#I would be the kind of guy to hate pumpkins. however.

[draculagerard]

oml berry anon here. realized I typed squash instead of pumpkin for some inexplicable reason. I don't actually know if all squash are considered berries, but pumpkins are

I was relieved for a second but then I looked it up.

Anon apparently your mistyping was literally correct…. Wild as fuck to me. Well at least I’d im understanding those words right. Cause like idk 90% of the words used in that answer.

Also sure. Pumpkins. Why not

[simp4konig]

Halloweens with König headcannons 🎃🍂

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word Count: ~3246

*FLUFFFFFFF😿😿💖✨🩷🩷💘

*Soft König☺️ (but also König is a smug bastard + asshole 🙄), Established relationship, Single mention of (ambiguous) age gap 😮‍💨

🧡Happy Halloween guys!!🧡 I don't celebrate Halloween myself , but im feeling 😈in the mood😈 so i hopw this can suffice for this ooky kooky spooky season 😰😰

Gos i wanna kms ive veen so uninspirws AAAHAHAHAHDHDHDDH this is literslly. Me rn--->💥💥💥💥💥🙂🔫 fuckijg FINALLT GOT sometjing OUT 🥳🥳 rest asusred iwont kms i need to finish my rqs first ☺️💖💖✨ i will feel SO euphoric when all the WIPS will become Completed Works !! 😍😍Im just gonna not post until i gdt smth donw bci hate giving false promises its the same as lyijg,🗿🗿

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance

...

König wasn't really one for Halloween.

Hadn't ever been, really, as he hadn't been raised to celebrate it.

In his household, he hadn't had much exposure to the Western "Hallow's Eve".

Besides, even if he was familiar with the tradition, his parents didn't bother celebrating those kinds of trivialities; after all, they certainly weren't going to bother wasting hard-earned money on trifles like pumpkins, just so they'd rot on the front porch, or candy that would rot your teeth, or on vulgar masks that depicted serial killers and monsters, too blasphemous to bear.

Plus, his neighbourhood didn't partake in "Trick-or-treat'ing" at all, and wouldn't leave any candy for any children — wouldn't do anything, really.

Nobody decorated their house with ghouls and ghosts, nobody dressed up as vampires or murderers, nobody jumped from behind corners to shout "Boo!".

None of that, as these ideas were childish. Infantile. Juvenile, even.

Thus, October 31st, König's Austrian villiage was quiet. So eerily quiet you'd had thought it was a ghost town had it not been for hundreds of cloaked figures in the cemetary — as, for König, "Halloween" tended to be a more sombre occasion in comparison to the American/English versions.

Instead of running around and knocking on people's doors with a broad, lopsided smile like other children ought, he was brought along to visit the graves of his family members: graves of his ancestors, which he'd be told about in detail, details of the person buried six feet under the stone slab; information and stories passed down from generations.

He would be taught to honour those deceased in his family and respect their memory, to remember those in the afterlife and what they sacrificed to get there.

Carrying a lamp, he'd light candles on those decrepit gravestones, text faded and illegible, while his parents left boquets of flowers, and pulled up their long black cloaks. Silently paying their respects.

While it wasn't necessarily a day of mourning — König never needed tissues to wipe any tears or blow his nose, and neither did anyone else in the family — it was far graver when compared to the Halloween holidays elsewhere.

However, König's memories of Halloween were few, far, and in-between.

Whenever he'd hear of other people's experiences, he was never nostalgic, as, the times that he did attend those familial ceremonies he was either too young to understand what was happening, or knew too little of the deceased[s] in question to be moved by the heavy atmosphere.

Not only that, but the time period was overwhelmingly solemn, with people flooding the burial grounds, some murmuring prayers, others with tears in their eyes.

There was no laughter, no treats, no fun costumes. Not even tricks. Just suffocating depression all around.

So, he didn't really associate the celebration with something to celebrate: what, celebrating the deaths of your family? That was quite morbid, when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to dedicate an entire month every year to remind himself of death with so many other operators around him falling on the battlefield, and having had faced the grim reaper himself several times already.

Hence, every 31st of October, he did nothing. Didn't acknowledge it at all.

But all that changed one fateful day in September. When he finally acknowledged it, all right (with a little of your help of course)!

You had asked König in passing if he had considered dressing up as something for Halloween. Maybe what he had considered doing on the evening. Or if he had plans to attend the autumn fair sometime soon.

His response? A blank look. Distant recognition.

For a quiet moment, you thought he was scowling at you, silently ridiculing your childish suggestion.

Then: "Halloween? Ah!" An amused chuckle, endeared by the child-like curiosity in your eyes, and a silent sigh of relief from you.

"I don't celebrate it, myself, meine liebe. But you're welcome to tell me what your costume is. I'd love to hear all about it, maus."

Mortified by this revelation, you couldn't let this go.

"What do you mean you "don't celebrate it"? You have got to be joking!"

Wide eyes, and jaw agape, you were in disbelief.

He simply shook his head with a strained smile. "I've just never seen it as something to celebrate, you know? No reason to."

Taking it upon yourself to prove him wrong, you wasted no time converting this skeptic into a believer. "Oh no, there is. I mean, it's Halloween! Everyone is crazy for it!"

Suddenly, your eyes lit up. A wave of adrenaline crashing into you, you tugged König's arm in direction of the couch.

"That's where we'll start! We're gonna watch Halloween! That'll surely get you in the spirit."

You winked at him, satisfied. Then, a sudden snort and a suppressed chortle, hand cupped over your mouth as you laughed at your pathetic attempt at a joke.

König cocked his head to the side in confusion, but let you hastily scramble for blankets, pillows, and to microwave bowls of popcorn, as he made himself comfortable on the couch cushions that sank in protest under his weight.

Initially, he was reluctant. Not necessarily looking forward to being forced to watch movies from the 80s–00s, over-the-top movies with subpar acting, to say that he was looking forward to it would have been a stretch.

However, seeing how passionate you were about the holiday, your interests, König didn't want your sweetness sour.

Yes, he was a little older than you, and perhaps didn't grasp what there was to fuss over, but he wasn't about to spoil your good mood, or dampen that excitement just because he didn't personally understand or was interested personally. He wanted to make an effort, for you.

Vowing to take part in your silly shenanigans, he swore to become involved in the festivities in order to see you smile. To keep seeing you smiling.

After that, every October evening you'd watch a movie — a (usually) corny horror classic, though spending most nights binging all the Screams, Halloweens, Chuckys, The Shinings, Saws, and Evil Deads, — huddled under moutains of blankets and stuffing your faces with toffee-flavoured popcorn.

Watching horror films with him was like being lectured on common-sense and taught self-defence lessons in real time, though. Not like you minded, but it really got rid of the edge and the tension in its entirety.

Instead of paying attention to the storyline, it's more likely König would catch on to the stupid decisions the characters and the shitty attempts to fight back, and he wouldn't be able to help commenting:

"Why did she leave the knife in him? In his abdomen, of all places? Now the murderer has a weapon! Should have taken it out and left him to bleed out. But noooo, nein, leave the knife there."

"Going into the forest on his own? In the night? With a killer on the loose? Mein Gott, he is such a dummkopf! Bring a friend, why don't you?"

"Liebling, why is there so much gore? Isn't this rated "15"? Wait, and why is there a lady with no shirt? This is supposed to be scary, ja? I'm very scared. Scared you'll slap me, actually, if I don't keep looking at my lap."

Angrily ranting at the television, you'd gently reassure him, that, "Sweetie, this is fiction. Sometimes, the scenes are unrealistic." "But it said "based on real events"! I swear, liebling, if I watch another ten minutes of this I'll have a headache. I can't comprehend the stupidness."

Tough crowd, that couldn't really immerse himself in the plot, but you took a note or two for the sorts of horror movies König wouldn't dislike.

Although he insulted all the characters for being stupid and ridiculed all the characters for being so brainless, he would begrudgingly admit that he enjoyed the movie, pointing out some of his favourite scenes.

Self-aware comedic slashers meant he could suspend disbelief and laugh out loud a little, while, movies with an omnipotent monster meant he couldn't criticise any inaccuracies. He didn't winge at those as much in comparison to major blockbuster films. In fact, he even preferred low budget movies, ones that were pure comedic relief and so self-aware that he wouldn't be able to help but laugh along, unable to hide his amusement.

Afterwards, at exactly midnight, you'd be huddled together in the dark under a thick blanket, gorging your mouth with sugary sweets and bite-size chocolates (also indulging in chocolates that were far from bite-size), giggling like lunatics (well, that was mostly you, but König joined in to keep you company).

Later, face serious, with a torch under your chin, you'd be whispering hushedly with a tone of foreboding, voice low, and words ominous:

"Drip. Drip. Dripping water. She had checked the bathroom taps, the kitchen taps, and they were twisted tightly closed. A leakage, perhaps? Or, perhaps, something else. As she roamed the corridor, the drip-drip-drip of liquid grew louder. And louder—"

"Ah, she should call her plumber, then, shouldn't she?" A sure shit-eating smirk that was obscured by his mask, but the way his eyes were squinting you knew he was taking the piss.

Of course, storytelling was not as haunting as you would have had liked it to be: König would interject, interrupting the aura of mystery and the medatitive atmosphere, with sarcastic remarks. It made the narrations really melodramatic in the end, and frustrated you to no end.

Still, you would groan, and, undaunted by his immature antics — as, mind you, this was a grown-ass man, a 6'10 wall of muscle messing around like this, teasing you not like the cocky Colonel he was but a snarky teenage boy — continue:

"—she walked on — despite having been rudely interrupted moments prior — and her heart sank. Blood. A puddle of it, on the floor, looking like gallons upon gallons of it had—"

"Maybe she was — ah, what's the word?" A thoughtful pause, hand where his chin was under the fabric "— menustrating? Was she wearing white pants, maybe?"

"—Menstruating, König — and stop ruining my horror narration! Now I've lost the plot! Okay — against her will, her eyes moved up the wall, following the dripping blood. To her horror, it was coming from the attic. Swallowing the heavy lump in her throat, she pulled open the hatch with jittering fingers, grip slackened by the warm sweat on her palms, knees threatening to buckle. And, when the trap door released, she gasped. Blood draining her face, she saw—"

An exaggerated gasp from König, as he clasped his hands over his mouth in mock shock. "She— she saw— your mother! Mein Gott, the horror!"

"Shut up, König!" An annoyed huff, and shuffling away. "Honestly, you're such a killjoy..."

König, scooping you into his arms when you turned around with crossed arms, pouting lips, and furrowed brows, nuzzed his masked face into your neck, chuckling heartily. You squirmed under his hold, fabric tickling your sensitive neck, and you'd desperately hold back your giggles, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Ja, ja, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Es tut mir leid, meine Liebe. Please keep going. What did she find in the attic?"

"No! You made me forget the grand reveal, now! I forgot what was up there, anyways..."

Walking around the house, you'd have the fright of your life when a huge shadow would jump in front of you at odd hours of the day.

"Boo!" König's voice resounded, loud and reverberating.

And you screamed, damn near verging on a heart attack.

"Shoving" him in frustration — you became actually even more frustrated when the man was like a solid wall and did not even budge a millimetre — König was quick to console you.

Doting over you, a wide smile on his face that the mask couldn't hide, he would be so overly lovey-dovey with you in an attempt to win back your affection that you'd roll yours eyes so far they'd end up in the back of your head.

"Meine liebe, I'm sorry for scaring you. I couldn't resist. You'll forgive me, won't you? You will, right? Please say yes."

You insisted you would, seemingly unassuming, then schemed to startle him at odd hours of the night as payback for losing your dignity in that moment.

At one point, you had even waited half an hour in the wardrobe while he was showering, only to jump out and see König in only a towel.

Yeah, you were the one that got jumpscared instead, face erupting in red despite you two being together for months at that point. You gave up trying to spook him then, bitterly accepting defeat.

Though, going along with your silly little activities, like going shopping for Halloween decorations, made König's heart swell seeing you bounce around excitedly and point out all the ornaments.

He didn't quite consent to you buying a life-size skeleton to call him Greg and place him in your shared bedroom. That was one step too far.

Still, seeing the wonder on your face, in awe of all the masks, costumes, decorations, and animated mannequins that'd cackle after triggering their mechanisms made his steel-blue eyes soften, melting into pure love and devotion for you.

So, to humour you one day, and to lift your mood after scaring you that one morning, König made two eye-holes in a white blanket, running after you around the house, almost tripping over it in his haste.

"Ooooo-ooo!" he moaned in over-dramatised agony, voice low yet playful. "This is not König, but his ghooost! Run, liebling, or you'll be neeext!"

Hearing him say that in his Austrian accent was so hilarious that were tears running down your cheeks from how hard you'd be laughing, and your sides splitting with the laughter, struggling scramble away, giggling.

Those moans of agony would become genuine cries in pain when he'd accidently hit his head on the doorframe when he forgot to duck in his excitement. The one time that bulky helmet of his could have come to use.

Despite all that, you'd be cornered against the wall, with nowhere to run, and König would pounce, tickling your sides viciously.

That broad smile on your face and the expression was worth fooling around and making a fool of himself.

He even didn't mind having you coo over his "injury" just like how he had when he was doting over you, because he loved you so much.

And, he loved you so much, that he even allowed you to "decorate" his gear. "To make it appropriate for the spooky season!" you had insisted, and he'd comply, not wanting to dull that sparkle in your eyes.

So contented with painting an intricate monster on his mask with fluorescent orange paint, you didn't notice König watching you hunched over the desk from behind, leaning against the doorframe with a loving smile on his face.

You hadn't expected that he'd wear that gear on base — veil, knee pads, helmet, and all — strutting his stuff. Just to remind everyone that their Colonel had a lovely spouse back home.

What you hadn't anticipated was how quickly König would start enjoying the season. Unexpectedly, he became obsessed with Halloween — his favourite tradition, second only to Christmas.

Carveling hollowed-out pumpkins of all shapes and sizes was one of his favourite past-times.

You'd think that with his size he'd struggle to cut through the orange crust without crushing it into pumpkin-coloured mush in his fists, but you'd be forgetting that he was skilled with a knife.

That said, König wasn't artistic. At all. The best he could produce would be a lopsided smiling caricature of... something. A nondescript creature, which you had complimented him on being so cute, only for him to angrily insist that it was an evil monster, and not cute at all.

Still, you would snap a picture before he could object, and give this pumpkin the spotlight on your front porch, soon many more following suit. Jack'o'lanterns illuminating your front step, glowing gold.

The sweet scent of cinnamon, ginger, and vanilla extract filled your house, new freshly-baked treats from the oven laid out on the kitchen island daily.

Delicious aroma of sugary pastry, homemade banana bread with small hints of vanilla and sprinkled with icing sugar, candied oranges and sour, sherbet lemon cakes, crunchy cinnamon sugar pumpkin seeds ("Made from the pumpkin guts!" you exclaimed with a smile of pride, König's eyes smiling in delight of your enthusiasm).

Crumbly shortbread in the shape skulls and bats, round cookies with orange and black icing resembling pumpkins, sponge cakes that oozed thick raspberry and strawberry jam when you bit into them ("Because they were bleeding blood," you proclaimed, a devilish smirk on your face — or, something like it, as to König you were the cutest angel he'd had ever been blessed to be around), and so, so, so much more.

So much that your weekly trips to the supermarket became biweekly, until you two found yourselves stocking up on sugar, flour, eggs, and butter far too often to keep track of.

The house was so inviting, especially to little ones from the neighbourd, that their mouths were agape and their eyes sparkled as they passed your "haunted house", holding the hands of their parent(s).

Mentioned in an earlier post that König has a soft spot for children, he'd stock up on Halloween candy and treats, and lug bucketfuls of sweets on the doorstep for any little ones that'd knock on your door to cheerfully cry out in unison, full of glee: "Trick or treat!"

He'd welcome them with open arms, but, with most of them being so little, they'd point with bulging eyes the giant on the doorstep, to be harshly reprimanded by their mothers and fathers for their ignorance and rudeness.

Few would say much after seeing König the giant, and after daring to scoop a handful of confectionary, bowing their heads and avoiding his eyes would mumble a shaky "...Th-thank you, s-sir—!"

One of them, however — a little girl with rosy cheeks donning white stockings and a gold tinsel halo — beamed brightly, albeit shyly, at König, thanking him for the treat and his generosity. An innocent, toothy smile that made her squint from how high it reached her eyes, her front baby teeth missing.

When she had her back turned to you two, she ran as fast as her chubby little legs could take her, and exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! That giant is a big and friendly one! A big, friendly giant. Can we go again, please? Please?"

It was only when you nudged König with your elbow, grinning, when she had skipped happily away, that he had realised he had tears in his eyes.

Moreover, maybe the memories König had of Halloween weren't so cheerful, or ones even worth remembering in the first place; after all, his childhood wasn't so cheerful. Joyless, and with little life.

But, with the way that Halloween was shaping up to be, he was already looking forward to the special celebration.

So full of life the you two were, you would laugh at the irony — animated and living the dream, while celebrating the day of the day. It brought you two to more laughter.

And, with you, König could make new ones, ones that you'd look back on fondly years from now, and those grueling months on deployment.

...

Note: Went off experience here for the beginning, guys🫡🫡 for the mowt part i have never celebrated Halloween😰 only a couple times in Poland, and once in England when i drank tomato juice and prwtended it was blood and i was a vampire🤪,

, but I Googled "Halloween in Austria" /Germany" to clarify whether I wasn't just speaking outta my ass and König here would have celebrated it differently to how I had in Poland 💀cuz, yknow, im not egocentric ajd the world doesnt celebrate things the same way Poles do 😘...

...And, no, I wasn't !☺️✨✨(... sort of😅... As far as I know, Germany has adopted the West's Halloween, ans theres pumpkin carving competitiomsn stuff, while Austria does indeed celebrate it slightly differently) .

Because I have no fuckijg idea of König's nationaloty anymore as it KEEOS CHANGING, I got the vest of both worlds 🥲🥲

Also been really busy guys😰😰😰by busy i mean stressing out ovee not writing then proceeding to NOT write bc im stressed❤️❤���🥰 you know jow it is!! 🤗(🔫) its ok tjo❤️(no it isnt) ill work tjis oit somejow🥹(no i wont im gonna kms) 🥰🥰

Have a very spooky halloween guys<3Feel bad foe those that are buying candy bc not onky is it smallwe than last uear but its more expensive 💔😟

[winedrunkwords]

lovely vision.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: the one where people can tell when steve thinks about you and mike can't whisper. [1.1k]

warnings: fluff, unrequited-to-requited-love, gender-neutral!reader

✮⋆˙ ★⋆｡ °⋆ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

In hindsight, he really played himself, hoping his super-observant, super-loud, no-boundary-having friends wouldn’t say anything. He couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse.

It’s one thing for Steve Harrington, self-proclaimed Halloween hater, to not mind when other people decorate his space. That can just be written off to him being polite and kind, even though Dustin would scoff at that and Eddie would laugh and Mike would call him out on the word “polite” being anywhere near his name.

The point is, being around other people’s decorations had some kind of plausible deniability. Him putting up Halloween decoration himself, however, there’s no deniability in that.

“What’s that?” Dustin asked as he slid into the backseat of Steve’s BMW, pointing at the ghost charm that dangles from the rearview mirror. Steve offered (read: was blackmailed) into driving the boys from the Wheelers house to the arcade even though they had perfectly functioning bikes. But then Dustin said they were teaching you how to play some game whose name he couldn’t remember and he definitely didn’t want you walking all that way, and since he was going that way anyways….

“Nothing,” Steve snapped back, staring straight ahead. Hopefully that would be the end of it and no one would s—

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” offered Mike, the traitor. His hair was long and in his eyes, like Eddie’s, but Steve could still feel the suspicious, almost accusing glare through the mess. “Looks like a decoration.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s just an air freshener. I know teenage boys stink but you guys know what that is.”

“A ghost air freshener,” Lucas said, right in his ear. Steve had half a mind to kick him out, but he’d already started driving to your house and he didn’t want to be late. “That’s for Halloween, and you hate Halloween. You always buy those dumb trees.”

“Why are you paying so much attention to my spending habits?”

“Because they’re terrible.”

Steve glared at him through the rearview mirror (the traitor). “Don’t think I won’t make you walk.”

Your house was pretty close to the Wheelers and already decked out, considering Halloween was at the end of the month and it was only October first. Fake, giant spider webs stretched up the front yard to the porch, and pumpkins and Halloween decorations dotted almost every inch. Your house looked like it was out of a cartoon about the Addams family and your outfit matched it, all black and muted colors. Your smile, though, that made Steve feel like he’d sipped pure sunshine.

You slid into the passenger seat, your designated spot (to no one’s surprise and to your complete obliviousness). “Oh a little ghost! He’s so cute! Is he for Halloween?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Dustin asked with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Is he for Halloween?”

Rock and a fucking hard place. “Uh, yeah. It looked like it would fit the vibe, you know, and it smells nice.” Which wasn’t a lie. Steve genuinely did like the way it smelled, and the thought of you smiling at him the way you were now (warm, bashful, a little endeared) made the fact that it was a ghost a good thing.

You were endeared, maybe a few shades more than that. Steve’s indifference to Halloween was a well-known fact in the merry band of nerds (their name) that he chose to hang out with. Robin still talked about the year she got him to decorate his house with one (just one!) skeleton like it was a badge of honor. Now here he was, Levi jeans and orange sweater, with a ghost dangling from his car, glancing at you with a smile as he pulled into the arcade parking lot.

Maybe Mike thought he was quieter than he was; maybe he just wanted to ruin Steve’s life specifically. Either way, the entire car heard him over the radio when he murmured, “Man you really do turn into the people you love.”

Steve flushed and turned around so fast that you would be concerned about whiplash if you weren’t replaying what Mike said over and over again. People you love. “Alright, go play your damn games.”

None of the boys said anything, Mike looking almost uncharacteristically apologetic through the window. You smiled out at Dustin and said, “I’ll meet you guys in a few minutes, okay?” You could almost feel the man beside you turn into a statue.

“Okay.” He glanced between you and Steve nervously but ultimately chose to follow Mike and Lucas, leaving the two of you staring after the arcade door as it shut beside him.

“I’m sorry he said that,” Steve said almost frantically, eyes locked on the steering wheel so he didn’t have to see whatever horrible embarrassed look was on your face. “Mike never really knows when to shut up and he’s an instigator. He’s an idiot, actually. I’m really sorry; I can take it down if you want and —“

Your hand on his bicep shocked him into silence, and when he looked up at you, you were smiling like he’d given you a gift. “I don’t want you to take it down, Stevie.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to take it down,” you repeated, “I like it. Why are you saying sorry for liking me back?”

“Because I don’t want to — pause. Did you say back?”

You laughed, and it was the best sound Steve had ever heard in his life. He wanted it bottled up for him only, the only thing sustaining him for the rest of his life. “Eddie kept saying I was really obvious.”

“He kept saying that to me too,” Steve replied. “He’s just stupid.” He wasn’t entirely sure what’s happening, but you were still looking at him. Your hand fell onto his, right on the console, and relief burst inside his chest, a cool relief like a sip of water when you were parched.

Liking him back. What the fuck?

“I don’t think either of us are much better right now.”

His hand, of its own volition but also because it knew if he didn’t do this he would never forgive himself, cupped your cheek, and he didn’t even have time to ask before you said, “yes,” and leaned in. And he was kissing you.

Steve Harrington was kissing you like he needed it to breathe, like it was the difference between him being able to keep going or crumble right then and there. Steve Harrington liked you back.

You parted, and fell back into each other once, twice, before he pulled away far enough that he could talk. He whispered, “If those kids come out here and stop me, I’ll strand them, I swear.” Your answering laugh felt like absolution.

✮⋆˙ ★⋆｡ °⋆ 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑

thank you so much for reading this! i wanted to write something for the beginning of october and i've been missing steve, hence a little steve one-shot. pls let me know what you think; i'd love to hear it! feel free to like and reblog if you enjoyed this, it really does help <3

[mtgc858]

Wekiddy Headcanons cause yes

Also my take on the characters personality and such.

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Going in order from the wiki lol

Boom 9

Boom 9 is the quiet one of the group and often doesn't talk, he does but only to ones he likes lol.

He isn't human(obviously) but a lot don't know WHAT he is especially trying to figure out by his eyes, KC Glow does however but wants to keep it a secret to troll the others.(everyone's dying to know what he is).

He besties is KC Glow.

Kevin

Kevin is a quiet tired type but still has his bright loud moments.

Kevin is Swingy and KC Glows brother (Swingy by blood and KC Glow by Adoption).

He has social anxiety hard core, Especially when he first joined the band, He actually only joined cause of his brothers but after the first show, he felt confident with his brothers by his side.

Still has anxiety but not as bad as before thankfully

Likes that he doesn't have to sing or rap on camera lol.

Double K

He is chill and probably the most mature one of the group despite not being the oldest.

He is soft spoken and sometimes doesn't say much besides "Yep" or "No" (Big Mac ref lol).

He loves being a great help to the rest of the group even if he doesn't say much.

Blue GT

Blue GT is the type of guy to party all night and in the morning he just sleeps until he can do it all over again(he hasn't but will if given the chance lmao).

He's rich but doesn't flex about it that much, he only likes to party mostly then anything else.

Despite loving to go to a rave club he would be let down if people started smoking and would leave cause he can't stand the smell(sensitive to certain smells).

MJ 182

He is the chaotic one lol, definitely has bitten a few people before and will do it again.

Has told others that he isn't human before which isn't much of a surprise cause of his sharp fangs and eyes.

Legit shows off what he is with pride on his shirt(Alien lol).

He's a alien 100% (I blame @zankydraws lmao).

Loves cats so much lol.

Boom Fuzz

Definitely the tired angry gremlin that will eat your shirt sleeves when angry which is always.

Will play by his own rules with beatboxing and will make his own beat that doesn't really follow the rest of the band but somehow works anyway.

Has gotten in trouble for spray painting in famous places lol

Hates everyone....well besides KC Glow, no one knows how he got into the band to begin with or even became friends with them to begin with lol

ASAP Bee

Cool chill man that won't secretly kill you in your sleep if you insult him or his friends.....Or in general.

Had bees in his small bag lol or well bee theme stuff.

Oddly smells like honey,Blue GT loves the smell lol which would explain why they are friends lol.

Likes rolling his tongue randomly when he touches to troll others from rolling his R's.

M.O.G

The kind sweet gentle creature that loves making others happy.

Loves pie,apple,lime,cheese,berry, Pumpkin, etc.

Just a sillay emoji.

Arashi

I actually don't know much for him lol but um I guess he's the mascot of the group with a personality I guess lmao

Big Duke

The most chill one of the group complete and rare to anger or upset.

Had a calm deep voice but can change the pitch to a lighter one sometimes.

Is friends with everyone even if some (*cough cough* "Boom Fuzz" *cough*) don't like him.

He likes braiding his and others hair

Okay finally finished with part one lol so yippie

[luvghostie]

ೃ⁀➷𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

𝘎𝘕 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 + 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦

The air was crisp, clinging ever so gently to the breeze that swept the night. Kids running up and down the street, people handing out candy, and houses booming with music. It was All Hollows’ Eve. The celebration is observed in many countries on 31 October. People dress up, carve pumpkins, trick or treat, and throw parties. However, there are always a select few whom don't celebrate.

You were at a house party with your two other friends. Each member of the trio was doing something different. One was drinking rather hard, the other was starting fights, and you were sitting on the front porch alone.

House parties weren't exactly your thing. The loud music and sexual gestures weren't exciting to you. Rather, you'd love to stay at home handing out candies. You were still dressed up, of course. You sported a very nice witch costume, not the usual mole-faced one. This time you added... spice. Regardless, No amount of catcalling and drunk people could change your Halloween spirit.

You dug through some candy you snatched from the party. Twix, Snickers, Hershey's, you had all kinds of goodies. Each piece reminded you of a special moment in your childhood. You still recall the first time you ate candy. The sugary snack was something you loved since and craved since the day.

Before you could decide what you wanted you felt uneasy. Like, something or someone was watching you. Looking around the lonely porch you spotted someone in the distance. They were approaching the house with what looked to be... A garbage bag? You tried not to think about the person too much. After all, you were at a house party. Maybe he lived here or knew these people somehow.

The air blew harder sending a chill throughout your body. “Damn, why does it have to be so cold?” you asked yourself, clinging to the little warmth you had left. Fall was amazing to you however, just like any season it has its downs. Sickness and coldness, are two things you hated feeling and getting during this time of year.

Sudden creeks startled you from your thoughts. Someone was going up the stairs nearing you. Looking over to your left you see, a clown. His nose was pointy and long, his outfit black and white, and how could you forget the little hat that rested on his head.

“Oh,” you said, jumping slightly. You didn't expect to see someone with such a good costume here. Little alone a clown. Collecting your thoughts again you smiled at the man. “Sorry, you scared me. I really like your costume though.”

The man's eye moved to yours, a grin spreading on his pale face. He pointed at himself giving a “are you talking to me?” kind of expression. Giggling you nodded your head in agreement. “Yes, you, no one here has a cool costume like that!” you stated, pointing towards the closed door leading inside.

His eyes moved to the door and back to yours. You expected him to say something. Whether that be a thank you or screw off, you thought something would be let out. He instead bowed to you as if you were of high class. That's never happened to you but coming from this guy, it felt sweet.

As he raised up his hand started to reach into one of his pockets. He searched in there for a few seconds soon bringing out a piece of paper. You were confused, to say the least. That is until you received the paper from the clown.

“Art,” you said aloud, now wanting an answer to this word. “What does that mean?” you questioned him looking back up. He simply pointed to himself giving you the missing piece. “that's your name?” he lifted his thumbs up signifying your first guess was correct. “I'm y/n, nice to meet you, Art.” you reached your hand out to formally greet him for the first time. Art's hand clasped around yours, shaking it ever so gently.

Something about him felt familiar. Something felt, off. You pushed whatever that feeling was down and took this as an opportunity. “Well, Art, would you like to go get our Halloween spirit on?” you questioned. Art's eyes gleamed as he answered your request with actions. You could already feel this was the start of an amazing friendship.

[trashlama]

Yan future mikey with a chubby reader beimg all cute and shit and then the crazy kicks in (I beg you for some future boys contest-hope you're oki bye)

Hmmmm fluffy and crazy? I think I can work with this~

Instead of the usual future Yan turtles where they're usually depicted in the apocalyptic future. This one will take place in the fixed timeline future. Sorry I suck at explaining things.

This is basically a mix between a one-shot/drabble/headcanon

Like I started with Headcanons became drabble/one shot.

Sorry for being so late on this! Last week was hectic between work and my personal life.

I could've probably proofread it some more but, I didn't.

Ahhhh I hope you guys like this!

Cause personally I feel like I could've done better/more but, I suck. Anyways—

Warning! This is pretty fluffy. Seek your dentist for any fluff related cavities.

Enjoy!

I do not own this meme just found it on Pinterest and thought it was funny.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Mikey is such a good boyfriend.

A spontaneous ball of dorky energy the box turtle was artistic both in and out of the kitchen. His kindness did not discriminate. Good or bad typically, if the youngest Hamato could help it he would rather make peace not war.

It was something you liked about the orange clad mutant. Especially since he didn't mind your self-proclaimed defects.

You love adult ninja turtle you really do. However regardless the little voice in the back of your mind continued to plant seeds of doubt.

Was Michaelangelo satisfied with you?

You hadn't tried to express it often— but you had your trepidations about sharing your insecurities with anyone, even your boyfriend. You didn't want to be annoying.

These fears were silly, you knew this. Mikey loves you. The mystic mutant recited all the time how beautiful you are. To him apparently despite your self criticism you were a devine work of art. Love handles, pouches, wings, fupas— he adored them all. You didn't need to wear a size nine to fit in his heart.

It didn't matter. For all the reasons that the box turtle gave you for why you were a perfect match for him. The insecurities still sat there. Like a sunken stone at the bottom of the lake. It sitting there always. Forever.

Regularly wondering if Michelangelo really did prefer a ugly pumpkin to a picture perfect apple. Had it been a ruse? Was he just playin' the role of a good partner? Sayin' and doin' what you're supposed to tell a person you want to be intimate with.

Lately these polluting thoughts began to resurface again. Reanimated by the recent onslaught of teasing from some dumb college kids that were enrolled at the same University as you. A group of well-known douche-bags that you avoided like the plague on campus; but unfortunately shared a physics class with. The dumbass brigade like vultures, waited for opportunities to feed their fragile masculinities. Receiving petty pleasure from belittling any flawed individuals that crossed their starving gazes. Ravishing in whatever responses they could elicite.

For the better part of the first semester of third-year physics you had somehow managed to go undetected by said frat squad. Camouflaged in fluffy sweaters and poofy joggers had aided you in being incognito for the first nine weeks but, now the weather was changing. Spring has finally come and has gifted you the middle finger. As temperatures fluctuated so did your wardrobe.

You hated the warmer months just for this reason.

The months of hiding your jiggling stretch marked shame behind winter attire has come to an end. Forcing your hand with high temps to make you wear thinner layers. Baggy jeans and big shirts were your new seasonal battle armor. Unlike your impenetrable winter suit, the spring set was far more vulnerable. The thinner layers and lack of long sleeves basically painted a bullseye on you that the frat group gladly shot at on a daily basis. In spite of your countless efforts to starve the scavengers; the group of boys still hurt you. Conceal don't feel, you certainly didn't let it show. Their poking fun at your voluptuous figure and big tits were nothing new. Nor the endless questioning of your innocence and intelligence. It was just another schoolyard taunt that you didn't bother with a response.

Until you did. Maybe not vocally but the show of your shaky figure fleeing the classroom gave the gaggle of boys all the satisfaction they'd desired as their mocking laughter chasing you out as you retreated out into the university's hallway. Fleeing the campus without a second thought.

The crude harassment is why you were here traversing The Big Apple's sewers. Thanking whatever gods were present for the low water pressure in the channel that ran beneath the soles of your sneakers.

You hated being feeling weak like this but, instinctively your legs drove you to the Mad Dog's Lair. Not bothering to properly shove all your crap into your school bag when you fled the classroom. Doubting that your shit will still be there tomorrow knowing today's luck. But you didn't care. Couldn't be bothered to deal with any more of the relentless bullying nor your professors' chosen path of nativity to the problem. You needed a break.

Entering the base every inhabiting soul was asleep. Evident by the various snores that you passed as you b-lined to Mikey's chambers.

Surprising the mystic mutant with your unannounced visit as he awoke to your shadowy plump figure climbing into his hammock. To the twenty-five year old's shame due to the fact that he had initially missed the salty streaks that drenched your supple (skin tone) cheeks. Immediately noticing your state once you were laying in his bed. The suspended mat's natural physics pressed you into his colorfully decorated plastron.

" ......Hun? Aww sweet babie what's got my muse spillin' tears for? " Mikey cooed muscular moss green appendages like snakes slithered around your waist. Entrapping you in his tired but, strong embrace. Pressing your soft figure into his firm one. Embarrassment heated your tear drenched cheeks as you returned the squeeze. Shaking your head 'no' as you just laid it against his shoulder.

He understood you just needed a moment.

For a minute outside the occasional sob or gasp for air, no words were spoken between the two. The calmness of the dimly orange lite room and your boyfriend's secure embrace provided the elements to allow you to relax. Tip-toeing on the line of slumber, had it not been for Mikey's quiet humming that at some point filled in the background noise to kept you grounded.

Once he had you calmed down, Michaelangelo tried to approach the subject again. He didn't want to reignite your pain but, the thought of someone/something making you cry like this was unforgivable. Whoever did this was gonna pay dearly for the precious tears that beaded your pained (e/c) gaze.

The last two weeks he suspected something was up. You had been absent from your guys' weekly hangout sessions. Despite the obviously differing schedules you and Mikey typically tried to meet at least four times a week. Even if sometimes the encounter was brief. However lately you haven't been attending. Stating over texts how you needed space to work some things out. That had the orange clad Hamato pulling at his imaginary strands with worry. Head lost in a tizzy as he had pooled over what could've driven you away. At first he feared it was him. Something must've come to light.

Did you find his little makeshift shrine for you?

Perhaps you came across his favorite box of tokens he scrounged up from around your apartment?

Or did you finally capture footage of his unannounced nightly visits?

Maybe one of his brothers found or saw something and told you something they shouldn't have?

The never ending list had the moss green box turtle biting his nails. Waiting at the edge of his seat for anticipated ball to drop.

Although he didn't want to thank Gram Gram for his luck when you came sniffling into his quarters. It hurt the mutant when you cried. He wasn't gonna lie the breath of relief upon your arrival. His muse wasn't trying to leave him. For a moment there the mystic mutant had been worried he was going to have to help you remember how much you needed your devoted follower.

"...(Y/n)?....Sweetie, what's wrong?" Mikey began sitting up a little tugging you along with him as he maneuvered the two of you in a more comfortable position. With your face resting against his shoulder, legs thrown over his lap so you were sitting in it in a lounging manner. The moss green box turtle's hold not once loosening from around your full figure. "....You knooow...my ears are always open to listen." The orange coded ninja turtle hummed. Unmasked the warm grey eyes of Michaelangelo's lovingly bore into your soul. Traveling through glossy (e/c) gateways as they searched within you for answers that you wouldn't speak.

Your bottom lip trembled as a new spout of tears ran down your flushed (skin tone) cheeks at his words. Easily hiding your face in the crook of the mutant's jugular. Taking a moment before answering. " I'm sorry for being a bother... I just had a bad day. " You answered quietly. Not necessarily eager to delve into the issue.

Aww his poor babie. However it wasn't the answer he was looking for. It looks like he's gonna have to go through them again. At least this time he was just looking not altering any of your memories. He needed to know what was wrong. He needed his divinity happy and if she wasn't happy— well Mikey wasn't happy.

Sporting his signature gapped tooth grin Mikey began the process.

First it began with focusing his energy. Preparing to start the spell.. It worked perfectly last time. It should be just as successful again. "Shhhh... It's okay babie..." The mutated Hamato hushed.

"..It's all good... I understand... you just need a little guidance...".

With your face hidden you neglected to notice his illuminated three digit grasp leaving your waist. "...let Dr. Delicate Touch help you~" the box turtle concluded as he pressed his glowing three digit right hand into the left side of your forehead. In an instant a bright shine of light blotched out your vision. Right before everything went black. Knocking you out before you could asset the situation.

To any onlooker what he was doing was wrong. An invasion of your privacy which he shouldn't be prying into. However the box turtle preferred to look at it from a more positive perspective.

He was helping you!

The mystic turtle knew you had a hard time expressing your feelings.

Although you didn't say it Michelangelo knew you had a hard time expressing feelings. A bad habit leftover from surviving your formative years. It's okay though. He'll help you.

To any onlooker would say what the youngest Hamato . What he was doing was wrong, inhumane but, Mikey preferred to look at it from a different less negative perspective. He was helping!

You just needed a little fixing. Then you'll be just like new again.

As he sorted through your most recent short term memories the orange color coded ninja turtle kept in mind he couldn't dabble with them too long. He was on a clock dictated by the amount of stamina he's able to input into a single spell. As of right now? Not too much. Especially if he wants to make quick work of whatever issue stood in between him and (y/n) time. The offense will not be tolerated by whomever the perpetrator.

Shifting through the chains that connected the linear timeline in your mind Michaelangelo found the issue. A group of fraternity brats who didn't have any manners. Bastards thought they had the right to defame his muse? His very own David?(That's a reference to one of the renaissance artist's works).

They had to be dealt with.

Like a candle in the wind the group was snuffed out in a single night.

Upon the arrival of the new day you awoke to find yourself back at home in your dingy apartment with no exact clue of how you got back there.

In the faded ripples of your mind you tried to fill in the blanks of the how's and when's. When did you leave the lair? How did you make it back to your apartment? Especially when the last thing you recalled was sniffling in your boyfriend's arms. You must've fallen asleep and gotten up at some point and just don't remember.

Probably was just too tired to re-call anything.

Getting up from the warm sanctuary of your bed sheets you ambled around the apartment to begin your morning routine. Throwing together a bowl of cereal and a coke before scuttling into the living room. Placing your meager feast down onto the coffee table momentarily as you shuffled through your pockets to find your phone.

A few months ago you lost the remote to your tv and unfortunately as a broke ass college student making minimum wage you didn't have the funds to purchase a new TV remote. Instead like every other millennial you download the app. Cheaper than trying to get a new remote. Quicker too.

Tapping awake your screen delivered a mountain of notifications.

Inside the group chat that you were a part of for your physics class was blowing up. Investigating further just left you in shock. Swiping through the populating messages, you discovered the bullies who had been preying on you and your classmates were missing. Somehow all five of them were gone within a night without a single trace.

With the disappearance not being a full twenty-four hours yet the police wasn't taking the matter seriously. Claiming probably just some fraternity shit. Meanwhile the university's faculty wasted no time on morning the frats possie's passing. Sending their cookie-cutter condolences and offering their typical therapy sessions for anyone close to the victims.

What a waste. Although they were assholes they were young assholes who hadn't yet got the chance to live their lives. Make mistakes and learn from them. How unfortunate.

Backing out of the chat your phone buzzed with a new message from Mikey. The afro mentioned adult box turtle was inquiring about how you were doing today and if you wanted to hangout later? Your mutated boyfriend even going as far as decorating the message in emoji hearts and puppy dog stickers.

As of late you haven't been up for hanging out with the twenty-five year old orange clad Hamato. Mucky feelings and overwhelming thoughts clouded your head. Upon seeing the previously mentioned messages about the vultures in your life being gone you felt oddly relieved about their disappearance. Although revolted with your passive reaction you somehow is still able to keep it down. Every time you thought of Michaelangelo the negative feelings and bad memories would keep fading farther and father away.

It was like all it took was a night's rest (and some brain spring cleaning) and everything was back to normal. With a small smile you replied with "I'm doin' good" and "yes" on his invitation.

Next thing you knew it you were spiraling down a rabbit hole of back to back texting like it was the beginning of your guys relationship.

Back then when your best friend had ghosted you. Mikey had been there for you like this then too. Always so supportive. He really was such a good person.

Aren't you lucky that you have such a good boyfriend like Mikey?

[scaredshadowsswap]

Alright everyone, every SCP researcher/doctor/agent I can think of off the top of my head and what their favorite flowers are based purely on vibes.

I don’t imagine Clef being particularly fond of receiving flowers. However, he’ll sure as hell give them, and I think he’d have a surprising amount of knowledge on flower language. If he had to pick one, he’d like red poppies.

Kondraki likes sunflowers. I feel like they would have sentimental value, and they’re also super tall so it’s the most worthy of the flowers in comparison to him.

Kondraki Jr respects the love of sunflowers, but likes daisies as long as they’re natural colors.

James Talloran likes pumpkin blossoms. An odd choice, but it’s the flower he pays the most attention to when he sees it.

Gears would probably like something that is easy to take care of, considering he’s busy all the time, but also something traditional. My guess: Moss rose.

Bright: Bright is eccentric, orchids. Hard to maintain, and every time he gets one, it dies shortly after, but they’re fancy while they last.

Glass: Glass would probably say it’s lavender because lavender is pretty soothing to people (More uses than just 049!), and honestly that could be correct. Glass is definitely a play-it-safe person, but to be honest, I think he likes white lilies.

Iceberg: Someone so cold just happens to have the personality of a guy who likes daffodils, but he’d be offended if you gave him some. His masculinity seems a tad fragile.

Strelnikov: White Egret (The flower, not the bird). It’s cool, looks like the bird, and more importantly, native to Russia. I don’t know how he’d react to receiving flowers in general, but if you handed him a flower from eastern Russia, I think he’d be impressed.

King: Orange blossoms. Simple, beautiful, and in contrast to apple blossoms which he despises.

Rights: I don’t know a whole lot about Rights, but stargazer lily feels right, so I’m not gonna question it.

Light: Saguaro, but mostly because it’s attached to a cactus. I think Light would definitely have a cactus on her desk.

Diogenes seems like a tulip person. I hesitate to say that because tulips can seem kind of basic, but tulips also seem like a cornerstone flower that anyone can rely on, which is kinda how I feel about Diogenes. I don’t think they’d like crazy flowers.

Trebuchet: Crocus. Again, based off vibes. Trebuchet is no-nonsense, and I feel like this kind of goes along with this? Also, Crocuses are not tall. I think Trebuchet hates tree blossoms or flowers that grow on bushes.

I feel like Crow would appreciate flowers more than most on this list, tbh. I think he’d like snapdragons. Safe for dogs to be around, and the fact that they grow in bunches makes them easy for him to carry.

Feel free to let me know if I missed anyone, I’ll probably do a separate list for SCPs

[staygoldwriting]

Hello there, hope you are feeling good today 💜

So, I did some thinking (surprising) and I decided that Steve is not book smart but people smart. Like, I am sure he is not even aware of how good he is at reading people (Vicky example) or sometimes he just doesn't have enough knowledge on things to read them properly (robin example) but I think that's why he is such a great Babysitter™ - teens are hard to get along with and he does that really well. Anyway I would like to request a fic with Steve where the reader listens to him talking about someone and how he thinks they feel or something like that and she calls him smart and Steve is just, shocked to say the least. Hope it's not too much have a great day or night! (Don't know your time)

Hi!! I am feeling well today, but very tired! I played in the rain for the first time in a while 💕 I hope you're well too, and that this fic makes you happy! As always, I had a blast writing it 🤗 Please show love and support, friends!! ❤️✨

Word count: ~1.5k

Warnings: fluff, meeting the parents trope, romantic Steve x reader

For @maltinonka 😘

🤔 Real Genius

“Okay, so remember that my dad likes football but hates baseball. If my mom offers seconds, always say yes, but take small portions because she’ll keep offering throughout the night, and she thinks it’s rude if you take too much. And also, my brother may or may not be nice, he’s sort of picky like that, and he’s heard a lot about you from the kids at Hawkins High, so just-”

“Y/N,” Steve said, turning to you and holding your hands. “I promise you that everything is going to be just fine. Don’t forget that I am a multi-talented and charismatic being,” he boasted, making you groan.

“Steve, seriously!”

“I understand, baby, and I’ll take this seriously, I swear. But I don’t want you all nervous and stuff,” he said, wiggling your arms around, making you giggle. He kissed your forehead gently, then walked up to your parents’ front door. When Steve knocked, your younger brother, Patrick, opened the door.

“So, meet the parents night,” he said dryly, looking Steve up and down. 

“Hey, man, I’m Steve,” he said, nodding to your brother.

“Patrick. Come in. Don’t forget to take your shoes off.”

“Hello, brother,” you teased, giving him a small hug, which he returned. 

“Y/N, hi, sweetie!” your mom said as she walked into the living room. “And you must be Steve, hello!” she exclaimed, pulling Steve into a hug. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. L/N, you have a lovely home” he smiled, then winked at you. 

“Oh, you are too kind! Y/N, your father is out on the deck finishing up the grilling,” your mom said sweetly, gesturing to the door. You two walked out to see your dad singing loudly to his music as he flipped burgers.

“Hi, Dad,” you said, startling him.

“Oh! Hey there, pumpkin,” he smiled, then looked at Steve. “And who is this strapping young man?”

“I’m Steve Harrington, sir, your daughter’s boyfriend,” he said, offering his hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Harrington,” your dad grinned. “Do you grill?”

“I do every once in a while,” Steve smiled. 

“Good for you! I can’t convince ol’ Patrick to learn. He prefers to listen to music and draw. Not like my tunes though! He listens to that new heavy stuff.”

“I have a friend who listens to that music, he’s a good guy,” Steve encouraged. 

“It’s always given me the heebie jeebies,” your dad shuddered, making Steve chuckle. 

-🤔-

As you all settled on the deck to eat, you all had normal conversation. Steve was right-- everything was flowing pretty smoothly, and your anxiety soon melted away. You did, however, feel bad for Patrick; every single one of your dad’s comments might as well have been “I wish Steve were my son instead of Patrick!” Everything about Steve was what your dad envisioned as the “perfect guy.” Little did your dad know, Patrick was sinking.

“So, Patrick, your dad says you like metal music?” Steve asked suddenly, making Patrick look up in surprise.

“Uh, yeah? I’m guessing you don’t,” Patrick muttered.

“I don’t usually, but my friend Eddie does, and he plays some stuff for me. Like, actually though. He’s in a band. And he’s pretty good, I like the songs his band plays.”

“What do they play?” Patrick asked, his voice and posture perking up.

“Well, Eddie’s favorite is Black Sabbath, but they also play Scorpions, Metallica, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Mötley Crüe, stuff like that.” 

“I like Iron Maiden,” Patrick said.

“I haven’t heard much of their stuff, but I guess my favorite would be ‘Run to the Hills’. What about you?”

“It’s um, ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.”

“Woah, that’s a commitment! I’m sorry, but I had to cut Eddie off on that one,” Steve chuckled. “Have you ever drawn scenes from it?”

“Yeah, actually, I have,” Patrick smiled.

“I didn’t know that, honey,” your mom said quietly but happily.

“I’ve seen them,” you commented. “They’re really good. I’m sure Steve would love to see them, Patrick.”

“Would you?” Patrick asked excitedly.

“You bet I would!” Steve grinned. “I suck at drawing, so it’s nice to see some decent talent once in a while.”

“Hey, I draw you pictures all the time!” you argued, play-hitting Steve’s arm.

“I rest my case,” Steve smirked at Patrick, who was looking as giddy as ever. 

-🤔-

After dinner, Patrick showed Steve all his drawings, and Steve commented on every single one, asking questions and showing lots of interest. Some of the drawings were paired with songs, so you and Steve sat on Patrick’s bed as he played them, giving you both a slideshow with his drawings. Neither of the boy’s smiles faded, and by the end of the evening, Patrick had gained a new, not to mention incredibly unlikely, friend.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. and Mrs. L/N. The food was delicious and the company was wonderful. It’s been a pleasure meeting you both. You too, Patrick,” he said, mussing up Patrick’s hair. 

“It was our pleasure, Steve, you are welcome back anytime,” your mom said, giving you both hugs. “I’m very happy Y/N has chosen you to be her boyfriend.”

“I guess same here,” Patrick smirked. “But only if you take me to a Corroded Coffin gig!”

“It’s 18 and over kiddo, so you’ll have to wait for next month’s show,” you said.

“Dude, it’s gonna be your 18th birthday next month?” Steve exclaimed. “Oh, that’s our plan, you, me, Y/N, we’ll go to Eddie’s gig and then we’ll have pizza and cake after, it’ll be a blast! You’ll love Eddie, right, Y/N?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” you smiled. “Whatya think, Patrick?”

“Are you guys serious? That sounds like the best birthday ever!” Patrick said, giving you a tight hug. He hesitated as he looked at Steve.

“Bring it in,” Steve smirked as he patted Patrick’s back.

“Well, we’re off. I love you guys,” you said, and walked out with Steve.

-🤔-

“I can’t believe you,” you said, kissing Steve as you got in the car.

“I told you, I’m a genius with parents.”

“No, with Patrick! I couldn’t believe how well you two connected.”

“He’s a cool kid,” Steve smiled. “And I could tell by the way he acted at first that he thought I was still some no-good varsity guy, so I had to prove him wrong. And I could tell that he and your dad aren’t the best of friends, but it’s only because, if I may say so, your dad hasn’t taken the time to get to know him. Your dad doesn’t realize that being a guy involves stuff he doesn’t do, which I totally get, when I have kids, I’d love to have a mini me, but if they’re different like Patrick, they should know it's alright. Patrick is a great kid, and I don’t feel like he’s told that often. I mean, did you see how he lit up when I mentioned metal music? He’s not standoffish, he’s just a kid who’s dying to share his interests, but he doesn’t know enough people who are interested in them!”

“You, Steve Harrington, are so, so smart,” you said, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“What?” he chuckled. “I’m not smart at all. You’re the smart one, Miss College.”

“Steve, you met my brother for the first time today, and within two hours, you’ve got him hugging you and sharing his hobbies and passions with you. He shared more with you today than he’s shared with me in his life.”

“Well, sure, he’s an easy guy to read,” Steve shrugged.

“No, he’s not. Baby, you’re incredibly emotionally intelligent. I can’t remember the last time you didn’t understand how I felt or I had to tell you what I needed. You are amazing at reading people!”

“Well, gosh, thanks!” Steve smiled. “I’m really flattered, thank you for saying that,” he said, kissing your hand. 

“Of course, and I’m sorry I haven’t said it before,” you replied. “You’re the best.”

Steve tapped the wheel a bit and smiled to himself. At a stoplight, he turned to you suddenly with an incredulous smile. 

“You really think I’m smart?”

“Brilliant.”

Steve smiled to himself and continued driving. He laughed to himself a couple times, clearly feeling very giddy. 

“You know, you should tell Keith you think I’m smart. I always tell him I deserve a promotion because I can just look at someone and know what movie they’d like. If he heard it from you, he’d believe you.”

“Next time I’m there, I’ll definitely tell him, but don’t waste all your time on dinguses like him,” you smirked.

“Yeah, I’m too smart for him,” Steve said triumphantly. “But you should also tell Henderson. Knock him down a level, let him know he’s not always the smarter one.”

“I will be sure to tell him,” you smiled, then leaned over to kiss Steve’s cheek. “I love you, my genius.”

“I love you too.”

💜

Taglist: @alphashadows @tillkummer @mlle-ayka @fanficfanatic204 @gttrgrrl @klaine-92 @aurumbelis @onlyangel-444 @beep-beep-sherlock @morishitoshi @onceuponathreetwoone @toomanybandstocare @underthebatcape @zeldaknight @fieldofsecretss @prettyinpunk85 @igotbasicdrag @gothicfaires @thatonecurlygirl @luvthatlovestolove @loliakeoghan23 @dearelliewrites @mslunawinchester @efvyqrs @simonsbluee @inkedaztec @dumplinshee @pastel-abyss-x @frozenhuntress67 @hawkins-hs @simpingoverfictionalppl @witheringawayagain @theshinyrock @hollandcomics @pinkgothiccprincess @persephone13 @katsukis1wife @murnsondock @fictionlandslanddreams @elizabeth-or-lily @tooobsessedsstuff @srapalestina @hawkinshottie86 @munsongalblogs @madformunsonsstuff @harrys-tittie @middle--fingering @urmomgov @maybankstarkey

[quietly-by-myself]

The Soldier - Smoke, Salt, and Asbestos

This is a drabble, set a year before the events of the main story. For reference, Sean leads the villages' militia.

Briac is not having a good time here. This is all whump. Enjoy

CW: nonhuman whumpee (changeling), beatings, whipping, burns, "it" as a pronoun, dehumanization of a nonhuman character, multiple whumpees, verbal abuse, whumpee gets someone else hurt, whumpee forced to watch someone else getting whumped, militia setting (as in, a mostly autonomous village's defense force), manipulation, psychological abuse, whumper blames whumpee for another whumpee's pain

===

Sometimes, pain on its own hurt less than pain with care. It seemed contradictory to the creature, at first. Surely, the care would provide some sort of relief from the daily pain of being alive. It deserved that pain. Briac understood that well. However, even if it deserved the pain, it still hurt. 

A new guy had come around the cells recently. Apparently, he was the new soldier Briac had heard so much about. From a different village, Alexander had married into a family in the village it had once called home.

Oh, Briac would never forget the shock of him finding out that their village had a pest living in the walls of its militia station. The horror on his face. The way he’d shouted at Sean and the rest of them.

That same night, once Sean and the rest of his tormentors had their fun for the night, Alexander had come with a bottle of alcohol and bandages. He’d tried to patch Briac up. He’d spoken kind words to it without realizing that it was too broken, that it knew its place too well for those words.

It realized quickly that its pathetic condition had allowed it to manipulate Alexander. It hated itself as he took care of it for the first time in ages.

The next day, Sean was furious.

“Fucking hell! Which one of you fucks bandaged the monster?”

Sean placed a sharp kick to Briac’s side, which earned a whimper from it. 

“It was me.”

Alexander stood up from the stool he’d been sitting on.

Sean grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. “Who fucking gave you permission to bandage it up? I certainly didn’t. Nobody does shit around here without my orders.”

Briac was shaking, watching on in horror, knowing it could do nothing to stop Sean. The world seemed to slow around the argument unfolding in front of him.

“You’re fucking torturing him! You’re fucking monsters. The lot of you.”

Sean growled that familiar, aggressive snarl before he attacked. “You better fucking watch, dumb fucking monster.”

Briac could do nothing but obey as Sean threw Alexander against a wall, knocking him out. The next moment, Sean strung Alexander up. 

Throughout the whole ordeal, Briac had to watch as Alexander came to and had lash after lash driven into his back. Alexander didn’t last very long, even compared to a pathetic creature like it. He was crying and screaming by the seventh lash.

Sean didn’t stop at seven nor at ten. Not at twenty. Not at thirty. It took fifty lashes and a half-dead scream from Alexander for Sean to give up. 

Hands and chest bloodied from the splatter of Alexander’s back, Sean threw aside the whip and marched into Briac’s cell. He ripped the bandages off of it and dug his fingers into one of its wounds.

“See, Briac? This is what you do to people. You couldn’t stop hurting people, even completely immobilized.”

Briac didn’t realize until that moment that it was crying. The world had simply gone too cold for it to feel anything but shock.

“Why are you surprised? You already hurt everyone around you. Of course he’d be next, because he decided to be kind.”

Sean gave a mocking frown. “What? Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“S… sorry,” Briac managed between sobs.

Sean laughed. “Sorry will never fucking cut it.”

The world went dark with a punch to its face.

Yes, pain after comfort always would hurt more.

===

Tags: @hold-him-down, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @thegreatwhodini, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @nicolepascaline, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @myhusbandsasemni, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @batfacedliar-yetagain

[thechaosmuses]

Well I got maybe five hours of sleep- my brother decided to message me and wake me up, going off about a post I shared on Facebook four days ago (I’ll explain and say what the post was under the cut)- so now I’m too pissed to sleep and even if I could those guys are back working at the house next to ours 🙃 I’m definitely in a mood today so if anyone wants angst or my more “moody” muses lemme know-

(I’m not gonna be using anyones actual name, I’ll come up with nicknames or some shit)

Okay so a little quick backstory before I say what the post was; so in 2020 I met this girl through mutual friends at a little “party” said friends were having. It was around this time of year and we all loved Halloween so we made a plan to get together at Megan’s house to carve pumpkins and drink apple cider. Flash forward a bit and I’m the only person who shows up to our little pumpkin carving get together. The two of us hit it off more and shortly after that we start hanging out like basically everyday- I got along great with her daughter and I got on pretty good with her boyfriend and all of her pets so it was great. We had a lot in common and we were both stoners; and that’s how we get to the next part of this story..

So, my brother sells weed- and Megan’s plug that she had was out or out of town or something, I can’t remember now but I basically told her about my brother and she started buying from him instead. Now they also started talking on Snapchat and I know what y’all are thinking, I should’ve known something was up. But here’s the thing y’all- my brother openly talked about how he thought she was attractive- however this girl would constantly put my brother down, say mean shit about him, call him annoying and clingy for snapping her all the time- and I just laughed and shit because my brother and I have a very rocky relationship, and she knew that because I’d talk to her about the shit he does and says to me. She never said anything super bad but just made it seem like she was genuinely annoyed by him-

So flash forward to the summer of 2021, Megan and I are barely talking at this point and my brother is now claiming he hates her, and all kinds of other shit- basically neither of them like each other anymore (even though Megan claimed she never really did) But one day she just kinda stopped talking and inviting me to hangout and I’ve lost so many friends that at this point I’m just unphased by this shit. But still, I tried to talk to her- my parents were planning my little brother and sisters birthday party, and because she has a daughter that likes to play with my sister I figured I’d ask if she wanted to come- but I know my brother has been bitching lately about Megan so I told my Mom when I was in the car with her that if her and her daughter came Bub needed to keep his mouth shut (my mom literally says this to me at every family function as if I’m usually the one who causes drama- plot twist; I’m not) And it's been so long now I can't remember exactly how the conversation went but I do know that she ended up telling me that Megan and my brother had been sleeping together. But that at that point they had stopped, hence the hostility of my brother- Ultimately I did end up inviting her to the party beforehand however she never even opened my message so it is what it is; I removed her on all socials like 3 days later so.. Now I was pissed, and still am honestly. At Megan, at my brother and honestly a little bit at my Mom too because both those women knew how my brother and I's relationship is and something like this has just made me dislike him even more. I also found out from my Mom that they were still sleeping together this year back in like March but they conveniently stopped around the time Megan and her boyfriend got engaged.

So here we are today- I shared a post on Facebook four days ago now that said (it was in all caps though) "I never seen a Pisces cheat 🧐" and so me being me and having the sense of humor I do, I shared it and said "One of my ex best friends literally cheated on her partner with my brother so like 🥴😅” (should’ve said in the post other people too but I didn’t; she fully admitted to sleeping/cheating with another friends brother so looking back I really should’ve seen this coming but I digress) And I think it’s important to note that I no longer have Megan or her now fiancé on my Facebook- and my brother also isn’t listed as my brother though I’m sure everyone knows who he is cause we have the same last name however I don’t give a rats ass 🤷🏻‍♀️ Especially after everything he’s done to me- Also the post got no likes or comments so I’m not totally sure anyone really even saw it.

Anyways, my brother screenshotted the post and messaged me going off about it- trying to compare him and Megan to me and this one guy I messed around with, who granted was friends with him but 1) they weren’t very close (whereas Megan and I were) and 2) he knew about it the entire time so it’s not like we were going behind his back (it’s also a mistake and a part of my life I’d rather not bring up as I was pretty manic at the time; which was partially because of my brother and his friends but I’m not gonna get into that rn) Also I think it’s important to note that I’ve always been the “black sheep” of my family, and I got bullied a lot so making friends for me is super fucking hard. Whereas my brother has a whole long ass list of friends, some he’s closer to and others he’s not. So, I was going back and forth with him for a couple minutes when I just decided to end this torment and take the post down to get him to shut his mouth when he decided to tell me, “Never post nun like that again.” And if anyone knows anything about me, I hate being told what to do; especially if it’s coming from someone two years younger than me that’s my fucking brother, not my boss. So now the post is staying up, and I told him he better not test me cause next time I’ll tag both him and her and we’ll see what happens then🤷🏻‍♀️

If you read this thing entirely; thank you and I’m honestly sorry- I just really needed to rant about this because it’s 11:34 now but it was like 10:40 when he messaged me and woke me up, and I went to bed at like 5am so I’ve had maybe 5 hours of sleep and I won’t be getting anymore today because of his ass and these house workers 🙃

[upwards-descent]

Matcha

"Peppermint hot chocolate for Stacey? Peppermint hot chocolate for Stacey and an extra hot flat white for Shawn."

Peach scanned his eyes around the cafe. Of course he recognized the exact people who had ordered the drinks and of course they weren't moving an inch to claim their beverages. Typical. The flicker of frustration that made his tail puff out subtly was a good piece of evidence as to why he wasn't allowed to work the register. Oh well. He wasn't here for customer service anyways. He was here to make drinks.

"Hey, Peach," Alyssa called over her shoulder, jotting down another order on a cup. "We got an earl grey latte and an iced pumpkin spice latte coming up."

"On it!"

Sometimes Peach worried he'd gotten this job out of pity. He filled a cup most of the way with hot water and dunked in a tea bag. Two metal cups were filled with milk and promptly steamed. The owner knew his mother. Unfortunately, she knew Peach's entire situation. Fatherless from birth, his mother put in assisted living since he was five, a real sob story. When he was young, he and his mom were close. Calliope was a soft spoken woman with a heart of gold and a genius intellect. She was selfless, passionate, and would give the very clothes off her own back to anyone in need. She was also, however, delusional.

"Shit, Alyssa, your handwriting is so bad," Peach bemoaned, realizing he may have just wasted product. "Does this say soy milk or skim milk?"

"Soy milk. Sorry." Alyssa's expression flickered with annoyance.

Rather than apologize, knowing he'd just been an asshole, Peach went quiet, his ears laying flat against his skull. He dumped out the milk and grabbed the correct item from the mini fridge. Calliope was convinced Peach's father was not of Earth. She said he flew down on a space ship and swept her off her feet but had to leave to tend to unfinished business. As if. Peach knew the truth. She'd fucked some junkie and he flaked. Maybe he shot up radioactive waste and that was why he's the only known freakish cat-human hybrid. Maybe his family had latent superhuman DNA but instead of being able to fly or run faster than light, he was prone to fleas and jumped at loud noises. Once the milk was steamed, Peach added pumpkin spice syrup, honey, and cinnamon to the bottom of one cup. When the milk hit the sweeteners, it turned a funny orange color.

Peach tried not to hate his mother. She was sick. He knew she was a wonderful person, he had very fond memories of his childhood, but from adolescence onward was hell. The only person who supported him was himself. At least he could afford nice things now. His studio apartment was cheap since he lived in a rough part of town and he made enough money to fund his hobbies. He was a recluse so nothing was wasted on clubbing or socializing or whatever. Life was... Fine. It hurt sometimes but it was fine.

"Earl grey latte and iced PSL for Terri? Earl grey and pumpkin spice for Terri."

Sliding the drinks across the counter, Peach was relieved that the two previous ones were gone. He wiped down his station and turned to apologize to Alyssa when the front door jangled open.

Peach's jaw dropped.

The most handsome man he'd ever seen in his entire life walked in. He was built like a god and very little was left to the imagination. His thighs were like tree trunks, his arms like canons. While the hair all over his firm chest and soft belly was dark, what swooped off his scalp was a lovely salt and pepper. He had kind eyes and a dazzling smile. For a moment, Peach wondered why he was in cosplay in public on a Tuesday afternoon, only to realize the Adonis before him was a superhero.

Holy shit.

Scrambling over to the register, Peach swore under his breath when he accidentally bumped into Alyssa. She had venom in her eyes.

"I'm so so sorry," Peach hissed under his breath. "You get my share of tips today, please, I just. I NEED to talk to this guy."

Shockingly, Alyssa stepped back a little, still hovering, still cautious, but she shook her head and smiled. Peach grinned excitedly.

"Afternoon!" The man beamed, clasping his hands. "Super cute place you got here! Didn't even know you all existed."

"Welcome! We've been here for five years," Peach punched himself mentally. He reeled himself in and grinned wider. "How can we help you?"

"How's your matcha?" The man tapped his lips as he scoured the menu. "I haven't had a good matcha latte in a while."

Oh my god, this holy specimen was interested in his favorite drink? Peach found himself tripping over his own words and delighted gesticulating.

"Yes! Oh, I love matcha and we have GOOD matcha," Peach leaned far over the counter so he could point at the chalkboard. "If you like it plain, it's good, or we do it with strawberry milk or right now we're doing it with caramel for fall. I also like getting it with salted cold foam."

"All of those sound amazing," He absorbed his options, eyes dragging up and down. "The strawberry one sounded the best, a large, please."

"Hot or iced?" Alyssa piped up. She was a much better cashier.

"Iced, please. Thank you."

She typed in the order and he slipped a wad of bills into their cutesy piggy bank tip jar. Peach didn't even wait for Alyssa to write the order on a cup. He plucked one up and started working. As he steamed half the milk to help the matcha dissolve better, the man took in the rest of the cafe. Cuppa Charm was pretty damn cutesy, everything in soft colors and decorated like a children's bedroom. They offered oversized plushies to serve as drinking companions for solitary diners. You could lose your ass in the armchairs, they were so soft. It was Peach's paradise, really, and perfectly matched his aesthetic.

"Been working here for long?"

Peach put in considerable effort to tear his focus away from his task to address the man. He despised small talk, especially while he was working, but this man absolutely deserved his attention.

"Since we opened," He replied primly. "Since I was about 22."

"You get a lot of regulars?"

"Oh, I'm sure, I never really pay attention," The steamer hissed and Peach retrieved the milk. "I'm kinda more... Head down and work."

"I respect that," He smiled and Peach's heart fluttered. "Well if this is as delicious as you say, I may have to come back for more."

His cheeks were burning and he wondered if his pupils were as round and big as he expected. Based on the guy's little chuckle, they probably were. Spooning strawberry preserves into the cup, along with the matcha powder, Peach topped the drink off with more milk, popped on a lid, and gave it a vigorous swirl. Setting it down on the counter, he watched the man's reaction.

"Here's your drink, uhm."

"Silas," He smiled. He had dimples under his beard. Wow. "Nice to meet you, Peach."

"How did you--"

He glanced down. Right. Name tag.

"Cute name," Silas took a sip. Even with the lid, some greenish foam clung to his moustache. "I'll be coming back for sure, this is absolutely delish. You have a good one, yeah?"

He winked and Peach squeaked, watching him swagger right out the door. Alyssa watched the whole ordeal without hiding any surprise, her brows raised high and her smile splitting her face from ear to ear.

"I have... NEVER seen you crush on someone before," She gawked, giggling. "Is he your type?"

"How is he not everyone's type?!" Peach threw his arms out wide. "Wow! I don't think I've ever seen a more handsome man in my LIFE."

"Well lucky you he liked the drink," Alyssa snorted. "And lucky him you work full-time."

Peach leaned his hip against the counter, wiping down the same inch with a rag for a few minutes. He couldn't stop staring at the door, quietly hoping Silas would come right back.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

ok so here's why throwing Fae Lore into spn makes a revival/continuation possible

Here's the setup:

-"Blurrywife" is a Faerie, specifically a malevolent/vampiric one, definitely a Succubus type. The mimes are her human thralls, hence why they don't act like normal vampires.

-Baby, yes the car, is ALSO a Faerie, specifically a kind of shapeshifter called a Pooka. John captured her in the early 80s, and, being John Winchester, never told his kids about this.

-Chuck Won. duh???

-Jack is, and was always destined to be, the next Jack O' The Lantern, and after Chuck threw his flaming corpse out Heaven, he's been ruling his own spoopy little candy-coated afterlife. pumpkin boi

Here's the timeline:

-Blurrywife & Mime Crew are kidnapping kids, likely for The Fae's 7-year tithe of souls to Hell (a thing that exists in the lore), when the Winchesters show up. Sam & Dean, as usual, have NO idea how to identify or fight Fae, and get their asses handed to them, with Dean falling to some weird Gaelic cold-iron magic fuckery (points to Blurrywife & crew for figuring out how to fight with iron despite being unable to touch it. 10/10 fuck these guys tho fr)

-Sam, alone and grieving, is an easy target and she picks him off before he even gets to the car, taking (something close to) Eileen's form and trapping him in a dreamscape, similar to how Djinn attack in spn.

-Sam, Dean AND Baby (there's def some Fae Drama going on there, yikes) have been stuck the Fae Realms for THREE YEARS as of Nov 2023.

-Dean and Baby escaped at some point, staying with Jack for a bit before running off to the 1970s like a dumbass and getting EVERYONE, including Jack and Bobby (why is Bobby even here??? HOW DID BOBBY'S GHOST GET STUCK IN THE FAE REALMS WHAT DID HE *DO*) recaptured.

-Sam has had it much worse, being drained to a white-haired husk of his former self and left for dead within a few days/months. DJ is half-faerie, raised in the fae realms, and could be 3 years old or 50, who knows. I don't like thinking abt how he happened.

-Here's the setup for the continuation:

Dean (fairly intact besides the cursed stab wound in his back) escapes with Sam (nearly dead, white-haired, displaying more or less the typical signs of someone who was taken & drained of life by The Fae) and stumbles into Charlie's safehouse. the Fae Arc can continue from this point, w Baby's true nature being revealed, Blurrywife as a major antagonist/BBEG, DJ going from possible threat -> clearly a well-meaning and very brave kid -> newest Winchester family member who Sam fully accepts as his son (plus s4-cas-esque moments as DJ tries to adapt to living on Earth. DJ ilysm but most cars aren't sentient and you can't bring your longbow to community college)

also Cas is still in The Empty, and Jack & Bobby are still captured, so that's some major plot points right there

Destiel is canon.

...anyway, this is all still pretty convoluted, but it allows for:

-15x20 to have been "not real" without being retconned

-DJ to exist without either setting the continuation ~30 yrs in the future (how would that work), or repeating spnwin's time-travel-kid-ex-machina (that's just not good writing I'm sry)

-spn finally doing something w The Fae (& related lore) besides one-off eps

-human!impala as main character

-explanations of weird shit in the finale (rebar, vamp-mimes, etc)

-collective fandom catharsis at Blurrywife's bitch ass

-the full horror potential of a faceless woman in a long dress standing ominously in the corner while time blurs forward around you and you age to death in five minutes

-some VERY fun metacommentary & crossover easter eggs if you use certain bits of Fae lore

-still works w my other big finale theory/revival idea/if-they-dont-do-this-i-will-be-so-pissed, which is the whole Deanmon 2.0 thing. but that's a post unto itself.

(also yes. making Blurrywife a djinn IS simpler and requires 0 new lore and makes perfect sense in canon. however, I hate how djinn are portrayed in spn. it feels vaguely racist and makes me uncomfy to write/read. so um that's why I didn't do that)

[nanalikessurveys]

Do you have the same unpopular opinions as me? by joybucket

Put an X by the statements you agree with, or write True or False, or Yes or No, or Agree or Disagree….however you want to do it. Have fun! Pickles are disgusting! Agree, I’ve always hated pickles.

Pink is one of the best colors. I like all the colors and I don’t know what would be the “best color”. Pink looks good on everyone, even guys. Disagree, pink doesn’t fit me at all and I’m sure I’m not the only person in the world. Pink usually doesn’t fit people (like me) who have naturally pink-ish skin tone. Twinkies do not taste that good! I haven’t had those. Books are way better than movies! I prefer to watch movies because I can’t concentrate that well when I’m reading. For me movies are easier to consume because of that reason.

Ash blue is an ugly color. Disagree, I like it.

Pineapple is the best pizza topping! Disagree, I don’t like sweet things on my pizza. Skunks don’t actually smell that bad. I haven’t experienced skunk smell. White is the best color for Christmas trees. Disagree. I prefer real trees, so green. Sports are boring. Disagree. Obviously there’s sports that I find boring but there’s some that I really enjoy. Blue isn’t the best color. Like I said, I don’t have favorite/best colors. Only certain shades of blue look good. Disagree. Many shades of blue look good. Modern cars look ugly. Disagree. I find older cars “uglier” than newer ones. Coffee is disgusting! Disagree. I used to think coffee was disgusting but not anymore. I feel like coffee is something you need to drink several times before actually liking it. Black doesn’t look good on everyone. If we’re talking about clothes than I’d say it fits everyone. But I would look insane with black hair for example. Green beans are disgusting. Disagree, I like them. Peas aren’t that good. Disagree, I loooove peas. Olives are disgusting. Agree. Strawberries are the best ice cream sundae topping. Disagree. I like them but they’re not the best. The best would be like caramel sauce and chocolate chips or something like that. Skinny jeans are super uncomfortable! Skinny jeans are the only type of jeans I’d wear. They are uncomfortable only when I’ve just eaten a full meal or they’re super low rise. Crop tops don’t look good. Disagree. I love crop tops. I feel like almost everyone can pull them off. Curly hair looks better than straight. I like both, I don’t know which one I like better. For me personally curly/wavy fits me better. Red and light golden brown are the best hair colors.   I don’t know what’s the “best” color would be, it depends on the person. But again, for my hair red and light brown wouldn’t be the best colors.

Not everyone looks good with blonde hair. Agree. Facial piercings don’t look good. It does on some people. Teal should be called “teal,” not “blue.” I mean yeah? It’s the name of the color. Dark chocolate is gross. Disagree. I like it. It doesn’t make you feel sick like milk and white chocolate do. Roller coasters with big drops and only a lap bar are the best. Disagree. Roller coaster for little scaredy-cats like me are the best lol. Nothing is sexy. Disagree. I find many people/things sexy. Some dogs are cute, and some are ugly. Agree. But like 99.99% of dogs are cute. Cupcakes aren’t that good. Kind of agree. They’re pretty boring. Dark pop is disgusting! I don’t know what that is. Pink is the best color for a car. Disagree. I would want my car to be either silver or black. Purple is the best color for bridesmaid dresses. I don’t really have an opinion on this. Plastic surgery usually makes people look worse. Disagree. Sometimes it does but not usually from what I’ve seen. Twilight wasn’t that good. They were pretty meh. Mexican food isn’t that good. Disagree, I like it. Egg rolls are just ok. I’ve never had these. Kale is the best vegetable. Disagree. It’s one of my least favorites actually. Some of my fave veggies are sweet potatoes, peas and red peppers. Pumpkin spice tastes good all year round! I’ve actually never tried anything pumpkin flavored. Some major youtubers are annoying. Agree. Raspberry hot chocolate is the best type of hot chocolate. I’ve never had it. The best topping for hot dogs is cheese. It’s one of them. Chocolate ice cream is gross. Agree. Well, not gross but I dont’ like it at all. Gold is better than silver. Disagree, I prefer silver. Teal is the best color.

Disagree. Some models are unattractive. Some are not but I’ve never seen an ugly model. I don’t like rating anyone “ugly” anyways.

[moralina]

Season of the Witch | JJ Maybank x reader

Prompts: “It’s Halloween; everyone’s entitled to one good scare.” and “Shh, I’m Googling sex spells.”

It's for @ijustreallylovethem 's Halloween writing challenge!

*english is not my first language

A/n: I loved writing for this challenge! I hope i did an okay job lol

Warnings: swearing and a quick mention of blood and bones, it also stopped making sense halfway through lol

Wc: 1.9k

You weren't supposed to be here.

Last night Kiara invited you to the Halloween party some people from the cut were throwing, it was going to be at an abandoned house and according to Kiara, everyone was going. You told her you couldn't because you had a history test that week and your parents wouldn't let you out.

You were lying. You just didn't want to come. Usually, you enjoyed parties, even if it was just to sit there and watch everyone have fun, having the pogues to talk was enough. But lately, you've been exhausted. You had to search for a job to help your parents at home, and you haven't had a good night of sleep since.

Not to mention you weren't the biggest Halloween fan. You enjoyed the candies and decorated houses. However, horror movies were not your thing, neither were the pranks JJ liked to pull on you during halloween week.

When you said you weren't coming, Kiara went in search of your weakness. JJ. He could ask you anything and you'd happily oblige. It was that annoying smile on his face that you loved so much. How could you say no to that?

Now, here you were. Freezing because you thought your pumpkin sweater would be enough - apparently, it wasn't - and almost sleeping on the old - and dusty - couch.

"Y/n Y/n Y/n!" JJ came running your way "you need to see this!" he grabbed your hand, attempting to pull you from the couch. you didn't move "come on!" he exclaimed, jumping in front of you.

"what is it I need to see?"

"if you get your lazy ass up I'll show you." You rolled your eyes but stood up to follow him.

Maybe it'd bring some fun to this tedious night.

You both made your way through the crowd. Everyone was wearing some type of costume, even if it was just a simple devil's horn, but you were impressed with the people who went all out and came with complete costumes.

Moments ago a guy with a bee costume tried to hit on you. It worked as good entertainment for a few minutes.

JJ on the other hand wasn't wearing a costume, I mean, he said he came as John B, but it didn't count, he only threw one of jb's shirts on.

You weren't wearing a costume either.

"where are we going JJ?" you whined

"wait..." you passed through some people hooking up on a very very old table, you scrunched up your face, but kept walking "here"

He stopped in front of a door. It was painted red and brought a bad feeling, making chills run up your spine.

"what's in there?" you quietly asked

"the basement" he made an oooh sound and you eyed him questionably.

"I'm not going in there"

"yes, you are"

"no, no I'm not" you hated basements, and on a Halloween night? even more. you've watched - because JJ made you - too many horror movies to know that that's how you die.

Once, as a kid, you got trapped in your aunt's basement. It was a hot summer day and your cousins decided to play hide and seek. You were the youngest and they rarely invited you to play so when they asked you immediately said yes.

You ended up locked in the dark basement for three hours until an adult got home.

Now, when you think back to that day, you can't believe how innocent you were.

"C'mon, y/n/n!" he whined while grabbing your left arm and shaking it. You stood still "you're no fun, you know that?"

"yep" you popped the p.

JJ did his famous puppy dog eyes.

"Jesus" you rolled your eyes "why do you want me to go down there huh?"

"I already told you."

"No, you did not."

"Just- come with me and you'll see."

"Is this some kind of prank?" You eye him suspiciously.

"No, babe, I swear to god!" He tugged on your arm "c'mon!"

"Okay okay" a satisfied smile on his face.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." He smirked.

"You better." You replied, patting his left shoulder, waiting patiently as he slowly opened the door. "What're you doing?"

"Suspense" he whispered moving his free hand randomly in the air, fully opening the door.

Going down the stairs was a nightmare for you. Were you really becoming one of the stupid characters that go towards the danger?

"Tadah" JJ said after turning the light on, his arms opened and a smile on his face.

"What am I supposed to see here?" You questioned, looking around.

"How blind are you?" He said before holding both sides of your face in his hands and turning your head towards the far corner of the room.

Your eyes wined before you spoke, "what the hell is that?"

"Probably a..." he paused "satanic ritual happened here" he whispered in your ear, making you roll your eyes again, although deep inside your soul was shaking in fear.

"Ha. Ha. Super funny, J." you scrunched up your nose "I know you put that in there"

"No, I did not" he feigned offense.

"So who did it?"

He took a second to think "a witch!" He exclaimed.

You weren't going to say it out loud but it freaked you out.

You cautiously eyed the weird stuff on the ground. Some bones, probably fake - at least you hope so - a creepy doll with buttons on its eyes - he most definitely got that idea from Coraline, the movie you watched together and was enough to make you unable to sleep alone for a whole week.

It was so obvious just JJ trying to scare you, only the rational part of your brain wasn't working properly.

Inside your head, your brain was screaming for you to run.

You're not the bravest person. A shadow is enough to scare you. And JJ knew that, that's why you won't tell him you're scared. That's probably what he wants. His Halloween prank wouldn't work.

Not this time.

Suddenly, the lights went off and the door shut closed, causing you to let out the loudest scream of your life.

"JJ! JJ this is not funny!" you closed your eyes and didn't dare move an inch, scared you might trip into a monster.

Of course, it wouldn't happen, still, it's not like you can think clearly right now. Your thoughts were running wild and you felt like crying, there was enough stress in your life already.

You should've stayed home.

"Boo!" and you screamed again, jumping and then tripping on your feet, stumbling back and going straight to the floor.

And then, you heard JJ laughing.

"you're an asshole!" you heard him walk somewhere, a couple of seconds of silence, apart from JJ trying to hold his laugh, and finally, the lights were on again.

"Oh c'mon! It's Halloween, everyone is entitled to one good scare," he smirked.

You were still on the floor, giving him a death glare "by the end of tonight you'll be girlfriendless."

"what?! But I didn't do anything wrong!" he moved his hand to his chest feigning innocence.

Your face contorted into one of annoyance but, it soon went away. feigning nonchalance, you stood up, turning your back to JJ and going towards the stairs, far away from your boyfriend and the weird witch stuff.

"Watch your back, Maybank." You said in the most threatening way possible. JJ only scoffed, a smirk still evident on his lips.

You made your way up the stairs, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible, however, it didn't happen.

The door was locked.

"Open the door." You demanded

"I don't have the keys"

"You what?"

"I. Don't. Have-"

"Okay okay, I get it" you sighed "tell JB or Pope or whoever you got into this stupid prank to open the door" he only shrugged his shoulders. On any other day, you and JJ would be all over each other, unfortunately, your mood wasn't the best right now, so it wouldn't happen.

"Don't know what you're talking about." You huffed, annoyed at your boyfriend. He knew you weren't in the Halloween spirit, and he still went on with this.

You turned around, back facing the door, both your hands in your hips and you eyed JJ deep in his soul.

A staring contest.

You were the best at it. You and JJ had a rule, the moment one of you disagreed on something or got into a stupid argument and were tired of arguing you'd start a staring contest. Obviously, you only did it in not serious situations.

It was almost two minutes and your eyes were burning, this time you were going to lose, and JJ noticed how you were struggling to keep your eyes open, smirking with satisfaction.

You looked down at his lips and blinked

"AHA you lost!" JJ screamed in victory, his smile super big on his face. You also grinned, not being able to hold your annoyed face for too long. JJ was just too good at making you smile, his smile being enough to change your whole mood. You rolled your eyes at it, still smiling.

Fuck this boy and his cute smile.

"I love you sweets but, you lost." His hands in the air "and I won." A silence set itself around the room "Maybe we could...?" he gazed at the couch.

"Nope" you answered, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"Please?!" He pouted

"No" you shook your head

"Why not?" He whined

"Keep talking and I'll cut your tong off"

"You won't, you love my tong too much." he winked and you tried to hold your laugh back to no avail.

"Shut up." you waved him off, still unable to hide the obvious grin.

After a while in silence - you still on the stairs and JJ lying on the couch - you see JJ pull something out of his pocket.

Taking a better glance at it, you realized it was his phone.

"What?" JJ jumped at your loud voice "you had your phone the whole time?!"

"Yeah"

You angrily stood up and went towards him, trying to snatch the phone from his hands, he quickly turned around, keeping his phone between him and the couch.

You began to scratch and pull his arm, but he wasn't faltering.

"JJ," you said lowly "JJ JJ JJ JJ JJ-" he only hummed. "JJ, please! Call someone."

"Can't," he shook his head "there's no signal here." His face still on his phone and his body covering what he was doing. "Weird right?"

"Lie!" You exclaimed, "I saw you using google." You pointed at his phone, he rolled his eyes "what were you doing?"

“I was Googling sex spells.” you gave him a straight face "What? Want to make something out of this so unexpected situation," he said, smirking.

"J, call someone."

"You're no fun"

"yeah yeah, you already said that" you smiled softly "now will you please call someone, baby?" You attempted once again, doing the sweetest voice you could.

"I'm not sure..."

"Then I won't give you the surprise I had planned for tonight... after the party"

"Kie!" He yelled, running towards the stairs "You can open the door now."

Before you could get to the door he put himself in your way. His lips on a pout and asked

"Forgive with a kiss?"

"I'll think about that, Maybank." You patted his shoulder, finally making your way out of the basement.

A/n: I love JJ, and like I have good ideas for him, I just don't know how to execute them well lol anyways, hope it was worth the read :) if you enjoyed please consider leaving a like and reblogging 💙

[franki-lew-yo]

The Romantic (2009, R, Gothic Fantasy/Horror), aka the most forgotten animated film in the world

What if I told you there was a movie under serious threat of becoming lost media with no clear reason as to WHY it's been lost other than no one has apparently watched it besides me and a few people on Reddit? What if I told you that movie wasn't half bad and would no doubt have some interest peeked if anyone DID know about it?

The name of that movie is The Romantic.

It was released in 2009 and it's Rated R for nudity and sex scenes [insert Robbie Rotten meme here], though none of it too graphic. It was a pet project created by animator Michael P. Heneghan, originally starting as a flash project for his animation class before he expanded it into a feature film. The film was inspired by movies such as The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, but what I see every time I look at it is a touch of Jhonen Vasquez, Tim Burton, and Roman Dirge- the guy behind Lenore the Cute Little Dead Girl. It's flash animation especially remind me of the puppet-rigged toons of the 2000s (again like Salad Fingers or Lenore). It's not bad, it's just not inherently 'feature film' quality flash, nor is it exceptionally artistic like Sita Sings the Blues in it's simplicity. Like, really, if you happen to find this thing it's not the worst animated project at all it's just amateur for a professional production. I've seen worse flash movies. Heck, if The Romantic were released in separate parts on youtube or Newgrounds as a series (ala Homestuck) I'm sure it would have been really successful and totally in it's element. But it wasn't.

Because next to no one has seen it and I'm lucky to have not only ever seen it when it was available for free but have also found it recently (hush hush, I ain't telling you how) I'm going to actually give you all a plot synopsis under the cut. There will be some details I leave out and I think I've spelled some characters names wrong. It's a bit of a surrealist film as well, so you might need some things explained.

Spoilers ahead:

The Romantic is set in an autumnal, surrealist world inhabited by humans and monsters and ruled by three gods; Po the goddess of love; Pik the god of Hate; and Pjorrc the god of time though Pjorrc was made to live inside a pumpkin moon as everything he touched rabidly aged and died.

((Tapestry art featuring the main three gods of the film.))

A young man (called “Romance” or “The Romantic” by the other characters) performs a bull sacrifice in order to summon Abbledepopa, the unseen creator of the other gods and ‘storyteller’ of the world. The sacrifice does not conjure Abbledepopa but, when Romance spares a monster that was ready to eat him, the monster tells him of a profit named Patience. Patience is a foul-mouthed dwarf living alone with an army of babies who points Romance in the direction of Po.

((Romance outside of Patience's house.))

Romance wants the god’s help because he has fallen out of love with his girlfriend. Po grants him his desire and restores his love only for Romance to return home and find his girlfriend with another man. Blinded by heartache and rage, Romance kills her. He then swears vengeance on the gods for ‘making’ him do it. In the midst of this vow, a corrupt prophet called Fat Daddy kills the queen of Vauxhaul (Romance's home) and her guards, and forges a new body for his newborn son with their bodies. Fat Daddy rallies the townsfolk behind him in supposedly finding the Queen’s murder into follow a new religion called "The Poetic End".

((Romance (right) besides the monster he spared at the beginning of the movie.))

Patience accompanies Romance on his quest and tells him to take Po’s mask, which hides her true face, once he kills her. Romance buys Po’s trust by weaving her a tapestry that tells her story: in the dawn of time Po and Pjorrc were in love. However, Pjorrc gradually became distant and Po became resentful when their daughter, Love, earned Po's original title as the god of romance and love.

In the present day, Romance sleeps with Po for over a year before finally killing her and taking her mask. He and Patience return to his home of Vauxhul only to be chased out by Fat Daddy’s personal army. They flee to Marshallton, the town nearest to the god Pik.

((Romance's hometown of Vauxhul. ))

The king of Marshallton, King Crookie, tells Romance of a prophecy he, Patience, Fat Daddy and all the gods are a part of and that the world is soon to change. Romance then fights and successfully kills Pik when he shows the god of hate his reflection in a mirror King Crookie gave him, but not before losing his hand to Pik.

When Romance comes down the mountain he learns from Patience that nine years have passed since his fight with Pik began. Patience reveals to Romance what Pik saw in the mirror that allowed Romance to take the killing blow; after Love had grown up and married, Po asked Pik to tell her where her husband was always running off to. Pik reluctantly revealed Pjorrc was disguising himself as a human and married a mortal woman. Po found Pjorrc and his pregnant second wife, forcing Pjorrc to leave his human family behind, but not before asking his wife to name their son “Patience”. In retaliation for his treachery, Po proceeded to sleep with fifty men and produce the fifty bastard children in Patience’s house.

((Fat Daddy, the main villain.))

Marshallton and the entire rest of the world has fallen to the rule of Fat Daddy, who captures Romance and Patience. Fat Daddy tortures Patience into telling him how to get to Pjorrc but is unable to convince Romance to take part in his ‘new world’ or give him Po’s mask. Romance and Patience escape and leave the village to be torn apart by the fifty babies Po had, now transformed into veracious monsters after Patience didn’t feed them for the past ten years. Romance confronts Patience when he realizes the latter is Pjorrc’s son. Patience calls Romance out on his mantra of vengeance and points out that all his decisions are his own, not the gods, and instructs him to seek Love herself in Po’s basement. Patience then attempts to confront Pjorrc but is cornered and killed by Fat Daddy before he can do so.

In Po’s basement, Romance finds Love nailed to a wall, her face torn off and half eaten by her deformed husband. Love tells Romance that Po ripped off her daughter’s face in rage over Pjorrc’s infidelity and Pjorrc did not intervene fast enough. Po then threw Love into her basement, turned Love’s husband into a monster, and wore her daughter’s face as a mask - which Romance had broken into pieces moments ago after Patience had shown him his face in King Crookie’s mirror. Romance then finds Pjorrc hanging himself. As he dies, Pjorrc tells Romance to take the hand Fat Daddy had cut off and sew it onto himself, which will in turn help Romance defeat Abbledepopa.

Romance traverses the wasteland and does not find Abbledepopa, but instead a golden loom. Having seen all the destruction he and others had caused, Romance sits upon the loom and accepts his fate as the new ‘storyteller’ of the world, as he begins weaving a new one...

---

I mentioned before the animation quality of the film and why maybe that caused people to overlook it. The only other thing I could complain about on a technical level with The Romantic is it's sound design. Some of the voices and music is a little too quiet and so all these key details I had to go through the film a few times to really piece together. But that leads me to the thing I like about this movie and I'm sure others would to: the lore.

It's very hard to create a new fantasy world w it's own customs, religions, history and rules out of the blue as any YA Harry Potter/Hunger Games ripoff book could tell you. The Romantic is so unique in how it handles the pantheon and culture of these three gods and their kin; really only four or five characters throughout the entire story aren't connected to the gods or prophecy in some way, as there's the main three gods, Abbeldepappa, and the prophets Patience, Love and Fat Daddy, who make up your main cast besides Romance. There's a lot that's intentionally left unexplained and other info that must be explained, like Pjorrc and Po's marriage and Romance's feelings towards the gods, if we want to understand the former. The movie is paced pretty well and knows when to follow up on what, it's just that again some of those animation and editting shortcomings might make it hard to understand...but I don't think THAT hard. Look, if someone can enjoy Starchaser: The Legend of Orin or even better surrealist world-building films ((Fantastic Planet comes to mind)), then I say there's no reason The Romantic wouldn't have a following. There's no other way I can articulate why and what doesn't work about the story except just to recommend you watch it yourselves, but before I get into that I want to talk themes...because I love the themes and tone of The Romantic.

I revisited The Romantic a week before I made myself watch Centaurworld and The Owl House for the first time...and what a week that was~! The Romantic has the vibe of those kinds of shows along with Adventure Time and Infinity Train ((so I hear, I haven't watched the latter)). It's surreal and you'll only marvel at 'woooah wut an acid trip' for so long before you get into the vibe of the universe. It also reminded me substantially of the Broadway musical Hadestown and not just because this movie is also a self-contained, somewhat self aware fable about the relationships between humans and gods - it's very raw in how the characters talk. It's very emotional and blunt in how kind and how cruel they can be, and it doesn't make excuses or really worships any one of them. Romance himself is the world's most likable Incel: he murders a woman he thought he needed to love and blames his emotions on the gods of those passions...except the gods AREN'T the manifestations of love, time, and hate - they simply dictate and oversee it in the lives of men. It's a dynamic I really like in religious works where Gods are powerful but not all knowing or puppet masters to everyone's design- they have morality too and there is only so much you can blame and get from them.

"You made your gods into excuses and your excuses into gods!"

-Patience. This here is a cool quote. I like this quote.

No matter what, The Romantic is not gonna be a film for everyone. We all have our tastes - I think I'm drawn to it and accepting because I've come to love these kind of worlds that used to keep me up at night - these trippy 70s inspired fantasy landscapes given a whole Avatar: The Last Airbender degree of worldbuilding and character worth. It also doesn't feel exploitive in it's violence, it's sexuality, it's grimmness - it doesn't feel like it's trying to hard or going over the top because it happens to be an adult animated film, something that I love in movies like 9 or Hair High but really turns me off in stuff like Sausage Party or Wizards. Whatever go watch The Romantic...

if you can.

-----

When I first saw this film in 2016 it was actually very accessible and was even uploaded to youtube by the creator himself. I don't know WHAT happened to Michael P. Heneghan, but simply put, the man's disappeared...like...REALLY disappeared.

Lookit his IMDB. He has The Romantic and a wapping two other projects to his name. His Twitter isn't very helpful either. He last updated in early 2020 and he says next to nothing about The Romantic. It's so odd that he would one day be happy with the film enough to host it on Vimeo and Youtube but then just cop out.

According to a Reddit user: "On Valentines Day 2011, Heneghan released the film for free online through all kinds of platforms including direct download, bittorrent, Vimeo, and even directly through Archive.org. He even joked about releasing a 300 gig uncompressed version.

I know I watched it on Vimeo probably as recently as 2016. Now I can't find it anywhere. The website is dead, the Vimeo video went private, even the archive.org version has been taken down. It really looks like he wanted to wipe it off the face of the internet. His newer website mentions it, but again, the Vimeo link is dead and even that website is closed for business."

It's weeeird. What happened Michael?

And yes, obviously, other people worked on the movie.

No - I can't find out anything about them either.

I'm betting on three theories at the moment: 1) this film is an SCP or some Candle Cove weirdness with only me and a handful of people ANYWHERE remembering it, 2) something weird is going on w Michael Heneghan and it involves too something about this film. It was a scam or a scheme or a hidden agenda weirdness, 3) Heneghan's doing okay he just doesn't like this film anymore and wants it hidden while he takes a break.

Look, I get it Michael! What was once our life's worth can become cringe as you improve as an artist - you're not the person making the stuff you were ten years ago...but you should still have the film kept alive somehow. Someway.

I'm seriously the only person to have ever made fan art of this movie on the internet. That just doesn't happen, and I don't think I like being in a fandom of one. The Romantic is a testament to the power of design and storytelling > animation quality itself. Too often I see people equate good animation with smooth animation, with a budget with squash and stretch. These animations are good but art is diverse and there's so many kinds of films out there, the value of the medium can't just be in one style/form. There's a lot of honestly wonderful pieces of art out there if you know where to look and you're willing to see where it leads you.

Don't let The Romantic be the most forgotten movie of all time. Reblog this post. Show it to your friends. PM the animation community reviewer people like Saberspark and someone who isn't Saberspark and smuggle them a copy.

Keep telling the story...

[spacedikut]

spooky scary skeletons ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: spencer has the prettiest face you’ve ever painted on. 1626 words

a/n: a poorly edited, poorly written and late halloween thing! inspired by idmakeitbehave (go read everything theyve ever written ever) because they have the BEST meet cutes and every time i think of them i :-)

masterlist

The haunted mansion of the fair, overflowing with screams, the sound of chainsaws and the evil cackle your friend has been rehearsing in the mirror all month, stands tall behind you like the looming presence it is. It’s brought great entertainment for you, watching and hearing the reactions of those that dare enter.

You’re set up not far from the exit of the house with your array of face paint around you, paintbrush in hand. Most of your customers are children – this year’s most popular request is pumpkin, last year was skeleton – and as much as you love spookiness and gore and everything in between, the rush of pride you feel when a little girl gasps and thanks you with the sweetest voice when you show her your finished work is unmatched.

You’re not the least surprised that your clientele is mainly children. There’s the odd parent here and there that is persuaded to get a black cat on their cheek, or some fake blood coming from their eyes and mouths, but they never venture beyond the small request.

Until him.

He’s marched up to you by his friend who, wearing a dress covered in fake spiders and cobwebs, pushes him by the shoulders right up to the foldable chair that’s placed opposite you. You’re drying off a wet paintbrush, glancing up when you hear the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

“My friend would like his face painted.” She tells you.

“Of course,” You gesture for him to take the seat in front of you, the compliment slipping out after giving them both a once-over. “I like your outfits.”

“Oh!” The girl grins. “Thank you. I’ve been waiting all year to wear it. And he,” She points to the still-silent customer who hasn’t taken his eyes off you once, “Is more obsessed with Halloween than anyone I know.”

Looking at the bright orange pumpkin-covered sweater he’s wearing, you’re overcome by the urge to touch it – and his hair, with the way it’s all squiggles and curls and seems so soft. “What can I do for you?”

The first time he speaks, it’s after he takes a deep breath and rubs his palms on his trousers. “A skeleton, please.”

You’re already arranging the colours you’ll need, missing how the girl slips away, too busy asking the usual questions, “How big?”

“My entire face.”

That’s a new one. For an adult, at least. Usually all they want is an easy to clean, easy to hide image on their cheek.

It’s only then you really take in his appearance. In the dark, dusty light of the fair, he looks like a real life Tim Burton character – shallow eyes, sharp cheekbones, a general gauntness that you’ve only seen in fiction. He’s the perfect skeleton, if that isn’t weird to think.

“All over?” Your hand moves to gesture over your face, as if miming to him what all over really means.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I’m not that good of an artist, and my mask makes it kind of hard to see. So a skeleton is spooky enough but not a lot of work, right?”

“Right.” You smile at him. “Right, okay, let’s do it.”

The second the cold bristles dip into the paint before you, you’re absorbed in ensuring you do a good job. You’re used to working on children, so you naturally take hold of his chin to move his face this way and that way to apply a firm coat and get your lines right.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” He mumbles.

You huff a laugh. He feels your breath on his lips. “Hi, Spencer, I’m Y/N.”

The customer – Spencer – wiggles his lips in a way that tells you he’s holding back a smile. You’re not sure what it is about him, but you like him. You like how still he sits, patiently letting you do your work, you like how much he seems to like Halloween (you refer to the sweater and the fact he’s about to cover his entire face in paint to look like a skeleton), and you like how his eyes on you make you feel. Because it doesn’t feel gross, or weird, like it normally does; it’s like his gaze is complimenting you silently, the intensity of it making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Small-talk comes naturally after hours of doing this job. “You mentioned a mask? What was it a mask of?”

“Michael Myers.”

“Oh,” You shiver, “I hate that guy.”

“The iconic mask is actually a William Shatner mask that’s painted white and changed to blur the resemblance to Shatner. Specifically, it’s a Captain Kirk death mask created for Star Trek.” Spencer tells you, giving a tight lipped smile when you pause for a second to take in the information.

“How does William Shatner feel about that?”

“Not great, probably. But, can you imagine being considered one of the stars of the Halloween franchise?” He’s giddy, almost wiggling in excitement. “I’d love to see people wearing my face every Halloween.”

You laugh at that.

A few more facts are spewed out while you mix black with a little bit of white to make grey, some you already know and some you don’t, but he’s still chattering on when you turn back to face him, ready to paint again.

The words die in his throat, however, when your hand finds home on the back of his neck, thumb hooking around to lift his jaw up. “Still, please.”

Even if he wanted to give an unnecessary apology, he wouldn’t be able to, as if his throat is full of sand.

It’s silent for a while, Spencer’s eyes trained on the twinkling night sky that sits calmly compared to the thundering of his heart, the scramble of thoughts in his head. When your hand moves away a few minutes later, his disappointed eyes fall back to your face, where he finds himself thinking, please do that again.

“Do you want the black on your eyelids, too, or just around your eye?” You ask over your shoulder, oblivious to the new slump in Spencer’s back.

“Eyelids, too, please.”

You smile to yourself at how polite he is. Spencer might be the sweetest person you’ve ever met and you’ve known him for twenty minutes.

By the time you’re done, you’ve decided Spencer is the best customer you’ve ever had and you’d give anything to replay this interaction again and again. He’s polite, listens when you ask him to turn a certain way or sit up (a surprising amount of adults simply do not listen), and brings the most interesting conversation.

Did you know the use of OMG can be traced back to 1917? Cause Spencer does, and he bestowed you with the same knowledge.

You’re impressed with yourself and Spencer’s brain when you finally lean back, checking for any spots you missed or parts you can fix.

Before you even reach for the mirror, Spencer’s interrupting you.

“Um… do I-do I look spooky?”

You face him, a pretty smirk on your lips, “Terrifying.”

When you hold the mirror up to his face, he barely spares himself glance (but it’s enough of a glance for him to think holy crap, you’re talented) and there’s a look in his eye – he’s hesitant. About what, you’re not sure.

You wonder if he can tell you don’t want him to go. You enjoy his company, you enjoy him, and you’ve never wanted to wipe your work off someone’s face so quickly just for an excuse to do it again until now.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, reaching for his wallet but not leaving the chair.

Your eyes narrow for a split second as you weight your option. Then you think fuck it, and say, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You can, and you will.” You stand. “Consider it thanks for all the cool facts you gave me.”

He lights up when you say cool facts, and opens his mouth to again offer to pay when he’s cut off by a group of laughing teenagers flying out of the haunted house, the exit door slamming against the wood with a startling bang.

Spencer gets an idea.

Seeing you look at the house, he asks, “Have you been in yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet. If I have time later, maybe-“

“Come in with me.”

His grip on his wallet is tight, channelling all worry into his fingers so he doesn’t stumble or say something stupid.

“It’s the least I can do, and it’ll be too scary on my own.”

He’s lying – the idea of going through a haunted house by himself sounds exhilarating, but he’s found an opportunity to not leave you just yet and he’s going to take it.

You consider him for a moment. It’s late, you’ve been painting faces all day, and the sweetest, most attractive person you’ve ever seen is asking you to join them in a haunted house on Halloween. What kind of person would say no?

“Okay,” You happily concede, “But don’t blame me if I end up clinging to you.”

The two of you join the line into the house, giggling when someone dramatically falls through the exit and gasps for air like he’s barely made it out alive. And when the next people to leave the house are a couple who hold eachother close and tight, hands intertwined and one with their head buried in the neck of the other, Spencer steps a little closer to you, hoping you get the memo that having you cling to him doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @fandommonium3267 @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @bitchyreids