without elevated topography. 

Alice threw her window open the hot still air slinked into her room. She looked out at the starless sky. The flat jungle of flora just past the back of edge of their yard was taunting her. You’ll never get to walk among the Aos Sí. You’ll never even get to toss flaming logs in the swamp. You’ll be small and silly and dramatic forever.

That was the real problem. What she saw as fun the adults saw as loud. What she saw as mystical the adults saw as morbid. She was the black keys on the piano. Every note she played was somehow flat. And people were always trying to correct the way she sounded. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her though.

Alice climbed out the window. So what if there were no hills? She could still dance in the moonlight. She could still play fortune telling games. It was still Halloween even here in this flat place.

She shimmied down the side of the house, whispering half remembered rhymes and songs to herself. She tore across the grass into the jungle like trees. She ducked under Spanish moss and leaped over low growing ferns. She spotted a weed that looked easy to pull and yanked it from the ground. Tradition held that the massive root system indicated wealth in her later life. She threw it over her shoulder.

She ran through the forest, picturing a bonfire in her mind. She hadn’t been able to convince her parents that the fire, the lights, the warmth, the glow was the most important part. The burning at the center of the human side of magic. So, she would burn. She would be her own bonfire.

She crashed over a fallen log and found herself face to face with a wild boar. She’d learned about dangerous wildlife in school. They were taught how to run away from alligators and which snakes were poisonous. But the section on wild boars had been the scariest. They were taught that you can’t out run one. They’re fast and mean. They’ll gore you in the back. Your best bet is to climb a tree and wait for someone to find you.

She locked eyes with the boar. There was an intelligence there, a sparkle of something otherworldly. 

She gave it a try. “Hello, Mr. Pig, sir.”

The pig snuffled at her. Alice’s fine hairs were sucked into the snout, before an exhale released them. 

“A fine night,” the Boar greeted her in return.

From behind a tree a slender woman’s figure dressed in white emerged. Where the top of her neck ended instead of a head, she had a bouquet of wild flowers. There were bits of birds’ downy feathers and pecan shells mixed in with the flora. A snake and a mouse chased each other threw it.

Alice was frozen in awe for a moment before she stood and sketched an awkward curtsy (the first of her life). “Hello, Good Lady, Ma’am.”

The flowers twisted in what might have been a smile. It was hard to say, but it seemed benevolent. “What were you looking for little tooth?”

Alice glanced down at her costume. It worked! The Good Lady thought she was a fairy. “I thought I wouldn’t find any others out tonight.” That was mostly the truth.

The Headless Lady called the boar to her. “Why not?”

“There’s no hills here.”

“But of course there are.” The Lady shuffled a delicate toe through the sandy soil. “This whole land is made of dust that blew from great mountains. Everything remembers what it once was.”

“That hasn’t been my experience.” Alice wondered about the wisdom of disagreeing with such a formidable figure. But she’d never had an adult take her so seriously.

“You are young,” the Good Lady said, “You will see. Time inevitably changes all things. But there is no inevitability to forgetting what you are. That is always a choice.”

With a nod, the Good Lady and her Boar carried on their way.

Alice set off in the opposite direction, toward the road. She’d go to the houses with the superheroes and the princesses. She’d delight in every revelry and fright Halloween had to offer. She’d seen the future. It didn’t matter if the world made sand of her. She was not flat. She carried her hills inside her.

[eelime1998]

August 1!! So ready for this.

Hi! I have my seasonal nail polish picks for Fall 2023. I have a YouTube video up on this but I've also got pictures of the polishes as well to share with you here!

I plan on wearing these polishes starting today! These are all polishes I plan on wearing during the season this year. I may be a little early on the fall jump start but I'm okay with it.

Going Left to Right: OPI Amore at the Grand Canal, Race Red, Orange You Going to the Game?, It's a Piazza Cake, Never a Dulles Moment, This Isn't Greenland, Feel the Chemis-tree, and My Voice is a Little Norse

Top to Bottom: China Glaze Your Touch, Sacred Heart, Brownstone, Get Off My Cold Case, Harvest Moon, Spice to Meet You, Autumn's Up!, and Swanky Silk

Top to Bottom: China Glaze Olive to Roar, Agro, Zombie Zest, Something's Brewing, It's Alive, Bat My Eyes, Private Side-Eye, and Foie Gras

China Glaze Don't Let the Dead Bite (glitters have bled into the base color)

Top to Bottom: Lilypad Lacquer Greed, Red Eyed Lacquer Silly Old Bear, Orly Can You Dig It?, Orly Here Comes the Sun, Orly Let the Good Times Roll, Zoya Dhara, and Zoya Brett

Top to Bottom: ILNP Hayride, ILNP Autumn, ILNP Olive Grove, Sally Hansen Yummy Yam, Patty Lopes Dream Farm, Sally Hansen Gourd-geous, Sally Hansen Ghosted, and Sally Hansen Squad Ghouls

Left to Right: Kbshimmer Quantum Leaf, Liquid Sky Lacquer Hish Octane Candy Corn Sugar Rush, Essie Kaf-tan, Nine Zero Lacquer September Sky, and LA Colors Ravishing Gown

Okay Tumblr is glitching now so I'll talk later!

[tickling-giggles]

Ⓘⓝⓣⓡⓞ Ⓟⓞⓢⓣ

(Last updated: 6/6/2023)

Mყ ɱσσƚʂ✨💛

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𝘛𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴: 𝘈, 𝘉 & 𝘊 (𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘌!!)

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~~~~~~~~~~~Anime~~~~~~~~~~~

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[buffythecomicslayer]

Excerpt from ‘One Girl in All the World’

In the prologue, a hooded figure makes their return to Sunnydale — or rather, New Sunnydale — with intimate knowledge of what happened with Buffy aboard the bus after Sunnydale collapsed into a sinkhole. In the first chapter, we're reunited with Frankie and the Scooby Gang as they are on patrol in the cemetery, chatting up a newly awoken vamp about eco-friendly alternatives to leather, and collecting data about the demons and ghouls making their pilgrimage to the Hellmouth.

One Girl in All the World is an upcoming Buffy: The Next Generation novel by Kendare Blake, out January 31, 2023.

Prologue

The woman cut a slim silhouette against the sunset as she walked along the deserted highway. It was a long walk on the way to nowhere: This particular road had been bypassed and blocked-off — she’d slipped past two very broken down “Road Closed” signs — and ended on the edge of what was briefly the great Sunnydale sinkhole. Of course that sinkhole didn’t last; it was quickly shored up with dirt to become the shiny New Sunnydale with a much lower elevation.

It was a long walk, but she wasn’t tired; she was a slayer after all — it took a lot more than cooling desert and flat asphalt to wear her out — but she was weary. Weary in her bones, weary in her soul. She adjusted the bag on her shoulders and kept going until she reached the spot where their bus had stopped after they’d defeated the First. Where Buffy had gotten out and looked over the destruction. Where she had started making plans for all of their futures.

The woman kicked pebbles and watched them roll down the hill, now a nice, sloping decline rather than a sheer drop-off into hell, and frowned at New Sunnydale glittering below. All of those people, living like nothing had happened. Sinkhole? What sinkhole? I’m sure that collapse was just a one-time thing. No reason to waste all this prime California real estate.

She scowled down from beneath her hood. They were idiots, all of them. Optimistic idiots. The entire place was cursed; she felt it the moment she portaled in. The wrongness. The wicked current, pulsing through the soil. The... hellmouth residue, getting all over everything. She knew she had a slayer’s senses, but there was no way that regular people didn’t feel it. That much seeping evil left a mark. It weaved through a person. It became a part of them, so much so that the whole damn citizenry had evacuated before it all went down, without having to be told. They just knew.

But people were people, and they’d rebuilt it anyway. Just like people had rebuilt the Overlook Hotel. Or the ones who kept on building houses on top of old cemeteries without moving the bodies first. Those were just movies, sure, but the rebuilding was realistic. When it came to their own destruction, humans were predictably industrious. So New Sunnydale had risen from the ashes. And then the red witch had returned to watch over it and give birth to her little abomination.

The woman swallowed. It felt foolish to even set one foot on that unstable ground, but she did it, one foot after the other, down and down and down, through shrubs and young trees, past silent bulldozers and construction equipment — because even after eighteen years, the city was still a work-in-progress — until she reached the street. From there she let her slayer sense guide her, but even if she hadn’t had it, she would have known the way to the Hellmouth by following the school signs. In grand Sunnydale tradition, the idiots had built the high school again, right on top.

When she reached it, she stood outside, staring down the brick and the stark white walls, the flowering vines with their blossoms closed for the night. New Sunnydale High School was clean and crisp, lit by so many streetlights that it was a challenge to find shadows to slip into. I am not evil at all, it declared. But it was lying.

She broke in through a back door near the sports field — and by “broke in” she meant opened an unlocked door without permission — and made her way to the basement.

And to the Hellmouth.

Being so close to it sent goose bumps up and down the backs of her arms. It made her want to run away. It made her want to scream. And even though there was no definitive marking, no X-marks-the-Hellmouth, she knew just where it was. And it felt like it knew just where she was, too.

Before she could hesitate, she walked to it and took off her pack, then reached inside to pull out a large, glowing orb. It was bright and almost pretty; the green swirled through with flecks of blue like bits of glitter on a sea of thick paint. It looked a little like a bowling ball, if bowling balls could throb, and it cast the entire space in a strange, ethereal green. Not terribly stealthy. After a moment of deliberation, she grabbed a fire blanket off a shelf and used it to cover the orb before setting it down on top of the Hellmouth.

She let go of it gently, expecting it to roll. But it stuck. So firmly and so fast she wondered if she’d have been able to pick it up again, not that she bothered to try. That’s where it belonged after all. A nice welcome-back present for the Hellmouth. Something to draw its favorite demons, like a demon magnet, or a demon beacon.

It would give the new slayer something to do, anyway.

The woman stood.

“Phase one commenced,” she said before tugging her hood down lower and slipping out of the school the same way she came in.

Part One: Sunnydale: THE Demon Destination

Chapter One: The Vampire Welcoming Committee

Sunnydale Cemetery was a pretty nice place. Green. Spacious. Bordered and dotted with leafy trees that whispered in the dark. White stone pavilions had been erected here and there, to serve as a housing for flowering vines, and the hedges were full and well groomed, planted in rows and groves so as to create corners and private spaces. For mourning, or picnics — concealing crouching demons or what-have-you. The point is, some landscape designer had an absolute field day with the place, and the end result was more akin to a park than a resting place for the dead.

It didn’t suit the vampire at all. He sniffed and caught the faint perfume of roses. He narrowed his yellow eyes, but the white marble benches only stood out brighter beneath the light of the waxing crescent moon. He’d only just arrived in town after catching the number 29 bus up from Phoenix, long hours of being a sun-fearing lump underneath a fire blanket, of bored kids running up and down the aisles, of bathroom stops and the sound of plastic wrappers being torn off gas station snack foods. Gas station snack foods made the blood nice and greasy. Once the sun went down, he’d considered popping up and eating the whole bus. But then he’d have had to drive the rest of the way, and he was still better on a horse than a stick shift. Besides, he wanted to save his appetite for Sunnydale.

Sunnydale, California. Mother of the Hellmouth. Cradle of monsters. A town that had seen more carnage than a stack of scary movies. It had been dormant for decades, languishing under the protection of the slayers, and the red-haired witch who broke the world. But lately Sunnydale — or more accurately, the hellmouth that dwelled beneath it — had started to pulse, and the ears and snouts of demons everywhere turned again toward the heartbeat. The Hellmouth was calling. Begging its children to tear away the facade of the city: the palm trees and street fairs, the coffee shops on every corner — and let it show its true, wicked face.

The slayers were gone, whisked away, right off the earth; killed in an explosion said some, or by a massive spell said others. No fewer than five demon doomsday cults had tried to take credit, but the vampire didn’t care one way or another who was responsible. He only cared that they were dead, and Sunnydale was his for the taking.

He paused at a fresh grave and placed his hand against the loosely packed soil, listening for another vampire waking below. He could use a local to show him the ins and outs. In all his hundred years of afterlife, he’d never been to Sunnydale. He preferred to spend his time in the southwest, where he’d been turned. He liked to lure tour groups out to the ghost towns. Then he would set the corpses up in the ruins of an old saloon, like mannequins, to confuse whatever poor sap eventually found them. By his count, he’d killed 4,219 people. More than that, actually, because it had taken him a few years to start counting, marking each with a notch in the holster of his six-shooter, which gradually became notches in a belt: first brown leather, then black, now some clever new leather made from the skins of cactuses. He’d buried belts filled with notches all over the territories of Nevada, and Arizona, down into western Texas. But the cactus belt was new. Notch-free. And he planned to fill it with notches for Sunnydale townsfolk.

But the legendary city of the Hellmouth was falling short of the stories. The streets he’d walked through on the way from the bus station were too clean, marked by engraved paving stones and made bright by solar lights. And now the cemetery — with its new, straight headstones and demure marble grave markers. From somewhere not far off, he heard the soft gurgling of a fountain and frowned.

Where were the rowdy demon bars? The demon gambling that went on until near dawn, bloodthirsty creatures around a card table racking up huge debts of kittens? Where were the cracked, spider-filled crypts? Where were the foolish teenagers, making out in cars, begging for their throats to be ripped out?

And then, as if she’d heard his wish, there came a voice through the darkness. A girl’s voice, from several rows of graves over. A soft glow emanated from that direction, too, as if from candles, and he licked his fangs. The little idiot was in the graveyard holding a séance. Humans were a useless lot — useless in his time, and in the century between, it seemed they’d only gotten worse — but he did appreciate their constant fascination with the great beyond.

He crept through the graves, savoring the increasing nearness of the kill, the glimpses of her in the space between the headstones. Oh, but she was a pretty thing. Long black hair, straight as a horse’s tail. Big brown eyes made warm by the candlelight. And dark red lips. She wore a collar, too, the kind a mean dog might wear, with silver studs and a buckle. That struck him as odd, but he didn’t waste much time considering the fashion choices of his dinner. And she wasn’t alone! His mouth watered as his second course came into view: a fine-looking Black lad sitting across from her in the grass, holding a candle and trying not to get burned by the wax. They didn’t look like they belonged much together; his buttoned shirt was pressed like a good mama would have done it, and his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses were focused and calm while the girl’s were restless and narrowed.

He would eat the girl first. He saw her first after all, and it would be kind of fun watching the calm leave the boy’s carefully composed expression. He wondered if the boy would run. Or if he would try to fight back. He would probably freeze like a frightened deer and simply wait for his turn.

The vampire crouched, ready to spring. He was so focused on his meal that he failed to notice the other girl running swiftly toward him through the cemetery. She leapt up onto the headstone beside him, and caught him totally by surprise with a flying back kick.

“Hi!” Frankie said, trying to keep her voice perky and semi-welcoming as the vamp rolled upright in the grass. “Where ya from?”

His only response was a growl, and he got to his feet in one smooth motion, a twist as graceful as a gymnast off a mat. So graceful that Frankie made a mental note to practice it later with Spike. The vampire brushed imagined dirt off his finely cut black suit, and the moonlight caught on the silver of his rather large and intricately designed belt buckle. It looked like a snake, intertwined with a... What did they call those western ropes? A lariat. It looked like a snake entwined with a lariat.

“That is a really nice belt buckle,” Frankie said, and pointed with the tip of her stake.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he said, and she wrinkled her nose at his accent. “You’ll be adorning the belt it’s attached to momentarily. The first notch, right about here.” He tapped the space just left of the buckle.

“Seems like a waste of good leather. Marking it up like that,” she said, and to her surprise, he straightened and looked down at it with a shrug.

“You know, I actually don’t know whether it’ll suit for notching. It’s some newfangled kind of leather, made from cactus skins.”

Frankie lowered her stake. “Really?” Her eyes widened. It looked just like high-quality leather. “That is such a cool eco-alternative!”

“Frankie.”

The vampire looked over the headstones at Hailey and Sigmund, who had stood, still holding their candles.

“Get that stake back up,” Hailey said. “Eco-friendly or not, the vamp must be dusted.”

“I know,” said Frankie. “But it seems like such a waste, to let the belt go poof with the rest of him. Think I can wrestle it off him first? Or maybe I can steal it with magic.”

“I don’t think your telekinesis is fine-tuned enough to unbuckle a belt and tug it through several belt loops,” said Sigmund. “And it’s an unnecessary risk.”

“I agree,” said Hailey. “But if you can, I wouldn’t mind having that belt buckle. It’s kind of badass.”

“What is happening here?” the vampire asked. The girl with the messy red bun on the top of her head carried a stake. And she kicked harder than his old pistol.

“I’m sorry,” said Frankie. “You’re right. This is supposed to be about you. So as I was saying, where ya from?”

“Did you come by bus or by car?” Sigmund asked, setting down his candle and picking up his cloth-bound journal. “By train? By cargo plane perhaps?”

The vampire looked from Frankie to Sigmund and back again. Then he reached out and grabbed Frankie by the shoulders and threw her over three rows of graves. She landed in the grass, but not before bouncing off the headstone of one Michael Truman, 1958–2021.

“Ow,” she groaned. “Why don’t they make headstones softer?”

“Padded headstones,” said Hailey. “Definitely something to consider. Watch out on your right!”

The vampire pulled her up by the arm, and she tried to smile as she looked into his fangy face, buying herself a moment to remember their next survey question. But before it came to her, he backhanded her across the jaw and sent her sailing. At least this time she missed the graves when she landed. The vamp leapt on her again, and she thought she heard him mutter something about a little lady with no manners before she rolled backward and drove her heels into his chin, throwing him in a backward flip. He got up with a snarl — much less gracefully this time — and just as she was about to jump in with a fast kick-punch-spinning-kick combination that Spike had demonstrated on her last week, the vampire was tackled by a blur of muscle and Sunnydale Razorbacks letter jacket.

“Dammit, Jake!”

“I got him!” Jake cried as the vampire twisted free. “Er, I don’t got him. But I’ll get him!” He threw a punch. The vampire ducked it and sniffed.

“You smell like a werewolf,” he said. “What are you doing, fighting with these people?”

“Werewolves are people, too, bro,” Jake replied, and landed his punch this time, sending the vampire reeling.

“Jake,” Sigmund called. “The census!”

“Oh, right.” Jake turned back to the vamp. “So, where’s that accent from? El Paso?” The vampire sprang, and Jake went down underneath the weight. “He’s surprisingly strong,” Jake groaned. “So he must be old... I’d say at least fifty, maybe over a hundred!”

Sigmund jotted it down in his notebook just as Frankie drove her stake through the vampire’s back and into the heart.

He reared up in surprise, and she had just enough time to gaze at the cactus-leather belt longingly before he, and it, exploded in a cloud of dust.

“Sorry,” she said as Jake coughed through the cloud. “I just, saw my opening.”

“He didn’t seem the talkative type anyway,” said Hailey. “I doubt you would have gotten much info even if you’d parried for an hour.” She prodded Sigmund fondly in the chest. “So much for tonight’s entry in the Sunnydale Vampire Census.”

“Perhaps this is a waste of time.” Sigmund adjusted his glasses on his nose, and even though he insisted that he had no demon powers from the Sage demon side of his family tree, Frankie thought she heard a snarl behind his sigh.

“No way, babe, this is a really good idea.” Hailey slipped her arm around his shoulder. “Gathering data on where the demons are coming from will be totally useful in determining the reach of the Hellmouth.” They’d started tracking demons at the first of the year, and so far, the farthest came from western Montana. Most were coming up from LA and Las Vegas. Nothing really from the Midwest, which had made Sigmund postulate that perhaps the hellmouth in Sunnydale was respecting the territory of the hellmouth in Ohio, though Frankie couldn’t imagine that hellmouths had a code of ethics.

Frankie wiped the point of her stake clean against the leg of her jeans and tucked it into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt.

“Well, he definitely had an accent. And I think I heard him call me ‘little lady.’”

“What a condescending pig,” Hailey joked. “But no, seriously, what a condescending pig.”

“I really wish I could’ve gotten that cactus belt. I mean, how cool is that? Plant belts.” She eyed Hailey’s black studded choker. Maybe she could get her a cactus-leather choker for her birthday! If Hailey ever told her when her birthday was. Getting personal details from Hailey was like pulling teeth sometimes.

“I was trying to hold him up so you could steal it,” said Jake. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Frankie clapped a bit of vampire dust off the chest of his jacket, and he smiled. He was tired, though, she could tell; he’d met up with them in the cemetery after lacrosse practice. And he was rusty: More lacrosse practice meant fewer patrols and less training. They hadn’t seen much of him since the start of February, when the season started. He might be scarce until at least May, longer if they made the playoffs, which was highly unlikely given their badness. Frankie had never been so grateful for the Sunnydale Razorbacks’ lack of sports ability. She missed Jake. She needed him around.

“Can we go home now?” Jake asked, yawning. “I have an early captain’s meeting before school.”

“And you have an early Scooby meeting after that,” said Frankie.

Jake groaned. “Can we move it to our free period? Isn’t that why your mom mojo’ed our schedules to match?”

“Fine, whiner, I’ll text Spike.” Hailey slipped her arm through Sigmund’s and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you decided not to go out for lacrosse. At least one of our demons has his priorities straight.”

Sigmund smiled happily. “Jake has to have a sports-slay balance. He did warn us.”

“I did.” Jake gave Sigmund a nod, like he was touched that Sigmund remembered.

“Well, what should we mark this vampire down as?” Sigmund asked. He reopened his journal. “If we had to guess. Even a region, might be helpful.”

“Arizona,” Hailey said after a moment of contemplation. “Tombstone, Arizona.”

“That’s a pretty specific guess,” said Sigmund, writing it down.

“Well, he just seemed like such a cowboy. And in that black suit? Like a gentleman cowboy. Like Doc Holliday.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think he WAS Doc Holliday?”

“I hope not,” Frankie said as she led them out of the cemetery. “If he was, he was too easy to take down.”

Sigmund chuckled, and she tugged down the edge of his notepad to read what he had written:

February 9 — the night Frankie the vampire slayer slayed Doc Holliday.

“Sigmund,” she mock-scolded. “You know that’s how rumors get started.”

But Hailey only laughed. “You mean that’s how legends get started.”

[camliristarfallen]