#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.

[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.

[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!

[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

[doyelikehaggis]

denzo + 21 for the cuddle prompts?

21 + in the water/in the bath

Nothing really surprises Enzo anymore. He's seen people have their heads ripped off, nearly had the same done to himself, died twice, and has had to adjust to the modern world after sixty or so years of Augustine.

There were a lot of things to wrap his head around, and a few that threw him off along the way.

But when he hears the door open and turns around on the couch to watch Damon walk in with his clothes covered in blood, he barely blinks. His insides do give a bit of an uncomfortable twist, and he instinctively scans him for any sight of injury.

It wouldn't be the first time that he's come home in need of a splinter removal or some bourbon to ease the sting of vervain.

It's his idiotic desire to pick a fight with the first person who's willing to take on a vampire. But he isn't fazed by it anymore. 

"Have fun?" he asks, arching an eyebrow at him, but he's sure a hint of concern slips through into his voice as he gets up off of the couch. 

Damon glances down at himself, grimaces, then looks back up at him as he holds his hands up. "It's not what you're thinking."

"Well, I think you've been caught red-handed," Enzo says, and gives a pointed look to Damon's hands as he approaches him, just as bloody as his clothes. "Care to explain or should I be expecting some vengeful being to show up in the middle of the night? Another vampire like that last one, I can handle, but if you've lured another dragon back here..."

He shakes his head at him as he tilts Damon's up with his fingers beneath his chin, inspecting a little more carefully. He may not be human, but that doesn't mean he's protected from being attacked by other vampires or creatures with similar abilities as have been roaming around lately. 

"The first one wasn't even my fault!" Damon protests as Enzo presses a hand to his chest, checking for a wound of some sort.

Supernatural beings he can handle, but hunters are becoming a real issue with Triad growing every day, and he doesn't feel like having to be on the lookout for another week. Thankfully, his skin is smooth and injury-free. 

"No, but you did threaten to go out and find another one because you missed all of the action," Enzo reminds him with an arched eyebrow. "The little Mikaelson was far more capable of defeating it than you were, and if you've succeeded in finding another one, she's going to end up having to deal with it as well, and I am not dealing with Alaric or any of her aunts and uncles because you wanted to see a bloody dragon."

Damon rolls his eyes and Enzo's sure he's going to make some joke, but he frowns as he brings his own hand back. He stares down at the blood now on his own fingers and the palm of his hand.

It's too bright. Something feels wrong about it. There isn't even a twitch in his jaw.

"It's fake," Damon confirms for him, the corners of his mouth now turning up almost smugly. 

"Fake blood?" Enzo repeats, lifting his eyes back to him in confusion. "Why the hell are you covered in fake blood?"

"I made the mistake of stopping by the school." Damon glances down at himself again with another grimace. "The twins wanted my help with the decorations for the Halloween party. As it turns out, teenage witches and fake blood? Not a good mix."

Enzo stares at him, and he can feel his mouth curving, twisting up, and he makes little effort to stop it. An image of Damon attempting to help put up decorations flashes to mind and he's reminded of last Christmas and Caroline being outraged and insisting that she help. 

He has no idea what the twins were thinking. Whatever their initial plan had been, the result is rather amusing. It always is whenever Damon helps them out with something.

"You should get cleaned up," he decides, going to drop his hands to let him head off and do exactly that.

But Damon catches them, holding them in between his own. Enzo raises another eyebrow at them, then at Damon, but he can already sense where this is going without him needing to say it.

Still, he's a rather patient man, and experience has taught him that he much prefers hearing Damon admit things instead of letting it go unspoken. 

"I should," Damon agrees in that tone of voice that Enzo has become happily familiar with. "I think you should, too."

Enzo smirks, and he gives a hum of consideration. He doesn't point out that he's not the one covered in fake blood. He just gives in, drawing out a sigh that's barely audible as Damon leans in, kissing him as if he needs convincing. They both know he doesn't. 

Keeping hold of one of Damon's hands, he starts to walk in the direction of the stairs, pulling him along with him.

Within a few minutes, Damon is free of the bloodstained clothes and joining Enzo in the bath that would probably be big enough to fit five people without issue. 

Enzo slides an arm over Damon's shoulder once he's settled in front of him, moving his hand slowly along his chest, the warmth of the water already heating his skin. He leans forward as Damon leans back, better adjusting, and bends his head as he grazes his lips along his shoulder. 

Damon strokes the arm around him with a pleased little chuckle that turns into a sigh.

"Remind me never to go near the school this close to Halloween again. I'm going to end up with a pumpkin spelled onto my head."

Enzo doesn't think he's wrong. Knowing the witches they have at the school, one of them would probably give it a try. He can just imagine Damon attempting to get a large pumpkin off of his head. 

"Oh, I don't know," Enzo says, smiling as he trails his lips up to his neck, winding his other arm around Damon's front. "I don't think it looked so bad. It's not as if it's the first time you've been covered in blood. They were probably just trying to dress you up for the occasion." His smile widens. "Turn you into a more realistic vampire."

Damon scoffs, but when Enzo tilts his head to glance at him, he's smiling as well.

As hard as he tries to pretend that helping out at the school, or simply with the twins, isn't high on the list of things he would like to be doing, there's always a fondness in his voice when he talks about it and Enzo is well aware that he would do anything for them, as well as for Caroline and Alaric.

"You won't be saying that when you hear what the plan is for the chaperones of the party," Damon says, and turns his head to give him that knowing, mischievous look again. 

Enzo pauses and lifts his head, staring at him. "Tell me you're joking. Alaric doesn't even like me."

"I may have volunteered us. Besides," Damon gives us a lazy shrug, "Caroline loves you. Which is why the chaperones have to dress up as well, make a little effort — before you kill me, remember that it's for the children."

Enzo rolls his eyes, but he isn't mad. In truth, he enjoys helping out with the school nearly as much as Damon does. He supposes that dressing up for a few hours isn't the worst thing he could be doing on Halloween. 

"Fine," he says. "But I'm not doing the whole vampire thing."

"Do you want to be a witch instead?" Damon asks, raising an eyebrow at him with that teasing smirk. "Because, truth be told, I sort of have a thing for witches." 

Enzo shakes his head at him, a smile slowly forming as Damon cranes his neck and kisses him. He gives a quiet, contented hum as Damon drags his fingers along his arm, all the way up to the crook of his elbow down to his knuckles. 

"Witch is definitely off the table then," Enzo says before he's even pulled back all the way. "Maybe I'll go with werewolf."

"Why not a siren?" Damon suggests, his tone telling that he's joking. Mostly. "You're certainly good at luring people in with your voice. Second you introduced yourself to me, I was gone."

Enzo laughs, but hearing Damon say it still gives him that strange feeling inside his chest, wedged between his ribs. He splashes him slightly, earning him a startled laugh.

"We're chaperones, remember?" he says pointedly. "We're there to make sure the kids have fun, not fulfil your weird fantasies about me as a siren. Which is disturbing on many levels considering our history."

Damon pretends to scowl at him, but his hair's starting to curl at the edges, damp from the surprise attack, and it's hard for it to have much of an effect when he's close enough for Enzo to kiss him and figure out the exact shade of blue that his eyes are. 

Enzo just smiles, pressing a light kiss to his jaw, and Damon melts without so much as an argument. He tilts his head back with a fake scoff, settling on Enzo's shoulder as he slips down the bath just enough, readjusting. 

"Take all of the fun out of it, why don't you?" he says, but when he glances back up at him, he's smiling again. "Fine. Pick anything you want, as long as it's enough for Caroline to not kill us for not making enough effort. And no fake blood."

Enzo takes Damon's free hand, lacing their fingers easily. He presses his lips to his knuckles in a kiss as Damon's other hand continues its venture up his arm, his movements slow and loving. 

"Promise," he says, and Damon hums, pleased. "But you might have to wear a cape."

Damon closes his eyes and groans. Enzo grins, only to be splashed a second later. 

[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.

—————

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.”

[shirtlesssammy]

4x07: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

We’ve already recapped the closest episode to a Thanksgiving episode Supernatural has so we thought we’d pick another holiday episode this week. Since Cas and Sam’s friendship is getting a little more screen time this season, we thought we’d go back to the beginning and recap the episode where they meet. Yay!

Then:

This badass graced our screens for the first time.

Now:

Ah, Halloween. A young mother comes home loaded down with a literal bucket of candy. Her husband wants to taste test for quality control, but she shoos him away. She then heads upstairs to give their baby a bath --the husband coming in a minute. First, he needs to sneak in a few pieces of candy!

After eating a piece, the husband starts to gag, and finds a razor lodged in his mouth. He starts coughing up blood and razors and dies on the kitchen floor just in time for his wife and baby to find him.

One Day Before Halloween

Agents Sam and Dean are interviewing, Mrs. Wallace, the victim’s wife. Dean finds a hexbag. Sam asks about enemies her husband might have had.

Back at their hotel, Sam is researching the contents of the hexbag. Dean is scarfing down candy (razors or not, I agree with your plan, Dean!). Neither brother can find a reason for Luke Wallace’s death.

At a Halloween party (no booze=lame), Jenny and Tracy, who are clearly rivaling for one dude’s attention (NOT WORTH IT), arrive to assess the lameness. Tracy decides to liven the festivities up by bobbing for apples. Jenny follows, only she gets stuck under the water while it starts to boil and she dies a horrible burning death that I can’t imagine.

Later, Sam and Dean arrive at the crime scene. Dean is gross. Sam finds a hexbag.

While researching the second death, Sam discovers that this might be part of a spell. “Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.” This spell is summoning a demon. Samhain to be exact. (My headcanon is that they mispronounce Samhain because they’re in a completely different universe than ours.) This ritual can only take place once every 600 years. This year just happens to be that year. Of Course! When Samhain rises, every evil and bad thing Sam and Dean fight will rise with him.

On a stakeout, Dean continues to eat his Hell stress away.

While he’s complaining to Sam on the phone, he watches Tracy walk up to the Wallace house. Son of a bitch.

This is A Look:

Sam finds some dirt on Tracy. She’s been suspended from school in the past for an altercation with a teacher. They head to the school.

In the art room, Dean sees horrific masks that clearly remind him of Hell. “Bring back memories?” Sam asks. OUCH. Sam was just talking about high school though (of which Dean didn’t really get to experience and didn’t finish.) Don, the art teacher, comes in and the brothers ask about their altercation. “I was only trying to rap with her about her work.” Far out, man. But really, it seems that Tracy’s art was getting a bit too violent for school appropriate work. Cryptic symbols and gory drawings. The brothers wonder where Tracy is now, and Don reveals that she lives in an apartment.

Later, the boys reconvene at their motel. Tracy is AWOL. A little trick or treater is eager for candy.

Dean ate it all. Then he fat shames the poor kid. The kid has a death stare to end all death stares so I think he’s winning. (Natasha: #TeamKidAstronaut)

Sam forges ahead of Dean and finds an intruder in their room.

“Who are you?!”

“Sam! Sam, wait! It’s Castiel.”

(I just love that both Sam and Mary got to meet Cas the same way --with guns drawn and Dean rushing over to stop them.)

There’s Bunny Colvin another angel there as well, but Dean doesn’t know him.

Sam is SUCH A CUTE BEAN meeting Cas. He’s so flustered and excited. And Cas just poops all over his excitement.

He calls him the boy with the demon blood and congratulates him on stopping his “extracurricular activities.” He then asks Dean if they’ve stopped the rising of Samhain. They haven’t. And now the witch is wise to them. Cas found a hexbag in their room.

AAGGHH, Cas is foreign and formal and he doesn’t even look at Dean (haha, they’ll have plenty of time to stare and stare at each other in the next scene.) Cas informs the brothers that the rising of Samhain will break one of the 66 seals. It must be stopped.

For Posterity:

Uriel, the other angel, is a specialist and he’s here to destroy the town. Dean is incredulous. They can’t destroy this town. Cas is thinking big picture though --destroy the town, save humanity.

Dean’s got to stare think on that.

Sam is incredulous too. “No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to – You’re supposed to show mercy.” Lol, Sam, welcome to the reality of angels on Supernatural. It is a bit crushing to watch Sam’s faith get burnt a bit here. Dean then pulls out the Free Will big guns and asks Cas, “You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Cas bites back with a rhetorical question about John Winchester. Dean’s digging his heels in though. If they’re going to destroy this town, they’re going to destroy Sam and Dean along with it.

Cas acquiesces.

Dean and Sam emerge to find Baby egged. BABY. Heads will roll for this, I swear to god. (Uh, #TeamKidAstronaut?)

In the car, Sam contemplates the hex bag and confronts his disappointment with the righteously dickish reality of angels. Dean urges Sam to not abandon his faith. (Dean Bean!) Sam gently absorbs this moment of brotherly insight and then realizes that the charred bone in the hex bag was cooked by an industrial heat source. Moment. Over.

At the school's art room they narrow the bone char down to the kiln and find a heavily locked drawer in the teacher's desk. In the drawer they find a bowl of children's bones. Blegh.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Uriel hang out in a park, Uriel casually dropping insults to humanity so fast it's like he's on an I HATE HUMANS game show.

Cas admonishes Uriel for maligning God's favored creations and counsels him to settle down and wait to see what happens with Dean and Sam. Uriel proposes yoinking the Winchesters elsewhere before blowing the town straight to Hell, but Cas tells him they need to follow their “true orders,” whatever those are.

On Halloween night, costumed children walk past creepy garden displays while within one very normal looking house, the girl from earlier is held captive in the basement of the witch/teacher's house. He creepily draws his knife down her breast (ew), raising his arm for the killing blow (jerk), when his chest gets riddled with holes. It's the Winchesters! Yay! They save the totally innocent girl, who backs away and begins to...sneer at her dead witch brother on the floor. Before the Winchesters can kill her she power blasts them across the room and presumably holds onto their guts (or their balls?) while she monologues.

While she works a spell to bring Samhain into the world, Sam smears blood over his face and that of his brother's. Is it the latest facial trend? Time will tell. The floor splits open and black demon fog emerges. It gives Sam and Dean the miss and then swoops into Don’s dead body.

“My love,” the witch greets Samhain with a kiss (me: gags at the incestual overtones). He greets her with, “You've aged.” EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Samhain clearly isn’t one for loving reunions because he immediately snaps her neck and surveys his surroundings. It's time to PAR-TAY. He stares at Dean and Sam, who lie still on the floor, and then shambles past them. After he leaves, Dean asks Sam about the blood. It turns out, Sam gave them both a nice blood mask because masks are what people used to use to hide from Samhain. Nice work, Sam! As an added bonus, that blood mask should also keep away the bunnies. (You're welcome, Dean?) Samhain stumbles through town, past unsuspecting costumed children. Dean and Sam race for the cemetery to head him off.

Sam proposes whipping out his super magic psychic mojo to fight Samhain. Dean begs him to not use his power, handing off Ruby's knife instead.

At the crypt, the not-mourning-their-friend-at-all teens throw their Halloween party when they hear a noise. It's definitely not the cops, unless the cops are six feet tall, undead, and covered in blood. Samhain locks the confused kids into the vault and walks away again without a word. Oooookay. And then behind them, the vaults begin to rattle. The dead are coming out. Sort of. They pull kids into the vaults like sand worms and shoot out viscera, blood canon-style. Dean finds them, shoots out the lock, and joins the party - I mean, saves the kids.

It’s zombie dance off time, baby.

Sam heads off to fight Samhain, who tries and fails to power blast Sam.

They engage in fisticuffs, a demon’s favorite way to hold an ultimate battle. Sam uses his powers to suck the demon essence from Samhain and send him back to Hell, but Samhain's strong. He advances, step by step. It's slow enough that Dean has time to head upstairs and witness his brother mind-whammy the demon straight back to Hell. Err....awkward.

Samhain filters back down to Hell, leaving the Winchesters to shoot sad puppy eyes at each other instead.

The next day, they pack up and get ready to leave. Uriel zaps in to rub salt in the wound, and tells Sam that he was told not to use his powers. Sam tells Uriel that his powers saved the town, thank you very much. Uriel uses his wings to flap about 4 feet across the room so that he lands right in front of Sam's face. DRAMA LLAMA ALERT. Uriel threatens to annihilate Sam as soon as Heaven doesn't need him anymore. “As for your brother,” Uriel advises Sam, he should “climb off that high horse of his.” Sam should ask Dean about what he remembers from Hell. (Us, in a chorus: we wish we couldn't feel a damn thing.)

At the same playground where Cas and Uriel observed humanity, Dean sits contemplatively on the park bench.

Cas appears on the other bench and Dean gives him a less-than-warm welcome. “You're here for the I told you so.” Nope. In fact, Cas tells Dean that their true orders weren't to stop the summoning of Samhain. Instead, their orders were to do whatever Dean and Sam told them to do.

“It was a test to see how you might perform under battlefield conditions.” Dean loves this revelation (not). He defiantly tells Cas that he saved the town – including the kids playing in front of them. And that's enough for him.

Cas reveals that he was praying for Dean and Sam to save the town. “These people – they're all my father's creations. They're works of art.” With the Samhain seal broken, they're one step closer to Hell for everyone on Earth and Cas and Dean share a knowing moment about the reality of Hell's horrors. “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Cas asks. “I'm not a...hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.” He tells Dean the coming months will continue to test him. It's clear they'll test Cas as well. Cas flaps out.

What in the Sam-Quotes is this?

It’s Halloween, man.

Those little dudes are scary. Small hands.

Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would, hmm…

For us, every day is Halloween.

You're angels! You're supposed to show mercy.

There's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission.

Babe Ruth's a dick but baseball's still a beautiful game.

Zombie ghost orgy, huh? Well, that's it. I'm torching everybody.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[twistedscandal]

Title: Netflix and No Chill

Pairing: Bonnie Bennett/Kai Parker

Summary: Bonnie and her friends are supposed to be gathering at Lockwood Manor for Halloween to watch scary movies with Kai.  What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: None really.  A little language.

A/N: I come from a long line of procrastinators, but this is ridiculous. The Vampire Diaries was still on the air when I started writing this. Then I thought I would revise it and post if for this year's bookai week on tumblr and I still didn't finish until now. So now I am posting a Halloween fic on the day after Thanksgiving. Shameful. I stopped watching the show during season five then picked back up for bonkai in season six then stopped again when I realized they were only going to continue to pay Bonnie dust, so I apologize for any details I may have gotten wrong. This fic contains vague spoilers for a couple of old movies.

It didn’t really surprise Bonnie that Halloween would be one of Kai’s favorite holidays and he had gone all out with the decorations. The pumpkin under Bonnie’s arm seemed to grow even heavier when she realized how unnecessary it was to have brought it. The winding driveway leading up to the front door was already littered with jack o lanterns. Each one bearing a different, grotesque carved expression. The front porch was covered with fake spiderwebs, cartoon cut outs of witches and skeletons posed in a variety of compromising positions. He had done his best to make Lockwood Manor look like a haunted house. Bonnie thought the outside of the house looked sufficiently spooky but knew it didn’t compare to the scariness of the monster currently dwelling inside.

The post it note stuck to the front door read, “Come on in” in Kai’s neat, blocky handwriting; a demented looking smiley face hastily drawn in the corner. Bonnie let herself into the Lockwood house, trying to ignore the general sense of unease that had been hovering over her all day. It was bad enough that they were even having a get together here in the first place but the fact that somehow, she was the only one whose schedule would allow her to get there first and get things set up left a sour taste in her mouth.

It had been a while since Bonnie and her friends had all been in the same room for reasons that weren’t life threatening, so Elena had suggested that with Halloween approaching, it would be a great time to get together and watch a bunch of scary movies. Horrible events that were confined to a screen and happening to other people seemed like a nice change of pace. Also, the thought of a get together that had almost zero potential to end in bloodshed was appealing.

There was one problem however, they didn’t really have anywhere to host said movie night. The dorm room was too small, casa Gilbert was no more and neither Bonnie or Caroline had stepped foot in their homes in over a year; there were too many memories of lost loved ones in the places they grew up to imagine going to either place for a party.

Not even the boarding house was a viable option. Stefan and Damon’s big, beautiful flat screen had been broken during some fight or other and they hadn’t bothered to buy another one to replace it. Neither of them watched a lot of tv anyway. Bonnie supposed that drunken housewives, cooking shows and whatever teenage love triangle tripe the CW was offering, didn’t have much appeal when you were over 100 years old.

There was a tv in Damon’s bedroom that he claimed he only used to “hate-watch” Grey’s Anatomy. Bonnie wondered if it really was hate-watching though, considering how misty-eyed Damon got when McDreamy bit it. That was all beside the point because there was no way Bonnie, Stefan, Caroline, Damon and Elena were all going to cram into Damon’s bedroom (can you say awkward) to watch movies anyway.

They were kind of stumped until Caroline suggested an alternative: “Why not just go to Kai’s place?” And by Kai’s place she meant Tyler’s. Kai had been squatting on the Lockwood property for so long that people had actually started referring to it as his. Bonnie had objected, but of course she had been unanimously overruled. There really weren’t any better choices and the Lockwood estate did have an actual home theater.

Apparently socializing with Kai was a small price to pay for cushioned seats and surround sound.

Bonnie was less than thrilled about the situation but determined not to let having to be around Kai ruin the evening.

She made her way to the kitchen, put down the pumpkin, shrugged out of her coat and began to unpack the grocery bag she’d brought with her. She laid tomatoes, onions, garlic, jalapenos, cilantro and a couple of limes on the island and got a cutting board off the counter. She searched around for a bowl and found one in the cabinet over the stove. Bonnie stretched up onto the tips of her toes and had just about gotten her finger hooked over the edge of the bowl when it suddenly seemed to move further back out of her reach.

Bonnie leaned further in and just when she got her hand on the bowl, once again it seemed to move closer to the back of the cabinet. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Stop it, Kai.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Kai appeared so suddenly that Bonnie wondered if he had cloaked himself and been standing there watching her all the while. He had perfected the art of casually draping himself in doorways and there he stood, his hair damp, his chest bare and a black t-shirt thrown over his shoulder.

Bonnie turned to face him full on. “I know you moved that bowl out of my reach.”

“Come on, Bonnie,” Kai said attempting and failing to look innocent. “Do I seem like the kind of person to engage in that sort of pointless and immature behavior?”

“Yes, Kai. You seem exactly like that sort of person because you are exactly that sort of person.”

“Don’t be like that. I was just having a little fun and I don’t see what the big deal is anyway. You do remember that you’re a witch, right? You could have floated the stupid thing right into your hands.”

“Yeah, well not all of us witches are powerful coven leaders with magic to spare.”

“You’re a Bennett. I seriously doubt that moving a bowl would tire you out.” Kai scoffed.

“Whatever. My Grams taught me that it was a waste of energy to use magic for anything that I could do like a normal person.”

Kai gave Bonnie an incredulous look. “That’s terrible advice. You’re not normal; you’re extraordinary. Try acting like it and you might actually have some fun once in a while.”

Bonnie ignored Kai, turning her back to him while she made another grab for the bowl.

“You are the most hard headed person I’ve ever met in my life.” Kai slid in behind Bonnie and reached over her to pull the bowl down from the cabinet.

Bonnie’s breath caught in her chest as she felt his body move against hers. For just a moment something in her brain went sideways and she wondered what it might feel like to lean back onto Kai’s muscular frame; to let herself be overwhelmed by the warmth of his body and the clean soapy smell emanating from his skin. The moment passed as quickly as it came though and her common sense clicked back into place as she elbowed Kai in the stomach. “Are you even vaguely familiar with the concept of personal space?”

The bowl clanged against the counter as Kai unceremoniously dropped it from his hand. “Are you familiar with the concept of saying thank you?”

“As if I would ever thank you for anything.” Bonnie grabbed a knife and began chopping tomatoes. She watched Kai out the corner of her eye, thankful as he finally shrugged into his t shirt and pulled it down over his torso.

He leaned against the island, his dark blue eyes locked on Bonnie. “So, you’re the only one here?”

“Do you see anybody else?”

“The rest of the scooby gang is actually coming though, right?”

“Of course they are. Why would you even ask me that?”

“I’m just trying to make sure that I’m not being lured into some type of Netflix and chill situation.”

Bonnie knew that she shouldn’t be, but she was continuously amazed by some of the nonsense that made its way out of Kai’s mouth. “First of all, ew. Second of all, what the hell would you know about Netflix and chill?”

“Call it whatever you want, but inviting someone over under the pretense of watching a movie just so you can get them alone in a dark room and start making moves is a tale as old as time. I’m sure there was some Neanderthal back in the day trying to get a woman to come over for cave drawings and chill.”

“Elena and Damon are at the grocery store getting more snacks.”

Kai’s eyebrows shot straight up. “You’re letting those two be in charge of the food? Don’t be too surprised if they show up with nothing but a bag of gummy bears, a few pints of o-negative and a gallon of bourbon. What about vampire Barbie and Ken? Where are they?”

“If you’re talking about Stefan and Caroline, he’s picking her up from Whitmore. She has a late class on Fridays. They should all be here in a little while. You and I will not be alone and your virtue, such as it is, shall remain intact.”

Kai made a dramatic show of rolling his eyes. “Bummer.” A hint of a smile danced around his lips. “I’ll be right back.” He bounced out of the kitchen, humming to himself.

Bonnie resumed chopping tomatoes and wondered if that was going to be the new normal for her interactions with Kai. Ambiguous (and potentially sinister) hovering had been replaced with flagrant (and terrible) attempts at flirting.

Kai returned to the kitchen a few moments later. He took a couple of beers out of the fridge and opened them; he put one bottle down in front of Bonnie as he took a long drink from the other. “What are you making?”

“Salsa.”

“I’ve heard that there’s places called grocery stores where they sell salsa already made in jars.”

“Do you really want to be a smart ass while I have this knife in my hand?”

Kai ignored Bonnie’s threat. “Want some help?”

“No.”

Kai washed his hands then grabbed another knife from the butcher’s block. He stood beside Bonnie and began working on an onion.

Bonnie, understandably, was still somewhat wary of Kai with a sharp object in his hand, but after her initial apprehension passed they worked in a somewhat companionable silence. She thought it might not be so bad after all. Her friends would be there soon and then there would be four people to buffer the space between her and Kai. Damon especially always seemed quite eager to provide a barrier between Bonnie and Kai, both metaphorically and physically. All she had to do was hold on and hope that he could be quiet for just a little while longer.

“Hey, Bon.” Kai’s voice cut into Bonnie’s thoughts; she should have known him being quiet wasn’t going to last. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“If I say no, aren’t you just going to ask me anyway?”

“You know me so well. How come you and Dudley Do Right never hooked up?”

“Why do you keep calling him that? You know his name is Matt.”

Kai stared at Bonnie as though she had said something ridiculous. “And you know that I don’t care. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“There is no subject because I never agreed to have this conversation in the first place.” Bonnie put down her knife and looked at Kai, curiosity getting the better of her. “Why do you want to know anyway?”

Kai shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just curious. He’s around. You’ve known him forever. You’re hot. He’s hot.”

Bonnie raised an eyebrow at Kai. “You think Matt is hot?”

“I’m very comfortable with who I am so I’ve got no problem saying another guy is attractive. Young Matthew is quite handsome; in a bland, generic, Sears catalog model kind of way.”

“How is it that even your compliments manage to be insults?”

“Just one of my many God given talents.”

“I doubt that God has anything to do with any of your so-called talents.”

“I can’t really argue with that. Now let’s get back on topic, Bonbon. Do you not think Matt is cute or were you worried you two would bore each other into a coma?”

“I don’t know.” Bonnie said while shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I’ve always thought of Matt in a brotherly way. Not to mention the fact that he and Elena were attached at the hip for as long as I could remember. Even after they broke up it was hard not to think of him as her boyfriend. Then he was with Caroline and had that thing with Rebekah. After that….” Bonnie voice trailed off.

Kai leaned in closer. “What?” Bonnie shook her head and looked away. “Come on, tell me.”

“I don’t know.” Odd as it was, it felt good to finally voice her feelings out loud. Kai obviously would not have been her first choice for a confidante but at the very least she knew she could tell him anything, he wouldn’t judge and wouldn’t share it with anyone else.

“Matt’s a great guy but there’s never really been any kind of spark between us and even if there had been, I’m not interested in being anyone else’s second or third or in Matt’s case, fourth, choice. Been there, done that and it wasn’t a whole lot of fun. The next relationship I’m in I need to know that I’m not somebody’s consolation prize because they wanted someone else and settled for me. I need to be somebody’s first choice.”

Kai was silent for a moment. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Again, even if I say no, you’re just going to keep talking anyway.”

Kai shot a couple of finger guns in Bonnie’s direction. “Exactly.”

“In that case sure,” Bonnie said, her voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. “I’d love to hear a secret.”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

“Shocking.” Bonnie responded in a deadpan tone.

“I know right. These boyish good looks and devilish charms, I should have been beating the ladies off with a stick.”

Bonnie wondered if her sarcasm had truly gone over Kai’s head or if he was simply choosing to ignore it. “Not what I meant, at all, but okay.”

“My father tried to keep it under wraps for as long as he could but by the time I was fourteen word was out amongst the coven that I was a magical dud and a budding sociopath to boot, so none of those girls were exactly beating a path to my door. Combine that with dear old dad’s insistence that the family not fraternize with outsiders and that added up to a very empty social calendar for yours truly.”

“So, you never went out with anybody? You didn’t have any friends?”

“Not really. Sometimes I used to sneak into town. As useless and unbearable as I found most of the other kids in the coven, I’ve got to admit that nobody can conjure up a better fake ID than a bunch of bored, repressed teenage witches. And it’s not like we were going to snitch on each other. We all snuck into town. The atmosphere in the coven was suffocating; I wasn’t the only one that needed to get out and breathe every once in a while. Wouldn’t have really mattered if I got caught anyway. I was already a lost cause in my dad’s eyes. I didn’t have anything to lose.”

Kai fell silent as a faraway look crept into his eyes. It was almost like he had forgotten Bonnie was even still in the room; like his mind had gone somewhere else entirely.

“Kai?” Bonnie spoke hoping to jar him from his thoughts.

He sparked back to life. “Anyway, it was nice to get out and talk to people that didn’t know. Hadn’t already decided what I was and what I wasn’t. Sometimes it was just enough to be around somebody that didn’t flinch if I tried to touch them.”

Despite her best efforts, Bonnie sometimes felt herself softening towards Kai. At the very least she felt sorry for the person he could have been had he been born with his own magic or born into a family that could have loved him and taught him to love himself without it. Her sympathy however dissipated quickly when she recalled the look in his eyes as he had stabbed her.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Right. My point was that I’ve never had a real relationship before, so if I have one whoever I’m with would be my first choice.” He shyly dropped his eyes a way from hers. “My only choice.”

Awkward, Bonnie thought to herself. She hoped Kai wasn’t expecting some sort of response from her because she was literally speechless. She had given up on pretending that Kai didn’t have some sort of weird thing for her but that didn’t mean she was willing to discuss it with him or anyone else anytime soon.

Bonnie looked away from Kai to check her phone. It had been more than enough time for one of the couples coming to have shown up by now. Not only had no one come, she hadn’t gotten any messages or calls either. “Where are they? I wonder if something happened.”

“Please if something happened to any of them they would have already called you begging for help by now, wouldn’t they?”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right, but still maybe- “

“Maybe nothing,” Kai said cutting Bonnie off. “Your friends have the attention spans of rabid billy goats; anything could be distracting them. I say we finish making what is sure to be some very delicious salsa, grab some chips, go downstairs and start on our first movie. I’m sure they’ll be here soon enough.”

***********************************

Bonnie and Kai were settled into the reclining seats with chips, Bonnie’s salsa, a bowl of popcorn and a big bag of Twizzlers sitting on the seat between them. Kai had insisted on dimming the lights for an authentic movie watching experience, so the only real light in the room was emanating from the screen.

It came as no surprise whatsoever that Kai was the type to talk through movies.

“I’m confused.”

“About what?”

“Are we not supposed to know that the boyfriend is the killer?”

“Really, Kai? This movie has only been on for twenty minutes. You’re not supposed to say who the killer is.”

“But I am right, aren’t I? Besides it’s not like I’m spoiling it for you. I’m the one that’s never seen this before.”

“That’s not the point. Will you be quiet?”

“If they don’t want you to guess the killer right away, they could have been a little subtler. I mean look at him. The greasy hair, the chock full of crazy eyes. I know a sociopath when I see one.”

“Well you know what they say. Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly.”

“Please shut up.”

***********************************

The first movie had ended and still Elena and Damon nor Caroline and Stefan had shown up yet. Bonnie had tried calling all of them and had only been able to get their voice mails.

“Knowing them you know what they’re probably doing.”

“What are you talking about Kai?”

He wiggled his eyebrows in suggestive manner. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Let’s start another movie.”

Amazingly Kai was able to remain quiet until the end of the second movie. “I knew he was dead all along.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right, they got me pretty good with that one. People must have freaked out back in the day.”

************************************

By the time the third movie started Kai’s chatterbox tendencies had rubbed off on Bonnie. “You do realize that these movies make absolutely no sense. Mrs. Vorhees goes on a murderous rampage to avenge Jason’s death in the first movie, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, Jason goes on a murderous rampage to avenge her death in all the rest of the movies.”

“Do you have a point, Bonnie?”

“If Jason wasn’t dead what was Mrs. Vorhees so pissed off about in the first place? If he was dead, how did he come back to life? Is he a ghost? A zombie? Every single movie other than the first one is utter nonsense because they ruin the entire premise of the series.”

“I. . .” Kai opened his mouth and then immediately closed it again. For the first time since Bonnie met him he had been rendered speechless. “I’ll be damned. I grew up watching these and I never even thought about that. Stop trying to ruin my childhood.”

***********************************

Bonnie awoke with a start. It took a minute for her to get her bearings and remember where she was. She sat up slowly, the odd angle she’d fallen asleep at had caused a crook in her neck. The room was mostly dark as the last movie that she and Kai had been watching had long since ended. She checked the time on her phone and was surprised to see that it was just after midnight. Clearly, her friends had never shown up. She wanted to be more concerned, but it wasn’t like this was the first time they’d ditched her with no warning.

Bonnie looked over at Kai. He was turned sideways in his seat with his cheek against the headrest. She was taken aback at how young and innocent he looked. She supposed even the devil himself might look harmless while sleeping. She reached across the seat between them and shook his arm. “Kai, wake up.” When she got no response, she stood up and went closer; leaning over him and poking his shoulder.

Kai suddenly jolted awake, the contents of the half empty soda can in his hand splashing up onto Bonnie’s shirt in the process. He started apologizing immediately. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Calm down. I know it was an accident.” Bonnie was surprised by the horrified look on Kai’s face. She wondered where this sort of apologetic energy had been after he’d shot her with an arrow.

Bonnie grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at her shirt, but it wasn’t doing her much good. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I always keep a change of clothes in my car.” Life in Mystic Falls had taught Bonnie to be prepared for anything. “I’m just gonna grab a clean shirt.”

Kai followed behind Bonnie as she left the room. “It’s not that bad, is it? You don’t need to leave.”

“It’s cold and it’s sticky.”

“You can just wear something of mine.” Kai almost seemed to be pleading with her to not go outside.

“What is your problem? I’m not leaving, okay. I’ll come back.” And as much as the words leaving her mouth surprised her, Bonnie also knew that she meant them wholeheartedly. She didn’t want to leave. Despite herself she’d been having the best time she’d had in a while and genuinely did not want the night to end.

“I’ll grab a fresh shirt, come back and we can start another movie. Why don’t you go ahead and start up Nightmare on Elm Street and I can tell you all the things wrong with it too? It’ll be fun.”

“Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Bonnie, wait.”

“What?”

“I just want to say that I had a really good time with you tonight.”

“Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye? I told you I’m coming back.”

“I know.”

Bonnie shook her head. “Weirdo.” She made a detour through the kitchen to grab her keys off the counter before making her way outside. As soon as she reached her car, her phone started going crazy.

Kai was leaning against the kitchen counter when Bonnie re-entered the house. “You know, I would have expected better from a mega powerful coven leader.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bonnie had to admit that Kai’s poker face was world class. If she didn’t know for a fact what he had done his innocent act would have been quite effective.

“I’m talking about the fact that if you had extended the boundary of your spell just a few more feet down the driveway it would have taken me much longer to figure out what you’d done.”

“Still don’t have a clue.”

“Is this really how you want to play it? As soon as I stepped foot outside my phone started ringing. I have dozens of text messages and missed calls. Caroline, Stefan, Damon and Elena have been trying to get in touch with me all night. First, their cars wouldn’t start.”

“That sounds like a problem for Triple A. Don’t know what it has to do with me though.”

“In addition to their cars not starting, they’re bound where they are. Physically incapable of walking more than five feet away from where they are.”

“That’s crazy but strange things happen in this town all the time, am I right?”

“It was a spell Kai. A spell powerful enough to keep four supernatural beings in two different locations rooted to the spots they were standing on. How do you explain that?”

“So, it was a spell. It’s not like I’m the only other witch that’s ever blown through this one-horse town.”

“You’re not the only witch, but you’re the only one that would have done this.”

“Are you kidding? The Mystic Falls Scooby gang has collectively probably made enemies on every continent across the globe. Your bestie Damon alone can’t go two seconds without pissing somebody off. The list of people that might want to ruin their nights isn’t exactly short.”

“You can’t even do me the courtesy of just admitting what you’ve done?” Kai continued to stare at Bonnie, his arms crossed over his chest; his face completely blank. “I don’t know why I bother. I thought we were having a—" She stopped short realizing what she was about to say and pulling the words back into her mouth.

“Go ahead and finish. You thought we were having a good time and that’s because we were.” Kai stepped around the kitchen counter, closing the gap between Bonnie and himself. “Maybe I just wanted an opportunity to be alone with you and show you that I’m not some completely irredeemable monster. Maybe I wanted to be given half as much of a chance as you give everyone else. So maybe I bounced the cell phone signal away from this house. Maybe I bound those idiot friends of yours to the ground they were standing on, so they couldn’t leave.”

“So, you’re finally owning up?”

“I’m owning nothing. I’m just saying maybe I did those things.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I didn’t.”

“You are so full of shit, Kai.”

“I can tell you one thing I definitely didn’t do. I didn’t do anything to make you stay. You weren’t bound in any way shape or form. None of your friends showed up and you were free to leave at any point, but you didn’t. You sat with me all night watching a bunch of dumb scary movies for no other reason except that you wanted to. There was no trick to it. You were genuinely enjoying my company more than you thought you would and more than you want to admit. I think that’s the part that probably pisses you off the most.”

Bonnie opened her mouth but closed it just as quickly. She was at a loss for a comeback because she couldn’t honestly deny anything Kai had just said. She would have been able to feel it if he had worked any magic against her and there had been nothing. They had laughed and talked, watched movies and taken a nap and she would have come back for more, if only he hadn’t done what he’d done.

This was all a little more than Bonnie was willing or able to process at the moment. “I’m out of here.” Bonnie grabbed her coat off the counter and stalked towards the living room. She turned back to look at Kai one last time before walking out the door. He was leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms dangling loosely by his sides. The air of defeat around him was almost palpable. She paused for a moment almost subconsciously willing him to say something, but he remained silent.

As the door shut behind her, she faintly heard Kai’s voice. “Happy Halloween, Bonnie.”