#Spooky cookies of death

[cherrysaki-blog]

I've always found this craz of putting activated charcoal into everything, utterly stupid. I didn't understand why it didn't fizzle out as quickly as it popped up because of it being EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. Also... ... it doesn't have attractive effects on the body (if you know, you know. It's not pleasant).

Like others said in the comments. Activated charcoal is ment to flush out poison, vitamins, medicine, everything. It's the first thing they measure out a dosage of (to force down your throat) if you come into the emergency room for accidentally eating/swallowing/drinking something poisonous or bad or mixing up your vitamins bottle with your grandma's medications. It's what ER doctors make sure children drink the whole glass of if they eat a whole bottle of multivitamins. I was one of those little kids, who stupidly once snuck into the kitchen early one morning and ate the children multivitamins because those things where tasty and tiny children back in the day (before child safety caps) where basic like that (it tastes like candy = eat it like candy.). You know what happens if a small child, heck even if an adult, eats a handful of vitamins. ER is going to make you drink the activated charcoal shake. If you throw it up you need to drink another big cup of it. You keep that black stuff in your tummy until it comes out of the other end. Which isn't pleasant... that one black drink stays in you for a while and it's not pleasant.

TLDR: Activated charcoal targets EVERYTHING in your body and literally PREVENTS everything from being absorbed into your body. Your meds are not doing anything, vitamins are not being absorbed, nutrients are not being absorbed. You might think giving your grandma a spooky cookie with activated charcoal in it is harmless but really, you can probably kill her. Cuz activated charcoal doesn't care.... it will cancel out all oral meds. Heart meds, birth control, the calcium in that milk you drink, cold medicine, headache medicine, Pepto, alot of stuff. You literally are just putting something into your body that acts as an unforgivable sponge. ER doctors make you take this stuff knowing your body not absorbing anything this one time, out weights your body absorbing the poison or medicine or whatever.

cant stop thinking abt this bit from a psa about activated charcoal flushing your medications from your system

[mewozie]

Ok so before I start the art spam heres my kinlist. Will be updated over time if needed :)

[night-howl38]

Hello everyone, my name is Kate, AKA Night-Howl, and welcome to my account! ^^

I'm a 22 year-old autistic, ace lesbian who enjoys drawing (traditional and digital), animating, and playing video games.

I mainly post SFW art and animations of my interests and my own original stuff, but will sometimes draw stuff with slight blood, which I put trigger warnings on.

Other than that, my account is a safe place :3

I'm currently hyperfixed on Eddsworld, SMG4, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, Chikn Nuggit, and Danganronpa. I'm into other fandoms as well, but those are my main ones.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this account, and give it a follow if you like my content. Check out my YouTube channel too! ^^

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

[krypticcafe]

Happy Super Late Valentines </3

rating: PG-13/teen

pairing: harry warden/the miner x gn!reader

warning(s): reader had a boyfriend, brief mention of cheating, small mentions of blood, violence, and gore, and harry being scary, for j u s t a bit.

synopsis: you had a shitty valentines day, and harry comes to pick up the leftovers.

a/n: okay, I haven't written fanfic in years, so please excuse me if this comes off as an uber corny dumpster fire. I'm just trying to have fun :'))))

So what if it's Valentine's Day?

So what if you wanted to spend a peaceful time with your boyfriend at home with some baked cookies?

So what if you accidentally burnt those cookies?

So what if you were so paranoid that it felt like someone was watching you the entire time?

So what if your boyfriend pushed asked you to go with him and his friends in some spooky abandoned mineshaft?

So what if you were surrounded by couples making out in a cramped, dark, and cold nooks and crannies and one of them happened to be your best friend and your now ex-boyfriend?

So what if you lashed out, dumped him, stormed out of the cave only to get more lost due to the heat of your anger?

It's fine. It's whatever. Could be worse.

Or at least that's what you told yourself to cope with the shredding of your heart and the burning tears.

Oooooh, but that bastard! The audacity to cheat on you, with her of all people! And he was such an idiot to do so after inviting you to come! Did he not think for a fraction of a second that he'd get caught? Or did all the blood in his brain just go to his dic-

God, what were you thinking, coming here with those guys, giving him the time of day?

Looking back on things, you realized you dodged not a bullet, but a whole missile. But did it reslly have to be on Valentines Day of all days? The world really is just that cruel.

And it was about to get even more cruel.

Screams, maybe half a dozen of them, echoed and bounced off the walls of the cave, finding their way to you. At first, you assumed the group was messing with each other. Either way, you could care less.

Then they started growing more frequent and louder, and you scowled.

'In here after that fiasco? Really? Christ, I'm never going out with any of them ever aga-'

Then you heard a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly, you started to prefer the possibility of what you originally thought they were doing.

Your head whipped to the tunnel left of you as you heard a scream far too familiar, and your body began to curl in on itself as you sat in a ball in the corner.

Footsteps began beating from the same corridor where the scream originated.

Anticipating the worst, you wiped the blur from your eyes, took a deep breath, and braced your hand over a nearby stone that you deemed good enough to buy you some time.

The footsteps grew louder, but remained at a painstakingly steady pace, as if to tease your demise. There was a loud thunk! before the screech of metal scraping rock pierced your ears. You were half expecting to see the grim reaper at this point.

Instead, you were greeted with someone else who might as well be the same person. They were tall, broad, and clad in nothing but a full set of miner's gear. Not a single speck of skin peeked past any part of their clothing, and their mask even managed to hide their eyes behind the dark lens. With what little brightness there was provided by the dim cave lights, you just barely noticed the glistening of the blood on their uniform and the way it dripped down the tip of their pickaxe.

You recognized him as the man from the town's local urban legend. It always seemed cheesy and way too cliche to you but here you were, face to face with the man, the myth himself. Would he make you another one of his victims tonight? Would your death become just another story told at the campfire? The thought made your stomach turn.

The two of you stayed in silence, your hand still gripping the stone while you stared at the miner, searching for any movement that suggesting that you'd be the next one to eat metal. But all you could see was the way his chest heaved, rising and falling from what you understood as the cause of all those screams from earlier.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Clank!

To your surprise, he set down his pickaxe and approached you, kneeling down to your curled form. His head tilted slightly, as if to get a better look at you. A part of you wished you could see his eyes, wondered where he stared, why he stared. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you froze like a deer in headlights, squeezing your eyes shut when he lifted a hand and-

... wiped a tear on your cheek.

You didn't even remember the stone until he pried it from your hand and interlaced your fingers with his, pulling you up with him and into his embrace as he lightly petted your head.

Was he... comforting you?

It would've worked well if uh, he didn't reek of blood and dust.

Staying still as if your life depended on it (it probably did), you let him do as he pleased.

He pulled away from you but kept a gentle grip on your hand, nodding his head in the direction of the tunnels. You couldn't be bothered to question anything anymore, shock was the only thing that kept the fatigue from catching up.

He led you down countless tunnels and caverns, passing by bodies mangled beyond recognition, except for one. You were pretty sure that one was the cretin.

The entire time, the hold his hand had on yours was nothing short of soft and comforting, it almost warmed your heart. Almost.

Eventually, you found where he was taking you, back to the entrance of the mineshaft. He let go of your hand and urged you to the opening. Hesitantly stepping forward, you paused and looked back. He still stood there, though less menacing than he was before despite all the blood and dirt caked on him.

"I- uh... thank you."

Your voice was shaky from processing the events of the past few hours and you had no requirement to thank him, but you felt like you'd regret it if you didn't. The sentiment came across, and he nodded, reaching up again to trace a thumb on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pinch. You watched as he turned and left back into the abyss of the mines, disappearing into the cavern.

It was still dark outside, but you knew the way back from here. You were no longer shaking, nor seething, and the walk back home was oddly peaceful for it being so late in the night.

So what if you might want to see him again?

Bonus

The next morning, you woke up with your eyes feeling raw and your feet sore, but work calls and you had to get up nonetheless.

Nursing a cup of coffee, you checked your door for any mail, instead finding a bright red, heart-shaped box at your doorstep. Fortunately, it didn't contain any beating human heart as the urban legends told, but interestingly enough, a single wild rose and a card.

"Happy Valentines, won't you be mine? - Harry"

[ladamedusoif]

Rockford, P.I.

Or: the one where Tim Rockford is a ghost hunter

Inspired by the incredible PPCU AU moodboards by @almostfoxglove!

Pairing: Paranormal Investigator!Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Content notes/warnings: 18+ MDNI; F!Reader; no physical description of Reader; Tim Rockford AU; Reader is Tim’s occasional partner in the business; established working relationship and friendship; friends to lovers; spooky shenanigans; implied smut; fluff; ghosts; references to death; references to alcohol use; references to drug use; strong language; cliches and most likely a lot of stuff that’s not correct about paranormal investigations.

Author's note: I loved @almostfoxglove's PPCU AU moodboards so much and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so when better to finish and post it than Halloween? I know I haven't written in a long time - since the summer, I think - and at the weekend certain discourse made me want to just give up completely and delete every word I'd ever posted. But this was nearly done, and I feel like at least some people might like to see it. So here you are. Happy Halloween, Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh.

And thank you to @mescalpascal for beta-ing this and not letting me get away with just giving up - with writing, fandom, everything.

To find more of my work and get alerts when I post new writing (which will hopefully be more frequently!), follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Ghost divider by @wethairjoel

“Rockford, PI - Tim speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

Tim spins in his battered desk chair, phone tucked against his shoulder and box of leftover takeout still in hand as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, nodding and “uh huh”-ing every so often.

He stops spinning. He puts down the box of cold lo mein. He grabs a pen, and frantically begins taking notes. He asks the caller to send as much information as they can via email.

And then he calls you.

Other little girls at school wanted to be princesses or singers or models or movie stars. You? You wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Forget clean-cut TV stars or the latest cookie-cutter boyband member, your first love was Dr Egon Spengler.

Fast forward a few decades, and your dream had become reality - kind of. Your doctoral thesis on the interplay between reported paranormal activity and its representation in popular culture had produced a few well-received articles and earned you a positive reputation in the admittedly rather specialised world of paranormal and psychical research. It had not, unfortunately, led to a glittering academic career.

Instead, you made a living with a part-time teaching gig at a university combined with a little freelance consultancy work for movies and TV shows, almost all of which ditched your nuanced advice and produced yet another cliched depiction of “ghost hunters” screaming on camera.

And then there was Tim. You’d met a long time back, after a talk you’d given in the city about change and continuity in the concept of the “haunted house”. He was sitting in the front, diligently taking notes and nodding along as you spoke, eyes warm and encouraging - and he immediately made a beeline to ask you for coffee as soon as the Q&A wrapped up. 

Before you parted that evening, he handed you his card.

”Rockford, PI. You’re a private investigator?”

Tim shook his head. “Paranormal investigator. Helps to have most people think it’s the other kind of PI, though.” He called you from time to time, asking for your help on specific cases, sometimes enlisting you as a partner for the duration of an investigation. You always welcomed the extra income, but in truth you helped him out for the sheer love of it - for the chance to feel like a real Ghostbuster, even if Tim worked in business attire instead of boiler suits, and to spend time with one of the few people in the world you felt really got you.

You peer out at the English countryside from the window of the car Tim hired at Heathrow, straining to see something of the allegedly “green and pleasant” land through the miserable grey haze and sheets of rain. The navigation on your phone announces the final turn for your destination. Tim, still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, approaches cautiously and takes the left turn onto the long driveway.

“Whoa.” His voice is awestruck as the car arrives at the enormous country house, now a luxury boutique hotel catering to the rich and famous in search of an exclusive retreat. “We’re a long way from poltergeists in Poughkeepsie.”

You shrug as Tim drives into the small, discreet parking lot to one side of the building. “I’ve done some work on a couple of Gilded Age mansions. This isn’t going to be all that different, right?”

“True,” he muses, climbing out of the car and setting to work unpacking your luggage: a suitcase each, plus several hard-sided cases of vital equipment for conducting the investigation, labelled ‘Scientific Instruments’. “And they did say they think it’s only one manifestation.”

You chuckle as you help him wheel the cases from the car towards the hotel entrance, where a man in elegant livery is already rushing to greet you with a brass luggage trolley. “One manifestation? Please. We got this, Rockford.”

That evening, unpacked, freshened up, and after a dinner meeting with the hotel owner, you and Tim decamp to the library - now a comfortably-appointed lounge with its own bar - to compare notes. The two of you are the only residents, the hotel having temporarily suspended operations in order to deal with the spectral guest.

He hands you a glass of whiskey and settles beside you on the Chesterfield sofa, hair still damp from his earlier shower and his customary attire replaced by a long-sleeved Henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks more boyish, the grey patches in his beard notwithstanding, and you find yourself smiling softly at him.

“So: first impressions?”

You take a sip of your drink and reach for your notebook. “First impressions: they must be pretty freaked out to temporarily close down a hotel over one spirit, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s unusually troublesome - they mentioned strange things appearing on bedroom walls, guests waking to the sound of a voice shouting for help, weird stuff turning up on TV channels... And they do pride themselves on the whole ‘idyllic rural retreat’ brand, which a ghost doesn’t exactly fit with.” He sips his whiskey and thinks. “Did you find out any more about the death here a couple of years ago?”

”I did - it was weirdly under-reported, given that a celebrity was involved, but I guess people had much bigger things to worry about during the pandemic.” You flip to a different page. “Nothing I found out seemed to contradict the owner’s version of events, though I’m sure they’d be careful to control the narrative if there was anything to hide.”

Tim sucks his cheek, deep in thought, and nods. “I guess we can’t proceed until we see how this thing is manifesting for ourselves. You have everything you need for the surveillance in your room overnight?”

You nod. “And we’ve got the kit set up in the other parts of the hotel the owner mentioned. I think we’re good to go, Timothy.”

He grins, eyes sparkling, and clinks your glass.

Jetlag doesn’t stop you waking as soon as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek around the heavy drapes that adorn the windows of your large bedroom. You’re checking the recordings and readings taken in the room overnight, looking for any indication of paranormal activity, when your phone buzzes with a message from Tim.

Nothing in my room overnight. Anything in yours? 

Not that I can see. You want to check the other equipment before breakfast?

Sure thing. Race you to the Full English.

“Oh, it’s on, Rockford,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for leggings and an old hoodie. You slip on a pair of Crocs, already bracing yourself for Tim’s inevitable comments about your choice of footwear, grab your keycard, and slip out of the room.

It’s quiet in your absence, save for the gentle sound of birds singing outside, the wind occasionally rattling your windows - and the increasingly steady beeping now being emitted from a little device Tim had given you, designed to measure sudden shifts in psychical energy. 

None of the other devices set up elsewhere in the hotel had registered anything out of the ordinary. Tim, typically, is philosophical.

“We just have to wait, do some more research in the meantime, speak to the staff. How’s that breakfast?” He sips his coffee, mug looking comically small in his large hand, and gives you a mischievous look.

“The bacon’s delicious, the mushrooms are great, the eggs are perfect… but I don’t think Cumberland sausages are for me.” You poke at the thick, half-eaten link sausage on the plate. “Not least because ‘Cumberland sausage’ sounds like a fuckin’ euphemism if ever I heard one.”

Tim laughs, the warm sound resonating in the empty dining room. He tops up his coffee and reaches for another slice of toast, and you realise that he seems…different.

“Rockford?” He looks up at you, toast crumbs in his moustache. “What’s going on with you? You aren’t normally this, uh, jolly on a job.”

He swallows his toast and drinks his coffee thoughtfully. “It’s a fascinating case, and I guess I’m just really happy that we’re working together again. Even if you’re wearing those.”

Tim gestures with mock scorn towards your brightly-coloured Crocs, before giving you a sly wink. 

“Are you absolutely sure you want to comment on my sartorial choices, Rockford? Or do you want me to talk about your rotating selection of striped ties from Sears?”

After breakfast, Tim decides to take advantage of the on-site pool and you return to your room for a quick shower before beginning the first round of interviews with hotel staff. The beeping noise is audible before you’ve even reached the door.

You steel yourself and gently enter the room, slowly moving in the direction of the little device on its tripod, various alert lights flashing in sync with the rhythm of its insistent beeps. You transcribe the codes on its screen into your notebook and take a quick video, ready to show Tim as soon as possible. Cross-legged on the floor, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying your breathing.

“I can’t believe they let in someone else wearing Crocs. So much for their fuckin’ dress code.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sound of the male voice behind you, on the other side of the room. American. West coast, you think. A little…affected? 

In other words: that’s probably not a member of staff.

You get to your feet and turn, slowly, in the direction of the voice.

There, on the other side of the room, sprawled on the sofa, is a man you think must be in his early 40s. His hair is wild, wavy, dark; his eyes obscured by a pair of vintage Ray-Bans. He’s wearing a brown teddy coat, which has slipped open to reveal a shirtless torso and a flash of tummy. A pair of loose grey shorts, wooly socks, and fucking Crocs complete his outfit. 

Definitely not staff.

Though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you find the strength to speak. “Are you a spirit?”

The man slips his glasses down his nose and gives you a withering look. “What the fuck else do you think I am? And while we’re here - why is that…thing making so much noise?”

“It’s to read changes in psychical activity,” you explain. “So it’s probably picking you up.”

The man thinks about this for a couple of moments, as if chewing it over. With a jolt, you realise two things: firstly, that in all your years of working with the paranormal, you’ve never actually seen a ghost, at least not in this form; and secondly, that you recognise this figure.

“So you do know who I am,” he drawls, pushing his glasses back up his nose and lying back on the couch. Shit, he’s more powerful than you suspected - he can pick up on what you’re thinking.

“It’s…it’s you. The dead guest.”

He exhales dramatically and flops his arm over the side of the sofa. “I have a name.”

You rack your brains, afraid to look away to grab your notebook in case he disappears.

“You’re…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

Tim Rockford is on his twentieth lap of the pool when a slow, steady buzzing noise catches his ear, coming from the direction of the tote bag he’d left poolside with towels, a t-shirt, and shorts. He hauls himself out of the water and roughly dries off his face, hair, and hands before rummaging in the bag. “Fuck!”

He’s half-wet and breathless when you open the door to your room, his fist still raised as if ready to continue the frantic hammering that had signalled his arrival. 

“Jesus! You okay?”

He’s turning and twirling around the room, glasses on and fogged up from the residual humidity of his body, holding up one of his own psychical activity detectors. “You…fuck,” Tim hisses as he tries to catch his breath. “You saw it? Where is it?”

“So I’m an it now?”, Dieter drawls, now hovering - literally - in the area of the large bay window. 

“He’s there,” you gesture, calmly, as if being in a room with the spectral manifestation of a dead Hollywood actor was an everyday occurrence. “By the window.”

Tim stares directly at Dieter, but doesn’t register anything. Dieter roars with laughter.

“Oh, babe! Looks like you’re special.”

“I’m special?”

Tim swivels at the sound of your voice, confusion written all over his face. Dieter sidles up to the other man, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder, and you’re struck by a kind of resemblance. Tim shivers.

“He can’t see or hear me. Most people can’t, which makes haunting the fuck out of this place hilarious,” the actor explains. He takes a seat on a vanity table near the window and looks a little wistful. “Annika was the last person who could see and hear me,” he sighs. “Kinda nice to be…” - he wiggles his hands in the air - “visible again.”

“He…he says I’m special because I can see and hear him, and you can’t. Most people can’t. Is this…normal? Am I normal?”

Tim crosses the room and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing it in a gesture of reassurance. “I mean, none of what we do is normal. But yes, this is not unusual.”

Dieter immediately launches into a Tom Jones impersonation, gyrating in exaggerated fashion towards Tim, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. Tim looks hurt.

“Oh! Oh, Tim, no, I was rolling my eyes at him. Not you. Shit, this is going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

The crinkles that form around Tim’s eyes when he smiles make a welcome appearance, and his dark eyes twinkle behind his glasses. “I’m sure we can work out a system for keeping communication clear. Usually, when a manifestation is only visible to one or two people, it means they have some kind of need, or something unfulfilled. And, I guess, they think the witness can give it to them.”

You glance over at Dieter, who is still gyrating. He lowers his sunglasses and grins at you lasciviously.

Over the next couple of days, you and Tim interview hotel staff and examine some of the areas affected by the haunting, to establish a pattern for the manifestation’s - for Dieter’s - behaviour. 

“The random murals appearing overnight aren’t that disturbing, I suppose,” you muse, noting down the details of the artwork Dieter had left in one guest bedroom.

“Depends on what you consider disturbing, though.” Tim rubs a finger against the paint, examining the powdery residue. “I wouldn’t like to wake up to an extra-large rendering of Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ on my hotel room wall.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Well, fair. Though it’s weirdly good, for a ghost.” 

Your psychical activity detectors start to beep in unison and you turn to each other before you spy Dieter, lounging on top of a wardrobe. He’s clad differently, today, this time sporting a green robe, a baggy purple t-shirt, and striped lounge pants. 

And the Crocs.

“I am good. Honestly, if they’d got my heart going again I think I’d have quit Hollywood, y’know? Jacked it all in, got clean, got into art properly. Make sculptures, paint, run a gallery or some shit.”

“He’s talking to me,” you explain to Tim, before turning back to Dieter. “So you’re hanging around here because you didn’t get to make the art you dreamed of?”

“Ugh. I don’t have to explain myself to you people.”

And he’s gone.

In the evenings, the hotel insists on serving you and Tim dinner as if you were ordinary guests, not paranormal investigators tasked with eradicating the ghost of an Oscar-winning Hollywood enfant terrible from the property. The lone waiter serves your five-course meal with the kind of exaggerated formality you had only ever seen in films or TV shows about royalty, respectfully pointing out the various cutlery and accoutrements needed for each course in a low, somewhat fawning voice.

“And voilà, Mr Rockford, your seabass.” He lifts the dome from Tim’s plate and does a little bow. 

Tim is chewing the inside of his cheek and turning pink as the waiter leans closer to his ear.

“A reminder, sir, should you require it, that the fishknife is that delicate little marvel on the right. Bon appétit.”

Tim says nothing as the waiter makes his way across the vast, empty dining room, watching for the door to the kitchens to close properly before he lets out a belly laugh so huge it almost rocks the table you’re seated at. You raise an eyebrow and pour him a fresh glass of water.

“Are you quite well, Tim?”

He’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. “Why did he say that about the fishknife? And the fucking dome? I shouldn’t laugh but…”

“You mean you didn’t need to be reminded that the fishknife is a delicate little marvel?” 

Your attempt to replicate the waiter’s tone sets the two of you off this time, and you’re still laughing about it by the time you retreat to the lounge with a gin and tonic each. 

This was the longest you’d ever spent in Tim’s company, you realised one night, sitting with your feet tucked under you on the large leather sofa. There was a lot that you didn’t know about each other, but being stuck in a haunted hotel is nothing if not an ideal opportunity for getting to know someone better. 

You are listening to Tim animatedly telling you about one of his strangest cases. His face lights up when he talks about his work, big hands gesturing for emphasis, eyes bright and focused on you. He listens to you with the same commitment and interest, keenly asking questions and taking in your every word.

When you lean in for a goodnight hug before parting ways, he seems surprised - but pleased, somehow, as he returns your embrace.

Your TV is on when you return to your room. The tell-tale beeping from the psychical activity monitor gives him away immediately.

“Dieter.”

He’s lying on your bed, propped up on one arm, green robe wrapped around him. “Heyyyyyyy. Hope you don’t mind. Wanted some company and I’ve haunted the fuck out of everyone else around here.”

You shake your head and pour yourself a glass of water. “I don’t mind. But if I let you hang out with me you have to answer my questions.”

He groans and flops back onto the bed, though his body makes no indentation in the bedclothes. “FINE. But you have to answer mine.”

“Fair.” You settle beside him on the bed, trying not to overthink the fact that you were literally hanging out with a dead man. “What the fuck are you watching?”

He runs his fingers through his hair in irritation and points at the 90s sitcom he’s watching on some random-ass cable channel. “Allegedly this is a British remake of Who’s The Boss but like, it’s fucking shit. No Danza, no party.”

You pause for a moment. “Speaking of party…can you do drugs, if you’re a ghost? All the evidence would suggest you can’t, but I’ve never actually heard from someone with first-hand experience.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

Dieter grimaces. “I literally threw a couple of tabs of acid through my stupid fuckin’ ghost body, didn’t I. Just…whoosh.” He gestures with his hand. “I feel so real, y’know? All corporeal. But then you try to get high and bam. No can do. I can’t eat or drink, either.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

He stares at you. “Why do you get to ask two questions in a row? My turn.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your water, noticing Dieter staring longingly at the glass.

“Fine.”

He cackles and claps his hands together. They make no sound.

“Are you and Magnum P.I. fucking? You’re fucking, right?”

“Um, no?” You take another sip of water and swallow hard. “No, we are not fucking. We’re colleagues.”

Dieter mimics you, note-perfect, and cackles again. “Bullshit. He’s down so fuckin’ bad for you.”

“Tim is not ‘down bad’ for me, as you put it.”

He sits up, moving into a kind of lotus position. “He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He is, and I know he is because I can literally sense this shit. And I can definitely sense that you’ve got a crush on ol’ Columbo down the hall. Which is fair, I guess. He’s pretty hot.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, but maintain what you hope is a neutral expression. 

“Oh, Scully is trying so hard not to let her crush on Mulder show.” He smiles a smug, satisfied grin.

“Is he Magnum, Columbo, or Mulder, Dieter?”

“All three, baby.” He hovers about a foot above the bed, pointing at you accusingly. “And you should put him out of his misery. Want me to go check on him for you, see if he’s thinking about you right now?” Dieter wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to get a ghost trap and put you in it.”

“Like in Ghostbusters?!” Dieter seems unreasonably excited. 

“Do you want to be sealed up in a little trap, or would you prefer to continue having free rein?”

He sighs and descends back to the bed. “Ugh. Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m not wrong.”

Dieter fucking Bravo. He was haunting your brain, as well as this hotel.

His insistence that Tim had a thing for you - and vice versa - now coloured every interaction, every conversation between you and your colleague as you tried to discern any evidence that Dieter was right, or that disproved his theory. To your horror, you began to unconsciously hope that he wasn’t just winding you up.

He quickly got in the habit of appearing in your room just before bedtime: staying for a little chat, dodging any of your questions that veered too close to the essential truth of why he hadn’t completely passed over to the great beyond, and asking repeatedly if you and Tim had “got around to fucking” yet. 

“It would be kinda hard for us to get around to fucking with a fucking ghost in my room, don’t you think?”

He laughs his wheezy rasp of a laugh and crosses his hands over his tummy. “Listen, the more the merrier, babe.”

A few moments pass before you break the silence. “Why are you so obsessed with us, with me and Tim, with us getting together?”

He pouts and stares into the middle distance. “I guess…hmm. I want people to get what they want, love-wise.” Dieter discerns your incredulous glance. “What? I mean it! I’m a big fan of romance and happy endings.”

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical, Dieter.”

Tension crackles in the air. When he speaks again, he’s very quiet. 

“Just because I didn’t get a happy ending in life doesn’t mean I can’t believe in them.”

Dieter’s big, dark eyes - or the spectral impression of his big, dark eyes, now trapped in some in-between place, neither here nor there - look at you with absolute sincerity. 

“Is that why you’re still here?”

He turns away. 

“I don’t know why I can see you, Dieter, or what you need me for, but there’s got to be a reason for it. And I can’t help you until you talk to me.”

He huddles deeper into his green robe, and you exhale. 

“Fine. You’re not wrong. You’re right, in fact.”

He doesn’t move, but you can almost feel his ghostly ears pricking up.

“I’m right?”

You close your eyes and bite your lip. “Fuck it. You’re right, I… I think I do have a crush on him.”

This time, you swear you can hear Dieter smile.

“On who?”

“You know who.”

“Say it.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, fuck.” You bury your head in your hands. “Why do I need to say it, when you can sense what I’m thinking?”

Dieter rolls over and props himself up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Because it’s very fucking satisfying. For me.”

“Fuck you, Dieter Bravo. Fine. I - I have a crush on Tim. Happy?”

He nods, and points in the direction of Tim’s room, down the hall. “Mmm. And now you need to tell Timmy so that he can tell you he has a crush on you and then you can go off and have lots of weirdo paranormal-obsessed babies. If that’s a thing you want, of course.”

“Okay.”

Dieter’s eyes widen. “Okay? So, you’re just gonna tell him?”

“I’ll tell him… but only if you let me help you.”

“No deal. Fuck you two, keep on being idiots.”

“I thought you loved happy endings, romance, all that?”

“Nope.” 

You shift on the mattress to face Dieter, and speak more gently this time. “Do you want to be stuck here forever, Dieter?”

He hesitates. “Nope.”

“So, should we make a deal?”

He talks and talks all night, floating around the room, resting on the vanity, on the armchair, on the bed, and at one point drifting in and out of the bathroom - even with the door closed.

And you listen. You listen like Tim listens to you: engaged, curious, open, kind, even, trying to get to the root of what’s keeping this man trapped in between worlds in a luxury hotel in the English countryside.

Unfinished business is a common explanation for why ghosts hang around, you’ve realised. A desire for vengeance, too. Sometimes spirits just want to stay around their families and friends. Once, a long time ago, a client of Tim’s described the work as being like a kind of doula, for ghosts. 

“You help them get out of the in-between,” the lady had said, after Tim had solved the ongoing hauntings in her family’s ranch house. “They just need someone to hold their hand, I guess. Well, maybe not literally.”

Watching and listening as Dieter talks about his life, his death, his successes, his failures, you become ever more keenly aware of how right she was, and more focused on getting him to where he needs to be. To peace.

He descends gently to the ground in front of the TV set. “I can’t deny that the whole Beetlejuice shtick has been fun, most of the time,” he says, sadly. “But you’re right, I don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I mean, the rest of my death. I mean -”

“The rest of your afterlife.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“Dieter… do you think you might just be afraid?”

“Afraid?” His eyes are wide and frightened, giving you his answer without a word.

“Afraid to let go. Afraid to move to the next stage, whatever that is.”

“But that’s just it.” Dieter stares at his Crocs. “You said it. ‘Whatever that is.’ I don’t know what’s there.”

“No one does, though. And most spirits don’t end up haunting entire hotels, they just…pass through.”

He nods. “I guess I always had to stand out, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree. 

He takes a couple of moments to compose himself. “I… I saw whatever the fuck comes next when my heart stopped. Bright light, all that shit. Fuckin’ near-death experience, except I was actually dead.”

“But you didn’t pass through?”

“I feel like my entire self just went ‘fuck this, I’m not done’. But I couldn’t come back, y’know?” He tugs at an errant curl. “I guess…fuck. I didn’t want to be forgotten. Wanted to know I could live on, maybe.”

“You don’t have to stay in the in-between to live on, Dieter. The work speaks for itself.”

He groans. “Some of it does. Never got to rebuild properly, though. Whole lotta shlock in there and one fuckin’ Oscar.”

You bring yourself to the ground beside the spectre. “That’s one Oscar more than most of us will ever have. And plenty of people who died before their time still live on in their work.”

“If you mention the 27 Club to me I will actually haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Noted.” You smile at him, cheered by the sight of a little grin on Dieter’s lips. “But you know it’s true.”

“I just never got the happy ending.”

He looks so sorrowful in that moment that you wish, more than anything, that you could hug him - make him flesh and blood, just for an instant again, so he could know the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Maybe the happy ending is off there in the hereafter.”

Dieter arches an eyebrow. “Do you actually believe that?”

You grin and chuckle. “Honestly? Fuck knows what’s after all this. I think I’d rather not know. But even if it’s just a bright light and bam, that’s it - you’ll live forever, Dieter Bravo.”

Tim is bed-headed and bleary-eyed when he opens his door to you at 6.30am, but he smiles widely when his vision focuses and he recognises your face. 

“Have a seat, have a seat,” he gestures to the bed, before blushing a little. “Or I can move my clothes off the armchair, if you’d prefer.”

You perch on the edge of the mattress and shake your head. “It’s perfect here, thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I think Dieter’s…”

Funny how, in spite of doing this job and researching these phenomena for so many years, some cases just get to you. A sob catches in your throat as you try to find the words.

“I think the haunting problem is solved, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. “Your doula skills, right?”

You nod, tears still threatening to fall at any moment. His strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, keeping you safe as you cry against his broad chest.

“Please do feel free to stay for the next couple of days, of course.” The hotel manager is effusive and grateful as you wrap up the debriefing session later that morning, standing up to shake your and Tim’s hands in turn. “The rooms are booked, we won’t be reopening to other guests until we can redecorate the affected bedrooms. It’s on us, an extra little thank you for dealing with our, uh, friend.”

After lunch, the two of you walk through the property’s walled gardens and admire the various topiaries and water features. All the while, your promise to Dieter lingers at the forefront of your mind.

You said you would tell Tim how you felt, if Dieter let you help him. And he did. And now…

Fuck. And you wouldn’t put it past Dieter Bravo to somehow find his way back from the hereafter, just to haunt you out of spite.

You look over at Tim, who’s taking a photo of the hotel buildings from the gardens, and feel a surge of affection, mingled with anxiety. What if Dieter had got you right, but Tim wrong?

He catches your eye and grins at you. “Hey, come in for a photo?”

You pose beside an ornamental fountain, Tim concentrating as he sets up the shot. He beckons to you. 

“How about a selfie, maybe?”

His arm snakes around your shoulders as he angles the phone towards the two of you and captures the moment: he, suit on but tie loosened, eyes twinkling; you, smiling broadly into the lens.

He brings you a gin and tonic, settling in beside you on the Chesterfield sofa and clinking his glass of whiskey to yours. In the last few days the ritual has become familiar and comforting; and with a jolt you worry that this might be the last time you enjoy it together.

Tim sips his drink in contented silence, watching the flames of the large, open fire. 

“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes meet yours as you turn to face him. “I’m…”

Dieter Bravo is going to haunt you if you don’t do this.

What if this is your happy ending?

A large swig of G&T, to fortify your resolve.

“Um, I’ve really enjoyed this whole case, working with…being with you.”

Tim smiles softly. “Me too. It was nice to get the chance to get to know each other better.”

Another fortifying sip. 

“I was wondering…uh. Shit. Maybe, when we get back, would you -”

Your voice dries up in your throat. The next words are barely more than a whisper.

“Would you maybe like to get a drink or dinner sometime? With me?”

For an instant, you can see that Tim is on the verge of brushing it off, of asking why you're being so strange about this, of saying that you regularly meet for coffee if you’re both free, talking about that diner you sometimes go to.

And then the realisation sinks in, and his face softens into a huge smile.

“I would love to take you for dinner. And drinks. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

He puts his glass down and moves closer to you. Your fingers reach for the end of his tie as your bodies shift ever closer, until he’s holding your face in his hands and his mouth is on yours, kissing you with warm intent.

You’re about to pull him down to the couch, his hands already snaking up under your blouse, when a stern cough makes the two of you jump.

The hotel’s only waiter casts a disapproving glance in your direction and shakes his head as he processes through the lounge to the main bar. 

Your hand reaches for Tim’s and you lead him towards the hallway and the main staircase leading to the bedrooms.

The morning is grey and dreary, rain already pelting against the windowpanes as the dawn light struggles to break through the dark clouds. You press a kiss to Tim’s bare chest as you slip out of bed to use the bathroom, padding swiftly across the deep-pile carpet so as not to wake him. 

The green robe hanging from the hook on the tiled wall of your bathroom is unmistakable, but even so you have to pause for a moment to be sure it’s real. You run your fingers over the textured weave and fabric, noting how (surprisingly) good it smells - faint whiff of weed notwithstanding.

Tim stirs as you close the bathroom door and walk back to the bed, blinking awake and greeting you with a delighted smile.

“Good morning. Nice robe.”

“A movie star gave it to me,” you explain, shedding the soft green garment and pulling Tim’s naked body to yours before he can ask any further questions.

(Sorry, Dieter. Love you.)

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 69 (More Spooky Party Time!)

With the party still going strong, Conrad greeted Bella with a smile. "Mrs. Goth, thanks for coming."

"I love a good Spooky Day party. Thanks for the invitation."

"I wanted to apologize for how uptight I was the day Heather went...travelling in your attic."

"Grimmie told me you two called him for a chat. I'd say I hate to say I told you so, but I don't hate to say it at all."

"I'm coming around to some of these ideas you think are completely normal, but-"

"There's nothing normal about them, and that's what interests me."

Conrad smiled. "All my life I've been smacked by reality, but that night at your seance table was the first time I've ever really experienced the paranormal. It freaked me out."

"Have you never even seen a ghost?"

He shook his head. "Just Heather's cat. I mean, thinking I hear them is another story..."

Bella eyed him sympathetically. "You don't have to wait for the Ambrosia Society to send you back to see the mentors, you know. You could always go on your own, if you're curious. I haven't put the table away in the attic yet, and it's always nice when you and Heather come by."

"Thanks Mrs. Goth. I'll think about it."

"Anytime, Detective Gordon. My paranormal exploration days are long past me, but the world beyond our own is full of strange mysteries I believe should be shared. Anything you want to know, all you need to do is ask." She smiled, taking a cookie as she stood from the table. She passed Heather on her way to the living room. "Wonderful party, dear. And your costume is fabulous!"

Heather grabbed a plate of leftover spaghetti with 'Dulce sauce' (her second that same day!) and joined Conrad and her parents at the kitchen table. "River told us what you two went through recently," her mother said. "We just wanted to let you both know we're sorry."

"It's okay, Mrs. Nesbitt. We've been to a grief counselor and I've really made a lot of progress on some things I've dealt with since the deaths of my parents. Heather's a lot stronger than me."

"I never had to go through what you went through. My parents did, though. When my mother was seven, her grandmother died and she grew up in foster care."

"Have you ever wondered about them?" asked Conrad. "What they might have done, had they lived?"

Daisy nodded. "When I was younger, absolutely. But then I met Neal and we had four amazing kids, and I wasn't looking for my family anymore. I had them."

Neal smiled at his wife. "Our life together has been pretty fantastic. Now we've got grandkids and in-laws coming out of our ears, and I found my brother again. I never thought I could have all this when my parents died."

"I love the way that sounds, and I want that," he said. Heather listened, waiting for the but. This time, he stopped short, and they both smiled.

Guests finally began to leave around one in the morning. Hazel and Nicola fell asleep upstairs, and Conrad fell asleep quickly in the bedroom, but Heather tidied a few dishes and summoned Grim again.

They met outside under a clear sky full of stars. "When he talked about having a family tonight, he didn't say he wasn't ready. I don't want to assume what it does mean, but I think he's working through his parents' death and I wanted to thank you for helping us this morning."

"You're welcome. Do you know how many people have bothered to summon me just to say thank you? Putting on all these robes and chains is a pain in my hollow neck, but it's worth it just to hear a bit of gratitude."

"Bella Goth was right about you, Grim. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon, and not for any reaping."

Grim gave a respectful nod before slamming his white staff to the dirt and disappearing out of sight. Heather showered and got into bed, snuggling close and waking Conrad from a light sleep. "I know I'm out of uniform, but if you still need me to deliver your mail..."

Heather grinned, capping off a successful party with Conrad under their brand new bedcovers, identical to the ones that burned earlier that day. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[witchymadness]

☆= The Life of Rio and Nicky =☆

[A/N: No Lilia content for today (maybe in the next part of this, who knows). I literally wrote this for 30 minutes, and this is probably me coming into terms with the last two episodes. There is going to be slight... Can I even call this angst? But it's fluff-topia, alright? Buckle up, ladies.]

"Mommy?" Nicky called out as her mother arrived home still in her green bodysuit, which Rio quickly magicked away, leaving her in her pyjamas.

Rio hummed, stepping into their little kitchen where Nicky had been eating the sandwich that Rio left her. "Yes, my love?"

"When will I see mama again?"

Tears stung Rio's eyes, the thought of their last encounter burning a hole through her heart. "Nicky, come here."

Rio hoisted the boy up, resting him on the counter. She bent down with her arms resting on either side of Nicky, so that their eyes met.

"Mommy, you said I could see mama again." The boy whispered, rubbing his eye.

"I know, baby. Mommy's sorry, okay?" Rio's voice broke. "I'm still trying to get mama to come home."

"Doesn't she want to come home?"

"N-no. Not like that Nicky."

Rio looked at her son's face, full of confusion, sadness, and even... Anger. It made her head spin at Agatha's audacity to leave them. To leave her family.

But she can't let Nicky be mad at her mother. After all Agatha did for him. And for her. But how was she supposed to explain to their child that she messed up? That her mama hated her mom so much that she lost her only chance at reuniting her with Nicky?

"Your mama... Lost her way home. And I'm trying to guide her, just like when I brought you here, right?"

Nicky nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich once more. He was a smart child, albeit he got Rio's soft heart. There was nothing in the world that he loved more than his mama, so much so that it even made Death a little envious.

"Is she almost here?"

The breaking of Rio's heart was audible that it rang throughout the afterlife. "Yeah..."

"Well then, I want to spend a little more time with you, mommy! I'm sure mama would want you all to herself when she gets here."

A broken laugh escaped Rio. And so did a tear or two. She was her son.

Rio fake gasped, "Do you think mommy would ever let that happen, my love?"

Nicky shook his head, laughing with his mother. Fingers slid to his sides, tickling him. "Mommy, stop!"

"Hmm..." Rio smiled. "You know, some of your mama's friends are here, my love."

"Really?" Nicky's eyes lit up. "Can I meet them, mommy? Please?"

"Alright, alright, put the puppy dog eyes away. I'll invite them over to our house, m'kay? Help me decorate!"

"We can bake too!"

Rio nodded, as she squeezed Nicky in her arms. "The cookie monster is going to get'cha!"

"No!" Nicky yelled, giggles spurring from his mouth.

"Okay, my love. You go get the flour, and the sugar. We can start baking, and while these are in the oven, we can go make the decorations, alright?"

Nicky nodded eagerly, saluting his mom before rushing off to their cupboard. "Ooh, my little trooper! So brave."

They worked in happy harmony, even if their flour got everywhere but their bowls, and if their sugar got into their mouths more than the mix.

"Down down down the road, down the witches road..." Nicky sang quietly as he mixed the dry into their wet.

"Down down down the road," Rio chimed in. The pain that the road brought her was irrelevant if it made her son so happy. "Down the witches road."

Rio smiled at him, taking the mix and putting it on his nose. "Mommy, stop!"

They set their cookies in the oven, taking their time to clean up their mess. After that, they'd decorated their living room with spooky banners and creepy spiders, Nicky's favourite horror movie, It, taking center stage.

And at the end of their endeavour, they were tired. Tired but happy.

"Do you think they would like it?

"They're gonna love it, Nicky." Rio kissed Nicky's flour-ridden temples, "And they're going to love you, my love."

Nicky returned the favour, kissing Rio on the cheek, two times. "And I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, Nicky."

[factual-fantasy]

19 Asks! :00 Thank you! :DD 🧁

And now you see my frustration and lack of patience. <XDD

Its the easiest to follow boundary that I can think of. Yet people still wanna fuss about it and send me horrible messages and run me down. Calling me selfish, ungrateful, spoiled.. Its exhausting. :( 💔

Sorry, I don't take requests. :/

Do beasts like that exist in the game?? :00 Dang, that's spooky-

Well, I imagine that Seafoam, Octo, Louis and any other tough guy on the ship would go down there and weed it out. Dragging it up onto the deck so that Blue Beauty could snatch it and dispose if it however she needed to <XDD 💀

I must specify that my cookie run characters are not in "my version" of the world- <:0 as in I didn't create the world they live in and how it works-

These cookie characters are fan OCs for an existing game! And note, its a game that I know next to nothing about! <:( I only researched enough to make characters that might fit into that universe somewhat realistically,, other than that, I've got nothing! :(

So about a pirate community being led by a King or Queen of some other chocolate brands..?.. aaaaaa I have no idea! <:0 Its not my world! Does it fit? I don't know.. Sorry.. :(((

@yourstrulylightstar283

Thank you <:) but hey, I have high hopes that this trial will end within the next few weeks! :D ..I really hope it will :')

@neo-metalscottic

:DD No problem! While I am spending an unfortunate amount of my time just lounging around trying to feel better.. I at least want to get around to answering asks! Its darn near my favorite part of running this blog after all! <XDD

When it comes to the Commander, he is not meant to have any fancy powers like in the movie or from Kamek. Magic in my universe is meant to be a very complicated practice. Something that would take years of studying and training to perfect. At least to the level where it can be used reliably in combat.. What I mean by this, is I don't think there's any magic related tricks that the Commander could "pick up" or be taught.. Magic also has everything to do with a magikoopa's gem staff thing, soo... <://

Though I suppose that the "superspeed flight" and the "self destruct" aspect could be incorporated into the Blue Parakoopa species somehow.. Perhaps due to the shape of their winds and flying styles, they could be incredibly fast. And Since they are so big and sturdy, perhaps they have been known to rocket towards their enemy and come crashing down onto/into them with all their might. Completely obliterating what ever they happen to hit. Like an explosion! XD Hmm.. I might just adopt that XDD Thanks for the idea!

Also he might make for a decent sparring partner if he was asked to do so! :0 though that's not his primary job..

As for Larry, unfortunately I've thought about him the least amongst the Koopalings. :((( Though I do intend to keep his star mark somehow.. and I didn't know about the music thing! :0 My Larry definitely wouldn't be a DJ, but I could certainly add an interest in music into his character! :0 Sounds like you kind'a built a bit of Larry for me! XD

@kaylee4509

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to hear it! :DD And "like spam", XDD there's no such thing on my blog! I consider it a huge compliment! :DD

@ripchaos69

:DD Thank you very much!! I'm glad you like what I've made!! :}} ✨💖✨

Me neither man, me neither. If someone else had set a boundary like that I would just drop it no questions asked. I don't get why its so hard for others to do the same.. and its such a small and simple boundary at that. It just baffles me, it really does. :'((

@petra-creat0r

I always knew/assumed that's why people harp on me so much about it. "All other artists like it. So why don't you like it? You make no sense."

I understand how everyone else sees it, but even then I wish people would get the message and just leave me alone about it. You know?

When I set a boundary, don't come into my ask box and question me about it. Don't start criticizing me or send me death threats or call me selfish and ungrateful. As has happened before..

Just read the boundary, "please do not make fanart of any kind for me" and then leave it/me alone. Its all I ask. :( I promise I would/will do the same for you, 💖

Thank you for the kind message and support, it really means a lot <:}

I'm doing by best every day to heal and work on myself as much as I can. I'm hoping to see improvements soon! <:}

@jennifergacha

Sorry, I don't take requests. But it sounds like you already have a good idea goin. Why not give it a go yourself? :0

:DDD Thank you so much!! That means the world!! :}} 💖

I have not :( I've seen and heard wonderful things about it though! No doubt its an awesome show :}}

@littlelightfish

WAAHAHAGG THANK YOU!! :DDD Nothing means more to me than to see people so passionate about my original characters! My ORIGINAL! CHARACTERS!! 😭😭💖💖💖 IM SO HONORED!!

XDD No no don't worry! You're fine! :}

Now, I do advise that people don't shove headcannons onto my charaters- BUT! I say this because in the past people have shipped my original characters together and have put mental illness and sexuality headcannons on themm.. which is just not ok. It made me super uncomfortable and should be a no brainer. Don't do that with peoples personal characters unless they say they are ok with it-

But this is a bit different, taking what I've already established and just gushing about it/digging into it a little deeper is alright! Honestly its such an honor! :DD It makes me very happi :}}} 💖💖

@jayden-for-now

@komikudikentalendo

:(( I been goin through it ngl. But I'm sure in a few weeks and maybe after I get a couple good rainy days under my belt? I'll be back to my old squiggly self :}

@beryl-shade (First link/video in question) (Second link/video in question)

I like to look at my cookie crew through more "serious" glasses. I don't think they ever would be involved in a coordinated musical number..

But even if they were, I'm not too sure how they'd react/feel.. :( I know Octo and Spidercrab wouldn't be having a good time though, that's for sure! XDD

[aardvaark]

only murders in the building s3e8 spoilers ahead!

this is the best photo i could get of the strips of paper that have been pieced together so far. all we can see is:

"02/16/2023

mmence on

sion, and

until and

(line gap)

society,

performing

composer

however,

right to

where it"

now that’s… fairly vague, lol. not too much to be gathered, except that it relates to the play itself - words like "performing" and "composer" seem to show that. in other words, it’s probably not the autopsy report or someone’s diary. the first unfinished word is probably "commence". this makes it sound formal. again, unlikely to be a diary or a letter to a close friend or something.

so what could it be? personally, my current standing theory is that it’s Maxine’s review. i have a few reasons for this:

we know that Maxine has written a review. yes, she was originally writing by hand and her pen ran out of ink, but she mentions in episode 2 that it was some of her best writing which sounds like she had finished it later, plus it’s her job to write these reviews, im sure she must have finished it. and so there exists a "vitriolic" absolute pan of the play somewhere. one that we’ve never seen and which Maxine didn’t show to Oliver. maybe we can’t see it because it’s been shredded.

the language, from the small bits we can see, would make sense for a review. first she states when the play "commences" for its opening night. then she reviews the various elements of the play, such as the "performing" and notes things like who the "composer" is and whether they did a good job. the word "however" makes me think that the writer is giving some sort of a negative opinion there. which, you know, is what the review is.

Maxine is a character we were introduced to in the second episode but really haven’t explored. i don’t necessarily think she is the murderer; in fact, i can’t even think of a motive she’d have. but, i think they introduced her for a reason.

a scathing review could absolutely generate anger or violence in someone. imagine you’ve put your heart and soul into your performance or crew role for months, only to get insulted and for the show to be an utter failure. it could mean the end of your career or the loss of a lot of money.

but even if it is Maxine’s review, and even if someone was upset by it, why would that lead to Ben’s death? i do have a theory for that. it might not be the correct one, but it’s my best shot at the moment:

Cliff and Donna (the mother and son producer people) have repeatedly expressed that this play is high stakes for them. it’s Cliff’s producing debut and they need it to be perfect. the problem is, the show was far from perfect - something that they may have already realised to an extent, but which that pan confirmed. plus, a terrible review by a famous reviewer would lose them money and reputation. if one or both of them got their hands on Maxine’s review, it makes sense that they’d destroy it and want to put an end to the show in a way that can’t be blamed on them. an accidental death on stage - with the autopsy report altered to day there wasn’t any poison, and we know it was altered cause it was negative for meth - would solve their problem, as well as draw them a lot of press attention (any publicity is good publicity), and finally, would prevent the review from ever being published because no one would publish a scathing review of a recently deceased young man’s performance. i can imagine that the producers would have access to and knowledge about the set and theatre, which would allow for the spooky ghost stuff that seemed like more than a coincidence in "Ghost Light". they’d also have access to Ben’s room to plant the poison cookies (because c’mon, he was clearly talking to a plate of cookies in the dressing room video).

additionally, Donna’s speech to Loretta in the bathroom makes me suspect her more. and Loretta’s song, while clearly more about sacrificing herself for her own son in that moment, could double as meaning that Donna would kill for Cliff’s sake to protect his reputation in the industry. and as Loretta says, poisoning as a murder method tends to point to a woman murderer - this is actually true according to data on homicides. Donna is a woman, she would do anything for her son, the review would ruin his reputation in her mind, she poisons Ben to end the play.

then there’s Ben’s apologies in episode 1. to Cliff… well, he forgets Cliff’s name for one thing, and then he basically just says he’s sorry for being so annoying to them and complaining about his dressing room. then he continues to complain about his dressing room before moving on.

while Donna may have done the first murder, i don’t think she did the second. perhaps it was Cliff, pissed at his non-apology and wishing the man was dead for real. perhaps it was someone else entirely (probably a man since they haven’t had a male murderer so far and have even pointed that out).

but again, this is still a very loose theory based solely on the possibility that that document is the review. what else do y’all think it could be? or what else could have happened if it is indeed the review?

[eviltheleon00]

✿ JASON TODD X GN!READER - Halloween Headcannons

 . . . . . ╰──╮not a request just something i wanna do ╭──╯ . . . . .

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: just some fluffy halloween jason todd headcannons, im in a spooky mood.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: mentions of his death and resurrection, use of y/n, maybe some swearing? i cant remember lol.

words: 406

>: ̗̀➛ jason loved halloween as a kid, sososo fucking much all the gory decorations he would see while on the streets were amazing. he had always wished that he could decorate for halloween, carve pumpkins, bake themed cookies and dress up.

>: ̗̀➛ he finally got that chance when he got adopted by bruce. dick had loved halloween too so together they decorated the whole mansion (of course with alfreds help). they carved at least 20 pumpkins every halloween.

>: ̗̀➛ when he died halloween season was never the same. there was no jason running around trying, and failing, to scare alfred and bruce. he wasnt there to carve pumpkins with dick or set the kitchen on fire trying to bake.

>: ̗̀➛ after he came back to life he didnt enjoy halloween, a bunch of kids knocking on his door looking for free sweets? no thanks. when he met y/n he had no choice but to participate in halloween again. it was their favourite holiday and how could he say no to his partner? 

>: ̗̀➛ y/n would go all out for halloween, even though they shared a small apartment together they filled it to the brim with every halloween decoration she could find.

>: ̗̀➛ you can guarantee that they will be going to a pumpkin patch every year and finding the biggest pumpkin they have. jason insist on carrying it, even though its ridiculously heavy and they have a perfectly good wheelbarrow. if they tried telling him to put it down he will shoot them the dirtiest glare and proceed to pick up another pumpkin.

>: ̗̀➛ the night of halloween is very exciting for y/n. they dresses up, buys tons of sweets and chocolate to hand out to kids that knock on the door. jason watched happily while they talks to all the kids and asks them about their costumes.

>: ̗̀➛ after everything settles down and no more kids show up y/n changes into their pyjamas (that always have some sort of halloweeny thing on them) and forces jason to watch scream 1-3 with them while eating the left over sweets. he loves doing this but would never admit it.

[the-lonelybarricade]

A collection of scary, thrilling, monster, or otherwise halloween themed feysand fics to help you get into the spooky mood!

All fics are arbitrarily rated on a scale of 1-5 👻's in terms of intensity / wickedness / spookiness!

SFW

Modern:

A trail of pomegranate seeds by @msfeyredarling - Feyre and Rhys (strangers at the time) both go to the same Halloween party and they realize their costumes match (👻- adorable meet cute!)

What's Your Favorite Scary Movie by @a-courtofdreams - Feyre is preparing for a scary movie night when she gets a series of phone calls from a stranger with a question. (👻👻👻👻👻 - spooky thriller!)

Halloween Costume by @reverie-tales - Feyre wants to do a couple costume with Rhys but he refuses. He doesn't like to dress up, he never really did. So Feyre asks Cassian instead. (👻 - pure fluff!)

Scaring is Caring by @the-lonelybarricade - A few drinks into reluctantly being dragged out of the house to celebrate Halloween, Mor suggests they go to a haunted house. But things don't exactly go according to plan. (👻 - unconventional meet cute)

Please Be more Carveful by @live-the-fangirl-life - After a disastrous pumpkin carving incident, Feyre's case becomes the latest in a string of Halloween-related incidents at Rhys' hospital. (👻- feysand fluff and sexy dr. Rhys)

trick or treat by @quakeriders - The next photo took her breath away. She was dressed like a witch. Eight years old, holding onto a broom like her life depended on it and scowling at a nine year old boy, who was wearing a huge pair of bat wings and grinned down at her mischievously. (👻- fluffy childhood friends AU)

Halloween by queenarcheron - Rhysand and Feyre watch a scary movie together (👻 - Illyrian baby needs his big strong girlfriend to protect him)

Are You Scared by AcrossASeaOfStars - Rhysand decides to invite all his friends to go to Velaris's most haunted house. The group decide to take bets on who will need to tap out and who won't be scared at all. (👻 - light hearted fun with the acotar gang!)

Every Vandal for Themself by @elentiyawhitethorn - Cassian Illyrian and Morrigan Hewn. Flirts, party-goers, best friends, roommates, and most importantly, remorseless pranksters. Feyre, Lucien, and Azriel, all victims of their Halloween pranks, decide they need to get revenge. (👻 - whats a little Halloween prank between friends?)

Canon:

Foreshadowing by absurdvampmuse - It was All Hallows’ Eve & the invite from the Night Court was heavy with cordial words & adornments. Feyre played on the image Tamlin had of her, even took him into consideration when coming up with her costume. Though she was truly going for him: Rhysand. (👻 - spooky fluff that will put you in your early acomaf feels)

The Cookie Monster by wingsofanillyrian -Rhys and Feyre hear a bump in the night... (👻- the most adorable midnight haunting)

A Court of Thorns and Roses Halloween by @bookofmirth - A set of prompts received on tumblr, specifically for Halloween. Some are fluffy, while many are creepy and/or gory. (👻👻👻👻 - readers beware, you're in for a scare!)

Down the Water Well by @the-lonelybarricade - Never go near the water well. For eleven years, Feyre obeyed her mother’s command. Except now, she was standing on the edge of that barren circle, staring at the stone well at the top of the hill. (👻👻👻 - whatever it is can't be that bad... right?)

Monster/AU:

Till Death Do Us Part by @the-lonelybarricade - Feyre makes a deal with the Grimm Reaper for a second chance at life... as his bride (👻 - fluffy slice of life)

Howling Moon by @writtenonreceipts - There is a dark spirit taunting the wolves of Velaris and only one witch that can stop it. (👻👻 - super fun urban fantasy mystery!)

Turn Your Ghosts Into Mine by @separatist-apologist and @highladydawn - The Archeron women have been considered witches in their little Massachusetts town of Velaris for centuries and Nesta, Elain, and Feyre are no exceptions. After witnessing a love spell gone horribly wrong, the three young girls create a spell for their perfect man, vowing they will not love until they meet this man. (👻👻 - the Archeron sisters have never looked sexier than when they were covering up a murder)

Accidentally In Love by @shallyne - Feyre likes her life as a witch. She's living in a cute cottage and makes potions, her best friend is visiting her all the time. But one day, her friend accidentally sips from her love potion and Feyre has to keep an eye on him (👻 - What if I slipped you a love potion and we kissed a little? jkjk... unless?)

I Can't Help Falling In Love With You by @amusedowl - Feysand Angst set in an Apocalyse au (👻👻 - you're going to need tissues for this one, but you can turn them into spooky ghosts after!)

Crimson Starlight by @asnowfern - Vampire Rhys and human Feyre falling in love in 1880s Paris. (👻 - a STUNNING fic that perfectly captures the victorian gothic aesthetic)

Chasing Tails by runningwater - The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key from around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. (👻- cat-shifter regency AU? Say less)

-

NSFW

Modern:

Confessed Sins and Ripped Stockings by vxlkyrie7 - Feyre attends a halloween party and goes home with an unfairly gorgeous priest (👻 - spooky spice!)

Is There A Word For Bad Miracle by @separatist-apologist - That time Rhys stumbled on Feyre committing a murder and decided he had to have her (👻👻 - who says murder doesn't count as foreplay?)

Scream for me darling by Nighttriumphant - A modern AU of Feyre fulfilling her scream fantasy (👻👻👻 - consensual but filthy!)

Guilty As Sin by @separatist-apologist - Rhys has been watching Feyre Archeron for a long time. Thinking about what he'd do if he ever had her. How he'd keep her. And now he has her. (👻👻👻👻👻 - if he's a dangerous serial killer then why is he so husband shaped?)

Canon:

Would You Like Me On My Knees? by @starfall-spirit -  Angered by her deception, Rhys sends Feyre home, freeing her from their marriage and bargain made Under the Mountain, all too soon finding that to be the worst mistake he's made in five centuries. (👻👻 - mean beast!Rhys makes an appearance in this Silver-Tongued Bride offshoot!)

Five Times the Beast Was Subdued (and the One Time It Wasn't) by @the-lonelybarricade - A short chronical of canon moments Rhys grappled with his 'baser side' and the one time Feyre coaxed it out to play. (👻 - beast!Rhys only wants one thing and it's to please his wife)

Bejeweled by @thesistersarcheron - Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him. (👻 - to shreds you say?)

As the World Falls Down by @thesistersarcheron - Sometimes in the dead of night on the way to the kitchen for a glass of water, I see an extra door in the hallway, black and imposing. (👻👻👻 - what happens when Feyre never slays the wolf and faerie has to come to her instead 👀)

Poltergeist Darling by @thesistersarcheron - What would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain? ( 👻👻 - a spooky, sexy, gothic romance perfect for Halloween!)

Come Away O Human Child by @amnevitahwritesstuff -People disappear all the time. Or.. The fae come to our world to kidnap humanity and Feyre finds herself snatched up like all the others. (👻👻👻👻👻 - oh, to be kidnapped by an evil sexy faerie)

let me wrap my teeth around the world by @whatishowedyouinthedark - As if it wasn’t enough that the nightmares following her time Under the Mountain leave her shivering and rushing to the bathroom to retch; wasn’t enough to have suffered night after night from the continued torment, to relive the horrors she’d witnessed—that she’d done. Wasn't enough that she hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in what feels like a lifetime. No, it’s the other dreams she is plagued with that are truly driving her mad. (👻👻👻👻👻 - wicked and delicious)

Unholy by @whatishowedyouinthedark - ‘If you are so inclined to play these games, girl, then I suppose you won’t mind if I let my dear friend here play with you.’ Feyre flinches at the memory of the Attor’s beating, but that isn't where Amarantha’s line of sight has gone when after a long, pregnant pause she glances up. It’s trained right next to her. On Rhysand. (👻👻👻👻👻- Daddy is VERY mean)

Monster/AU:

Be a Doll, Darling by @the-lonelybarricade - using an old spellbook from a novelty shop, Feyre acid

entally brings her sex doll to life (👻👻👻 - laughs in scared and horny)

Bite Me, Prick by @elentiyawhitethorn - modern vampire au with Feysand, where her blood is not only tasty but an aphrodisiac (👻 - sexy, laid back vampire just wants a little nibble? Go ahead, sir)

Violent Delights by @the-lonelybarricade - There were three rules that must be followed in the home of Viscount Rhysand. One: All staff were forbidden from looking at his lordship directly. Two: All windows were to stay nailed shut, and all drapes pulled over them lest any light creep through the boards. And the third and strangest rule of the castle: All female staff were forbidden from leaving their quarters during their monthly bleed. (👻👻 - he-he's going to put his mouth WHERE!?)

Enchanted, Enthralled by @popjunkie42 - On a cold autumn night in Velaris, Feyre comes across a beautiful gift in her studio. But as a painting takes on a terrifying life of its own, Feyre begins to realize that not all is well. The question is: how long will her mate and friends take to notice, and will it be too late? (👻👻 - sometimes a girl deserves to have her wicked way with her mate)

Invisible Thread by @a-courtofdreams - Prythian is transformed into a modern-day city where Feyre is a witch out of touch with her powers and Rhys is a powerful vampire. When Rhys recognizes Feyre as his mate, the timing is not ideal but he has to know her. Feyre is equally drawn to the handsome vampire who makes her feel alive and encourages her to find herself and her magic again. As outside forces threaten to tear them apart, will their fated bond be enough to keep the evil at bay? (👻 - urban fantasy / discovery of witches meets charmed)

The Creature of Nótt by @msfeyredarling - Raven-black locks, golden brown skin and eyes of the deepest blue made up the beautiful man, the most beautiful she had ever seen. Only he wasn’t a man. He was the creature her village was so frightened of. (👻👻👻 - if big, scary monster, why pretty shaped?)

Pretty Little Witch by @abraxos-and-ataraxia - Feyre wants to know what creature her sister is summoning in the basement. Little does she know, the Demon Prince is curious, as well. (👻👻👻👻👻 - if the big mean prince of hell likes to play rough with his toys, I volunteer next)

The Music of the Night by @the-lonelybarricade - It's Feyre's first year as an elligible maiden for the village reaping. In order to escape the chance of being chosen, Feyre rushes into a marriage with Lord Tamlin. She is terrified on her wedding night, but foruntately she is spared from consumating her marriage when she is pulled into a strange, erotic dream with an enchanting creature. (👻👻 - night unfurled its splendor alright)

I'd Rather Be a Real Nightmare by @separatist-apologist - A warning scream in the night sends Feyre running through the forest, straight into the waiting arms of the God Of Nightmares. (👻👻👻👻👻 - throne sex with an extra dash of dark!Rhys)

No Slow Dancing in the Dark by @iambutmortal - Feyre will do anything to get out of the Spring Court, including make a deal with the God of Night. Rhys is willing to do whatever it takes to make her his. (👻👻👻👻 - hi hello is this the Night Court? I'd also like to take that deal please)

Tell Me I'm a Wreck by @separatist-apologist - Feyre Archeron needs to travel the woods between her village and her grandmothers house to find out what happened to her missing eldest sister. Rhysand is waiting between the trees. (👻👻👻👻 - this one had my heart going pitter patter)

Meet Me In the Woods by @labellefleur-sauvage - Returning to the ancient forests surrounding his ancestral home in the Scottish highlands, Rhys quickly discovers how the hunter becomes the hunted when a bloodthirsty Scottish faerie turns her ravenous sights on him. (👻👻👻👻 - even Rhys agress that monster!Feyre just hits different)

High Tide Came And Brought You In by @separatist-apologist -Desperate to escape her impending marriage, Feyre throws herself from a cliffside. Anything is better than what's waiting for her. Even the monster hiding in the waves. (👻👻👻 - Maybe the deep dark ocean isn't so scary afterall?)

Bound For More by starry_soul - Feyre knew the moment she was chosen as that year’s offering that her life was over. What she did not expect was to feel such pleasure before death. (👻👻👻- sign me up for the next vilalge sacrifice please)

To Tango With the Devil by @iambutmortal - For two years, Feyre’s been obsessed with the demon statue in the church. It haunts her dreams, even on the eve of her wedding. To bad the statue’s just as obsessed with her. (👻👻 - peak "that's my wife" at first sight energy)

Crimson Moon by @velidewrites - A messy breakup forces 20 year old Feyre Archeron back to her old hometown of Forks, Washington—back to the life she thought she'd left behind. What she doesn't know, though, is that Forks has changed in her absence, its blue-tinted fog stained by fresh, crimson blood. Luckily, Feyre is ready to join the hunt. (👻 - this is the skin of a killer, Feyre)

The Prison by @amnevitahwritesstuff - In which Feyre is sentenced to life on The Prison, an island where only the worst criminals are left to rot, only to discover that there’s something far darker and stranger than her fellow criminals trapped on this island. (👻👻👻👻 - oh no I'm trapped on a scary prison island, it'd be a shame if a spooky poltergeist decided to make me his wife!)

King of Hell by @shadowisles-writes - When an earthquake shakes her house, the shelves in Feyre's basement fall apart to reveal a hidden door. The stairs lead down, down, down deep into a world she doesn't recognize. Rhysand is waiting for her there, ready to trap her and turn her into the perfect little pet. (👻👻👻👻👻- extremely non consensual kidnapping, sex, somnophilia, bondage and knife play)

[barrenclan]

The dream curse ™️ has fallen on me. It was. I was watching Asphodelpaw and Pinepaw ice skating on a cookie. Then deepdark came in and was like. "I'm so much better than you." And they were like. "Prove it."" He Said "okay" spun toward them while t-posing then face planted And while Pinepaw And Asphodelpaw were laughing deepdark backfliped onto his hooves And tapped asphodelpaw And she fell back through the ice.

This is actually my original draft for Asphodelpaw's death scene. How did you get access to my notes?!?

My goodness, mysterious armadillo murderer! Administator is a cool name, though.

I hate to break it to you, but a smug weasel with outside knowledge of the story? That's just me.

Okay this one made me laugh out loud. Do NOT speak to me anymore. Goodbye change the world my final message

Fractal paws Asphodelkit... that is spooky. I'm glad my weird comic could claim a spot in your brain!

Hilarious considering that PATFW is like, explicitly set in Nebraska. I wish I could've experienced those voices though.

This might as well be a dream. That's honestly, really good poetry though?? I'm adding the fanfic tag just for that.

I love imagining a "Hacksaw who looks more like Ranger" either as an actual coyote with her colors, or a falcon who just has his colors.

[merrock]

event: Hallo-Week

location: all around Merrock

date & time: October 25 - November 3

ooc duration: same dates

It's time… to get your spook on! We know how much this town loves Halloween, so we've rounded up as many Merrockites as possible to get fun things happening in town, whether it be movies, spooky fun activities, party nights, or anything that your haunted little hearts desire.

Please note: for the kids, trick-or-treat will still be happening on Halloween (October 31st), so make sure that you have candy ready to go, to treat them right! Or else… you might find yourself getting a trick. You can go door to door, do the trunk-or-treat, or head to the nursing home to get candy!

Dive under the cut for a complete list of things happening in and around Merrock from October 25th until November 3rd, and have fun!

DOWNTOWN

bookends -- book sale on all horror novels

brownstone inne -- ghost stories in the hotel lobby (& refreshments)

cityview park -- pumpkin carving & painting contests, various craft stations set up (for adults and kids)

cobblestone cafe -- pumpkin spice everything

the holiday shoppe -- 50-75% off all Halloween decor

mack's -- special seasonal pumpkin menu

merrock railway -- haunted train ride

the mirage -- spooky karaoke in the speakeasy (come in costume!)

mods -- flash tattoos & face painting for kids

stubs -- nightly Halloween movies (see below!)

touchback -- spooky cocktails & drinks

town hall -- Halloween safety demonstrations

vibrations -- monster mash party night all week-long (come in costume!)

STUBS:

All movies will be available on the Stubs app, as well, for you to watch at home! There is a small charge for each film, but the money goes straight to the theater. Early films will play at 6PM, late at 9PM.

October 25 -- Casper, Friday the 13th.

October 26 -- Beetlejuice, Pet Sematary.

October 27 -- Addams Family, Nightmare on Elm Street.

October 28 -- Scooby Doo on Zombie Island, Psycho.

October 29 -- Nightmare Before Christmas, Scream.

October 30 -- It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, Carrie.

October 31 -- Hocus Pocus, Halloween.

November 1 -- Coraline, Child's Play.

November 2 -- The Haunted Mansion, The Exorcist.

November 3 -- Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Craft.

ALSO AVAILABLE: Monster House, Halloweentown, Goosebumps, Practical Magic, Sleepy Hollow, What We Do in the Shadows, Ernest Scared Stupid, Scared Shrekless, The Witches, Death Becomes Her, Poltergeist, Happy Death Day, Jennifer's Body, The Crow, The Lost Boys, Rosemary's Baby, The Conjuring, The Invisible Man, Trick 'r Treat, Totally Killer + more.

COASTAL AREA

anchors away -- seasonal drinks and pumpkin beer

breathe in -- yoga & pilates with the Sanderson Sisters (come in costume!)

cassidy's candies -- mega discount on all Halloween candy

from brush to canvas -- autumn/Halloween paintings exhibited

the lighthouse -- ghost stories at the top of the lighthouse

the marina -- haunted boat rides (murder mystery style)

mawk tales -- seasonal spooky mocktails all week

sea breeze -- special Halloween flavors available

SUBURBS

aster playground -- pumpkin painting, various kids games set up

benny's -- massive Halloween decor & costume sale

children's museum -- various halloween-themed activities

community center -- costume closet open for takers

the creamery -- black & blue milks available, halloween ice creams

cul-de-sac diner -- halloween-themed meals (& specials for kids)

flour co. -- decorate your own pumpkin cookies

the fun spot -- horror skate nights (come in costume!)

the great escape -- horror escape rooms

memorial library -- spooky story reads, horror book displays

pinecrest cemetery -- cemetery tours (not haunted; respectful)

treasure chest -- 50% off all fall and Halloween decor

COUNTRYSIDE

the barn at lake malory -- haunted houses; family friendly (for kids & easily scared adults who want to take it easy), supernatural/fantasy (medium), slasher (scary).

handpick'd -- specials on seasonal wines

harmony ranch -- haunted hay ride & corn maze

hideaway market -- trunk or treat sponsored by takato's (come in costume!)

lavender lane -- pumpkin, mums & fall favorites on deep discount

little chapel -- ghost stories (with surprise haunting)

north shore -- trick-or-treating with senior citizens (come in costume!)

paradise gardens -- seasonal fall/halloween displays

pet haven -- free treat to all pets that show up in costumes

pine grove gardens -- true merrock horror / scary stories

state park -- spooky walks along the trails (very kid friendly)

the wheel -- 50% off all halloween related items

ADMIN NOTES: have at it! If you want to post costumes, they can be done any time through the week, whether you're partying at Evolution, dressing up to work at your business, or just want to get spiffed up for actual Halloween. Please tag them with #merrockfashion. Socials can be tagged with #merrocksocial, as well. Please do remember to tag anything with trigger warnings if it veers into triggering things, such as excessive blood! You can do other things for Hallo-Week, like having a slumber party and watching movies at home with your bestie, roasting pumpkin seeds, going out to toilet paper someone's house (please have permission), this is the perfect time to just have fun with anything that has to do with Halloween! <3

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

IK sometimes Bruce and Zatanna are friends, or just friendly tbh, but I want them to be like FRIEND FRIENDS. Like they were both semi-famous Emo Teenz™ growing up in the public eye! Come on now!

I imagine they're a little like sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Houdini, as in two silly little guys who could be hyper competent on their own but together are a walking, talking, unlikely friends comedy show.

Just thinking about emo Battinson and his goth Bff Zatanna who go on a spooky zaney adventures as teens whenever the Zataras are in Gotham. (This doesn't just apply to Battinson tho, observe)

Thinking about 16yrold Bruce needing to understand magic on a mathematical, scientific, and logical level and Zee being like " uhh, sorry bud we just say shit backwards it's like uh..it's like magic"

Thinking about them in their 20s, after Bruce's round the world in 80 days training montage, meeting John Constantine and being both DISGUISTED and kinda having a crush on him. ( It's the accent, they both think the accent is kind of hot, they will take it to their graves)

Also thinking about Zatanna showing up to Wayne manner to meet Dick for the first time looking at Bruce like " OH NO BRO! Baby??" And then immediately bonding with him because they're both performers and showmen at heart. (Aunt Zee is fun and cooky and will do magic anytime a nephew or niece asks, she will also let them wear the hat)

Not thinking about Zatanna coming to Wayne manor after her father's disappearance and death. (Or the way Bruce would feel gutted for one of his oldest friends having to experience his own trauma)

Not thinking about Bruce in the desperate throws of depression and grief after Jason's death or how Zatanna would come hold vigil beside him. Performing whatever magic rites she can to let Jason's spirit rest easy. (Bruce does not ask her to find a way to contact Jason, Bruce does not ask her to bring him back, he wants to tho so badly)

Anyway I just think it would be neat.

[thesimmerjay]

🚨 Dia de los Muertos Mexican Pack🚨

[BASEGAME COMPATIBLE!!]

Why Hello Familia! Happy first week of spooky season!

I rushed this beautiful and traditional pack out as quick as I could! With there being another Hurricane on the way! Who knows if I'll have power etc.! I hope everyone in the effected area stays safe and is prepared to the best of their ability! Fur babies are family!! Please take them along if you evacuate!

So as I said previously I had a few things up my sleeve and this pack was one of them! My first Mexican related pack too! Finally out now! This Mini Dia de los Muertos [Day of the Dead] pack includes 3 (wall decor) and 5 (normal Deco) items!

P.S - I strongly believe this Mini pack would go along beautifully with the new Expansion pack coming out [LIFE & DEATH]

-Items shown above^

Dia de los Muertos Sugar Skull Folk art Large Canvas

Dia de los Muertos Sugar Skull Folk Art Framed Medium

Deco Ceramic Jewelry Pot Sugar Skull

Wall Decor Corazon Pintados [ Painted Hearts]

Wooden Traditional Bowl of Chamuco Bread [DECO] 

Wooden Traditional Bowl of Bandera Cookies [DECO]

Wooden Traditional Bowl of Concha Sweet Bread [DECO]

Dai de los Muertos Handmade Talavera Catrina Figure

These are all created by me in blender/Canva/Photoshop original meshes!

Tested - With & without mods!

Here's a direct link to DOWNLOAD!♥️