#Jean witch hat

[prinnay]

Jean hat + stars

[manndelion]

denim witch aesthetic from last year

[dorinoke]

MAY OLRUGGIO FORGIVE ME-- BUT WHAT I AM WRONG ABOUT

[justkillingthyme]

“You better not be sexy pumpkin Descole when I get there.”

Me:

She’s iconic. Partied too hardy

[secret-sageent]

Any character with facial hair, a resting bitch face, That Haircut, and that is clearly suffering from severe depression can be Jean Vicquemare if I am insane enough

[zyzix]

if you dont know go read both of these manga already

[oneread]

Everyone involved in creating one piece were cowards for not having Nami come back from the timeskip wearing the dork ass wizard robes

[shroomiethefrogwhisperer]

Witch Hat Fucking Atelier

SO I'VE READ UP TO VOL. 10. AND DAMN. QIFRUGGIO. DAMN. GALWERT. DAMN. EASTLUCI. DAMNNNN.

First off... Why the fuck is Olruggio basically Aizawa from MHA? Because honestly, if he grew his hair out and shaved his beard down short, they look the same. And I hella love an exhausted/dad/bisexual af teacher type.

Next, Qifrey. Let's just start with his parenting skills. He's a traumatized one-eye boi, but he's still an adorable dad. And let me be very clear, this man gives kinky asf vibes. Under the cute, there is a man who can turn ANY of Olly's contraptions into a sex toy. But his dadding is amazeballs.

The Knights Moralis remind me of the Knights of Favonius from Genshin Impact. Like, Luluci-> Jean? Easthies-> Diluc? The dude with spiky orange hair whose name I don't remember-> Kaeya? Galga-> Albedo? No? Okay. But Eastluciiiiiiiiii. Just yes.

Finally, the girls. Imma just say that people usually describe me as a Tetia. But tbh, I prefer Coco. Also, spellcheck hates Agathe. Sorry, Agott. And why does everyone spell Richeh like Riche? It's REEK-he. Not RICH-e. Ugh.

THERE'S NOT ENOUGH FANART/FANFIC ABT WITCH HAT ATELIER. *sobs in Qifruggio/Galwert/Eastluci shipper*

[bbokicidal]

Is That All? .:. Lee Minho .:. 10/04/24

Genre : Smut Pairing : Lee Know x Fem!Reader Warnings : Somnophilia, wet dreams, dabbles in dub con, clothed sex (ish), grinding, dry humping, thigh fucking, groping/fondling of ass and chest, Minho kinda... rubs his cum into your skin idk.

Kinktober Day 2 of 10 : Somnophilia/Wet Dreams w/ Lee Know

Next Post : 10/09/24

Minho had a speculation that he'd find you in his bed before he even stepped into the room. You'd told Chris prior to escaping from the party that you wanted to go lay down after having one too many drinks. Sleep-ridden and body like lead, you escaped from the music to the vast upstairs that offered comfort and warmth - and quiet. The hallways are narrow, many rooms branching off to either side in the dark. But your hazy, clouded-with-alcohol mind seems to be set on the one directly in front of you at the end of the hallway.

You found solace in the sheets, the soft red satin of the dress for your ‘Devil’ costume sliding over your skin and bunching up around your hips as you settled in. The sheets are cold against your thighs and exposed arms, untouched until now, but they envelope you with joy and caress every limb as you relax under the comforter. It’s heavy - weighted, maybe? - on your form, pressing you into the mattress that creates a growing want in your chest to simply never leave from that spot. It’s almost the same as feeling .. a medication, taken orally only ten minutes ago in an effort to relieve the dull ache that formed in your skull from your previous drinking. Though you hadn’t actually taken anything prior to heading upstairs - the bed you lay in offers you the same relief.

It's only an hour and twenty minutes later that the bedroom door creaks open, clicking shut soon after as it clasps within itself. Minho enters the room with a heavy sigh, dropping a witch hat down on his floor - and never wanting to look at it again. Vascular hands lift to his neck, unlacing the strings that held the deep maroon cape up around broad shoulders and really tie the ‘wizard’ look together. Or so Changbin said; The loser that roped him into dressing up at all in the first place. The fabric slinks to the floor in a pool as he removes his dress shoes near the door, stepping out of them toe-to-heel before making his way over. His vision blurs with alcohol but he’s plenty sober to see mostly well - given he’d been babysitting a few of the others during the night as it went on. The cold sheets produce goosebumps along his arms as he pulls the blanket back to climb in, ready for the soft comfort of his own bed.

His body relaxes against the mattress, thumbs hooked in his jeans to push them down until he's kicking out of them and left in his black sweater and, ironically, matching boxers. It's only then that he realizes you're in his bed of the eight you could've chosen from, though he doubts it's on purpose when he really thinks about it for a second. You're not close with Minho, almost at all, and if you were sober you would've chosen Chris' bed with ease. You knew where his room was - how it looked, the ‘Recording in Progress’ sign hanging on it at all times. vBut in a drunken and tired haze, you'd found your way to a different room instead without a care.

And Minho didn't mind much. He pulled the blankets over his shoulders, left a small gap of room between your form and his own for what he told himself was your own comfort, and fell asleep with relative ease. The alcohol weighed heavy on his head and the ache for sleep pushed his shoulders into the sheets as he drifted off, his mind finally falling silent for the first time in simply too many hours.

He only wakes up when something begins to bother him. His previous dream lurks into his head, the image of your mouth wrapped around his cock. Snug, warm, wet. Minho's head lulls against the pillow as he fights to go back to sleep, hoping that the dream will continue if he does. He wants to feel it again - feel your tongue lathing over his bare skin - feel your lips pressing kisses to the tip of his cock. He wants to feel your hair tangled in between his knuckles again, fisted tight in his grip as he guides your head back down on his cock - pushing until the flushed pink tip of his length prodded and rubbed over the back of your throat. He wanted to see you looking back up at him again, your eyes glossy and the skin just beneath flushed rosy with blush of soft embarrassment. 

He wanted to feel the tight of your throat gasping for air as he let his hips buck upwards, pushing closer and holding you in place so he could fuck into your pretty mouth. He wanted to feel it again - the way you swallowed around him until he was on the verge of painting your tongue with his cum.

He felt a bit selfish to admit it in his head but - He wanted to feel that bliss again.

Minho's needy as he rolls onto his side. He feels a little unsure about how close to you he is. His hips are flush to your pretty little ass and his cock strains in his boxers, aching - longing - for friction. He's barely even thinking when his hips begin to carefully roll forward. The feeling of his cock straining against his boxers is one thing, but the feeling of your ass is another. He's sighing out almost immediately, lips falling apart before his teeth sink down into the lower of the two, desperate to hide any noises or breaths that escaped his throat. Minho feels a bit embarrassed when he peeks down, eyes falling from just over your shoulder to where the head of his cock ruts at your clothed skin. There’s a patch - wet, sticky on the inside, and quite large - where Minho’s pretty pink cock had leaked against his boxers. And that wet spot was starting to transfer to your dress, dampening the satin each time his hips rolled forward.

 His hand lifts from the sheets to instead take hold of your hip before, suddenly, he falters.He grows unsure on if he should grab onto you or not, scared to wake you from your comfortable slumber; So instead, his fingers slowly curl into the fabric of your dress as to not disturb you. Minho finds comfort in holding onto you like this - using it as leverage as well to subtly and carefully drag your curves back against himself where he lay directly behind you. His hips roll forward again, and again, and again; And again.

His fingers grasp tighter, tugging slowly on the satin until your own hips pivot towards him. The angle is perfect, he thinks, for him to rock his hips upwards so his cock could slide right over your pantyline; Given he knew already just from being so close to you that you were wearing a thong. He breathes out, jaw clenched and eyes sliding shut, as his cock slides perfectly between your asscheeks. He’s not going to ever say it aloud but he’s almost… completely relieved of shame as he chases his release that's coming so slowly because he can't move too fast or he'll wake you.

But he has to stop, his hips faltering when he feels his pull on your dress drop. His hold is suddenly so loose - no longer leverage to pull you back against him. The fabric had slid up over your hips and to the soft of your waist, exposing the black lace that disappeared between your legs. He feels a shuddered breath brush against his front teeth as he reaches down, fingers spread and hand running over the warmth of your newly exposed ass. He gropes, watching the flesh bulge between his fingers. It’s as perfect as he’d imagined before. Not that he’d… imagined you naked before. Only a few times! When he got off… twice a week… for the last year….

Minho can't help himself. He watches as you lean forward into a pillow of his, breathing heavy with sleep and curling up. He knows he needs to see more - so he takes the risk and carefully winds an arm over your waist. His arm brushes yours; Heavier, thick with muscle, and ridiculously warm. The risk is massive - touching your chest like this. But he feels his cock twitch and pulse in his boxers the moment he sees your tits spill from your dress as his fingers curl into the deeply cut neckline and pull down. His lips part, a satisfied gasp escaping his lips at the sight. His hand moves then so he can hold onto you, fingers curling around your breast and letting his knuckles become engulfed in the warmth.

His free hand, the one not busy with grabbing and squeezing at your chest, slides down into his boxers; And he’s quick with tugging the black fabric down so his cock could slip between your thighs. He's sighing out with a smile soon after, hips rolling forward once more - the exact same way they had before. Slow. Careful. Only now it was so much better.

The soft sounds of his cock slipping against your warm skin fill the room; Your slick seeping through your panties the more he rubs up against your clothed folds, the soft pink flesh he can see through the black lace. He even hooks a finger in the thong to tug it taught, watching it press flush against your pussy. 

Minho chokes, and he has to pause for a moment. Was this... right?

His eyes flutter back into his head as he thinks to a few weeks ago when you had been drinking with him, Chris, and Changbin. You'd confided in them about some guy you'd been seeing who had constantly had wet dreams about you - to which Changbin makes a suggestive comment about how he should've just fucked you then. But Chris barks out with laughter in an attempt to ease the situation and slaps his friend, "Hey--! No. Definitely not okay to touch a woman when she's sleeping unless she's into it!"

They'd all paused when you'd giggled out and leaned in, your eyes dark and hazy while you were chewing on your lip in a drunken, happy daze. "Who said I'm not into it?"

Minho sighs out in bliss and glances down to watch as the head of his cock catches on your clit, your hips stuttering forward a bit but unable to move with the way he holds your panties tight. He has to do it again - and again. It’s so cute, watching your hips try to wiggle away from his cock at the sudden stimulation only to settle back down once he stops. His teeth sink back into his lip as he moves in - just so he can sink into your thighs as deep as he can. His body wracks with a shudder when he sees that his balls are pressed flush to you - as close as possible - just imagining that it’s your sopping pussy instead of your thighs.

His cock ruts against the plush of your skin until he's whimpering against the back of your neck. Unable to keep from pressing closer and closer, his hand leaves your breast so he can simply tighten his arm over and around you, pressed to your torso to pull you back against his own. Minho presses his body closer and you seem to sink into his warmth - his chest pressed to your own and the soft, welcoming sweetness of his tummy flush to your back. He'd been eating well - eating more - since Chuseok, and even let himself indulge in the sugar of the Reeses down in the candy cauldron. And now you got to experience it right up against your body, along with the weight of a thick thigh slipping over both of your own to hold you down.

And he relishes in the way your thighs press together because of him. His cock twitches in need, cum spurting from the tip and painting your skin white as his hips fumble behind your own. Minho peeks down to watch, pulling back in an attempt to keep it from hitting your skin in a panic that it’ll wake you from your slumber. Though it's far too late for that - so he has to think of something. Some way to get rid of it.

He decides it's best to get rid of it in a way he thinks is.. insanely hot. Not that he would ever admit that aloud. 

He lets two fingers drag over your thigh, collecting the cum that he'd... tried so not-hard to get on you, and slowly parting his fingers to watch it string between them. Minho sighs, head tipping to look for a better angle.

His hand settles back on your ass, gliding down your skin with care until his cum, now less sticky and almost completely gone, was rubbed into your skin. Smothered over you - a soft sheen to your pretty pink ass that was warm from his constant and incessant rubbing. 

Minho relaxes back shortly after. He gently fixes your panties so they're loose and settled once more, comfortable against your skin and no longer pulling so tight at the pussy he’d just been rutting up against like some poor dog in heat. Laying back away from you and staring up at the ceiling, his hands tug on his boxers to tuck himself away and he lets out a breath in relief. And, well, release.

He feels you shift beside him and falls a bit stiff when you roll onto your back as well, shoulder laying atop his as you settle comfortably. He relaxes when you once again become still, eyes darting down as your hand slowly comes up to cup his cheek. He sucks in a breath, chest raising beneath your arm as it rests over top of his torso. Minho shifts, head slowly tipping in your direction to see you already looking back at him with soft and lidded eyes - clouded like before, only this time not from the alcohol you’d consumed.

"Is that all?"

Taglist :  @crybabykurominho @softkisshyunjin @minniesverse @dwaekkicidal @lixies-favorite-cookie @bookheadeily @jeonginsleftcheek @madkati @jisunglyricist @millseyes-world @warpedspirit @lovetaroandtaemin

[liberaljane]

We shouldn't have to dress modesty to be respected.

digital illustration of a fat witch sitting on a beach towel. She's wearing a bikini top, short jean shorts, a witch hat and fishnet socks. On the towel is a cat, sunscreen & docs. Text reads, 'we shouldn't have to be modest to be respected'

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Day ten: Matching costumes with Leona.

The bustling store was filled with an array of costumes, from classic witches and vampires to more modern superheroes and pop culture icons. You weaved through the aisles, your eyes darting from one vibrant outfit to another, searching for the perfect matching costumes for you and Leona.

Your boyfriend followed closely behind you, humming and whistling, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as he watched your enthusiastic hunt. His hands were casually tucked into the pockets of his jeans and every so often, he'd lean in to examine a costume you'd pick up, raising an eyebrow or chuckling softly at your choices.

"How about this one?" You asked, holding up a pair of matching royal costumes and crowns. The intricate details of the outfits were impressive, but Leona just shook his head, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Nah, too predictable," He replied, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You sighed, moving to the next aisle. "Okay, Mr. Picky, what do you suggest then?"

Leona's smirk widened. "You'll see."

You rolled your eyes but continued browsing, determined to find something that would suit both of you. As you were examining a set of medieval costumes, Leona's voice came from behind you, closer than you expected.

"How about these?"

You turned to see Leona holding up a pair of costumes that immediately made your heart skip a beat. They were a perfect match: a regal lion tamer outfit for you, complete with a stylish hat and a sleek whip, and a majestic lion costume for him - well, he was already a lion so he wouldn't need one of those tiara with lion ears and tail. Plus the costume had an elegant, noble design that highlighted Leona's naturally powerful presence.

Your eyes lit up as you took in the details. "Leona, these are perfect!"

He chuckled, stepping closer and brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I thought you'd like them. Besides," He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, "it gives me an excuse to show off a bit. And I can't wait to see you in that."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, a smile spreading across your face. "Always the charmer, huh?"

Leona grinned, his eyes locking onto yours. "Only for you." He placed the lion tamer hat on your head, adjusting it gently. "Now, let's try these on. I want to see my tamer in action."

You laughed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Alright, but don't be surprised if I get a little too rough handling you."

Leona's smirk turned into a playful grin. "I'd like to see you try."

With that, you both made your way to your respective changing rooms, the anticipation of seeing each other in the costumes adding a thrilling edge to the moment. As you slipped into your outfit, you couldn't help but smile, feeling extremely comfortable on your costume, Leona had a good eye for clothes. Especially for you, since he was always spoiling you.

You just knew that this Halloween was going to be unforgettable with him by your side.

[manndelion]

Happy first week of Hallowe'en! I've been doing Witches of different

✨A E S T H E T I C S✨

[poppyflower-22]

Wild Wild West

Summary: Lando walks into a bar and falls for Oscar's barrel racing Cousin.

Side note: I'm Australian so chips to me are fries to most people. Idk in my family we call everything chips. There's properly spelling and grammar errors.

When people think of ranch life they think cows. The smell. But that’s not Lando thinks. He thinks of Y/n. The love of his life.

The woman who changed his life. Meeting her in that bar was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was like God was leading him to his salvation.

He wouldn't know what to do without now. Meeting her was like meeting his soulmate. He had gotten everything and more from meeting her.

Lando smiled in relief when he saw the glowing sign of a motel. It felt like he was walking for days when it had only been two hours. The sun had gone down while he walked and while it was beautiful he didn't have time to think about it.

When Oscar had gave instructions to him, he never thought it would be that hard to find a house. But then again, he was in the middle of nowhere. All he needed was a phone and everything would be fine.

And maybe a drink. Defiantly a drink.

Lando opened the bar doors and immediately made his way over to the bar. There was the bar with stools, a dancing floor, a pool table and a few more tables in witched he guessed people sat, drank and ate.

“Whiskey. Please.” Lando told the bartender who nodded. Lando sighed and looked around. He saw two-men playing pool. They looked to be in there 20's

On the other side of the bar was an older man reading a paper. No one else was in the bar.

“Excuse me. Do you have a pay phone I can use?” Lando asked the bartender when he placed his drink in front of him.

The bartender chuckled. “You're in bad luck mate. Phone broke yesterday.”

Lando grumbled. “Thanks anyway.” He sipped his whisky slightly thinking of ways to contact Oscar to come get him out of this mess.

The bartender offered him a small smile. “Do you have anywhere to sleep for the night mate?” He asked as he cleaned some glasses.

Lando shook his head. “No. I’m lost. Can you tell me where I am?” Lando looked around the bar and he could tell the bar was well looked after.

The town he was in looked pretty nice but when Lando was walking in he could tell it was small. That not many people knew it was here. He had seen many of ranches and some old looking house when he was looking for a pay phone.

“Old Range.” (Fake) The bartender said. “I’m Jeff, and that old man down there is my father John he owns the hotel across the road. You can sleep there for the night.” Jeff offered Lando.

Lando nodded in thanks. “Thank you.” He sent a smile to Jeff and John; John just waved him off and went back to reading hardly paying attention.

“Yes!!” An excited yell made Lando look over and see the two guys playing pool.

Jeff shook his head at the guys playing pool. He poured Lando another drink. The front bar doors opened and when Lando looked over to the door he felt like the air was stolen from his lungs.

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life was standing there looking at him. She had a nice blue dress, compared with a leathered belt around her waist. And of course, cowboys boot along with the black cowboy hat.

Y/n smiled as she walked over to the bar. She stopped and kissed John on the cheek before taking a seat next to Lando.

“Jeff.” Y/n greeted with a smile one he returned. "Whisky please." She turned to Lando and sent him a smile that had him melting. "Not from around here?" She asked as she looked him up and down.

Lando suddenly felt silly for wearing a hoodie and jeans. Mainly the hoodie. "No." He gulped.

You hummed taking a sip of your drink.

"First place again, Y/n?" Jeff asked the girl.

She nodded, "It was tuff, but they can never beat the rebel." She grinned; Jeff just laughed.

"What did you get first place for?" Lando couldn't help but ask.

The boys that were at the pool table laughed making Lando look back at them. Y/n shot them a look making them shut up. She looked at Lando, "Barrel racing." She answered him.

Lando looked wide eyed at her, "Wow." He breathed out. "Isn't it dangerous?" He asked intred.

Y/n shrugged, "Yeah but I know what I'm doing." She nodded to over his shoulder and Lando turned and saw photos and newspaper clipping all over the wall. "Thats all me." She explained to him.

He couldn't help but get up and get a closer look. Y/n got up as well and stood shoulder to shoulder to him. There were folders of her holding trophies and belt buckles from a little age to now he guessed.

"How long have you been barrel racing." Lando asked. His British accent showing making Y/n grin.

"Since I was four. I did it on pony and then horse once I got older. Travel all around the world." She explained. She pointed to a higher up picture. It was a picture collum with five photos of her holding a big trofie with a buckle int he other hand. "I'm a five-time world barrel racing champion." She grinned bumping shoulders with a god smacked Lando.

"Jesus." He breathed out. When this beautiful girl couldn't get more interesting. He chuckled, "And I can't even win a race."

Y/n hummed looking fondly at the photos. "You will one day." She told him.

Lando hummed but whipped around to look at her with frowned eyebrows wondering how she knew what he meant. "Do you now that I'm an F1 racer?"

Y/m turned to him and smirked, "Y/n Piastri. Pleasure." She told him.

Lando just started at her in wonder. "Your related to Oscar? You?"

She giggled. "Cousins. He called me before and told me he had been calling you. He checked where your last known location was and asked me to come and get you." She explained to him.

"Wow." Lando said. He took a seat at one of the bar tables near the wall. "Man, my day has been hectic."

Y/n hummed and sat across from him. "It's easy-to-get lost around these parts. But it has its perks from growing up around here." She told him. "I told Oscar I'll bring you to the ranch tomorrow."

Lando smiled at her in thanks. She smiled back making him blush a little. "But for now we should get some food in you." She beamed before looking at Jeff. "Just the usual." She told the bartender making him grin and nod before going through the doors to the kitchen.

"I should of recognized you from the photos Oscar showed me." Lando told the girl.

"Oscar talks about me?" Y/n asked as she leaned forward a bit.

Lando nodded, "All the time." Making Y/n smile.

Lando and Y/n sat there talking about barrel racing and Y/n asking more about F1. There conversation flowed making John look up from his paper now and then.

It was interesting seeing Y/n take an interest in a boy. She has had past relationships, but they never worked out. Especially the bull riding boys.

A plate being put on the table made their conversation stop. On the plate was a good-sized steak and chips. Jeff winked giving Y/n a small bowl of chips.

"Enjoy." He said before going back behind the bar to get the boys from the pool table another drink.

"This looks amazing." Lando looked at the steak in amazement.

"Yeah, Jeff makes the best steak ever." Y/n told the brit as she started eating her chips. She watched as Lando smiled at the taste of it. "Good?"

"Define." Lando answered making Y/n giggle. For the rest of the night Lando and Y/n had eaten, talked, drank and played pool with the two guys.

The two giggled together crossing the dirt road to the motel, Y/n's hat on Lando's head. John had gone and gotten Lando's key for him before they left the bar. Y/n smiled and looked up at the clear sky.

Lando stopped to see what she was doing. He had his arm around her shoulders with Y/n holding his hand that was round her. "Why'd you stop?" He asked.

When she didn't answer he looked to sky where she was looking. The sky was so clear you could see the stars so clearly. Them shining brightly down to them. "It's so beautiful." Lando spoke soflty.

"I never see stars like this anywhere else." Y/n confessed. "Home is where the heart is." She said leaning her head on Lando's shoulder.

Lando leaned his head on her head. "That's the truth." He whispered.

They stood there looking at the sly before Lando leaded them to their rooms that were next to each other.

"Well, this is me." Y/n said at her door. Lando smiled at her and tucked a piece of her brown blackish hair behind her ear. When Y/n looked at him she couldn't but smile, "Why are you smiling at me?"

"You're so beautiful." He confessed to her admiring all her features that made her, her. He wouldn't be able to live not doing what he was about to do.

Y/n blushed and giggled trying not to let his complement go to her heart. She had already felt like Lando was amazing and could be more. "Your drunk." She told him.

Lando shook his head in refusal and took both her cheeks in his hands. "I have never been more sober then right now. God when you walked into, the bar this afternoon I thought you were most beautiful woman in the world. And I won't be able to go to asleep without doing this." Lando confessed to her.

Before she could ask what, he was going to do he kissed her. It didn't take a moment for Y/n to kiss him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged on his curls making him groan. It was like a part of them each other had found each other.

They parted. Foreheads leaning on each other. "You don't even know me." Y/n told the brit.

Lando shook his head softly, "I want to know you. I want to know the good and the bad." He told her, his breath fanning her face. Y/n smiled tracing his face with her finger tips.

"You do?"

"Yes."

And they kissed again. So passionately. Y/n smiled into the kiss. In that moment after just meeting a few hours ago they knew they were meant for each other. They both just knew.

When they parted again for the second time, Y/n took a step back and opened her hotel door and beckoned him making him grin and Y/n to squeal when he picked her up again.

It was one of the best nights that Lando had ever had. He had never met a girl as beautiful, kind and just God dam different then Y/n. He fell in love that night when he went to asleep in the old town hotel with Y/n next to him.

It was the start of one of the tales of Y/n and Lando. Anyone that saw them together would think they would never go together. With Y/n all county like and Lando far from it, but just one second with them, you would know that they were better together then apart.

And Oscar had sworn that he had never seen Lando happier than he was when he was with his cousin. And now a new photo sat on the wall of the bar.

But whenever there in their little town they always star gaze together.

You guys can request anything you want for Lando.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Bumping Into Them at a Halloween Party - Scarecrow and Riddler (x Reader)

Summary: Despite the recent major jailbreak from Gotham's Arkham Asylum, all of Gotham's usual drunken Halloween shenanigans seem to be in full swing. Some folks seem to be mocking the criminals at large, with almost half of all partygoers dressed up in their rendition of an infamous Gotham villain. Reluctantly dragged by your friend to one of the more hole-in-the-wall type parties in The Narrows, you expect another typical night of bad flirting that would lead nowhere and holding your friend’s hair back when she pukes. Little did you know you would manage to catch one of the rogues’ eyes when you bump into two of them in disguise. 

Characters: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow); Edward Nashton (Riddler)

Pairings: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)/Female!Reader; Edward Nashton (Riddler)/Female!Reader

Word Count: Approx 1,000 per Character  

Rating: T+ (Some talk of alcohol and partying and stuff but nothing mature & nothing explicit) 

A/N: Of course, I was in the mood to write something Halloween-y tonight, and this came from that. Yes, I’m still working on the other asks as well as two more Kinktobers people suggested in my comments/messages. 

Enter Fear (Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow)

Crane had originally planned on dressing up in his own Scarecrow costume to teach a lesson to any drunken imbecile stupid enough to try and impersonate him. Fortunately for the Gotham populace, Edward had made Crane promise not to blow their cover by torturing anyone with fear gas this evening. So instead, Jonathan opted for a more subtle look. 

Seated at the bar and bored out of his mind, Jonathan chose to observe a couple in a booth further back. The clearly inebriated woman was dressed up like an angel, wearing those fuzzy cheap mini-wings and what amounted to a white bikini as she nuzzled up to a guy in jeans and a t-shirt that read ‘This is my costume’. 

‘How typical,’ Jonathan thought. 

“Three bucks she pukes in his lap before the next half-hour.” 

Turning to his right, Jonathan came face to face with you, someone who, judging by your expression, was just as annoyed by this kind of scene as he was. He turned back to view the woman and man in the corner booth, pursing his lips as he did so before turning back to you. 

“Five she passes out in the next ten.” 

You smiled, showing off your teeth in a devilish grin before joining him at the bar. 

“Deal.” 

Jonathan sat silent, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you ordered a drink. Interestingly enough, on a night made for boozing and treats, you opted for a Cherry Coke. In his mind, Jonathan couldn’t help but run through the potential implications of your actions. Perhaps you were an alcoholic or an addict. Or maybe you were someone’s designated driver which meant you hadn't come here alone. Or perhaps, you were correctly worried that on a night like this, too many people would be looking to take advantage. 

After thanking the bartender for your drink, you swiveled your bar-stool in Crane’s direction. 

“So, just to recap. If I lose I owe five bucks, and if you lose, you owe five bucks and three Hail Marys,” you said, gesturing to the gentleman’s costume. 

“Only three Hail Mary’s?” 

“Well,” you took a sip of your drink and paused for dramatic effect, “Maybe one Our Fathers, ya know, just in case.” 

Jonathan couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips. Despite his earlier assumptions, he found speaking with you wasn’t as tedious as he previously thought it’d be. Your company was oddly welcome, and the man known to the world as Scarecrow found himself loosening his typically uptight composure. 

“I’m not a real Priest.” Crane avouched somewhat sharply, finishing what was left of his scotch in a single harsh swallow. 

“Wow. You know that’s a shame because I am actually a witch.” You gestured to your own outfit, complete with a black cape and pointed hat. “And now that I know you're utterly defenseless against my powers, I have no choice but to put a spell on you.”

“That so?” 

Jonathan bit the inside of his mouth, trying to suppress the smirk threatening to break through. If anyone was the master of curses, it’d be him. Of course, you had no way of knowing that, without him being in his usual get-up and all. 

Besides, he found himself surprised he was indulging in such a conversation, but he had to admit that your forwardness and banter possessed a fair amount of charm. It was hardly time to ruin this distracting, rather quaint conversation with a surprise dose of his fear gas. 

“I’m afraid so,” you sighed, dramatically. “And now,” using both of your hands, you wiggled your fingers around, pretending to weave a spell, “I sentence you to an eternity of finding lucky pennies only wrong side up.” 

With a flourish and a subsequent ‘poof’ sound effect from you, you ended your great curse with a little boop to The Father’s nose. 

“That’s a pathetic curse,” Jonathan said, more disappointed than amused after the effort you went through with such a display. Were you simple or simply kind-hearted? 

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Never said I was a good witch.” 

‘Huh, well there was a fascinating complex,’ Jonathan thought.

“Come on,” he said, turning on the practiced psychologist charm, hoping you’d take the bait, “You can do better than that. If someone was really going to curse you, what would you hate for them to do?” 

You continued sipping your drink, unbothered by the not-real priest's current line of questioning. 

“What do you mean?”

“If someone were to utilize your worst fear against you, what would it be?” 

You thought for a moment. 

“Hmm, you mean apocalyptic-level fear as in like the fear of complete and utter failure or something really stupid but tangible?” 

Jonathan took in a deep breath, hiding the anticipation he felt slowly rising inside. 

“Whichever you’d prefer.” 

“I guess I’d have to say…”

“Go on.” 

“Escalators.” 

Jonathan did a double-take. 

“I’m sorry, did you say escalators?” 

“Yes!” You practically shouted. “They’re literally stairs that move! Stairs are supposed to be stationary, that’s what makes them stairs! I mean,” you coughed, clearing your throat in between animated sentences, “How fucking shifty is that?” 

Jonathan nodded, finding himself more curious about you by the minute. You were certainly a very unique person, with a very distinct psyche, he’d have to give you that. 

“Sorry,” you apologized for your outburst. “They just drive me nuts. Anyway… What about you? What freaks you out so much?” 

The way your eyes looked so open, so unguarded drew him in. You looked like this little cartoon character from some after-school special, genuinely interested in listening to what he had to say. 

Had you been anyone else, The Scarecrow would’ve given you some bullshit benign answer: heights, the dark, spiders, something of that sort. But seeing you wait for his answer, sipping on your Cherry Coke in hand, Jonathan felt he could be honest with you. After all, it was Halloween, and he was in costume. There was a very likely chance the two of you would never see each other again. 

Jonathan leaned in closer to you, lowering his voice, and drawing you in. 

“I’ve never been fond of Priests.” 

You leaned your head in even further and matched his whispered tone. 

“Can I tell you something else?” You asked. 

The raven-haired stranger nodded, his captivating blue eyes watching you intensely as he waited for your answer. 

“You make a super hot Priest, though.” You couldn't help but bite your lip as soon as you finished your sentence, feeling a little playful with the decent buzz of alcohol floating through your veins. 

The man licked his own lush lips before smiling. 

“You’ve heard that one before, huh?” You asked, gauging his reaction. 

“Honestly, no.” He answered, rising to meet your teasing manner. 

You put your hands up defensively. 

“Okay, okay. Coming on a little strong, I get it.” 

“It would be interesting, however.” Crane voiced his inner musings out loud. 

“Hmm? What was that?” You asked, feigning coy. 

“A witch and a priest…” he tempted. 

“Probably piss God off,” you added, nonchalantly. 

For the first time that night, Jonathan Crane smiled a genuinely devilish smile, revealing a set of pearly white teeth under those plush lips of his. 

It would seem after hours of ungodly conversation with imbecile after imbecile, it had only taken you a good half hour, to lighten the former psychologist's mood and Jonathan found himself up to the task of matching your titillating nature. 

Perhaps it was a good thing Edward had dragged him out here after all. 

Enter Mystery - Edward Nashton (The Riddler)

You were positively exhausted. All you wanted to do was go to your favorite little coffee spot, get a hot chocolate, and head home. But of course, you had forgotten that today of all days was Halloween, and to be out and about on the streets of Gotham on Halloween night was always a busy, crowded disaster. 

Ugh, you detested crowds. And to make matters worse, your friend hadn’t stopped blowing up your phone, practically demanding you come meet here at this party in The Narrows. 

Sighing, you realized hot chocolate was out of the question, and bitterly texted your friend that you’d meet her there in an hour. 

Much to your chagrin, your friend was waiting for you with a gimmicky devil horns headband for you to wear. Of course, she would have known you wouldn't bother dressing in costume. 

To make matters worse, her costume was that of a sexy angel, complete with a headband halo and feathered wings, which made it look as if you had planned to come to this thing together. 

“I look ridiculous!” You yelled to her over the blaring house music.

“What? No! You look super cute!” She yelled back, pulling you behind her as she weaved through the crowd. 

Finding a table was easier than you thought, mainly because it was still early evening and everyone was either sitting at the bar or mingling on the dance floor. Thankfully, it was a little rounded table in between the booths and the bar, which meant less traffic. 

Plopping down into your seat you made a mental promise to yourself that you’d head home within the hour, the music already creating an unpleasant pressure in your head. 

“You stay here,” your friend instructed, handing you her mini-purse. “I’m gonna go see if those hot guys over there will buy us drinks!” 

Before you could voice your discouragement, your friend had bounded off, no doubt running up to a group of jockey, fratboy-type guys. You sighed, slumping in your seat. 

Even with the annoying music and movement around you, you couldn't help but wish you had a book or magazine or something to pass the time. You know, something other than sitting there looking like a fool in a last-minute Halloween costume at a party you undoubtedly stood out in. 

Looking out at all the people lined up at the bar, you noticed a younger-looking man, shy trying to get the Bartender’s attention. Not having any luck, the man paused and looked up, catching your eye. 

You offered a sympathetic smile. 

The man offered one back along with a raised hand in a half-wave. 

“Try yelling,” you mouthed over to him. 

“What?” You could see him ask. 

“Yell,” you mouthed again, slower this time. “They can’t hear you,” you added pointing to the bartenders and then to your ears. 

You weren’t able to see if the man was successful in his endeavor because, at that moment, your friend had come skipping back, an armful of drinks in hand. 

“Woah there,” you said, helping her place them on the table. “Exactly how many did those guys get you?” 

“Not me,” your friend countered. “Us!” 

You looked over to the group of men she was talking about, singling out the one wearing a ‘This is my costume’. He looked like your friend’s type alright: unassumingly mediocre. 

“They’ve got a booth if we want to move tables,” she said, taking back her purse and tucking it under her arm. “But I wanna dance first, sounds good?” 

You nodded, gesturing to the mass of sweaty bodies beyond the bar. 

“Be my guest. I’m gonna stay here. Wouldn’t want anyone to take our table. Or our drinks,” you added, hoping your friend would accept your lame excuse not because she believed it, but because she was never one to turn down free booze. 

“Fine!” She wagged a finger in your face. “But don’t come crying to me that you didn’t have any fun tonight when you chose to sit here with a sourpuss the whole time.” 

And with that, she vanished into the crowd of bodies jumping up and down to the rhythm of some song you had never heard before. 

Looking at the array of drinks before you, you figured you’d pick the most colorful one with some sort of fruity-looking thing in it. That at least had some solid food in it to counter the effects of the alcohol. 

You took a sip, and licked your lips, surprised at how easy the drink went down. It was extremely sweet, almost sickly sweet, and you couldn’t hardly taste the rum. You took another sip. No, it wasn’t hot chocolate, but it wasn’t as awful as you were expecting either. 

Looking to your left, you saw the shy man from earlier, awkwardly hanging out between the dance floor and the bar, looking just as out of place as you had felt when your friend had dragged you inside. 

Catching his eye for a second time that night, you smiled and waved him over, inviting him to come and sit down next to you. 

The man looked behind him, checking to see that you were in fact talking to him. Turning back to you he was pleasantly surprised to see that yes, it had been true. You were asking him to come join you. 

“Thank you,” the man mumbled, as he took the seat next to you. “It’s more crowded than I was expecting.” 

You nodded, sympathetic. 

“Yeah, I’m an introvert,” you confessed, “So like five people is a crowd to me.” 

The man smiled, a faint blush crossing his cheeks. 

“Same,” he said, letting out a huff of hot air as he laughed. 

“So, ah, what’s your costume?” You asked, gesturing to his trenchcoat and fedora. “Some kind of mafia gangster?” 

The man let out a full chuckle now at your incredulous suggestion. 

“No, no. I’m supposed to be an old-time detective, like ah Dick Tracy or-”

“Philip Marlowe!” You said, a knowing smile spreading across your face. “Like in The Big Sleep!” 

“Yes!” He nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, that’s exactly it!” 

Finding himself feeling shy once more after his joyful outburst, he turned his eyes downcast, looking at the table and the array of drinks gathered on it. 

“You’re the first person I’ve met to know who Detective Marlowe is. Not many people our age have read the books, I guess.” 

“Or seen the movie,” you added, referring to the 1946 black and white picture. “I’ll confess I haven’t actually read the book. But I do enjoy mystery novels. Um, James Patterson is one of my go-to authors, if you can call him that. His stuff is pretty easy to get through and it’s nice to be able to just sink into something mysterious but simple like that.” 

You noticed his eyes still weren’t meeting yours, but you didn’t mind. It’s not like the lighting was very good inside anyway, you wouldn't be able to see his face in great detail. 

“Um, you can take one if you’d like,” you said, gesturing to the drinks. “My friend got a bunch of guys to buy us some, but I don’t really drink a ton, and she hasn’t been back since she went to go ‘dancing’ with one of them, so...”

The man bobbed his head, gratefully accepting one of the drinks. 

After a few hard sips of that liquid courage, his confidence had returned to him along with a nice pink flush of his cheeks.

“I have a copy of the Big Sleep and its sequels, the books, not the movie,” he said. “Back at my apartment, if you’d ever want to borrow it or… anything.” 

You smiled, your cheeks turning a shade of pink as well. 

“I think I’d like that,” you answered. 

A/N: AHHH! Happy Halloween! And Happy Booping!

[nadiajustbe]

Underrated HMC moments I've never seen anyone talking about part 1

Martha canonically teaching Sophie to swear

Fanny getting girls to talk about their fate not only after the funeral, but RIGHT after it. They didn't even got to change their clothes

Fanny and ms. Fairfax being old school friends, just as Fanny is the only one calling Fairfax by her first name.

Justin cannonically visiting Market Chipping shortly after Ben was taken by the Witch, being "in disguise"

Michael saying he always wanted a dog!

Howl going up and down the stairs while working with important stuff to look out of the window of his room. Sophie suggested that he's doing something very sinister, but he probably just wanted to see his nephews playing something like hide-and-seek in the yard.

Howls books being described as "queer-looking" (lol), suggesting he sneaks his library from Wales

Howl joking with ms. Pentstemmon's servants and overall acting completely relaxed in her presence

Sophie laying both of her hands on the stick, trying to mimic ms. Pentstemmon's behavoiur in order to feel more confident (it didn't work)

Sophie wishing to HIT KING'S HEAD with said stick instead of kissing his hand after she failed to blacken Howl's name

ms. Pentstemmon being the only person in Ingary who calls both Howell Jenkins and Benjamin Sullivan by their legal names

Bonus: Howl arranging old hat shop's house the way it would resemble his old mentor's chessboard-like floor pattern.

Howl violently waving his hand both to Michael and then Sophie while trying to act as gracefully as possible.

Howl's clothes having a whole winx-like animation, with blurring and merging into sparkles when changing from his suits to his jersey

Michael absolutely HATING jeans and being physically unable to walk with them on

Sophie thinking than no one's on the streets of Wales because of the rain. On the streets of WALES. Because of the RAIN.

Howl having his own set of keys from Megan's house

Megan knowing how to knit

Sophie being absolutely amazed by amount of carpets in Meg's house, probably because in medieval-like Ingary good carpets were pretty expensive

Neil and his friends swearing with the words "Sophie thought even Martha didn't know"

Michael and Sophie thinking that Howl wanted to kill his nephew by plugging his video-game off

HOWL MAKING A WHOLE GAME BASED ON HIS OWN MOVING CASTLE

Meg shouting that Mari shouldn't seat on the wet swing

Gareth (Megan's husband) playing baseball with Neil

Howl swearing he hasn't preformed a single spell in his life "with his hand on his heart". What heart.

Alternatively: ms. Angorian saying she "feels in her heart" that Ben is alive. whAT HEART, WITCH OF THE WASTE'S???

ms. Angorian getting all her actor skills to act confused as If she sees Ingary for a fist time. "Oh, what a strange-looking town!" "Oh, what a strange-looking people!"

Ben loving his guitar so much he apparenly took it with him on his mission on the Wastes

(this guitar being the only thing we know Ben took from Wales)

Percival being given the said giutar as a baby being given a rattle

Percival processing to play the said guitar for about three hours trying "to teach himself how to play" and adjusting it immideatly

Sophie swearing for about a page straight after meeting the king.

[saltnsugarbear]

it was a graveyard smash

summary: it's your and Richies year to take Eva trick or treating!!

title from: "Monster Mash" by Bobby "Boris" Pickett

word count: 0.7k

content warnings: none!

divider by @strangergraphics

Eva is bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly as you both wait for Richie. All of her movement jostles the witch hat on top of her head, the skirt of her dress flowing around her knees.

Eva had insisted on dressing as Dani from Hocus Pocus, showing you picture upon picture to try and convince you. It's not that you needed much convincing. It was more of a matter of finding the right pieces of clothing to make the costume work.

Richie made more money these days, so he insisted you could buy everything out right that there was no need to go thrifting or find the items secondhand. Despite your anxiety over spending too much, you found all the items Eva would need. The total wasn't something you wanted to think about too hard, deleting emails and throwing away receipts when you could.

With her being Dani, Eva insisted you in some way emulated Allison. To make the trio complete, you had both brought clothes for Richie to change into that made him look like Max. The only unfortunate part of these costumes was that it didn't really look like you or Richie were in costume.

So there you and Eva stood, her in a witch hat, sweater covered in suns and a black dress with periodic stripes and you, dressed in a white shirt, cream cardigan and jeans. It was the most comfortable costume you had ever been in, without a doubt, but it wasn't obvious unless someone was a die-hard fan the way Eva had become.

Both of you stood outside of the Bear on the sidewalk, waiting for Richie to hand the show over to Nat so you could take Eva out. Natalie didn't mind doing this, considering her own daughter was still too young to take out trick or treating, which left Pete at home with her for the night. You spent the week giving Sugar your thanks, reminding her of your gratitude that she was willing to miss the night with her own daughter.

"Do you think he's gonna like it?" Eva asks you, watching the restaurant door for her dad.

"Think he's gonna love it," you tell her with a grin, sticking your hand out for her to take. Eva grabs your hand and starts swinging them back and forth, unable to stay still while you waited.

The way her face lights up when she sees her father walk out the restaurant door, you would have thought it was Christmas instead.

"Hey, kiddo!" Richie calls, opening his arms wide for her. Eva let's go of your hand, running towards her dad and wrapping her arms around his waist. Richie is quick to scoop her up, stifling his groans as he holds her close.

"Look at you, got my own little witch," Richie picks at the witches hat on Eva's head, tilting it over her eyes and making her giggle.

You close the distance between you and the duo, coming up to give Richie a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

"And look at you, don't they look pretty, Eva?" Richie says, tucking his hand in your back pocket. Eva nods quickly, adjusting the brim of her hat. Richie sets her down softly, letting her take the lead on the way back to your car.

"Where's my costume?" Richie asks you softly, watching Eva skip down the sidewalk.

"In the bag," you jostle the bag in your hand, the sound of the plastic bag slightly muffled behind you.

Richie sighs softly as you both watch Eva, twirling and humming as she gets closer to the car.

"Thinking about her growing up?" You prod gently, glancing up at him.

"Yep..." Richie huffs, bumping his shoulder into yours.

"It's okay, you got a few years." You tell him, patting his chest gently before grabbing your keys to unlock the door. "Now go get changed. We have treats to get and tricks to do."

Richie huffs a little but places a kiss to your temple as Eva giggles, opening the door to the backseat for her father.

"And no funny business! We're on a strict deadline!" You yell at him through the door once he's climbed in with the bag of clothes. Eva giggles from where she stands, grabbing your hand as you both wait.

"People these days..." You tell her softly, shaking your head and making her laugh even more. "People these days..."