#She's a witch!! In a pumpkin because I can draw whatever I want

[leelreallylikespersona]

I think I just like giving Nyx different hats

Super last minute Halloween doodle...

[fullofgutsndopamine]

big brother!hasanhalloween odds and ends

not a cohesive fic, mostly ramblings on traditions they do and whatnot

fitps verse (masterlist here)

hasan, who saves up money a few weeks before halloween, slowly pocketing it, taking careful note of which houses have different decorations

(on a folded notebook piece of paper, shoved deep in his pocket, because phones are a luxury he can’t afford,) you’ll see: 42 Elmer Drive pumpkinhead blow up or 26 Fulmer Lane has those ridiculously large skeleton men in front yard. best view is coming in from Anderson’s house saves up money from odd jobs (“The Samson’s have needed their lawn mowed for literal months might as well make a few bucks off of it”)

pockets the money away to fill his truck up, the one you hear before you see it, needs a screwdriver and a prayer to work most days-and drives her around town until her eyes get heavy and she sleeps against the window, hasan driving carefully to avoid potholes and he slowly putters back to the house.

and his sister loves it-she ohs and awes over the elaborate decoration, giggles and gasps at the skeletons and pulls on hasan's shirt like he didn’t take note of this for her, to make him see (“I see, sunshine, i see.”)

but still: his sister is disappointed getting home, their dark little house with the porch light that’s been out for months, the front step stair begging to give out, one bad step away from caving in: it’s hard not to compare.

so hasan picks up more odd jobs. she sleeps soundly in his bed as he works downstairs, fixing up the old bookcase to resell, sews old shirts with holes in it until his fingers are bloody from poking them, will take them to resell tomorrow, even if he only gets a few bucks (at best) for them. stays late in town and sets up and takes down chairs and tables for the local church group-

he waits patiently, collects the money and shoves it deep into his pocket and picks her up one day in his truck, the back tailgate filled with dollar store bags, the plastic spider web netting for the dying bushes out the front of their house, plastic pumpkins for inside the windows, plastic skeleton hands to shove into the rough of the earth, uses those plastic kids vampire teeth to decorate the flower box.

and what he can’t afford-sets down construction paper in front of her, markers he has to dip into water to make work again, and has her draw: scary pumpkin faces to keep monsters away, ghosts with large smiles, witches on brooks flying into the moon-proudly displays them on the front door, and in the windows, puts her on his shoulders and walks outside, her tiny fists filled with little chunks of his hair gently, as he oohs and awes over the pictures, the little paper ghosts on sticks that he sticks into the earth that lead up to the driveway, one good rain will take ‘em out (he watches the weather religiously after this, even though it’s a few days from halloween, pads outside at 2am because the rain chance went up and he’ll be damned if her halloween is ruined)

and costumes. makes do with what they have; the one year she was a hockey player (like her big brother) in his too big jersey that ate her up, or when she was a ghost in the old bedsheets he had been meaning to throw away but couldn’t make himself part with (“sunshine,” he says as he adjusted it over her, two crooked eye holes for her, “the rips make you look more badass, i promise.”) his old white button up and tie from his brief private school stay (before he got kicked out for talking with his fists) when she wants to be a teacher.

stays up late with her, whatever he recorded on VHS plays in the background; one year it’s a charlie brown halloween, the next year it’s Halloweentown-the two make little goodie bags, candy is expensive, everyone gets a single piece of candy, a little picture she drew gets tucked in, a sticker-it’s not much, it’s for her classmates, but whatever he can do to make someone’s halloween magical, especially if they’re stretching a penny as hard as he is-he’ll do.

loads her up October 1st, as soon as her eyes pop open, brings in halloween the only way he knows: the library.

puts her in the little red wagon, the wheels replaced so much now it’s a miracle it works, and surrounds her in halloween books; to read to her for bedtime, to tell her when he makes the little campfires in their backyard, (his face only illuminated by the ghoulish color of the fire, stands by the fire and holds the book up, much like a teacher, and reads in an animated voice to her, her eyes wide and mouth open the entire time, loves his stories-) to have her get extra practice in, all the animated kids movies on VHS he can find (luckily, vhs is not a hot commodity and he swears he feels as if he’s physically picking off cobwebs on the old battered paper cases) and loads her up again, the cart so full on the way back home that she sits on his shoulders.

homemade halloween candy to pass out for trick or treaters, after they get home and light all the candles up in the house (“for the spooky effect!” he’d insist, and not to save money on the electricity bill that’s slowly killing him) she stayed up late the night before, kneeling on a little stool in the kitchen as she slowly, carefully, dipped the pretzels into the melted chocolate that he dyed purple and orange, listens with wide eyes and mouth open as he talks about their mama, and what they use to do growing up, his favorite traditions he wants to pass down to her

she’s stubborn, just as much as he is, stays up as late as she can curled into his side as they marathon her favorite vhs’ tapes. would wait until he hears her snoring to gently walk up the steps, her arms wrapped around his neck, to get her ready for bed.

[coffee--writes]

The Message on the Wall

Pairing: James Potter x gn!Reader - Marauders x Reader Content

Word Count: 5.9k (jdklfdh im sorry) 

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Implications of... yeah. I think that’s about it. 

Requested: Yes, a long time (i feel bad for only getting to it but i hope the nonnie stuck around to see this piece) by an anon who asked for James x Reader with childhood best friends to lovers trope. 

Summary: In which, James Potter was busy writing himself a message on the wall but was too blind to read what he had to say. 

Pictures. 

In actuality they were only images. For Muggles, they stood stagnant, for James Potter they moved slightly. 

But in deeper meaning pictures were moments in time captured in a frame. They were a personal reminder of things that were, things that used to be and anything else that didn’t fall into one of the other two categories. 

James Potter adored pictures. His room was littered with them. A handful were of Quidditch players and Tutshill Tornados merchandise. One picture of him and his parents sat on the nightstand beside his bed. But adjourned on the wall to the left was a mostly blank wall. One small Tornados banner was pinned against the soft red paint and in the middle a picture he was particularly fond of. 

The film captured James at the age of four. A broom was clutched in his left hand and a toothy smile on his face as the wind rustled his hair causing it to stick up more than it already did. Beside him was you, your eyes crossed and your tongue licking a swirled lolly. 

When his mother had shown him the picture you had just left for home, making a young James quite sad that his friend couldn’t stay just a little longer. Euphemia Potter had smiled, handing the picture to her son. “It’s okay, my love. Now you have a piece of Y/N with you.” 

“How?” James had asked, his lower lip jutting out in a frown. 

Euphemia laughed. “The picture captures you together. Look how happy the two of you look!” she points at her son’s smile in the photo. “You can do whatever you’d like with it.” 

James grinned, his eyes lighting up once more. “I want to hang it, mum!” he dragged her hand into the bedroom with him, climbing on top of his bedsheets and pressing the picture to the wall. “Here. That way I can say goodnight to them even when they're not here.” 

Euphemia Potter smiled watching as her son tucked himself under the covers. “That’s a brilliant idea, James.” With a wave of her wand, two pins fastened themself to the wall, the photo beneath. 

That was the beginning of James’s love for pictures. More pictures would accumulate such as the one of him and his father at a Tornados game. Drawings you would give him of flowers and Kneazles. The pictures would come and go but yours stayed the same. An additional picture of you and James would later be added three years later when the two of you were seven. James’s broom no longer sat in one hand, instead was gripped with two and hovering five feet off the ground. He had a wicked smile on his face, his glasses slightly falling down his nose. You sat behind him, your small fingers clutching to his waist as the picture captured you mid-squeal. 

Time went on yet the pictures of the two of you stayed the same. Along with your drawings, which had improved dramatically since you were seven, he’d occasionally find a Hollyhead Harpies banner plastered to his wall. When he came to scold you, pink banners adjourned in his hand, you’d laugh at the pout on his lips. He could never stay angry at you and always joined in on your laughter. 

The final year before things would slightly change was the year before going to Hogwarts.  A third picture was added at the age of ten. The Potter family had accompanied your family on a trip to Diagon Alley in which you had bought your screech owl, Juniper. James had one arm wrapped around you. His hair was untidy and a goofy smile was on his face as his other hand flicked your forehead. Your eyes were closed mid-laugh as one hand pushed his face away and the other perched with Juniper who screeched happily on your available arm. 

Again, time went on quickly and changes were made in James Potter’s room but you were not one of them. He packed up his Hogwarts things the night of August 31st, leaving his room full of pictures with a soft smile. 

You rode on the train with him, both of you waving goodbye to your loved ones. You grinned at him wickedly, “Excited?” you ask. 

“Definitely.” he responded. “Do you have money for the trolley?” 

You slide into a train compartment, one small boy already sitting there. “Yeah. Do you need to borrow some?” 

James nodded and you rolled your eyes, handing money over to the kind witch who passed by, grabbing pumpkin pasties for you and Bertie Botts for James. 

The ride was life-changing as you made acquaintances with similar mindsets. Two more boys entered your compartment and along with the scrawny boy from before, all of you made it to Gryffindor. “Where dwell the brave at heart” as James liked to put it. 

First year was an interesting feat with James quickly falling head over heels for Lily Evans. Your friendship never faltered although the thought of her in his life made you feel odd. However, you were sure she wouldn’t be in his life for quite some time seeing as his persistent efforts were met with an equally stubborn rejection. 

“She’s a firecracker, that one.” he sighed, walking beside you down the hall after another devastating encounter with Lily. 

“You’re just embarrassing yourself now, my boy.” you reply, dubbing his nickname to ease the comment. 

He smirked. “Then why do you hang out with me?” 

“Because, I’m the one who makes sure you don’t cross the line from embarrassing to mortifying.” 

He shakes his head with a silly grin. “I doubt that. You love me. That’s why.” 

You laugh, an effective way of avoiding the curious ideas that ran through your young mind. “Don’t throw around the l- word so quickly! You’ve got to mean it.” 

James bumped your side. “But I’ve known you for years.” 

You ruffle his hair, making it messier than it already was. “Save it for Evans.” 

---

The year ended and the two of you went home to Northern England hands overflowing with Gryffindor red, spirits high with a drive for Quidditch practice and addresses from Remus, Peter, and Sirius tucked away in your pockets. 

James’s room changed tremendously that first year. Alongside the Tutshill Tornados merchandise were small Gryffindor banners, lions enchanted to roar at the touch. You had given him one of your sketches from the school year, one of Sirius and him laughing in Transfiguration, another of him and Peter skipping stones. The pictures of the two of you still remained, a small collection of dust coating the edges which he wiped away with a smile. 

Second year was merry and full of high spirits. James had acquired his father’s invisibility cloak which gave cause to a number of nighttime rendezvous and adventures in the kitchens. Suspicion arose on Remus, whose monthly disappearances came to your attention. With the help of Sirius and Peter, the group soon discovered Remus’s guarded secret and accepted the furry little problem with open arms. 

The Lily Evans situation did not get any better with James’s persistence holding up fiercely and her hatred toward him even more harsh. As Sirius had dubbed it, “Mate, at this point you’re never getting married.” Remus and Peter whole-heartedly agreed, sending James into an adolescent spiral. 

“What if I don’t get married, Y/N/N?” he confided in you by the shores of the Black Lake. 

You chuckled, his delirium quite adorable. “You’re going to get married, James. Trust me.” 

He sighed, snapping a twig between his fingers. “It’s not definite.” 

“Nothing is.” you counter. 

James groaned. “I know. I know. But I would like it to be. Wouldn’t you?” 

You contemplated the idea, a thought coming to your head. “What if it could be?” 

He stared at you curiously. Your eyes lit up and James grinned. “Hit me.” 

“If by the time we are thirty neither of us are married then we should get married to each other.” you propose, a proud smile on your face. “That way we can have a definite of our own.” 

James grinned. “I like that idea. But what if one of us gets married before that?”

You frown. “Then I guess it’d be a flop. But it’s better than nothing, right?” 

He agreed quickly. The sun was setting into a pond of pink. The wind rustled and birds chirped and the moment seemed picture perfect and James wished a camera would magically pop up and capture the moment so he’d be able to hang it on his wall for years to come. It did not work that way, instead, he turned to you with a smirk. “I don’t have anything to propose with.” 

You looked down in embarrassment and gave him a shove. “We’re not getting married yet! It’s just a deal not the real thing.” 

He rolled his eyes at you. “I know but it feels as though something special should happen. How about we seal with a spit swear?” 

You stick your tongue out and pretend to gag. “Ew! No.” you flick his forehead causing him to wince. He grins before flicking you back, watching as you fall back onto the grass. 

“I guess a flick works as well.” he sighs. “Y/N Potter has a nice ring to it.” 

Your head falls against his shoulder. “I can’t believe I might be a Potter one day. Sounds disgusting.” 

James laughs, the weight of your head feeling oddly familiar against his shoulder. “Oh, shut it!” 

--- 

The years came and went. Third year, James made the Quidditch team and he quickly became a ladies man despite his obvious pining over Evans. You made sure to keep his feet on the ground as you didn’t want his ego to get larger than it already was. You came to all his games, occasionally bringing a camera so that James could add his moments of glory onto his beloved room wall. There was the time he tried dedicating a shot to you and ended up getting knocked off his broom by a Beater. 

He made the next one thankfully. 

On the other hand, you had earned the title of master dueler amongst the third years for your quick arm and sharp spellcasting. While James was at Quidditch practice: you, Peter, Remus, and Sirius would practice in empty classrooms although after a while they became rather bored as you would always win. James would cheer you on, even when you beat him there was a compliment of your skill and he was more than anything, proud. 

The summer between third and fourth year was the year the Marauders got their first group picture together. Everyone had met up at the Potter residence, Euphemia Potter snapping the photo with Sirius and James to the left, Peter and Remus on the right, and you in the middle. James hung the picture on his wall as it was routine by now. The whole gang got to see his famous wall of pictures, his life an open storybook to anyone who looked closely. 

Fourth year sparked love, pranks, and new ideas. Peter went on his first date, flaming at the cheeks as his friends waved him off embarrassingly. Group pranks ensued upon Snape whose oily hair was dyed all colors of the rainbow by the end of the first semester. You had gone on your first date as well, Steven Goldstein from Hufflepuff whom James threatened to beat up and Sirius who gave him “a talk”. 

Most importantly, the group addressed Remus’s furry little problem seeing as each year he came back with more and more scars than before. Two ideas sparked up from the meeting and both were large feats that every member of the group was willing to take. 

“So wait..” Peter asked. “You want to make a map… that tracks everyone in Hogwarts?” 

James nodded and Remus shook his head. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t look at me that way, Remus.” 

Remus shoved him lightly. “How would that even work though? Isn’t it a little invasive?” 

You smiled. “It most certainly is invasive but think about how awesome it’d be to have something like that. All we would need is…” 

“A complex locator spell.” you and Sirius said together. 

Everyone grinned. “Pete can do the drawing and sketching. He’s good at that stuff. We should check for secret passageways. All of us could do the magic. We’ve got the brains.” 

“I don’t think someone with brilliant magic technique would use the word brain to describe their intelligence.” you point out. James simply flicked you in the head. 

“And there’s the Animagi thing…” Sirius added. 

“That’s a reach.” Remus replied. 

“More than the map?” Peter questioned. 

Remus sighed. “You guys don’t have to do that for me. I’ve been transforming on my own for years. No need to have buddies now.” 

“Nonsense.” you say. “Anything for you, Rem. This is what you deserve.” 

The friends looked at each other silently. “Are we ready to pull off the biggest student feat in Hogwarts history?” Sirius whispered. 

“Aye, aye.” Everyone cheered. 

Peter grinned. “We’re up to no good.” 

James smiled back. “Then let us manage our mischief well.” 

WIth that the group commenced, exiting the abandoned classroom they used and taking off to class. James walked by your side as you headed to astronomy together. 

“I can’t wait till we pin this down. It’s going to be an epic year.” he grinned. 

You chuckle. “I know you’ll end up stalking someone, Potter. Evans by the looks of it.” 

He shook his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nope. I’m gonna stalk you instead. See if you’re hiding any secrets from me.” 

You smile. “What secrets could I possibly be hiding from you, my boy?” 

James nudged your side with a smirk. “You’re telling me a good-looking fellow like yourself isn’t sneaking off with some other lad other than their best friends.” 

You shook your head, the word “good-looking” repeating itself in your mind. “No. If I did I would tell you.” 

“Good.” he said, starting up the stairs to the Astronomy tower. “I don’t need some arsehole stealing you away from me.” 

You roll your eyes. “No one could ever steal me from you, James. I’m not a Quaffle.” 

He nods with a grin. “Yeah. I suppose you’re more of a Snitch.” 

You laugh, dashing up the stairs in hopes that you wouldn’t be late for your Astronomy lesson.

--- 

As one could guess more pictures and sketches made their home on James Potter’s wall. It was a cluttered mess but beautiful nonetheless. It was as though the wall had an expression of its own with its array of Quidditch jerseys, photographs, art, and ticket stubs. Nobody touched the wall except James as he liked having every picture in place. His wall organized the way he liked it best… messy. 

Fifth year was the first year you didn’t see James every week. He had eagerly signed up for Quidditch camp and had left for Wales with promises that’d you write about the boys and the progress on the map and Animagi projects. The projects went well with Peter completing the outline sketches of the maps, Remus filling piles of papers on Animagi transformations and finally Sirius and you gathering the needed ingredients for the Animagi process. 

You had grown taller over the summer, hair lightening and your features more accentuated. Eagerly you awaited James’s return and when the time did come you had woken up early in the morning to see him arrive by Portkey on the hill. The second he appeared you had rushed over, engulfing him in a hug. You had missed his touch, his constant nagging and overall  the James Potterness that followed him around that would never fade with time. 

Meanwhile, he was left out of breath, a couple of inches taller and a smile on his face as he squeezed you back. “Y/N/N! I missed you, you lazy hag.” 

You laughed, messing up his hair that sat more neatly than in previous years. “And I missed you, my boy.” 

The next days before school were spent catching him up on the map and at the pond by your house. With each swim you noticed the changes in James such as the six-pack the tedious trials at Quidditch camp had given him. 

“Oi!” you shouted, splashing him in the face. “Whatever happened to the skinny twig that was my friend?” 

He smirked. “Oi! Why are you looking?” 

You bit your lip, not allowing him to see you flustered. “I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and it’s a very noticeable change!” you pointed at his toned stomach. 

James tapped your nose and you stared at him in annoyance. “It’s only noticeable if you want to notice it.” 

He turned around, making to walk back to the shore of the pond. You didn’t remember when James had gotten so cheeky although he’d always been that way, just never with you. Wickedly, you took the bucket that floated beside you and dunked it in the water. With a mischievous grin, you snuck up behind him, dumping the bucket of water on his head. 

James turned around with a gasp, jaw dropped. You laughed, a wide smile on your lips at the sight of him drenched in his swim trunks. It wasn’t until his arms tucked along your waist, dragging you to the deeper ends of the pond did the smile drop and his return. 

“Why you little…” you seethed. “James Fleamont Potter if you-” 

It was too late by then, your body submerged in the water and you swam up, his laughter the first noticeable sound. You scowled as he doubled over with laughter on the shore. “I’m never letting you go to Quidditch camp again.” 

The two of you walked home as the sun set, many flicks to the forehead ensuing as you did. 

---

Fifth year was by far the most epic year of your Hogwarts experience. Everything was prepared for the Animagi transformation and phase two of the map project was ready to launch with Remus having gained access to the restricted section of the library. 

It seemed as though the whole student body had recognized the change in James’s physique which only led to an inflation of his ego. The worst part was that Lily Evans just so happened to be one of those said noticers and while her defiance toward him was still strong, she could be caught staring in class much to James’s delight. 

The Animagi process began as soon as the September full moon. While Remus suffered in the Shrieking Shack, the four other Marauders set their Mandrake leaves into their mouths preparing for an uncomfortable month of bitterness on their tongues. The leaves were held under their tongues when talking in class and for the rest of the time they resorted to note passing leaving the entirety of Hogwarts wondering why the Marauders went quiet so suddenly. 

During the period between moons, they worked on their map. Stacks of books, both regular and restricted, lay among them. Each had a quill and parchment used to take note of spells or pass messages back and forth. As you worked you received a message from James in the form of a crumpled ball of parchment. You smoothed it out with a sigh. 

I hate this thing. It tastes like piss and lime. 

You held back a chuckle, writing your own message next to his. 

You’re not backing out of this, Potter. It’s for Remus. 

He stuck the leaf under his tongue in order to stick it out at you and you rolled your eyes. He scribbled a message back. 

I know. I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it. 

You smirked, tossing the parchment back to him. 

If your scrawny arse can come back from Quidditch camp with abs then you can stomach keeping a leaf in your mouth for a month. 

He smoothed it out and you went back to your work only getting in a minute's reading before the parchment bounced off your head. You scowled at his antics but he only looked at his book with a smirk. Unfolding the paper, James’s messy handwriting took up the last blank space on the parchment. 

Nice to know you still think about my abs. 

Your stomach squirmed at the feeling that inflamed from his words and the smirk that was on his face. You flicked him on the head, throwing the parchment into the fire before Sirius could ask what it was. 

--- 

It took moon soaked leaves, untouched morning dew and a lightning storm to finally complete the transformations. It was on a late November night that a lightning storm finally struck and in the fifth corridor bathroom the Marauders made their first transformations. For Peter, a small rat with a wriggling tail. For Sirius, a pure black dog. For James, a large stag with mighty horns. For you, a sly fox with sleek orange fur. 

Thus that night began the use of the nicknames: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Dubbed by James and agreed upon all around. The final full moons of fifth year were spent prancing around Hogsmeade alongside Remus whose scars diminished with each transformation spent with his friends. 

The downside of it all was the building tension in the school. With Lord Voldemort on the rise, more and more of your classmates were showing their true colors. Select Slytherins no longer wore short sleeves, their wrists always covered even in the heat of summer. Watchful eyes and protective glares, you went home for summer in worry. 

Over the summer, Prongs lost his Pronginess. He wrote to Lily Evans most days of the week and now the things she sent him hung on his wall alongside you and the Marauders. An anticipated change but a scary one still. Every outing with James became more about Lily and less about anything else. You could feel your best friend slipping away and you told him so the night before the start of sixth year. 

The two of you sat together in the branches of a tree. The sun hit your skin in rays and clouds passed by over your heads. James’s voice droned on about his darling Lily flower and with an unknowing malice you snapped at him. “Shut it!” you groaned. 

His eyes looked over at you, hands holding your head in remorse. “Aren’t you happy for me? You’ve been acting off all summer.” 

“I’ve been acting off because you’ve been acting off. I am happy for you but Evans is the only thing you talk about these days. What happened to talking about the Tornados or sneaking out together for milkshakes?” 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s different now.” 

“Well, it shouldn’t be.” you exclaim. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t grow up. I support the idea of you no longer being a cheeky bastard. If you’re happy with Evans then I am happy for you. But being with Evans doesn’t mean you have to forget about me or the Marauders or everything else.” 

James nodded, a leaf spinning between his fingers as he frowned. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N.” 

You shake your head. “I am too. Sorry I snapped at you, my boy.” your head fell onto his shoulder the same way it had done for years only this time things had changed. The weight still felt perfect on his shoulder but now his stomach turned and his breath hitched at the close proximity. Things were indeed changing although the two of you only danced around it, not wanting to address the mess you two had made. 

Your head was still against his shoulder as you spoke quietly. “Just remember you’re not a Quaffle.” 

He chuckled, stroking your hair affectionately. “I guess I’ll be the snitch then.” 

You smiled, swimming in the feel of the James Potter you knew so well. Later that night, the two of you snuck out like old times, sharing a chocolate milkshake and sending each other glances the whole way home. 

--- 

Sixth year was a rollercoaster. The map was finished, all the efforts poured out finally receiving an equally impressive outcome with the parchment branded with the names of the Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Remus had his first kiss and Sirius decided on leaving home and James welcomed him with open arms. 

The other Marauders were not impartial to the changes in your and James’s behavior. The miniscule changes in his face when you napped on his lap or the flush of your skin when he rustled your hair. In all honesty, it was as though the two of you were finally waking up and seeing what they’d been seeing all along. However, your own defiance was strong and love wasn’t simple. James was still under the impression that his heart beat for Lily Evans and you flirted around your feelings as opposed to finally confronting them. 

When Gryffindor won the Quidditch season, you were the first one in James’s arms to congratulate him. He spun you around, a large grin on his face. “We won!” 

You smiled. “That you did, my boy. Celebration calls and are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Hmm? Let me guess… Firewhiskey?” 

“That’s my boy.” you cheer, linking your arm in his and dragging him off the field as Lily Evans watched the boy she had taken a chance on run off with someone else.

---

Firewhiskey made for a fine celebration and resulted in James and you collapsed on the floor of the Gryffindor common room at two in the morning. His glasses were crooked as he stared up at the ceiling and your hair fell in waves on the floorboards. 

“Blimey, I can’t believe we won.” James chuckled, his words slurring together slightly. 

“You deserve it, my boy.” you say, lightly punching his arm. “How are you feeling on this fine evening?” 

His cheeks went pink but a smile overtook his features making for a hilarious expression when he shouted out. “Randy!”  

You doubled over with laughter. “Gosh, James. I don’t need to hear about this.” you shove his grinning face with your palm. 

“What, you've never felt randy before?” he asked, a childlike expression on his face juxtaposing such an intrusive question. 

You hide your embarrassment behind a grin. “Yes, but I’m not going around telling you about it.” 

He tapped your nose with the tip of his finger and your stomach swirled. “And why not?” 

You turned over to your side. “I’m not sure best friends tell each other about being randy, Prongs.” 

James sighed. “I guess not. But how are you feeling, my little vixen?” 

With a swig of your drink and a grin you reply. “Randy.” 

The two of you erupt into fits of laughter. James pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it’s the whiskey then.” 

You stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

Both of you knew that wasn’t the case. You knew that despite the whiskey slowing the gears of your mind you still noticed James’s hand laying by your waist. You could still trace the outline of his chin and the bridge of his nose. James could still see the curve of your lips and the rise of your chest. Firewhiskey was most definitely not the cause of your randiness. 

But it was the easiest thing to blame. 

--- 

Your birthday came soon after with the Marauders celebrating in joy. Presents were exchanged with Remus giving you some books, Peter knitted (with the help of his mother) a pair of mittens for you and Sirius had gifted you a record to play on your stereo. 

But James had to be extravagant. It wasn’t everyday his best friend turned seventeen and he marked the occasion with something expensive yet meaningful. When you opened the small box inside had been a silver fox ring. It’s eyes sparkling gems that twinkled as if blinking. 

“James, I’m going to kill you.” you seethed. “This is way too expensive. I’m turning seventeen not fifty.” 

He laughed. “Oi, woman! It’s fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, only the best for you.” 

You stared at it once more before engulfing him in a hug. “It’s beautiful, my boy. Thank you.” 

His arms squeezed your waist, breathing you in and remembering the sweet smells of childhood and friendship rolled into one. His eyes closed and it was as if he had drifted off into a pleasant dream. “Of course, my little vixen.”

You made certain to flick his head after. 

He was starting to regret giving it to you already. 

---

Sixth year came to a close with an even more devastating end than the last. The war only continued to rage with Muggles being murdered miles away from the school, Muggle-borns driving into hiding. Sirius’s brother was slowly falling into line with the other Slytherins, devoting their hours to the torture of Muggleborns, Lord Voldemort and the likes. 

James left Hogwarts heart-broken when Lily Evans broke up with him on the last day of term. “Look around!” Lily had told him. “You’re blind, James. I’m not the person you want and it’d be clear if you’d stop and take a look.” 

He hadn’t known what she meant and the first week of summer was spent crying and eating ice cream on the sofa with you by his side. His room had become a mess and Lily’s letters no longer remained on the wall instead crumbled up in a ball in the trash. 

Euphemia Potter couldn’t dread to see her son in the dumps any longer and she made sure to tell him so one evening after you had left. 

“James, you need to get your life together, my love.” she whispered, rubbing her sons back reassuringly. 

His words came out muffled into her neck. “It’s hard.” 

“I know.” she soothed. “And I’m always going to be there for you.” 

“Promise?” he asked. 

“Promise.” she smiled. “Now how about you go clean your room. It’s become quite dirty.” 

He nodded, trudging to his room with a broom. Lily’s words repeated in his mind as he entered. “You’re blind, James. Look around!” But there was nothing to look for. All he saw was his wall and a soft smile came to his face as he approached it. The Tutshill Tornado banners clung loosely to the paint and drawings of Kneazles and landscapes and trees. Pictures of the Marauders and Gryffindor lions. 

And finally the ones of you. 

His fingers ran across the picture in the middle. Four-year old James grinning and you licking a lolly. His eyes moved to the next one, seven years old and flying together on a broomstick. A grin broke out on his face as he saw the one with your owl in Diagon Alley, his fingers flicking your forehead. James’s mind was on hyperdrive as he examined each picture, one common factor in almost all of them. 

You. 

You were in many of the photos, a smile adorned on your face. If you weren’t in the photos you were the one taking them, knowing how much he adored them. Any pictures that hung were sketched by your hands. Here was James Potter’s open story, the story of his life all plastered to the wall as though it was an empty canvas. Present in every moment, every aspect, had been you. You had been the start of his book, the picture of the two of you as tots still smacked in the middle of the wall. Yes, he realized. You had started his book and had remained in it for quite some time. 

Lily Evans must’ve noticed and maybe everyone else had too. 

James had been blind to the message that was sprawled across his wall. He had been the one writing it, maybe not knowingly but writing it out all the same. Everyone had seen it except the writer and his subject, the message painstakingly clear years prior to its conception. 

He quickly removed all the pictures from the wall, grabbing each one that hung and piling them up in his hand. The door swung open as he dashed out of his room yelling, “I’ve got to go, mum!” before running out the front door. The hills of green were illuminated by the night sky, the stars burned for James as he hopped over branches and boulders to get to you. 

Your house was in the distance, your figure standing a few feet away from the home. He called out to you, your eyes turned to meet his. When he reached you, he paused, catching his breath. 

“James, what on Earth are you doing here?” you laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder as he breathed. 

He stood up straight, panting as he held up a photo. “This is us when we were four. The first photo we ever took together.” 

You squinted at him. “Right?” 

He shuffled through the pictures, fingers tracing each one. “And this is from when we were seven. That one from when we were ten. You gave me this drawing when we were six because you loved Kneazles and wanted one as a pet. That drawing was from the first year when we went skipping stones at the Black Lake and you sketched me and Peter.” 

Your face melts slowly. “James, I don’t understand. You’ve had these for years.” 

He exhaled, his eyes lighting up. “That’s the thing. I never saw it till now but Lily said I was blind and that she wasn’t the person I wanted.” You nod, wiping the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve and he grinned. “See that right there. That’s what I want.” 

The night air bit at your spine. “You want me to wipe the sweat from your forehead?” 

He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. I want you to wipe the sweat from my forehead for the next year and the next ten and then the next fifty. You’ve been doing it for years already and the thing is… I don’t think I want anyone else doing it for me.” 

You blinked as he came closer, his palms cradling your cheek as you gazed into his eyes. “You’ve been in my life for as long as I could remember and I want you to stay in it for as long as I live. You told me once to not throw around the l-word and I said…” 

“But I’ve known you my whole life.” you mutter. 

“I think I’ve loved you for a while. I just didn’t know it yet.” 

You shook your head as the wind rustled the branches, the windchime on your porch creating soft melodies. A large grin spread across your lips yet you continued to shake your head. “There’s a war, James.” 

He smiled. “Only more the reason to be with me.” 

“But I’ve been with you my whole life.” you tease. 

“Oh, shut up!” he chuckles, before leaning down to capture your lips. At that moment everything made sense. All the pieces of the puzzle sifted into place and the stars applauded you from the sky and the night gale created a ruckus at your shed blindfold. 

“Be my Snitch?” he asked. 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever said, my boy.” 

He smirked. “Oh, but you love it.” 

“Perhaps I do.” you replied, flicking his forehead for good measure. 

---

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Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

[psychedellic-phase]

Ghosts & Icing

A/N: this request is adorable and I hope I did it justice!! I went with the seasons 12-15 gang because then there would be a ton of kiddos and also I love Luke Alvez and he deserves the world :)

TW: None fluff city

wc: 2.0k

Masterlist

“Spence, where does the green skeleton go? Between the pumpkins or next to the gargoyle?” You called up to Spencer, waddling over to the many boxes of Halloween decorations that your husband had accumulated over the years. 

It was barely September 30th, and you were already decorating for his most beloved holiday. You didn’t mind; you loved him and he loved Halloween. So, naturally, you loved Halloween too. Before you met Spencer, you hadn’t even so much as carved a pumpkin each year, and the last time you wore a costume was at a college frat party. Well, if wearing a set of cat ears and drawn on eyeliner whiskers can even be considered a costume. According to Spencer Reid, it is not. But here you were, wearing a shirt covered in jack-o-lanterns and ghosts that barely fit over your protruding belly. Oh how life can change. 

Spencer appeared seemingly out of thin air, looking frazzled, his hair more disheveled than usual, some fake cobwebs tangled in it, and orange lights draped around him like he was a Christmas tree. 

“Don’t touch anything!”

You put your hands up in defeat, “Alright, I’ll let the Halloween king decorate his castle.”

You pottered over the front stoop, sitting on the hard concrete and watching him put fake cobwebs and oversized spiders in the bushes. You leaned back, rubbing your belly softly. It wasn’t that big, only twenty-four weeks, but you felt like you had stolen one of Spencer’s beloved pumpkins and shoved it under your shirt.

When you saw him again he was breathless. Only he could be overexerted from decorating.

“Should I put the tombstone next to the Frankenstein head? Or should I make a mini graveyard in the lawn?”

You grinned, admiring his child-like enthusiasm. He rarely had that anymore. Honestly, after all the real life horror he saw, you were surprised he still liked a jump scare. The second hand fear you felt for him everyday was more than enough; you didn’t need Freddy Krueger to supplement. 

“I think you should do whatever you want, Babe.”

He groaned, “You’re no help!” “You’re the one that told me to not touch anything, Reid.”

He smiled, “You’re right, but now I need you to touch something.”

You wiggled your eyebrows and stood up, making your way to him. You smoothed out his sweaty t-shirt and moved his hair from his eyes, “I’ll touch whatever you want.”

He stifled a laugh, “I-I didn’t mean like that; that job has been done. I meant like you could put the ghosts along the walkway while I set up the orange and purple lights.” As soon as he finished saying it, the box of ghosts were in your hand and he was untangling lights. 

“Hey! You forgot something!”

He stumbled over to you, looking side to side with wide eyes “What? What’d I forget?”

You puckered your lips and he smiled, planting a kiss on them. 

“Thank you, and you better shower before everyone gets here. You stink Reid!”

“So do you, Reid! Love you!” He called after you before making his way back inside to find more decorations. 

“Purple is the color of the seventh chakra, which represents the third eye and clairvoyance, so purple has become closely associated with the holiday as it is very spiritual in nature. Actually, purple has a rather complicated color symbolism because it is the mixture of calm blue and passionate red. The emotions attached to it vary, depending on whether or not it is a blue based purple or a red based purple. Which is actually an interesting conundrum when you look at the color spectrum-” Spencer rambled to the table of children and their parents who were just there to decorate sugar cookies and admire the ghost stickers on the walls.

Matt laughed, “Thanks for that, Reid. But I think Kristy was just complimenting the lights on the mantle.”

Everyone laughed and Spencer flushed a light shade of pink. You came up to him and admired the mess of a kitchen table in front of you.

On one side were the Jareau-LaMontagnes. Henry was old enough to try to make a ghost, but Michael was still too little to sit in his own seat. He was on Will’s lap, patting his hands on orange sprinkles and watching them stick to his little palms. Then he would clap and watch them fall to the ground around him, giggling every time.

“I’m real sorry about the mess, Y/N,” Will said in his sweet southern drawl.

You smiled, “Hey, I said we’d host Halloween cookie day. I’m more than happy to clean it up. Plus, it’s practice for this guy.” You patted your belly and he smiled.

On the opposing side of the table was the ever growing Simmons clan. David and Jake were squeezing green icing out of bags trying to make Frankensteins, and their younger sisters were hogging all the purple and drawing flowers on the cookies shaped like bats. 

The kids weren’t the only ones having fun though. You set up a separate table for the adults. It was kind of like those wine and art nights, but in this case the art was edible.

Penelope got the short end of the stick (in her book at least) and was sitting next to Luke, aka Newbie, “You cannot just hog all the red icing! I swear to GOD Luke Alvez!”

Luke puckered up his face and mocked Penelope, “I swear to GOD Luke Alvez!”

“Oh SHUT UP SHUT UP! Just because you’re all macho and handsome doesn’t mean you get to hog all the icing!”

“Maybe you wouldn’t need the red icing if you hadn’t insisted on making the skull rainbow.”

Penelope groaned and looked across the room at you and Spencer, begging you to help her. The two of you just laughed and you leaned into Spencer’s side. 

“When do you think she’ll finally admit she’s in love with him?”

Spencer laughed, putting his hand on the small of your back, “Never. Garcia is many things, and stubborn is one of them.”

Rossi was next to them, sitting back and not participating in the icing war that was going on in front of him. He just warned them that they better not get any on his brand new Italian silk shirt. 

“It’s handmade, you know, only fifteen were even made. I had to call a guy who knows a guy who knows the maker’s sister to get one.”

JJ rolled her eyes, “Sure Rossi, and this shirt was actually worn by the Queen of England.” 

She gestured to the black shirt she was wearing which clearly said, “Happy Halloween Witches!” 

Dave scoffed, “Listen, Jennifer, I know Liz well. She would never wear something that tried to replace the word ‘bitches’ with ‘witches’. She’s classy.”

JJ laughed, taking another gulp of wine, “Liz? So what… you guys are on a first name basis?”

He shrugged, “Let’s just say, if Philip wasn’t in the picture…”

They were interrupted by Henry coming up to his mom and showing her the ghost cookie he had tried to make, “Do you like it, mom?”

“Wow dude! That is one scary ghost,” she said, taking it from him and licking some stray icing off her fingers.

He grinned proudly, and insisted on showing his favorite Uncle Spencer.

“Uncle Spence! Come look at my ghost!”

Spencer looked over at you, silently asking for permission to leave your side. You smiled and waved your hand, “Go! But please don’t get black icing on the ceiling again. This year, you’ll be the one cleaning it.”

He smiled and sat at the ridiculously small kids chair, looking like a giant, and picked up a few piping bags to make his own creation.

Suddenly Emily and Tara appeared next to you, holding an empty bottle of wine, “We need a refill, Mrs. Reid.”

You still blushed at the use of your married name, no matter how many times you heard it, “Follow me to the wine cellar, ladies!”

The two of them followed behind you as you walked carefully down the steps, “Spencer usually doesn’t let me down here. He says the steps are unsafe.”

“Uh, yeah, if I had known how narrow and steep they were I would’ve just asked you to direct me,” Tara said, looking for the light switch on the wall. She found it and soon the three of you were staring at the dark walls of the basement.

“Okay, maybe I lied. It isn’t so much a wine cellar as it is just a regular, creepy old basement.”

“Full of spiders,” Emily added, swatting at a cobweb on the extremely low ceiling. Spencer had to crouch when he came down here. 

“That’s what you get for buying a house built in 1920, Y/N,” Tara added, as they both began sifting through the stray bottles of wine in a box on the floor.

“I know, but Spencer insisted because it ‘adds character.’”

“Being married to that man, I don’t know how much more character you need,” Emily said, pulling out a bottle of cheap Barefoot red wine, “I bet you miss this.”

You rubbed your belly, “I said I’m bringing a bottle of wine in my hospital bag.”

Tara laughed, “And what did Dr. Reid say to that? ‘Actually, Y/N, you can’t have alcohol in the hospital.’”

“No, no, I bet it was more like, ‘did you know that alcohol is a depressant? It slows down your cognitive functions, thus making it much harder to care for a newborn baby.’”

“Hey! Stop making fun of my husband!” you said, the two women looking as if they’d just seen a ghost, which was rather fitting for the occasion, “Only I get to do that!”

The three of you laughed and they helped you hobble up the stairs, where you were met by a sight you wished you hadn’t seen.

The first person you saw was Matt, white icing all over his red shirt and arms, and Kristy laughing next to him, using a finger to swipe some up and put it in her mouth. Next were the four Simmons children, each with varying amounts and colors of icing and sprinkles all over them. Then you saw Will, who for some reason had a chunk of cookie in his hair, and Michael on his shoulders. JJ was behind them, grabbing Michael’s hands and trying to wipe all the stickiness he had accumulated off of them.

Next was Rossi, who had an unmistakable drop of red icing on the arm of his Italian silk shirt. If he was a cartoon character, he would’ve had steam coming out of his ears. Garcia and Luke were next to him, each looking mortified and blaming the other. Garcia was smacking his arm lightly and Luke was shielding his face.

Then your eyes found the person you always looked for when you entered a room, and Spencer looked the worst of them all. His fluffy hair was matted down in places with green icing, cookie crumbs all over his cheeks and stuck in his scruff. His sweater was once cream colored, but now it was a mixture of green, purple, black, and gray. His hands were covered in icing and sprinkles and he was spinning Henry around in a circle.

You stood there and admired the scene in front of you for a moment, before Tara cleared her throat. 

“What is going on here?”

Everyone stopped, and immediately Henry spoke, “He did it!”

He pointed straight at Spencer, who put his hands up, “Me? What’d I do?”

“Uncle Spencer started a food fight!”

“No, I think it was Garcia,” Rossi said and the room fell into a roar of laughter; Tara and Emily eager to get in on the fun and dip their own hands into some icing.

You admired them all one more time, rubbing your belly softly, before also diving head first into a mess of sprinkles and ghost shaped cookies.

This was your family, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Happy Halloween

Author: @shesasurvivor​

Prompt: Everlark and gang creating a faux trick or treating experience for toastbabies during this time of COVID [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: General

Author’s Note: Happy Halloween! Sorry for the uninspired title, I seriously couldn’t come up with another one (I’m sure I will in another 24 hours, though, lol). I took a little creative liberty with the prompt, as I was inspired by the videos of people delivering candy while social distancing. At any rate, I hope everyone is enjoying this unconventional Halloween despite everything!

___________

“If I had been deprived of Halloween as a child, I would have been devastated,” Peeta says.

I frown, hands on my hips, as I watch him draw whiskers on our daughter, who’s barely holding still long enough to let him work. “I’m still worried,” I say. “The news says cases are surging.”

“They’ve been stuck inside all year,” he says back. “They deserve to have a little bit of fun on Halloween.”

I sigh, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door as I look on. The thing is, I know he’s right. The kids have been cooped up inside most of the year by now. Even the few times we’ve been able to go anywhere, it was always the safest way possible to avoid contact with others. Always wearing a mask. 

“Please, mama?” Daisy’s eyes turn towards me, though she does her very best to stay still, so her whiskers don’t smear across her face. It’s those hopeful baby eyes that are my undoing. She looks so cute and so excited that I know I can’t keep fighting this battle. 

“Alright,” I finally relent. “You can go trick or treating tonight. But you have to stay close to daddy and me! And do exactly as we tell you to do.”

Her face lights up in a grin that she can’t hold back. “Hold still, honey,” Peeta reminds her, but she’s not paying attention to him anymore. “Yay!” she squeals, practically bouncing in her chair. Peeta allows her a few moments of excitement before reminding her that she’ll need to let him finish her facepaint before she is ready to go.

I insist on going out with them, even though it means we won’t be home to give out candy. My mother, who has been living with us since the lockdown started, agrees to give any out to the little trick or treaters we may get this year. Determining how much candy to buy this year was difficult since we weren’t sure how busy our neighborhood might be. Eventually, we decided on one large bag, figuring we would give it to our children to make up for a lost Halloween if no one else showed. 

“How will anyone see my whiskers if I have to wear a mask?” Daisy asks as Peeta and I shove on our jackets before we leave.

Peeta gives her a knowing smile. “I was thinking of that, too. So I bought you a see-through mask,” he tells her, producing the plastic mask from his pocket. I raise an eyebrow, wondering when he bought it, as the realization that he’d been banking on my relenting begins to sink in. I wonder what else he’s been up to. 

Jackets on and masks donned, we find ourselves out on the sidewalk with our son and daughter in the fading light. The sun is just now setting, but with our children being so young, we wanted to get them out early to be home in time for bed. “Which way should we start?” I ask the group.

Peeta answers before anyone else has a chance. “Let’s go this way,” he says, motioning off to the left. It’s a little too quick for an answer, further raising my suspicion that he’s been up to something. But whatever it is, it remains to be seen. So I relent and let him lead the way. 

Not many houses are lit up this year, which is precisely what I suspected. But Peeta leads us a few places down from our own to a house I know well. It belongs to our friends and neighbors, the Odair family. Only the house is hardly recognizable. By the look of it, they decided to go all out this year because their front yard is decked out in a scene of horrific marine terror, depicting scenes of sea monsters and crazed sea witches. Their family loves the ocean, but this is on a whole new level.

From the top window of their house, a wire runs down to their front fence. I study it, not sure what on earth it’s supposed to be for, when a voice calling down distracts me. “Happy Halloween!” In the window where the wire originates is Finnick Odair waving down to us. 

Our son looks up curiously while Daisy is jumping up and down in place. “Can we go up to their door? Please, please?” she begs Peeta and me both.

“I think he has something else in mind,” Peeta says and nods back up to the window where a white parachute glides down the wire in our direction. When it reaches the fence, both children hesitate, looking up to us for permission. “Go ahead,” Peeta encourages them. 

Letting go of their hands, they both run up to the basket and pull it down so that they can see inside before plucking something out and dropping it in their bags. Then they run back to us. “Mama, daddy, there was candy in there!" 

A smile lights up my face as I finally figure out what’s happening. Finnick has found a way to deliver candy while social distancing. I look over at Peeta, thinking this must be what he’s been up to, but he’s watching the kids. 

"Shall we try Johanna’s house next?” Peeta suggests when the kids are calmed down from the excitement enough to move on. I agree, wondering what’s in store for us this time. 

When we get there, her home is similarly as festive as the Odairs. Scenes of chainsaws and deranged lumberjacks loom in her yard. That same wire runs from a window to the front yard, and another parachute is dispatched on our arrival. The kids tear their eyes from the decor and run to the basket when it’s come to a stop, finding more candy inside. 

On and on, this continues as we make our way around the neighborhood. Haymitch Abernathy has angry skeleton geese figures in his yard. Beetee has a Frankenstein scene. Effie Trinket decides to go the more tasteful route and instead has immaculately carved pumpkins along her porch stairs. Everyone we know has decorated for Halloween this year, and they all have the same wire contraption rigged to deliver candy to the children.

“This is what you’ve been up to, isn’t it?” I ask Peeta quietly at one house as the children scramble to a basket to retrieve candy. Peeta gives me something of a knowing smirk in return. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says a little too innocently. 

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets,” I retort. 

He hands back as the children move on towards the next house, and I take the hint to slow down with him. “It was Beetee’s idea to do the wire,” he says. “But I just couldn’t stand the idea of letting them miss out on Halloween. Not this year, when everything has been so miserable.”

I shake my head, but I’m grinning. Leave it to Peeta to come up with something like this. It’s times like these that remind me of why I love him so much. Leave it to him to find moments of beauty in times of pain. To create them, even. He’s been my rock through this entire pandemic; tears well up as I think about it. “Thank you,” I tell him. “For doing this for them.”

He takes my hand in his. “Happy Halloween,” he tells me. “Just wait until you see what we’re doing for Christmas.”

[soyforramen]

I can have an AU of my underground witch  and vampire AU, as a treat.  (Or, @sullypants told me to.)

Betty hissed and turned her head away. It didn’t feel like what she’d heard; it was supposed to be a soothing wave of calm and giddiness. Instead, this felt like two very large, very angry mosquitoes were jockeying for the best position to her veins.

“Fidgeting just makes the pain worse,” Jughead mumbled.  His lips ghosted across her skin, sending a flight of gooseflesh up her arm that made the urge to squirm worse.

Instead of thinking about the vampire currently attached to her, Betty bit the inside of her lip and resolutely stared at the peeling paint and rusted tools around her.  It was better than noticing just how very unsexy her first time was.  

Veronica had swooned when she described the first time she’d allowed herself to be bitten by a red haired vamp.  And Betty didn’t really want to remember all the gory details Reggie had relayed to her about his tryst with a vampire moonlighting as a boxer.

This hurt.

At least it took away from the boredom of trailing Honey and Weatherbee.  For the last three weeks they’d found nothing out of the ordinary.  The routine of diners, bars, and bowling alleys was nothing out of the norm for two consummate bachelors who may or may not be selling organs on the black magic market.

Of course, if they weren’t trailing the pair of allegedly upstanding citizens around town, Jughead would never have been foolish enough to have forgotten to eat for three days.  

A small part of her wondered whether he’d really forgotten, or if perhaps he was drawing another line in the sand between them.  The strange dance they’d been playing at for almost a year was still at a standstill.  Despite Betty’s hints and practically outright flirtation, Jughead maintained his aloof, Victorian sensibilities.  

(Damn him for propriety, and damn her for going for the Byronic, colicky types.)

It itched too.  Whatever it was about him, this was ten times worse than a mosquito bite.  She wondered if it would be impolite to ask whether he was done, but then again there were those overtones of the spector-like relationship between them.  

(Perhaps she should ask Cheryl what was in those drinks at the Vixen club.  That came far too close to love potions, though, and Betty was certainly not desperate enough to turn to those.  Those she’d leave to her sister.)

A wet, warm thing drew across her arm, and Betty realized with a start that Jughead had just licked her.  He apologized quickly and wiped his coast sleeve across her arm.

“It helps the skin mend better,” he mumbled looking as apologetic as a dog that had just been stepped on.  

“Oh.”

She hesitated.  What did one say after being used like a blood filled Capri Sun?

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Betty murmured.  She shifted in her seat and drew her arm towards her face.  In the dim neon light she could see that the skin was indeed healing; only two light pink points were visible on her arm. 

 “Honey-Bee still hasn’t gotten past the entree.  At least you finished quicker than I expected.”

Jughead flushed and turned away from her.  Betty realized too late just what she’d said and couldn’t help the undelicate snort that echoed in the space around them.  As weary as she was growing of this canyon of space between them, moments like these, where the Victorian propriety proved to be as anachronistic as a rotary phone, were amusing enough for Betty to keep him around.

“Thank you,” he said when his pallor returned to it’s normal bleached bone color.  “I’m sorry if it hurt.  I was as gentle as I could be.”

Betty shrugged and leaned her arms against the windowsill.  “I’d say it was just uncomfortable.  Though I did miss the fireworks.”

He quirked an eyebrow.   

“Veronica said the first time she’d been bitten it was the best high of her life.”

“Well she can’t be right all the time,” he said darkly.  

Betty hummed and they went back to their stake out.  

“Do you think they’ll get pumpkin pie this time, or split cherry again?”

“Cherry.  Definitely,” Betty said.  “They had pumpkin last time.”

Thus went one more night in the life of a private investigating duo.

xxxx

Toni’s body shook with laughter hard enough that she almost fell out of her seat.  Cheryl steadied her, a board grin on her face. 

“You mean our resident Burton-esque Lothario didn’t charm you first?”  Cheryl asked.  

Betty shook her head, wary of her tone.  Cheryl leaned back in her seat and chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Betty asked.

Toni gasped in a breath of air and brushed tears from under her eyes.  “I knew he liked you, but I didn’t realize he was in this deep.”

Betty’s brow wrinkled and she leaned forward, carefully avoiding the large coffee in front of her.  “Liked me?  Lately he can’t stand to be in the same room with me.”

“Please,” Toni snorted, “if he didn’t want to be near you he’d have bitten and charmed you long ago.  It’s like the greatest -” she paused and glanced at Cheryl.

“Trust.  Or rather, intimacy.  Both things he’s the absolute worst about,” Cheryl said.

Toni nodded.  “When you bite someone, you normally send them into a trance state to keep them from realizing what’s actually happening.  It’s an evolutionary advantage to make sure prey don’t try and fight you off.  Like a drug to keep prey busy while nature takes its course, only the drug keeps them coming back for another.   But when two people share blood and both are aware that it’s happening -”

“Oh.”  

Oh.  

“Who knew our grungy Mr. Cullen could be so vulnerable?  Especially around a witch?”  Cheryl asked in a sing-song voice.  

Her thrill of the revelation was radiating off her in waves and Betty watched as two strangers shifted closer to each other and struck up a conversation while their eyes made promises of later.  Even Toni, mostly immune to Cheryl’s pheromones, shifted closer to her and laced their hands together as she raised her hand in answer.

“But why doesn’t he do something about it?” Betty asked.  Frustration wouldn’t even begin to cover this one, though desperate exasperation might.

“Because he’s old-fashioned,” Toni said.  “Things were much different back then.  One didn’t go about things that would dishonor a woman’s virtue.  Not if you were trying to keep her social standing intact.”

Betty huffed and crossed her arms.  “That’s just stupid,” she muttered.  

Toni snorted.  “Look, if you want to wait for him, we’ll all be dead from the heat death of the universe.  He’s not going to make a move until he knows for certain you love him, and even then it will be more chaste than a co-ed math-letes convention.”

“It’s the new millennium, baby cousin,” Cheryl said with a pointed look.

“Which means I’m -”

“- going to have to take charge,” Cheryl and Toni said in eerie unison.  

xxxx

Another night spent on stake-out.  Only this time, Betty couldn’t keep from sending glances Jughead’s way as she tried to figure out the best way to approach this.  

Eventually, his own curiosity got the better of him.  “Is there something on my face?”

No, but there should be.  

“Did you feed already?”

His eyes narrowed, the cogs in his brain working overtime to decipher a simple question.  

“Yes.  Why do you ask?”

“Good.”

With more convinction than she felt, Betty leaned over and kissed him as hard as she could manage from her perch on the plastic vegetable crate.  Jughead kissed her, a ravenous hunger she hadn’t felt in almost a year.  

“Betty …”

He spoke her word like a glorious sin, and it was all she could do to keep from crawling into his lap. 

“I don’t want -”

Betty pulled back, icy chills washing over her.  She chewed her lip as she searched his face, but found nothing more than restrained longing.

“I know it’s a different century, but I don’t want you to think I’m overstepping any boundaries.”

Leap over them, you idiot, was what she wanted to say, but instead she leaned back and took a breath. 

“Look, Juggie.  I appreciate that, I really do.  But is that the only reason?”

He nodded.  A lock of his hair fell into his eyes, and Betty brushed it back behind his ear.  She left her hand on his check and he moved his head to kiss her palm.  

“Do you love me?”  

Jughead’s lips curved into a soft smile.  “Most ardently.”  

This time, the kiss was slow and sweet, a final revelation in the light of neon lights.

[themadauthorshatter]

It's September, witches, bitches, and litches(I'mso sorry for any offense, I was trying to be funny!)!

Let's see what mischief is in for the Skellington triplets this time!!!!

It is the next day in sunny Halloween Town and Jacob has been let off the hook for the day's meeting, so Jack and the Mayor can discuss something in private.

That leaves Jacob free to do whatever he pleases!

WITH LUNA AND DAEMON AT HIS SIDE.

He asks why they're following him and Luna states sharply that Jack told her to keep an eye of Jacob so he doesn't do anything crazy. That makes sense, but why is Daemon following?

He's BORED.

Jacob's glad to hear that, at least, because he's going to keep his brother entertained with an exploration around town, specifically what's on the outer limits of the town.

Luna warns him against it and Daemon's skeptical, but neither are able to stop Jacob as he slips through the bars of the town gate, explaining that they should stop him, then.

Daemon follows because he's bored, but Luna also follows, very reluctant.

Jacob teases her, asking if she's afraid.

She's not afraid. She doesn't want to get in trouble, lest they forget how mad their parents get when they misbehave.

Jacob corrects her: They don't get in trouble, if they don't do something they're not supposed to.

Luna, fed up, asks if he's been hanging around those bastards Lock, Shock, and Barrel, who are listening behind some tombstones and are all very offended by Luna's insult toward them.

And Jacob's response that no, he'd never go within a mile radius of those three reprobates, not with being the next Pumpkin King amd his father on his back.

Luna asks if he DOESN'T WANT to be his father's heir and Jacob kicks up a stick, asking back if SHE'D like the position instead.

She doesn't, because Jacob is the eldest, therefore making him the heir by tradition. And he's a boy, which us another strike against her.

Daemon reminds them both that tradition and gender be damned, they're ALL the same age. Imagine a Halloween with all three of them after Jack steps down.

Jacob muses that it sounds like fun while Luna sighs that she'll be the ring leader of two out of control hell hounds that are her brothers.

Daemon gawks at her, because he doesn't even take his EYES off of the line, much less set a toe outside of it, so how dare she.

Before she can correct him, Jacob dashes up a hill and stands still, staring long enough for his siblings to catch up.

Turns out they found the treehouse Lock, Shock, and Barrel reside in, and where Oogie Boogie used to be.

Luna is a little freaked out at the fact that it has now started to fall apart and Daemon, who pulled himself up to look, dips back down because he heard rumors that there have been a alot of bugs that remained and are still residing there to this day.

Jacob asks, a little nervously, where these rumors came from and who's been saying them.

Daemon shrugs, admitting he just heard it from Corpse Kid and Vampire Kid and it just stuck with him because some bugs are kind of hard to kill.

And then there's the fact that Lock, Shock, and Barrel are still hanging around, for some stupid reason.

Luna hugs herself and notes that knowing WHO lived there, under the house, and what he did, it doesn't make any easier to look at, even with the knowledge that he's gone by their father's hand.

And Santa's boot, which Daemon adds before sighing that he'd actually like to meet old Saint Nick one day, if it's okay with Jack and Chris Kringle himself.

Those words make Jacob's uneasy look turn to determination as he clenches a fist; now he doesn't just want to exceed Jack and everyone else, he wants his brother to meet Santa Clause.

He's also mentally wondering how he missed the woods with the doors, seeing as how he knows the town very well by his age, even semi-hallucinating/visualizing a map he'd drawn to find the holiday doors.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he hears Daemon shrieking and falling down the hill.

Turns out a butterfly is flying around him and won't leave him alone no matter how hard he tries to smack it away.

He shouts for either of his siblings to kill the butterfly because it's trying to kill him.

Luna pulls him up and swats it away, givung a sound of disgust because while she likes wearing dresses and playing with her hair, she's not a fan of things like butterflies.

She calls for Jacob, asking if he's coming, because Jack's bound to be finished with his meeting by now and is probably looking for them.

Jacob nods and follows them, after one last look at the treehouse and watching the butterfly circle him before flying away.

Luna was half right, Jack IS done with the meeting and is looking for them, except he brought Sally and Zero with him.

He asks where they've been, and Daemon somewhat saves Jacob's ass by saying they were looking for something interesting and found nothing, except for a good walk.

Somewhat because when asked what they were looking for specifically, he replies by offering the encounter with a killer butterfly.

Jack asks him to repeat so he KNOWS he heard that Daemon was attacked by a BUTTERFLY.

He was, and it did not help that Luna and Jacob stood by and did not help him in the slightest.

Sally, not buying this BS and genuinely curious, asks where their walk took them, while they walk home.

Luna offers an answer, which Jacob would know.

Jacob bites that she was there, too, so she should answer.

She would, but all she did was follow him, so his call.

Jack tells them to not argue because all they want to know is where they went, not if they had some sort of competition. He and Sally are asking because good on them for exploring a little and they want to know what their kids are up to.

Jacob relents and says they were just wandering until they accidentally found the old treehouse. They didn't go inside. They just went there and saw it from the outside, that's all.

Daemon backs his brother, saying they found it on accident and turned around, because it's evil.

Sally calms him by explaining the place itself is not evil, but kudos to the teiplets for no going in to explore.

Luna asks if it's because of all the bugs and Jack explains it is not because of the bugs. It's because he doesn't want them going in and getting trapped there with no way out, and doesn't want Lock, Shock, and Barrel to be anywhere near them because those three are still living in the house.

Jacob is silent as he listens, zoning out and thinking about the rumors and the fact his brother is probably going to be in on the idea of finding the holiday doors.

While the family continues home, the butterfly we saw earlier flies over to a crouching Lock, Shock, and Barrel, whispering into Lock's ear about what it found.

Shock asks what it's saying and Lock explains that they found their way of helping out their old friend, said way being a zoned out Jacob as the family returns to town.

With a bonehead even more clueless than Jack, it'll be easy to bring Oogie back, they just need to get him to walk a little further away than he should and they've got him.

Barrel, in a moment of realization, asks if they should really ask JACOB for help.

Sure, it'd hurt Jack the most, because Jacob's the eldest, and he's really good at sewing, but that's qhen he needs to keep his hands busy, and he's walked into trees mutiple times, sat and stared at a wall for hours on end, accidentally lit himself on fire, and made a bookshelf fall on top of him. To sum it up: he puts the E in idiot, for a guy who's his father's son.

He offers they go for Luna instead, who's worked in Dr. Finklestien's office the most, is very meticulous in her sewing, and is the only girl, so they can use that to draw her to them. Shock explains why THAT is a bad idea: Luna is not stupid. She has been sharp enough to see when people lie to her, just like Sally, and is the most obedient out of all three triplets, so she's a no go.

Okay, okay, that leaves the youngest, and arguably easiest to deal with, Daemon.

HA! Fools! They have never heard the series Pirates of The Caribbean, which Daemon watched on marathon on one Halloween night, or a particular man named Captain Jack Sparrow.

Five words:

Genius diguised as a fool.

Lock laughs and states the two of them are lying, because he's only seen Daemon following his brother and sister or either if his parents. There's no way he's a genius.

Shock challenges Lock, then, asking him to try and talk to Daemon and also try to get him to do something Lock wants him to do, maybe try pranking him.

We end with the triplets with their parents, Sally braiding Luna's hair while Luna vigorously sews a horned hat for Daemon, who's writing and solving math problems, while Jacob and Jack look over Halloween plans.

Jack notices that Jacob looks confused about something and asks what's on his mind.

The question turns everyone's heads:

Who lived under the treehouse, what happened to said person, and why did it happen?

[reshirement]

Pass the happy! 🌻 When you receive this, list five things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications. 💛💛💛

hnnnng favorite memories from brandon and i running a pizza place

- had an employee with no filter, but not in the rude way, whenever she'd get excited she'd just shout whatever was in her head, and it was sometimes embarrassing for her but god i loved it so much even if it wasn't always great for work

and i remember one morning when she was very new and we didn't know this about her yet, i had her on my shift for prep, and we had to pull the dough for the day (essentially take it out to proof a bit) and she was a delivery driver so she hadn't worked with it much, and we were both in the cooler, and she was helping me stack the trays of dough that had already been proofed the day before in order and caught a glimpse of the inside of one of the trays and excitedly shouted 'oh, they're like titties! :D'

she turned bright red and was so worried i was going to fire her, but once the shock had worn off, i couldn't stop laughing and i still hear that in my brain any time i come across something that's reminiscent of breasts

- brandon and i used to get into competitions when we were tossing the dough, and mastered being able to toss them in the air, and trade off mid-stretch; once we had an abundance of dough that was about to expire (and none of the other stores in the area needed it, and it was the end of the shift so we weren't going to use it) and so we got into a game where we were trying to toss this dough and trade off at such a rapid pace that we could make the other one drop some

alternatively, what happened was that we got so into it that he made a really aggressive toss, managed to hit the ceiling and brought down a whole-ass ceiling tile on top of our prep area (luckily the veggies were covered but hahaha what a mess)

- brandon used to wear his company hoodie at work a lot, so one day i decided to try putting handfuls of the flour formula we used for tossing into the hood, hoping beyond hope that at some point he'd lift it and get completely dumped on

it kept not happening, so i kept adding more and more flour (much to the rest of our employees' amusement, who were lovely and kept him distracted for me) but eventually he left work without noticing and we were all very sad

about an hour later i got a text that was a shot of both him covered in flour, and frowning very heavily, with the floor of his bedroom also completely coated, which i printed out and put up on the wall in the office so everyone could see our success, because teamwork and all that

- our office had a window that we could see out of but was a struggle to see into unless you were right up on it, which was helpful for keeping an eye on the floor when paperwork needed to be done, or when i had to pull someone into the office for whatever reason

at one point we had a really dead morning shift, and everything was cleaned and ready to go, and so my prepper and i were sitting in the office and i don't know how we started but we were blowing up those purple gloves and drawing faces on them, and i somehow managed to swing one with an expression that was pleasantly horrifying

i taped it up in the window at a high and unsettling angle that you couldn't see until you were right up on it, and for the rest of the day i watched employees wandering by the office glance up, do a double take and nearly jump out of their skin and it was glorious

- i managed to get halloween off one year, though i don't remember how, i think (?) it was by chance but it was weird as it was a mandatory holiday, and i spent the morning making a huge spread of spooky cakes with spiderwebs, pumpkin seeds from a family recipe eyeball cookies, witches fingers, and loads of other stuff. even stopped by the local winco and got syringes (no needles, obviously) and filled them with grenadine to make these creepy looking shirley temples and brought them in

people still did their jobs, but it wasn't as busy as the owner wanted (which is why he forced us to have practically everyone work that night, and even suggested we call in people who do not work there anymore and beg them for assistance, can you imagine that phone call? 'hi i know you left the company years ago and have nothing to do with us but can you come in for a holiday shift' are you serious) and about as busy as we expected, so since they all had to be there for at least a few hours it was fun to put together a party of sorts for them with lots and lots of snacks to ease the blow, and i brought in my alexa so we had loud spooky music, and it was actually a really good time

[archivistsammy]

"What, you really haven't heard of us? What kind of angel are you, we're- we're the freaking Winchesters."

In my last post, I looked at how I felt Castiel embodied the energy of the tarot card the Fool, card #0. Today I want to continue the tarot conversation by looking at the next card in line, the Magician. There are a lot of characters who fit this archetype, including Rowena, Lucifer, maybe even Gabriel or Jack. But for me, the real Magician is Sam.

I mentioned the Magician comes right after the Fool, our official card #1. Some people see the major arcana as a journey the Fool takes, taking different roles as the journey progresses, and some people see the figures that follow the Fool as characters that he encounters. Regardless, the Magician represents the same things, especially in relation to the Fool. Where the Fool indicates potential, faith, and naivety, the Magician indicates intention and direction. 

The card is usually depicted with a figure pointing one finger to the heavens and one to the earth, a table laid out with each of the four suits (or elements). The figure holds a magician’s wand, and bears an infinity symbol above their head. The imagery suggests access to resources and the infinite possibility for combining and using them. There’s a sense of manifestation, action, and willpower, but there’s no moral imperative for what kind of action is taken. This is why Bakara Wintner talks about the Magician as someone who "toes the line between the true miracle-worker and the trickster."

Sam has this resourcefulness. How many times has Sam tried something in the moment, based on previous knowledge and experience, and had it work out. Directing Dean to park on the hallowed ground of a fallen church in ���Route 666.″ Painting their faces in blood to mask that they’re alive when Samhain is raised in “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester.” His impulsive—but successful—reverse-exorcism in “What’s Up, Tiger Mommy.” 

I think one of the key aspects of Sam’s resourcefulness is his confidence. He believes in the power of past experience to inform the present, and he trusts in his instincts. This is also part of being a Magician. I love how Melissa Cynova talks about the power of the Magician in a reading, how the card “represents self-love, self-awareness, and confidence. It's one thing to know for certain that you're going to do something. It's something altogether different to know for certain that you're going to succeed.” When I brought this up with Katharine, she brought up Sam’s response to Alistair in the final act of “On the Head of a Pin” when Sam cockily dismisses Alistair’s comment about Sam sending him back to Hell. “I’m stronger than that now,” Sam says with a smile. “Now I can kill.” And he does. 

Confidence, of course, doesn’t have to mean cockiness or arrogance. It doesn’t have to mean domination. And for Sam, his confidence is usually of a much softer sort. Katharine, our resident Sam-Whisperer, reminded me of this when she also brought up Sam’s words in “It’s a Terrible Life” regarding his life and hunting. "All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else." Sam’s sense of self is unshakeable, and his confidence in his own instincts in this moment is powerful. 

Then we have the quote I used to open this post. I was sort of iffy on using it—it falls a little back into that arrogant category that demon-blood-bender Sam really lives in. But the more I think about Sam stating what, in all honesty, I’m shocked neither Winchester says more often, the more I like it. Because Sam asking Metatron in “The Great Escapist” incredulously if he really hasn’t heard of them gets at the inherent Magician-ness of both Winchesters pretty neatly. We’ve stopped the Apocalypse, Sam seems to be saying. Defeated the Mother of All Evil, saved the world from Leviathans, survived Purgatory and Hell! What haven’t the brothers achieved? What magic haven’t they worked to still be standing after the horrors that they’ve faced? Sam has a right to wonder why the scribe of God has somehow missed the memo on God’s most chosen of children. 

Thinking of confidence and sense of self also makes me think about Benebell Wen’s take on the Magician. “To wield the intensity of concentration needed for omnipotent power, one must be strong in both spirituality and character,” she writes. “Thus, the Magician card often appears in spreads for those who are strong in spirituality and character. It is the card of individuality.” “Strong in both spirituality and character” alongside “the card of individuality” really calls Sam to my mind. Sam’s faith in those early seasons, his willingness to believe God may be talking to him even in season 11 after God has proven time and time again to be largely uninvested. Sam wanting to be a lawyer, wanting to help people. Taking charge and guiding the folks of Apocalypse World. Sam forging his own way after loss, after grief, after anguish. That is all evidence of his strength in spirit. That is strength of character. Sam maintains up until the final episodes of the final season that he and Dean’s righteous positions will find purchase, even when they are challenging God himself. Of the two brothers, Sam is ever the optimist, always willing to find a way to make a situation work. He will use what resources he has, what willpower he can still muster, and he will make something work or die trying. He’s both trickster, and miracle-worker, and his heart is always in the right place.

I want to close out this post by thinking of the Magician and Sam one final way, and that’s as a “vessel,” as Rachel Pollack sees the Magician. 

He is not casting spells or conjuring demons. He simply stands with one hand raised to heaven and the other pointed to the green earth. He is a lightning rod. By opening himself up to the spirit he draws it down into himself, and then that downward hand, like a lightning rod buried in the ground, runs the energy into the earth. Into reality.

She’s talking about the imagery of the card, and informing those of us who read tarot that, as the Magician is a conduit for spirit, so too are tarot readers. Through use of these tools, we become conduits to whatever is sending us the messages. This can be contested, of course, and isn’t a universal belief re: tarot. But it is, quite literally, the truth when it comes to Sam*. 

Sam is Lucifer’s vessel; he is a literal conduit or channel for divine intervention. He has the potential within him for great feats of power and violence, and with his past brushes with demon blood, this is a potential he is hyper-aware of and anxious about. Sam’s role as “lightning rod,” so to speak, is a lot of what drives his cultivation of spirit and character. Sam wants to do good, and wants to believe he is good, and he makes choices as the series goes on to live up to those desires. Sam’s worries about himself are aligned with the reversed energies of this card, such as the potential for manipulation, the misallocation of resources, and a lack of empathy. Essentially, the Sam we meet when he is soulless. 

Luckily for us and the others on the show, Sam largely lives in the role of the Magician defined by Melissa Cynova and Benebell Wen. He’s driven to do good and help people, putting his resourcefulness to work in the best possible way, the lore as his tools of his metaphysical trade. And, of course, by the close of the show, he’s also a bonafide witch, a literal magician on top of his Magician-like qualities. And we always love to see it.

*Also Sam is literally a witch. So. Jot that down. 

[analyzing-the-rebellion-story]

The Rebellion Story Analysis Addendum

It’s been four years since I finished the analysis, and a lot of my views have changed! Here are my revised opinions!

In italics is something I said in the analysis.

In plain font is my updated interpretation.

I highly doubt that Kyubey has a biological need for sleep, so I guess that means he’s just been lying there all night. Contemplating.

Another possibility is that he’s communicating telepathically with the other Incubators. After all, what better time would there be to discuss their plans?

Sayaka is a raspberry. Raspberries are soft, but have a strong and distinct flavor. That describes Sayaka pretty well, I think.

Kyoko is an apple. Apples are sweet and wholesome, but their seeds have traces of cyanide. This suits Kyoko well because, while she’s generally nice nowadays, she can be kind of a jerk sometimes.

Homura is a pumpkin. The pumpkin is a delicious and fulfilling produce, but it can be twisted into something frightening (like a Jack-o-Lantern). Considering Homura’s mutation later in the film…

Mami is cheese, a dairy product made from milk. The purpose of milk is to nurture young, and Mami is easily the most nurturing of the girls, so the cheese is referencing her motherly personality.

I wasn’t very serious about these interpretations to begin with, but in hindsight, there are far more straightforward connections between the girls and their respective foods:

1) According to the Madoka Wiki, raspberries are known as “healing fruit” in Japan. I couldn’t find a source for this, but if it’s true, then the connection to Sayaka should be obvious.

2) Kyoko being an apple is probably an allusion to her religious background (think forbidden fruit). This is reinforced by the fact that she stole a bag of apples in the original series.

3) The pumpkin is another one of Homura’s witch symbols, like the newts and owls.

4) Mami is cheese because Bebe eats cheese, and… well…

…Yeah.

This part makes no sense. The figures start crowding around Homura and Kyoko, and don’t leave until Kyoko agrees to keep a lid on things. Homura’s emotions influence the Gemworld, but all she wants is for Kyoko to keep a low profile. This would mean that Homura wants Kyoko to avoid drawing attention to herself, but at the same time is unconsciously willing attention towards Kyoko. What?

The figures surrounding them probably reflect Homura’s fear of causing too much of a disruption. When Kyoko agrees to keep her head down, the fear is assuaged and the figures leave them alone as a result.

The Incubators should’ve spent more time beta testing their memory-altering tech, because it’s proven to be very easy to awaken the girls’ memories of the real world.

Originally I assumed that the Incubators had wiped the girls’ memories so that they wouldn’t catch on to their plan. However, there’s a distinct possibility that it was Homura altering everyone’s memories, which would explain how she recovered her own so readily (and this is supported by the fact that her new world ability is memory manipulation). Kyubey does explicitly state that he wants Madoka to remember her purpose, so unless he thought that her amnesia was some sort of technical failure, I’m gonna place my bets on Homura.

WHAT THE-?!

This... This thing randomly appears behind Mami and displays a walnut, presumably for cracking purposes. I honestly haven't the tiniest clue what this is supposed to represent. Is it symbolic of Mami's dormant memories "cracking open"? Is it foreshadowing Homura's transformation into the Nutcracker Witch? Just... what the heck?!

Since this happens immediately before Bebe is ruled out as the witch, it’s probably just vague foreshadowing without any real symbolism. It could be argued that the uncracked nut represents the unsolved mystery, but since Homulilly is incapable of cracking nuts to begin with, that feels like a stretch.

A rune briefly flashes. It translates into, “you”. As in Homura.

This is supposed to be an answer to the question, “Who is dreaming?” from earlier. I’m sure most of you already knew that, but I feel as though I should’ve pointed it out anyway.

(If you don’t remember this part, it happens right before Homura does her witch test)

The pink spool reappears, only to be kicked away by the Clara Dolls. Not even Madoka’s influence can save Homura from this despair.

Another possibility is that, in her mind, Homura deliberately defied the Law of Cycles (hence the spool getting kicked). It isn’t until Kyubey opens his telepathic mouth that she realizes this isn’t the case.

Shouldn’t Homura’s parents be wondering where she is? Does she even have parents?! I’ve been wondering that since the original series…

I can’t believe it never occurred to me that Homura didn’t invite her own parents into the labyrinth. That’s pretty strong evidence that they’re either dead, or put her up for adoption at a very young age.

Seeing Kyoko at a diner makes me wish there was a spinoff series exploring the personal lives of the girls (preferably with drama-comedy themes). Also, those familiars are giving me chills.

Another thing that flew over my head is that those familiars were sent to kidnap her. Same with Mama, Hitomi and Kyousuke.

Mami summons a train, and unsurprisingly, it has a teacup motif. The deer are kind of random, though…

Since Mami primarily fights with guns, the deer are most likely a reference to trophy hunting.

The runes translate into, “The Eternal Feminine”. This is probably a reference to Faust, a poem that apparently served as an inspiration for Madoka Magica (it’s about a man who trades his soul for unlimited power. Sound familiar?). Here’s a snippet for context:

“Everything that can be perceived is only a symbol; the imperfect, which cannot be realized, here makes itself reality; that which cannot be described, here finally completes itself. It is the eternal feminine, always attracting us to the higher.”

Homura is definitely drawn to “the higher”, though the underlying theme of salvation kind of gets subverted in the end…

While I still agree with this interpretation, I don’t think I did a very good job at describing/contextualizing it. At the end of Faust, the main character’s soul is saved from damnation and guided to Heaven by Gretchen*. This achievement is attributed to the Eternal Feminine, a female essence that draws humans to salvation. This is precisely what Madoka accomplishes at the end of the TV show and is attempting to do with Homura in this very scene.

*The namesake of Madoka’s witch form.

When the explosion the over, the magic forms this symbol. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be, though? It vaguely resembles the portal to Magical Heaven, but the color effects make it hard to tell. It might also be a wheel, but the contours are very crystal-like.

Don’t know if this was intentional, but the symbol bears a loose resemblance to a dreamcatcher. “Who is dreaming?” is a recurring question throughout the movie, and at this point in time, the world Homura “dreamed” inside her soul gem is becoming a reality. From her perspective, she’s also preventing a “nightmare” by relieving Madoka of her duties and returning everything she sacrificed.

I’m not sure where else they would go, Homu. You didn’t make a new world, you just rebuilt the old one.

She’s probably talking about the Law of Cycles Dimension/Magical Heaven/Land Without Cheese/whatever you want to call it. Homura only took the part of the Law that contained Madoka’s original identity, but since it was the original Madoka that wished for the Law in the first place, her removal caused the entire system to collapse and expel her angels, too. This is why she says that Sayaka and Nagisa “somehow” got dragged along too even though she only wanted Madoka.

In other words, Homura pulled the wrong block from a Jenga stack.

Lastly, I want to point out an observation I made about Demon Homura’s world. When she unravels the Law of Cycles and renders it inaccessible, but also forces the Incubators to shoulder humanity’s curses, the end result is a “middle ground” between the previous two worlds. Think about it: In the first world, Magical Girls are doomed to become witches, while in the second world, they’re ultimately saved by Madoka. In Homura’s world, however, neither of these things can happen, which means she essentially created a world where there is neither salvation nor damnation. I really hope the eventual sequel explores this concept further; it’s very interesting.

Aaaaaaand that wraps it up! I hope you enjoyed this little bonus round as much as I did!

[seven-oomen]

Happy Halloween, Ben!  I hope you are continuing to feel better!  Do you expect any trick-or-treaters tonight?  (Is that a thing in the Netherlands?)  I hope you find lots of good candy at the grocery store!  I myself have two bags of dark chocolate Kit Kats to hand out to all the kids I foresee coming by (*wink wink*)  Your pumpkin is adorable, by the way.  I wanted to do some cool faces with mine, but my friends that normally host a Halloween party decided to just hold their Costume and Pumpkin Decorating Contests online, and the theme was “2020”.  I thought “well, I’ll just get two pumpkins, and use one for the contest and one for whatever."  Then one of them started molding, which seemed very on brand for this year, so I just went with it, and ended up with meme pumpkins.  I included a color pic, so you can see just how gross the one got.  Fun fact: the top of it is held on by being skewered with a dowel rod and set in place along the rim.  In case you were curious (you probably weren’t, but oh well), trying to scoop out a moldy pumpkin is indeed deeply gross.  Imagine a physical manifestation of the sensation most people seem to feel when you say the word "moist”.  Just…so gross and squishy…  *shudders in remembrance*

My costume attempt turned out okay given that I managed to pull it together entirely out of things I already had.  In case you don’t recognize the symbol, I was one of the more recent comic versions of Black Canary (this one at least had proper shorts).  Let me tell you, trying to free hand draw that goddamn bird outline with no printer or projector was an adventure.  I had to do it backwards, essentially, too, because I realized that pencil marks are extremely difficult to erase off of craft foam.

And I just wanted to show off that I’m the kind of classy bitch who drinks wine out of a can (also, it’s an awesome can.)  To be fair, it was actually surprisingly decent (I say, as though I know shit about wine).  I sent a picture to a friend, and she started teasing me, and I said “it’s a rainbow can, how was I supposed to pass it up?”, and she was like “you know what, fair, I would have done the same thing."  I also got some kind of sparkling red wine to drink tonight for proper spooky effect.  The cashier commented on it being good as I was checking out, so here’s hoping.

I know what you mean about endless plot ideas, too.  I started a couple of smaller pieces to work on when my longer WIP gets overwhelming, got on a roll, and have almost finished one.  I got super excited when I finally got to a few of the lines that were among the first I thought of for it months ago, then realized "fuck, now I have to write the smut, don’t I?"  So, hopefully the wine will offer some inspiration there, too. XD

By the way, I totally wasn’t kidding about the Chris Evans/Henry Cavill rom com idea.  I totally went and found it in my FB messages and screen-shot it so that I can now inflict share it.  Buckle up, here we go:  So, Chris’s character’s great-aunt (played by Angela Landsbury) talks him into coming to stay with her along the English coast after his divorce, and help her run her mystery book shop.  Only, less than a week in, she runs off to go on vacation with her boy toy (Christopher Walken).  By this point, he’s already ended up in an unexpected rivalry with the co-owner of the comic shop next door (Henry), who’s been trying to get the great-aunt to sell him part of the bookstore’s storage space to build a table-top gaming area.  The woman (Natalie Dormer) who runs the little bakery/tea shop attached to the other side of the bookstore has a running bet with the other co-owner of the comic shop (John Boyega) on how long it will take for the two men to realize just what type of tension there actually is between them.  Chris could wear hipster glasses, and skinny jeans, and cozy sweaters/cardigans, that he could remove at strategic moments to reveal the ridiculousness that is his arms and chest.  Henry could wear tight jeans and fitted nerdy t-shirts and SET THE CURLS FREE GODDAMMIT.  And of course at least one encounter would have to happen at a dog park, because both their RL dogs are absolutely adorable and deserve a moment in the spotlight.  Please, Netflix, I’m begging you.  Make it happen.  (If you curious, this particular moment of inspiration struck during a discussion over "if Evans is America’s Ass, is Cavill Britain’s?"  My friends are also classy like me.  XD ) 

Well, on that note, I’m gonna shut up for a while, and go wash the color out of my hair, because I think it’s been on at least half an hour longer than it should be, technically.  Enjoy your sugary findings, and I hope they and your coffee give plenty of energy for writing your various projects! :D  I hope you continue to feel better, and that things keep looking up!  Take care!  *Properly socially distanced and seasonally spoopy hugs to you both!*

Okay 1: omg I need that gay wine. (Rainbow wine, whatever.) That is amazing, I love it. And I totally get why you needed that. I don’t have any wine for myself tonight. But I have some Budweiser (Or well “Bud” as it is called here), cans of coke and Jack Daniels, so I should be good.

 And I think your jacket turned out pretty well! Looks awesome. (Though I get what you mean about craftfoam. It is a bitch to work with when you only have pencils and no stencils.)

Halloween isn’t much of a thing here I’m afraid, aside from some witches who celebrate samhain and the uprising of general pop culture there aren’t many people who really celebrate Halloween like in the US. So no, I don’t expect any trick or treaters tonight (also because COVID has us on a 8 pm curfew). 

I think the Netherlands celebrates Saint Martin far more which Wikipedia explains pretty well as: Saint Martin's day, also known as the Funeral of Saint Martin, Martinstag or Martinmas, as well as Old Halloween and Old Hallowmas Eve is the Funeral day of Saint Martin of Tours (else Martin le Miséricordieux) and is celebrated on 11 November each year.

The day is celebrated on the evening of 11 November (the day Saint Martin was buried) in the Netherlands, where he is known as Sint-Maarten. As soon it gets dark, children up to the age of 11 or 12 (primary school age) go door to door with hand-crafted lanterns made of hollowed-out sugar beet or, more recently, paper, singing songs such as "Sinte Sinte Maarten", to receive candy or fruit in return. In the past, poor people would visit farms on the 11th of November to get food for the winter. In the 1600s, the city of Amsterdam held boat races on the lake IJ. 400 to 500 light craft, both rowing boats and sailboats, took part with a vast crowd on the banks.

But other than that we don’t really have a holiday where children go door to door to ask for candy.

It’s getting more popular now in recent years to do so on Halloween, as well as Halloween parties, but it’s not very widespread.

I know what you mean about endless plot ideas, too.  I started a couple of smaller pieces to work on when my longer WIP gets overwhelming, got on a roll, and have almost finished one.  I got super excited when I finally got to a few of the lines that were among the first I thought of for it months ago, then realized "fuck, now I have to write the smut, don’t I?"  So, hopefully the wine will offer some inspiration there, too. XD

Yeah I was really excited to write some fanfic for Love and Monsters and then today I started doubting that. And now I’m leaning towards writing more Petopher fic where Chris gets turned?

I blame @for-the-love-of-wolves​ for that one because I read their fic and now I’m like: that’s a good idea. I want to write that too. And now I can’t shake it.

I should really finish things but urgh... part of me just wants to write more teen wolf fanfic.

I’m really curious about your wip though, I hope that when you’re ready to share it, I get to read it too. ^^

Honestly, Netflix needs to make this idea happen. I insists. I wonder if my friend who works their customer service can pitch ideas but I don’t have much hope for that. Would be pretty awesome though to see this come alive because it’s GOOD! Holy moly I want that to happen now XD. Brittain’s ass is it, UK Vs US ass fight!

Wait is that too gay?

Ah who cares XD

I’m still snivelling with a cold but it’s only stuff coming out of my nose, for the most part, I’m doing pretty good and can focus somewhat on things again. And no real pain aside from the general ones.

So I’m gonna wish you Happy Halloween, have a good night and lots of socially distanced hugs from me and Mo.

[pettishrew]

MIND MY WICKED WORDS AND TIPSY TOPSY SLURS; I CAN’T TAKE THIS PLACE, NO, I CAN’T TAKE THIS PLACE.

𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

i don’t feel very human anymore. —7:59 pm 4/28/15; l.m.

Where did you get those big eyes? My mother. And where did you get those lips? My mother. And the loneliness? My mother. And that broken heart? My mother. And the absence, where did you get that? My father. —Inheritance, Warsan Shire

“And I’m a master of speaking silently—all my life I’ve spoken silently and I’ve lived through entire tragedies in silence.”— The Meek One, Fyodor Dostoevsky

How do you move on? You move on when your heart finally understands that there is no turning back. —J.R.R. Tolkien

“There are no permanent friends, only permanent interests”

UNTIL LIONS HAVE THEIR OWN HISTORIANS, THE STORY OF THE HUNT WILL ALWAYS GLORIFY THE HUNTER.— Chinua Achebe

“Self-hatred is only ever a seed planted from outside in. But when you do that to a child, it becomes a weed so thick, and it grows so fast, the child doesn’t know any different. It becomes as natural as gravity.”— Hannah Gadsby, Nanette

You got to take a deep breath and give up. The system is rigged against you. Bo Burnham

𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈

NAME: Peter Thomas Pettigrew NICKNAMES: Pete, Wormtail, or Wormy AGE: Twenty BIRTHDAY: August 22nd GENDER: Male PRONOUNS: He / Him

𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞

MOTHER: Enid Pettigrew. 47. Alive. FATHER: Sean Morivan. 52. Status Unknown. SIBLINGS: None

𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘

FACE CLAIM: Alex Wolff BUILD: Moderately Overweight HAIR:  In need of a haircut. Curly and unkempt. HAIR COLOR: Brunette. In the summertime, it gets a golden, almost colorless hue. EYE COLOR: Brown SKIN COLOR: Light with olive undertones DOMINANT HAND: Right ANOMALIES: He has a birthmark on his left shoulder.  His skin freckles in the summer. He also has faint scars on the inside of both of his forearms. He also has a small tattoo on the outside of his right thigh. Peter got it on a dare and it looks like ( x ) SCENT:  He often smells like chocolate or peppermint. Mostly because those are the last things they would have eaten. ACCENT: British. More of the cockney nature than anything else. ALLERGIES: He is moderately allergic to dairy. Not enough to stop him of course, but enough to make him uncomfortable if he eats too much of it. DISORDERS: N / A FASHION: Peter wears whatever is comfortable and fits for the most part. He does tend to stick to neutral colors, like black, grey, and beige. He doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. NERVOUS TICS: He stutters when he’s nervous. He also rubs the back of his neck when he’s uncomfortable. QUIRKS: His quirks are identical to his nervous tics. One doesn’t often happen without the other.

𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊

RESIDES: Plainview Point Apartments BORN: St. Mungo’s RAISED: A little outside of London PETS: A Tawny Owl named Eros

CAREER: Obliviator EXPERIENCE: 2+ years in the position EMPLOYER: The Ministry of Magic

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: The Order BELIEFS: Peter doesn’t believe strictly in anything. MISDEMEANORS: None FELONIES: None DRUGS: None SMOKES: Tobacco, and occasionally Marijuana ALCOHOL: Infrequently DIET: Poor

LANGUAGES: English, Welsh, and some Italian

PHOBIAS: Death or Serious Injury. HOBBIES: Reading and Baking. TRAITS: { + }: forgiving, analytical, easy-going, optimistic { - }: fearful, cunning, indecisive, meek

𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘

LOCATION: Anywhere that is small, where Peter feels like no one can get to him. SPORTS TEAM: Ireland GAME: Wizard’s Chess. MUSIC: He doesn’t care much for music. If he does listen to it it’s softer sounding music, that’s almost wistful. MOVIES: Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope 1980. Alien is a close second. FOOD: Anything sweet. Peter’s sweet tooth is insatiable. BEVERAGE: Pumpkin Juice or soda. COLOR: Pale Yellow

𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈

ALUMNI HOUSE: Gryffindor WAND: UNICORN: Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard. Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing. FIR: My august grandfather, Gerbold Octavius Ollivander, always called wands of this wood ‘the survivor’s wand,’ because he had sold it to three wizards who subsequently passed through mortal peril unscathed. There is no doubt that this wood, coming as it does from the most resilient of trees, produces wands that demand staying power and strength of purpose in their true owners, and that they are poor tools in the hands of the changeable and indecisive. Fir wands are particularly suited to Transfiguration, and favor owners of focused, strong-minded and, occasionally, intimidating demeanor. 9 1/2 Inches and unyielding. AMORTENTIA: Chocolate, Peppermint, Garlic, and Old Books. PATRONUS: He cannot produce one. BOGGART: Prior to the war it had been his mother dying. He truly doesn’t know what he would do without her. However, since the war has begun his Boggart is Lord Voldemort.

𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗

MORAL ALIGNMENT: True Neutral MBTI: INTP

INTPs are often thoroughly engaged in their own thoughts, and usually, appear to others to be offbeat and unconventional. The INTP’s mind is the most active place, and their inward orientation can mean that they neglect superficial things like home décor or appropriate clothing. They don’t tend to bother with small talk but can become downright passionate when talking about science, mathematics, computers, or the larger theoretical problems of the universe. Reality is often of only passing interest to the Architect, as they are more interested in the theory behind it all.INTPs are typically precise in their speech and communicate complex ideas with carefully chosen words. They insist on intellectual rigor in even the most casual of conversations, and will readily point out inconsistencies of thought or reasoning. Social niceties may fall by the wayside for an INTP who is more interested in analyzing logic, and they may offend others by smallmitting their dearly held values and beliefs to logical scrutiny. Trivia: - more likely than other types to study a foreign language  - most frequent type among college students committing alcohol and drug policy violations - have the lowest level of coping resources of all the types - one of the types least likely to believe in a spiritual power - highest of all types in career dissatisfaction in school have lower grades than would be -- predicted by aptitude scores - more likely than average to complete engineering programs - personal values include autonomy, freedom, and independence - Overrepresented among working MBA students - Commonly found in science and technical occupations - famous intps: albert einstein, abraham lincoln, marie curie, and charles darwin

MBTI ROLE:  The Architect or the Logician ENNEAGRAM: Type Five ENNEAGRAM ROLE:

The Observer: Fives are alert, insightful, and curious. They are able to concentrate and focus on developing complex ideas and skills. Independent, innovative, and inventive, they can also become preoccupied with their thoughts and imaginary constructs. They become detached, yet high-strung and intense. They typically have problems with eccentricity, nihilism, and isolation. At their Best: visionary pioneers, often ahead of their time, and able to see the world in an entirely new way.

TEMPERAMENT:

Melancholic. The melancholic temperament is fundamentally introverted and thoughtful. Melancholic people often were perceived as very (or overly) pondering and considerate, getting rather worried when they could not be on time for events. Melancholics can be highly creative in activities such as poetry and art - and can become preoccupied with the tragedy and cruelty in the world. Often they are perfectionists. They are self-reliant and independent; one negative part of being a melancholic is that they can get so involved in what they are doing they forget to think of others.

WESTERN ZODIAC:

Leo With the Sun approaching the end of Leo, August 22nd has its peak in creativity and our childish need to present our inner being and express ourselves. This is an emotional date when passions need to be calmed in order for us to swim out of them with a clear mind and a plan we can hold on to, so our dreams can be reached. Those born at this time are connected to others on a different level than the rest of Leo representatives and feel a constant need to set free from ego battles and follow their hearts.

CHINESE ZODIAC:

Year of the Rat The Metal Rat are honest, frank, and optimistic, and will not get depressed no matter how terrible the situation is. They have a quick respond and strong environmental adaptability. They treat people kindly. But most of the people born in 1960 year of the Rat are self-centered. They always think of themselves first. They are impatient, suspicious and kind of vain.

PRIMAL SIGN:

Otter: Social, funny, and outgoing, those born under the sign of the Otter use their warmth and charm as their primary tool in navigating life. Like their animal namesake, members of this sign are clever, feisty, and gregarious. They usually spend a lot of time grooming themselves for their looks are of great importance to them. They are not terribly territorial either, preferring to sleep where their adventure takes them for the night. A nice home will eventually be required, but a young Otter can travel the world for years without getting too homesick. Otters like to be in charge. This way they can not only get what they want, but receive attention and respect while doing so. They can occasionally behave somewhat self-centered and egotistical, but are usually smart enough not to push their self-proclaimed authority too far. Otters want to be the best, and they understand that being the best takes work. As long as they get to do thing their own way, there is little they won’t undertake.Members of this sign have a sense of pride that only a few other signs can top. They absolutely hate looking unintentionally foolish (though they will act the part of the fool if it gets them a good laugh) and have little tolerance for those who don’t respect this important (if unspoken) rule. They like to be seen as evolved, wise, and powerful, which they often are, but this can sometimes cause them to hesitate trying new things. Above all things, Otters don’t like to live by other people’s rules. As long as they keep life in perspective this shouldn’t be a big problem, but out of perspective Otters risk becoming greedy and narrow-minded and there is always a chance that they will take what they want if nobody is willing to offer it up to them. Members of this sign can also be a bit judgmental of others, particularly those who are less successful than they are at that point in their lives. As they mature they tend to realize that everyone operates differently, and will slowly come to accept this, especially if they have a hard road to reaching their goals.

TAROT CARD:

The Fool: The Fool, at its core, represents the unfettered soul. Free of experience and prejudice, they are also free of fear, and therefore come into new events without the trepidation often experienced by those that know what they might expect. This is both a benefit and a detriment to the Fool, their eyes are on the path ahead, or on the sky, but not at what is right in front of them. This can make the Fool easy to trick, to persuade, or to side-line. But they also do not know what others believe is ‘NOT’ possible, and this makes them capable of greatness, new ideas, and innovation. They do not know a thing cannot be done, so they merrily set about to do it anyway. Sometimes they succeed.

TV TROPES:  

All the Other Reindeer, The Chessmaster, Cornered Rattlesnake, Dirty Coward, Fair Weather Friend,  and Opportunistic Bastard

SONGS:

- Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons - If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz - Sinner Man by Idris Elba - Creep by Radiohead - The Devil You Know by X Ambassadors

IDEOLOGIES:

- Beer is the scum of all the alcoholic beverages. He think it tastes akin to piss and doesn’t understand why anyone would opt to drink it willingly. - Peter has never had a pet aside from the owl. And doesn’t understand the want to keep things in captivity for your own benefit. This principle extends to muggle zoos as well. - Chocolate frogs are the best candy that Honeydukes sells, this is not a matter of discussion that he is willing to hear. - Peter believes that if something is easier done through violence than diplomacy that in those instances the people should be empowered to pursue violence without diplomacy first. - Wool is a terrible fabric and he won’t wear it. It’s itchy. 

[lieblingspulli]

Yes Your Majesty

a/n: Ah! Here’s my self-indulgent story about how Paterson met his future wife (in my head they are a poet and a book store clerk/ keeper pair)! I love the idea of them properly meeting at a Halloween party or something really cute. Enjoy! I might make this a multi-chapter thing.  <3

wc: 1.9k 

Summary: Paterson finds that one cute woman from the bookstore and they have a fun time. Unknowingly meets his future wife. Fem(y/n)

Masterlist!

“I just feel like it’s a little overboard.” 

Paterson felt unsure about this whole situation. Just because he saw a cute bookstore clerk at the local store did not mean it was an invitation to be all gussied up and dramatic about it. Right? Yea, Halloween was time to dress up and all, but it seemed a little out of his element. Especially to draw attention from someone he had just met. 

“What? No. It’s perfect.”

“But… It’s… um, I don’t know. It stands out?”

“That’s the point. It’s supposed to draw attention.” 

Marie had invited herself to help Paterson get ready for tonight’s costume party at the bar after he mentioned meeting someone interesting at the store. After everything, he seemed a little less lonely when he talked to her and it felt nice for a change. That's at least what he told Marie one night. She thought it would be best to catch her attention, in a big way. Paterson did not like big ways. Or attention. Not anymore. He just wanted to be left alone to write and read with no distraction. That’s what he wanted so bad and it led him right to this clerk. 

“I still don’t know about this.” He looked incredulously at his costume then at Marie. This was not what he had in mind. He’d rather be on the couch writing poetry or reading a classic. Or rereading. That was totally fine too. Being at the bar on a night like this meant having to socialize and do friend stuff. It just didn’t feel right.

“It’s fine. You’ll be fine. It’s only for one night.” Says the girl who’s going as a witch, thought Paterson. He deeply inhaled and exhaled. Oh god, why did it never cease? He could turn back now. He could just say no. Right now, no. He could take everything off and just say, actually I don’t feel like it. Or, no thanks, you go on without me. It was so tempting to think about. This was uncomfortable and not even in Paterson’s range. It didn’t feel right. He could feel the anxiety of talking to someone new and he just wanted to crawl in bed. Paterson wished Marvin was still here to give him the excuse, aw no thanks, I actually have to take care of my sick dog. 

“I hope you’re satisfied with this.” 

Paterson immediately regretted the words that just tumbled out of his mouth. This was going to be a really long night. Are costume parties even long? How do people stay in costumes all night? Was he going to come home early enough to be in bed on time? What was he even thinking, he’s a grown man, bedtimes don’t even exist. This was more stressful than it had to be. 

“Thank you! I was hoping you would say yes.” 

“I’m still not so sure about it though.”

“Come on, let’s go before you change your mind.” Paterson gathered his keys and wallet before heading out with Marie and meeting up with another of her friends. He walked behind them. 

The whole walk over there, Paterson was a nervous wreck. He didn’t even know if she was going to be there. Again, Paterson just hated the prospect of being there. If he was her, he wouldn’t even bother. 

By the time they reached the front door, he was almost prepared for what the night had in store and by the guesses of it, no. He was not going to bed at a reasonable time. The whole bar was decorated with crazy orange pumpkins. There was an old couple handing out candy outside. They probably didn’t want to be in the middle of a crowded bar tonight. Maybe Doc asked them to. Children were passing by in their little mermaid costumes and Scream masks. Grown adults were walking in the bar in costumes that left little to the imagination. Paterson felt uneasy as he opened the door and walked into literal chaos. 

He had to close the door and walk back out to take a deep breath. This can’t be as hard as it seems. Not to a regular person. So it won’t be. Paterson frowned and walked back in with a little more confidence and observed the surroundings. 

Doc’s bar had transformed into a haunted buffet with themed food and drinks. It was a bar after all, so there were martinis with eyeballs, beer served in skeleton cups and shot jellos the color of blood. How amusing. The lights changed colors from red, to green and then blue. Everyone seemed to be dancing already and having a blast. There were a couple of people sitting at the actual bar, the rest were up and at it. 

Paterson suddenly didn’t feel as self-conscious anymore because here he was in the middle of a very large group of people dressed as ghouls and goblins. It was almost like living in Halloweentown. God he loved that movie. 

As he sat down at the quite possibly furthest seat from all the action (which was really hard because the bar itself was tiny) Paterson picked up a skeleton head and checked it. Just in case. He took a sip and deemed it okay because this was Doc’s bar after all and everyone here had to be over college age. The barley taste soothed his palette as he smiled when a mummy sat next to him and ate an eyeball. He nodded and the mummy nodded back. 

He had lost Marie and the others almost instantaneously when they walked in so it was only him. Me, myself, and I, Paterson thought. As usual. 

Paterson knew he couldn’t keep drinking when he finished this cup so now was big decision time. He also knew everyone was in costumes so his so-called “mission” as dubbed by Marie, was probably getting thrown out the window. How could he possibly know who the clerk was? He didn’t even know her name. That made Paterson look down in a sort of shame. Here he was trying to find this woman, he didn’t know anything about her except that she worked at the Lovegood Bookstore on the corner of Maple and Monroe avenue. In the middle of a costume party, that was worth less than a dust bunny.

 Paterson frowned deeply and downed the last of his beer. Maybe this was kind of useless and embarrassing. If he left now, no one would notice. No one would say, “Hey Paterson! Where are you going? Gonna miss all the fun?” No one would care. He wasn’t going to dance anyway. A tall, lanky man like him couldn’t dance, even if he tried. As Paterson made the mental decision to just leave the party, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up. 

“Hey! Aren’t you that guy I saw the other day at my store?” The stranger giggled and kept her hand on his shoulder. Paterson blinked. 

He managed to stammer out, “Hey, maybe.” It was the best he could do, she was all giggly and probably drunk. Ah, a drunk red queen of hearts. Magnificent. “It looks like the mad hatter could use a madly good time! Drink?” 

The red queen giggled as Paterson smiled and hesitantly took the cup, being careful to not offend her by not drinking out of it. He answered dramatically, “Thank you, your majesty.” Paterson laughed at his own Alice in Wonderland reference. He duly noted not to do that again in front of a girl. She started to laugh uncontrollably at his reference. She understood it? Surprisingly she remembered it in all her glorious drunk state. Her red heart lipstick was kind of smudged from drinking. 

“Well if my mad hatter won’t be mad about the drink at least tell me your name.” She sat in the stool next to him. Paterson’s brain started to swim, this was overwhelming. He smiled and kindly answered in a really bad British accent, “Paterson, at your majesty’s request.” She giggled and huffed a fake breath. 

“I could never say off with your head, let’s dance shall we?” She was getting smooth with the references. “Wait.” Paterson mentally kicked himself. Wait? What was he gonna ask her? Something deep? Jesus man. 

The red queen swiveled around from her already starting position and stared at him with a smile. She waited for a reply. 

Out with it Paterson, you got this. “I don’t even know your name.” 

“You don’t remember me? Im (y/n), from the bookstore.” 

The bookstore? The bookstore! This was she.

She didn't seem offended but Paterson still felt bad for not remembering. He put his hands over his chest and tipped his fake hat. “Forgive me (y/n). How could I forget such a face.” He practically had to shout. Paterson felt strangely more confident in this costume and it was purely a large coincidence that she was matching with him. The irony. (Y/n) took his hand so fast that Paterson barely had time to put his cup down. 

He felt suddenly so much better and blamed it on the amount of beers he had drank before the queen had whisked him away. 

They spent what felt like hours dancing and every once in a while, they would take a break. A drinking break. But only for her, he still had to get home on his own. Marie had her friends. He didn’t. Throughout the course of the night his hat had been shed somewhere and her shoes for whatever reason were lost. Paterson hoped she had an extra pair. 

It was almost two in the morning when the party decided to die down and wither away. Paterson almost felt bad that the whole ordeal had to end. Contrary to how his night had started, he actually felt weightless, like all his fears had walked away with the rest of the trick-or-treaters. It felt good. Uplifting. 

As people filed out the door, Paterson helped (y/n) sit at a table and he asked a very tired Doc for a glass of water. She drank three. 

“Thank you.” The frazzled and very drunk red queen croaked. Paterson offered her more water and a napkin for her makeup. He stared at her as she wiped it mostly off. 

“Do you have any friends that can take you home? Anyone you came with?” Paterson folded his hands over the hat on his lap slightly concerned. The red queen wiped her tired eyes and then they widened. “My friends. Oh gosh I left them!” She frantically looked around but everyone was pretty much gone except for the occasional drunk, doc and the pair. 

Paterson gave her a sympathetic look. “It seems like they’ve left you.” He grabbed the napkins and threw them away. “Do you need me to walk you home? Do you live far?” He checked his watch and deemed it ungentlemanly if he didn’t walk her home. 

She blinked and cracked a smile. “Why thank you kind sir. I would like that very much.” 

Paterson smiled too and thanked whatever god was out there that she wasn’t the type to argue about being walked home. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. 

“Well then, my Red Queen of hearts. Shall we go?” He got up, offered his hand and looked at doc for a split second. Doc just smiled and tipped his hat. 

The red queen just blushed and took his hand. “Lead on Mad hatter.” Paterson really liked this outcome of the night. It sure beats being a mad hatter alone. 

[darling-stay-with-me]

Favourite Episodes of Season 8 of Charmed

This season isn’t my favourite! I think the budget restrictions were a huge problem. They couldn’t go to the max for the last season. You can tell they saved the money they had for the last couple of episodes of series which is why they are done so well! 

1. Desperate Housewitches

Piper trying to be the perfect mother making the costumes for Wyatt was hilarious! That pumpkin costume was one the cutest things ever!!! Piper and Leo getting to watch Wyatt in the school play were very cute!

The return of the Source I feel like should have been a bigger moment than what it was. But the reason I like it is because of the throwback to the Source. I am still annoyed that the writers forgot that Paige was there when they vanquished the Source but whatever. 

2. Hulkus Pocus

I think I like this one because it was more than demons it was an actual virus. It also showed that the government knew more than we thought. Also, such a government thing to do, do all these tests on a demon pump him full of shit in hopes they can weaponise him only for it to backfire! 

3. Vaya Con Leos

Oh, this episode is so sad! It starts off so happy with them buying Leo’s dream car and then the Angel of Death came to ruin it all!! I appreciate the fact that the Angel of Death went and warned Piper that Leo was going to die so they could have time to prepare, that was nice of him. 

Also, fuck the Avatars and the Elders. After everything the sisters and Leo had done for them, you would think they would more helpful. 

Holly and Brian killed me in that final scene between them. The fact that they didn’t know if Brian was going to be able to come back for the final episodes I think added to the emotion. 

4. Paybacks a Witch

Honestly, the scene where Wyatt orbs the cake into the Elder’s face might be one of the best scenes. Like Wyatt was all of us!! Fuck the Elders. 

I thought it was really cool that they touched on Wyatt’s feelings on the whole Leo being gone situation. I think it would have been really simple for them to just ignore the kids and just continue with the sisters. But they took the time to talk to the children. And also to point out to any parents that were watching that the children notice everything and blame a lot of stuff on themselves. I liked that they embodied that through Wyatt’s toys. It was really smart. 

Paige coming into her healing power was everything. Henry is literally the only boyfriend I have liked of Paige’s so having that moment where she comes into her healing power because of her love for Henry was great. I liked that the trigger was similar to when Piper had to heal Leo in season 1! 

5. 12 Angry Zen

This one has some 10/10 Piper lines! “oh you heard about chicken?” “you mean rooster”. Her getting annoyed that Billie was a tiger and she was a Buffalo hahaha! 

Paige trying to explain demons to Henry by using Wyatt’s drawing easel was fucking hilarious. 

6. Gone with the Witches

I think some elements of what Christy was saying about the Charmed Ones was kind of accurate! I mean they do take advantage of the magical community! They have put themselves in harm's way a lot for them. So I thought was interesting to see them turn the magical community against them. 

It was also cool to see them use the past against the Charmed Ones. Like Grams ring, witch doctor and the lust sin. 

7. Kill Billie Vol. 2

The Charmed Ones being stuck in the Underworld was kind of ironic! I think them reintroducing the Hollow was cool. I hated that Christy and Billie used Wyatt to get it. Like how fucking manipulative do you have to be to use a 3-year-old. And using the fact that Wyatt would be helping his mother was fucking rude! 

The blowing up of the Manor was fucking awesome! To see that explosion was so cool!! Can you imagine what the neighbouring houses were thinking? Like they must have been shook! 

Piper holding Phoebe’s body saying ‘breathe sweetie’, ‘come on kiddo’ still fucking gets to me. Then Leo coming and just looking so confused and sad to see his wife distraught. 

Piper going fucking apeshit and strangling Billie when she found her was fucking good! YOU GO PIPER!! I SUPPORT YOUR CHOICES! 

8. Charmed Forever

As far as series finales go this was a fucking good one! My only gripe with it was the fact Prue wasn’t featured in some way, even just a picture would have been good. 

But having Patty and Penny come back to help Piper get rid of the Hollow was awesome to see three generations kicking ass. Yes it went against how the Hollow was meant to be removed but whatever!! Patty then asking where Prue was MY HEART! 

Having Chris and Wyatt come back from the future was also super awesome!! Wyatt accidentally saying ‘Uncle Coop’ might be my favourite Wyatt moment! Chris immediately looking at Wyatt like ‘what the fuck dude, there is one rule with time travel for fuck sakes’

I think having Billie kill her sister was fucking rough. Like how on earth did she get over something like that. I mean Christy wasn’t going to change, 15 years of brainwashing is gonna be hard to come back from. But fuck that moment when Billie kills her and she just breaks down sobbing. My heart broke. 

I love that final scene where they are all hugging and laughing it seemed a real genuine moment between all of them. They had all been on this journey together and it was coming to an end. 

I love that they gave us insights into what each of the sister's futures was like. I am happy that Phoebe finally got to be a mother to three daughters and be amazing at her job. Paige finally got the balance between whitelighter and human down. And being a mother as well! Piper finally opened that fucking restaurant she wanted to open in season 1. And also had that daughter that she saw from the future. 

That final scene of elderly Piper and Leo walking up the stairs with all the family pictures (minus Prue, i am bitter yes) was so emotional and made me cry my eyes out! 

For the budget they had, the series finale was 9.5/10. The .5 is taken off for the lack of Prue. YES I AM BITTER I JUST WANTED A PHOTO THAT IS IT. ONE MEASLY PHOTO

[littleindigochildx]

“Wake up! Wake up! We got’a lot ta do t’day!” An excited Savanna announced as she gently shook Victoria to wake her. The seven year old was still clad in pajamas with messy hair from sleeping. Teddy was tucked safely under her arm. “Mommy…” The little brunette whined. “Come on. Aunt Clara is gonna be here soon. We got pies ta make an’ a turkey ta’ bake.” Victoria stirred but didn’t seem to be getting out of bed just yet. Savanna sighed dramatically...something she learned from her big sister. “Fine...you can sleep. Me an’ Teddy will get started without ya.”

Without another word, Savvy turned to head downstairs where Timmy was already fixing himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. “Don’t eat too much or yer not gonna have any room for dinner.” Savanna warned. “Me, an’ mommy, an’ aunt Clara are makin’ pies!” The seven year old was so excited because pumpkin pie happened to be one of her all time favorite desserts. “Can I help?” Timothy asked with a full mouth. Savvy nodded. “We’re gonna need all the help.” She replied.

Her eyes lit up as a brilliant idea struck her. Zelda. She was magical. Maybe she could help. Thanksgiving dinner would be finished that much faster if they could use magic. “I’ll be right back.” The little girl told her brother. Timmy nodded and continued to eat his breakfast while Savanna disappeared up the stairs to her bedroom. “Where did I hide it?” She spoke to herself. She was looking for the notepad to bring Zelda back to her world. If it worked once, surely it had to work again. “I think I ‘member where I put it.” She lifted her mattress and found the sparkly notebook tucked away safely, exactly where she placed it for safe keeping.

“How did this work last time?” The little girl scratched her head. She couldn’t remember if she made a wish or if she just drew what she wanted to come to life. She definitely remembered drawing something, so she sat down with colored pencils and started sketching an image of her, Victoria, Clara, Timmy, and Zelda in the kitchen preparing A Thanksgiving Day feast with the rest of the Valance and Deschaine families. “I hope this works. We need all the help ta’ make sure dinner is ready on time.” Savvy said out loud. “I know you can help us with yer magic, Zee.”

Savanna put the final touches on her picture and sat back to admire it. Not her best work, but certainly not her worst. “I wish you were here again, Zelda...Ta’ wake my mommy up an’ help us with the cookin’. Please come help us.” But even with her wish, nothing happened. “Well...it was worth a shot.” The little one sighed as she closed the book and returned it to the hiding place between her mattress and box spring. “Guess we gotta do this the normal way.”

—————

By the time Savanna made it back downstairs, Victoria was awake. She just finished pouring herself a cup of coffee. Timmy has finished his breakfast and moved to the living room to watch television before Vic made him go shower and get dressed in nice clothes.

“Yer up!” Savvy grinned. “I getted out everythin’ we need ta’ make pies. Want me ta’ call aunt Clara an’ see if she’s on her way?” The seven year old offered. Before she could even get Victoria’s cell phone, the doorbell rang. Savanna grinned. It had been years since Clara used the doorbell when she visited. She was family which meant she had full permission to let herself in. “I’ll get it!” The energetic little girl said as she ran to the door. She assumed Clara had full hands and needed some help, but when the door swung open it wasn’t the blonde standing on the other side… It was Zelda Spellman.

“Who’s that?” Timmy asked from his spot on the couch. The question made Victoria get up. Her kids weren’t supposed to open the door for strangers and it clearly wasn’t Clara. “Hello. Can I help you?” Vic asked the curly haired woman. “No mommy...She is here ta’ help you!” Savanna explained. Victoria looked confused. How did her daughter know this woman? Victoria had never seen her before, yet somehow she looked so familiar. “I...uh…” Vic was at a loss for words. “I think there has been a mix up.” Victoria was trying to apologize to the woman for getting roped into whatever Savanna had up her sleeve. “Savanna… I’m sure…” Vic began before she realized she still didn’t know the woman’s name. “Zelda.” Savvy added for her. “Mommy, this is my friend Zelda. Zelda...this is my mommy, Victoria, an’ my brother Timmy.” The seven year old introduced.

Zelda. The name rang a bell, but Vic still couldn’t place her. Not until her youngest continued to explain the situation. “Mommy...she’s not ‘maginary anymore. She’s real!” The little girl grinned. “Can she stay for Thanksgivin’?” Savvy looked up at her mother with big doe eyes. She didn’t even know if Zelda ate mortal food, but she wanted her to stay. Especially since she never knew when the witch would disappear, or when she would come back. The magical notepad worked when it wanted to which meant Zelda didn’t always appear when Savvy requested her.

“What do you mean, she’s not imaginary anymore?” Vic’s eyes widened. Suddenly she knew exactly why Zelda looked so familiar to her. She appeared in Savanna’s drawings a lot lately. But how was it possible for her to be standing in their living room, and where was her family? Wasn’t she supposed to be celebrating the holiday with them? “I made’a wish. I wished for her ta’ come help us cause she knows magic. She can use her magic ta’ make our dinner.” Vic didn’t know what to say, and before she could ask questions Clara walked through the door. The expression on her face mirrored the confusion on Vic’s.

“Aunt Clara!! Now we can finally make dinner!”

—————

“I thought I knew all of your extended family.” Clara said when she and Vic were alone in the kitchen. The brunette glared and rolled her eyes. She didn’t know how to explain this woman to her best friend. How was Savanna’s ‘imaginary friend’ sitting in the living room with her kids right now? Victoria had seen some crazy things in Limbo, but this had to be one of the craziest. “Savvy claims she’s her imaginary friend...but maybe she was never imaginary.” Vic peaked around the corner to make sure the kids were okay. Zelda seemed nice, and the only reason Victoria let her stay was because Savanna insisted she did. “I guess she’s coming to dinner with us.” Vic shrugged. She didn’t have the heart to tell her daughter no. Especially when Zelda didn’t have her family here to share Thanksgiving with. “Are you serious? We don’t even know her, V. What if she’s a serial killer?” Clara chimed in. “She seems harmless. Plus...She’s here to help us with dinner. We need all hands on deck. Who knows...maybe she will bring some peace to the dinner table this year.” Vic teased. “Savvy says she’s magic. Maybe she can use some of that to keep Declan and Delia from killing each other.” The brunette chuckled. “Or maybe she will kill them both.” Clara added with a smirk.

“Mommy. We’re ready to help.” Savanna said as she, Timmy, and Zelda appeared in the kitchen. Since Zelda knew as well as Savvy that there was no telling how long she’d stick around, she decided to make the most out of the situation. “What she said.” The woman said with a forced smile. If this was going to keep happening, maybe it was time to get to know some of these Limbo natives. Maybe they could even help figure out how she kept being summoned by a seven year old in the first place.

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A couple hours later, desserts were cooling and sides were done. The kids still had to change into their Thanksgiving attire. Both of them got new clothes for the holiday. Savvy was so obsessed with her dress. Victoria had to wash it three times before today. “You can sit next ta’ me in the car...or are ya’ gonna ride your broom?” Savanna had no idea how Zelda typically traveled and she was absolutely stereotyping by suggesting her ride of choice was a broom, but she was seven. She didn’t know any better. “Your car is fine, jellybean.” Jellybean was the nickname Zelda had given the child and Savvy always giggled when she called her that.

“I’m gonna get dressed. Don’t disappear, kay?” Savanna warned before heading up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later with a brush and some detangler in her hand so Vic could do something with her hair. For once she actually cooperated so her hair was done in five minutes. Normally it took a half an hour to get it done. “Time ta’ go?” The child hopped up. “I can’t wait ta’ have some’a Nanny’s turkey. I hope she saved some’a the skin for me.” It was Savanna and Timmy’s favorite. They loved crispy skin and Fancy knew that. “And I reeeeally can’t wait ta’ have some pie.” The child looked up at Zee. “Mommy and aunt Clara are the bestest bakers. No one makes pies, cookies, or cakes like them. I think they might have some magic too.”

The little girl put her jacket on as she turned back to Victoria. “Mommy...Thanks for lettin’ Zee come with us. Daddy is gonna be there an’ Ransom an’ Dottie too. This is gonna be the bestest Thanksgivin’ ever.”