#ghosts and bats because halloween is life

[crvstybowlofcereal]

Tell me about your tattoos if you have them and or what tattoos you want

i have two tattoos, and i plan to get more!

i got the first one two days after my 18th birthday, i had been planning it forever. it's a memorial piece for my first dog Rocky. I got it on the outside of my thigh, very high up so most of it is covered when i wear shorts.

i covered up the bit with his face because i dont like to share it very much, im terrified of the idea of someone finding a picture of it and getting the exact same tattoo because that's my dog and he meant the world to me. i know its a bit of an irrational fear, and i dont worry about it with my other designs, but i try not to share it online fully, but heres a different picture of him!

the flowers underneath are red roses, lilies, and forget me nots, for their specific meanings

the next tattoo i got just a couple months ago for a 7 year friend-iversary

its based on several layers of inside jokes

my long-term tattoo goal is to fill out my leg like a sleeve made of individual tattoos. i also intend to design all of my own tattoos.

some other ones i have in mind for my next ones are - a ghost (i always draw sheet ghosts the same way) - the mystery machine from scooby doo - the irken invader symbol from invader zim - a swarm of bats (probably on my inner thigh) - moon phases - lavender (and amethyst?)

more context for things in the tags

[dcxdpdabbles]

Not sure if you’ve ever done something like this, but I think a miraculous ladybug style love square featuring Danny would be absolutely hilarious. It can be with literally any bat (I’m partial to either Damian or Tim, but honestly any would be amazing). But literally just Danny coming to Gotham and going out as Phantom, running into the bat of choice and BOOM instant crush. And then Danny running into that same bats civilian ID and BOOM another instant crush going the opposite direction. Not particularly picky about who has the civilian crush, and who has the vigilante crush, but we would definitely need to see interactions between all four identities a la Miraculous.

Danny Fenton loathes Bruce Wayne. It's not because Sam's parents have often attempted to pawn off their daughter onto the guy or that Danny, as her once boyfriend, felt threatened by him. He can see the intelligence in Bruce's eyes, and the man still acts the way he does.

What's worse is that they are the same age, which means when Sam's parents started pushing for her to attend galas at age fifteen, Danny had been forced along to help deflect annoying rich boys. He met Bruce hiding behind curtains, making faces at his butler when the older gentleman attempted to push fifteen-year-old Bruce back onto the dance floor.

He would have felt sympathy for the wealthy heir—being an orphan so young with everyone around him foaming at the mouth for his wealth and titles was rough on anyone—were it not for how he spoke to poor Mr. Pennyworth.

Bruce acted like Mr.Pennyworth was an accessory to his image, as if the man wasn't treating him with the obvious care and attention one would a son.

Danny found his feet, leading him to Wayne just as the teenager instructed Mr.Pennyworth to wait in the car—four hours, four hours, in the freezing cold!

The first words he ever said to Bruce Wayne were, "You do not talk to him like that, you self-centered jerk!"

Then he had to dodge a fist because apparently Wayne had anger issues, but Danny had been dodging ghosts for an entire year. He sidesteps and pushes the boy on his ass. Mr.Pennyworth seemed frozen by the wall, and Wayne dared to stare up at him like someone standing up to him was such a wonder.

Sam had called him away, so with a long look down his nose at the rich boy, he spun around and strutted away.

___________________________________________________________

Bruce Wayne adored Danny Fenton.

Ever since the firecracker appeared in his life, with a grace that rivaled even his best of masters, Bruce has been infatuated with him. Fenton came from a small town in Illinois as a guest of the Manson family.

The Manson were new money, having only developed their wealth two generations ago. They had no real social connections and lived in the middle of nowhere. Mr. and Mrs. Manson were eager to pair their daughter off with someone with better standing, but it is evident that they only pushed a little for her to find a rich husband.

They wouldn't have allowed Fenton to tag along if they genuinely wanted their daughter to build connections through marriage. The couple just seemed to want their daughter to stop being goth.

The teenager was unapologetically middle-class, and Bruce found himself watching Fenton move about Galas with a defiant air that left him breathless. He insulted people to their faces, returned passive aggression tenfold, and someone tried to talk down to him; Fentn had the brain to quickly turn the tides.

The Manson's standing shouldn't have shielded him, not when they barely had any social power, yet somehow no one dared to bother Fenton outside of events. It was all so fascinating.

Fenton didn't often come to Gotham, as the Mansons mainly stayed in their own little part of the world, but every year, without fail, they were there for the Charity event in Spring and the Halloween Fest. The dark-haired, sharp-eyed eye, blue-eyed boy would be at Miss Manon's side, muttering into the goth girl's ear.

Bruce's heart constantly fluttered when the days were approaching the two high society events because it would mean seeing Fenton again. Years passed with Alfred attempting for Bruce to strike a friendship with Fenton, but something always made Bruce nervous.

Excited and nervous, like he was about to hit the drop of a rollercoaster. It was a rush whenever their eyes locked, even if Fenton's hardened into a dangerous glare.

Eventually, Bruce went off to do his training, finally getting close to his goal of making the rot of Gotham pay. He didn't see Fenton for a while, and the angry teenager lingered in the back of his mind until Bruce rocked back to Gotham with his new Brucie persona.

Only to have his jaw drop the moment he caught sight of Fenton. The boy was now the CEO of VladCo. after his godfather had taken a sabbatical for medical reasons. Fenton was still unapologetic about his roots and seemed enraged whenever Bruce brought out his playboy persona.

"Cut the crap," Fenton hissed into Bruce's face, unaware of the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. "We both know you're not dumb. I can see your intelligence, and how you're downplaying it is sickening."

Bruce fought the urge to fan himself, heart racing, as he smiled absentmindedly. "Whatever do you mean?"

Fenton made a screech of outrage before turning and stomping away. Bruce hated watching him go, but he loved to watch him leave.

"Sir," Alfred muttterd as he stepped up behind him. Bruce snapped out of his staring, turning his head slightly to pick up the man's whispered words better. "A break-in at Gotham Bank. Nine hostages"

"Understood." He made a show of diving into the fountain with Fenton, looking like he would pop a blood vessel as an excuse to leave. As he drives, Bruce Wayne fades into Batman in more ways than a costume change, and his mind races with plans to save the hostages.

He just hopes that Dofus Phantom doesn't get in his way again. The ghost would pop up randomly in his city, and no matter how many times Batman threatened him, the idiot came back again and again.

Phantom had no detective mindset. He stopped crimes right before him without considering the bigger picture. Dofus probably died in a small town with low crime rates. He didn't understand the complications of deep corruption, power vacuums, or gang violence.

Out of all the people who could have turned into a poltergeist, it had to be the clumsy fanboy Phantom.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Halloween

REFERENCES (Banshee; Ghost; Ghoul; Goblin; Haunt; Specter; Vampire; Wraith; Origins of Halloween)

Banshee

A female spirit in Gaelic folklore whose appearance or wailing warns a family that one of them will soon die.

Banshee came from combining the Gaelic words meaning “woman of fairyland,” but any positive associations with fairies ends there.

Are female spirits that, if seen or heard wailing under the windows of a house, foretell of a death in the family that lives there.

Today, the word is most frequently heard in the idiom “scream like a banshee” or “wail like a banshee,” which shows the power of myth and the imaginative power of language, since probably no one has actually heard one.

Ghost

Most common meaning today is “a disembodied soul” or “the soul or specter of a deceased person”, which came next, a meaning based on the ancient folkloric notion that the spirit is separable from the body and can continue its existence after death. It originally meant “vital spark” or “the seat of life or intelligence,” which is still used in the phrase “give up the ghost.”

An older spelling of ghost, gast, is the root of aghast (“struck with terror, shocked”) and ghastly (“frightening”).

The German word for ghost, geist, is part of the word zeitgeist, which literally means “spirit of the time.”

Ghoul

A legendary evil being that robs graves and feeds on corpses.

Ghoul is a relatively recent English word, borrowed from Arabic in the 1700s.

Because it’s spelled with gh-, it looks vaguely like the Old English words ghost and ghastly (which share a common root in the Old English word gāst, meaning “spirit” or “ghost”).

In fact, it comes from the Arabic word ghūl, derived from the verb that means “to seize,” and originally meant “a legendary evil being held to rob graves and feed on corpses.” The word was introduced to western literature by the French translation of Arabian Nights.

Goblin

An ugly or grotesque sprite.

Usually mischievous and sometimes evil and malicious.

Haunt

To visit or inhabit as a ghost.

However, this is not the original sense of the word.

For centuries, it had a perfectly unfrightening set of meanings: “to visit often” and “to continually seek the company of.”

In the 1500s, it began to mean “to have a disquieting or harmful effect on,” as in “that problem may come back to haunt you.” The meaning here is simply the lingering presence of the problem, not the possibly scary nature of the problem itself; it is applied to thoughts, memories, and emotions.

The noun haunt retains this fright-neutral definition, “a place that you go to often,” as in “one of my favorite old haunts.”

A lingering idea, memory, or feeling may have led to the ghostly meaning of haunt, or one by a disembodied or imaginary spirit.

Specter

A visible disembodied spirit.

Specter originally meant “a visible disembodied spirit” in English—a good synonym for ghost. But, unlike ghost, the notion of being visible is paramount in specter, which came to English from the French word spectre, which developed directly from the Latin word spectrum, meaning “appearance” or “specter,” itself based on the verb specere, meaning “to look.”

Specere is also the root of many English words that have to do with appearance: aspect, conspicuous, inspect, perspective, and spectacle.

Vampire

The reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at night and suck the blood of persons asleep.

Legends of bloodsucking creatures go back to Ancient Greece, with harrowing tales of them rising from burial places at night to drink peoples’ blood before hiding from dawn’s daylight. These stories were popular in eastern Europe.

Originally comes from the Serbian word vampir, which then passed from German to French, coming to English in the 1700s.

The extended senses of vampire, “one who lives by preying on others” and a synonym of vampire bat, were both in use within a few decades.

Wraith

The exact likeness of a living person seen usually just before death as an apparition. The distinguishing quality of a wraith, compared with other ghosts, is its specificity.

Originally, it referred to either the exact likeness of a living person seen as an apparition just before that person’s death as a kind of spectral premonition of bad news, or a visible apparition of a dead person.

When referring to a living person, it’s a synonym of doppelgänger, or the “spirit double” of a living person (as opposed to a ghost, which refers to the spirit of a dead person). Doppelgänger is now frequently used in a broader sense to mean simply “someone who looks like someone else.”

When referring to a dead person, wraith is a synonym of revenant, which originally referred to a ghost of a particular person and subsequently has been used for a person who returns after a long absence.

ORIGINS OF HALLOWEEN

The traditions of Halloween have their origins in Samhain, a festival celebrated by the Celts of ancient Britain and Ireland.

Samhain marked the end of summer and the onset of winter, and occurred on a date that corresponds to our November 1st.

It was believed that during the Samhain festival, the world of the gods was visible to humans, and the gods took advantage of this fact by playing tricks on their mortal worshippers. Those worshippers in turn responded with bonfires on hilltops and sometimes masks and other varied disguises to keep ghosts from being able to recognize them. Things tended to get spooky and dangerous around Samhain, with bloody sacrifices and supernatural phenomena abounding.

Samhain chugged along for centuries, until Christianity poked its nose in: in the 8th century CE, All Saints' Day, a somewhat new Christian holiday, got moved from May 13th to November 1st.

The evening before All Saints' Day became a holy—that is, a hallowed—eve. Within a few centuries, Samhain and the eve of All Saints' Day had been merged into a single holiday. Protestants of the Reformation and all that came after largely rejected the whole thing, but the holiday persisted among some communities.

19th-century immigrants to the U.S., including many from Ireland, brought their Halloween customs with them and deserve no small amount of credit for the holiday as it's celebrated in the U.S. today.

More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Word List: October

[giuseppe-yuki]

👻 anais' halloween blurbos 👻

summary: it's well known that formula 1 is a cutthroat and and merciless sport. that's why, when murder and other shenanigans are legalized by the fia during race weekends to add a little drama in the paddock, all hell breaks loose. fans are going missing, reporters are being found dead, team employees start writhing in pain for no apparent reason. it seems like everyone would do most anything to win the sparkling championship trophy. luckily for a few select drivers, they have a little advantage with supernatural powers on their side.

or: supernatural!reader x driver mini oneshots (kind of purge!au (?))

warnings: mentions of death, gore, murder, hurting people, and curse words

total w.c.: 5k

picture credits from pinterest :)

I - fallen angel - yt22

II - vampire - op81

III - ghost - zg24

IV - bat!shapeshifter - pg10

V - witch - gr63

VI - hellhound!shapeshifter - cs55

a/n: a quick little project i meant to put out before halloween but i got a little sidetracked with my other fics... i'm going to pretend that it's still spooky season and totally NOT november :P

ALSO i feel obligated to say i don't condone doing anything in these blurbs irl- hurting people for any reason is NOT okay.

I - fallen angel - yt22

yuki always called you an angel. with your entrancing looks and ability to light up any room that you were in, it was hard not to compare you to an ethereal being. when you walk outside holding yuki's hand, you don't miss the stares of envious women and salicious men when the way the sun seemed to create a halo around your head, and air seemed to shimmer around you. little did he know, you were an angel. well, you used to be, until some petty arguments and pointed fingers resulted in you losing your wings and falling into the mortal world. now, you spent your life dedicated to tempt others to sin.

this worked perfectly, because while yuki focused on dominating on track and getting maximum points, you could use your full power and focus on other aspects- like making sure your boyfriend didn't get fucked over by unfair officials of the sport.

"do good out there, okay?" you say to your boyfriend, giving him a hug and a kiss on his recognizable japanese maple leaf helmet.

he smiles back at you, only visible through his flipped-up visor.

soon enough, it was lights out, and the drivers were sent on their way, throttling around the night track.

you settle in a padded chair that a starstruck engineer pulled up for you while monitoring the multiple tvs that lined the garage. most of them showed the live feeds of the drivers aggressively battling on track, using dirty racing to cut their way to the lead. you took pleasure in seeing yuki gain several positions as he overtook the battling fernando and liam. his engineers burst in rambunctious applause, but it quiets down rather quickly, notifying you that something was amiss.

you turn around to see the engineers crowded around a singular data computer. storming out of your chair, you snatch a nearby engineer's arm, roughly turning him around.

"can you tell me what just happened?" you ask with mock-sweetness, pointing your chin the whispering group of engineers that hid the computer screen from your eyes.

he gulps, knowing that you had the power to hurt him, especially with the fia's rules, and stammers out an answer, even if he knew you wouldn't like it.

"w-w-well," he stutters, "apparently, the stewards gave yuki a penalty for false start and forcing a driver off track. he'll have to- um- serve it when he comes in for a pitstop."

there's no way, you think, angrily. a false start and forcing a driver off track? what a load of bullshit. were they actually even watching the race? someone had to pay for this.

your heels clacked as you strutted through the linoleum floors of the fia building. the walls shook from the sheer forces of the cars on track barreling by, probably halfway through the race. stalking through the stale white hallways and up a flight of stairs, you finally find the room you were looking for- a dark wooden one that proudly held a silver sign that had the words 'stewards' carved into it neatly. you take a deep breath and turn on your full dazzling skills before knocking gently on the door.

an older gentleman, shirt marked with the telltale fia symbol and orange lanyard, opens the door. the perfect victim. he falters a bit when sees you, practically glowing, even in the hallway's dim lighting.

"c-c-can i help you miss?" he asks, face turning a bit red and hand instinctively reaching up to to loosen his collar. you tended to have that affect on people when you wanted to.

"yes," you drawl, purposely batting your long lashes at him. "i have a something to show you."

he shakes his head nervously, eyes glued to something that was definitely not your face. "no, no, no, i have a job to do-"

"oh, come on," you say, pouting, "it's just down the hall!"

you turn and strut down the hall, purposefully showing off your long legs, knowing that there was no doubt he would follow you out of the room. when you turn back around at the end of the hall, the steward, like you predicted, had naively followed you like a dog to a bone.

you don't even make sure that no one was close by before plunging a dagger straight into his heart. he slumps down on the ground, blood flowing out of the fatal wound. you blow him a kiss, before flouncing away back towards yuki's garage. that will teach the stewards a lesson before giving your boyfriend unfair penalties.

II - vampire - op81

when oscar met you, you seemed like a shy little thing with your timid personality and reserved smiles. he swore that you could do nothing wrong. i mean, how could you, when you were scared of such small things like sunburns or funnily enough, garlic bread? the first time he introduced you to the paddock as his girlfriend, he kept a good watch on you. if he didn't, he was so sure that they were going to eat you alive just to gain an advantage on him.

and that's also why, when he heard the news of yet another important paddock member going missing, he was so sure that it was you.

"fuck!" oscar shouts, raking a hand through his sweaty hair. "i leave to do one five minute interview and she disappears!"

ignoring the stares of the reporters and cameramen who turn in surprise to his outburst, he yanks the clip-on mic off of his fireproofs and chucks it at his interviewer's head. if he found his girlfriend dead on the floor, bleeding out, it would be this stupid interviewer's fault.

he stalks off without a word, listing potential places that his girlfriend could possibly be taken in his head.

behind him, lando skips in the shadow of oscar's steps, grinning around the rubber straw of his water bottle that was clenched between his teeth.

"you better hurry, osc!" he trills, "you know what happened to ocon's little girlfriend when she went missing- she was found-"

oscar snaps back, interrupting lando. "yes i know, she was found at the bottom of a goddamn dumpster. you don't have to remind me."

it was a fresh memory in his head. ever since the fia allowed murder, during race weekends, all hell had broke loose. vip guests dropping dead, officials found with broken necks. whoever had murdered poor ocon's girlfriend had did a great deal of damage mentally on esteban, resulting in multiple poor finishes for him during race weekends. oscar never thought it would happen to himself.

frustrated, he roughly shoves lando away from him, pointing in the direction of the red bull garage.

"why don't you go blow up max's tyre like you did in australia or something!" he shouts, clearly annoyed by lando's constant pestering.

oscar doesn't wait for a response from lando before sprinting down to the mclaren motorhome. he checks each individual door to the bathroom, kitchen, and computer rooms when he finally stumbles upon a door with a blood red liquid seeping out the bottom. a muffled thud sounds from within, and he winces automatically.

he closes his eyes, praying that you died a peaceful death, before slowly turning the silver knob of the storage closet.

to his surprise, the the grey, pale, body of otmar szafnauer thumps out into the hallway, head rolling. the side of his neck is a bloody mess, probably the source of the pool of blood now seeping into the carpet and staining the edge of his racing shoes. there, stood primly behind otmar's repulsive body, is you, without a drop of blood on your pretty pink dress. you send oscar a bashful smile, revealing your fangs covered in the cherry-red liquid.

picking up your skirts, you step over the ex-alpine team manager and carefully close the door to the rather stuffy closet you were just in. he'll probably be found by the janitor in the next 24 hours or so.

you peck a quick kiss on oscar's cheek, unknowingly getting a bit of blood on his skin.

"i got rid of otmar for you, baby," you say quietly, fiddling with your fingers. "i hope you don't mind- i heard he gave you a hard time last year."

III - ghost - zg24

you were dead. no, literally. you passed away 5 years ago- beheaded after you fell off of a high building you suppose, going off of how you could pull your head off your neck if you wanted to, and the fact that you always had phantom back pains. it worked out quite beautifully that you were dead already when the fia announced its new rule.

as opposed to the girlfriends of several other select drivers that tended to play a rather active part in gaining the best advantage for their boyfriends on track, you tended to be a little more laid back. however, one thing you could never excuse was when people talked shit about your boyfriend, zhou.

zhou grips your hand tightly in his as you both walked down through the paddock. you loved how his fashionable clothes glittered brightly under the lit lamp posts that lined the walkway. the sun had set, which meant the night race was starting soon. the crowds of fans in the paddock had somehow gotten thicker, and the hired security that zhou had gotten struggled just the tiniest bit holding the horde back.

like you always do when you get nervous, you flicker in-between your solid and ghost form. your boyfriend clocks this right away, especially since that this meant his hand, which was holding firmly holding yours, passed right through you. he stops, looking at you concerningly.

"hey, you alright?" he asks, brows furrowed. "i can-" before he can finish his sentence, an apple flies out of the crowd of fans and bounces off his shoulder, landing at the place where your translucent foot is supposed to be.

the fan that threw it begins to shout obscene remarks directed at both you and zhou, before being dragged away by security.

an anger flares through you. who did she think she was? throwing an apple at your boyfriend's head? that had to count as a murder attempt.

you flicker more rapidly between your states, to which zhou takes your hand.

"hey, it's fine," your boyfriend says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "forget it- my security will deal with them. let's go to the garage, okay?"

you nod slowly, letting your boyfriend lead the way, but oh, you don't forget.

you wait, in your ghost form, in the metal supports of the grandstand. drifting aimlessly, you pop up here and there to scare the crap out of some random fan, when you finally spot your target. the fan from earlier tirelessly climbs the lengthy walk to the grandstands. she's decked out in alpine merch, which makes you scoff. why criticize zhou's team when the very team she was rooting for wasn't doing so well either?

you watch as she settles herself at the very top seat of the grandstand, waving her little alpine flag. what a pity. if only she wasn't so rude. when the cars roar around the corner and she stands up to cheer, it isn't hard for you to reach out your hands and push. a look of recognition registers in her face before she falls backwards off of the high-up stands. she screams, but who hears her over the loud engines as they make their way around the turn? except you, of course. she lands on the ground with a sick splat, likely breaking her back and neck the way you did when you died. you float for a moment over the carnage before floating away to your rightful spot in zhou's garage. serves her right, you suppose.

IV - bat!shapeshifter - pg10

the second pierre found out about your special "ability," he didn't hesitate to take advantage of it. sending you to spy on the other team's cars? check. going to pester the invasive reporters who only cared about spreading yet another rumor? check. monitoring around him to make sure there wasn't any people trying to attack him in the paddock? check.

you didn't mind of course- anything to help your boyfriend one step closer to his end goal. you hated seeing him coming home, again and again, dejected over the progress he's made, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he raced.

today, a night race, gave you an opportunity to give your boyfriend another chance at points. with the sky being pitch black, it made it easier to navigate around without being seen.

in the garage, under the harsh incandescent lights, engineers and alpine employees mill around, checking data and making any final adjustments to the car. before long, pierre gets the green lights to drive up to the starting spots on the track. just prior to pulling on his helmet and climbing into his shitbox of a car, he pulls you close.

"remember what we talked about, okay?" he whispers into your ear, playing it off as a tight hug.

you nod, pressing a kiss to his freshly-shaven jaw.

"of course, baby," you respond earnestly.

when the car rumbles awake and your boyfriend steers the car towards the starting grid postions, you take off running as well. taking a flying leap behind the car, you shift into your bat form and fly up, up, up, into the rapidly darkening sky.

you sit patiently on a tree branch near the track, watching carefully with your sensitive night vision. like you planned, when you spot the telltale black carbon-fiber and vibrant red bull car pull in towards the pitlanes, you dive bomb down back towards the garages. it takes a second, maybe even quicker, to find the engineers poised with the fresh tyres ready for max verstappen's pretty little rb20. you don't hesitate to sink your pointy teeth into their unprotected necks, one by one. the venom in your saliva works quick, and by the time max pulls into his pitstop spot, his pit crew all lay on the ground, incapacitated.

huh, that worked suprisingly well, you think, soaring away from the crime scene. maybe you should try that again in the next prix.

V - witch - gr63

with the fia implementing the barbarous rules at every prix at every calendar, you would think people would be more scared to come. however, it seemed like the audience doubled, if not tripled ever since the rule was announced. something about 'the thrill of it,' lewis had said when you asked him. so, like the crowds of fans lingering in the fanzones, the vips and sponsors visiting the paddock club increased significantly, eager to get a look at the track action and drama between drivers like it was some drama movie.

so, the only thing that made sense to do was to profit off of it, of course. with your magic and brewing pot at hand, you could do most anything to the pompous rich pricks who wanted nothing more than an in to the thrilling secrets of the bloodthirsty sport of formula 1.

"what are you wearing tonight, darling?" the vip asks, flaunting her massive diamond ring in your peripheral vision, obviously fishing for complements. it shined tauntingly in the colored overhead lights at the exclusive paddock club event. jazzy music and the clinking of glasses drown out the pretentious conversations of yet another pair of billionaires talking about their newest private jet acquisition or supercar purchase.

you fake a half-hearted smile at her, smoothing down your own outfit.

"i'm not really sure. i just pulled it out of my closet, i suppose."

failing to get a proper response from you, she smooths down her own glittering dress haughtily and brushes her carefully styled hair behind her ears.

"well, i'm wearing all ysl. the heels themselves cost at least 1.3k!" she exclaims, pointing to the rather painful-looking heels holding up her feet.

just then, your boyfriend appears next to you, lips wide in a smile.

"hello, darling," he says, handing you a drink from the bar. it's a small glass of margarita, coincidentally matching the one in the pompous vip's hand.

"it's not poisoned, i promise," he says to you, making you roll your eyes. the vip, hearing this, laughs.

"so exciting, isn't it? with all the fia's rules, i can't wait to finally see some more drama on track tomorrow," she says giddily, as if george wasn't in grave danger every day, on track and in the paddock because of people like her. dropping her voice down to a scandalous whisper, she continues, "i heard, some fan fell- or was pushed off the grandstands last night!" she giggles, waving her hand. "honestly though, i would probably jump too, if i had to sit in those grimy seats."

you and george both exchange looks of disgust, but she doesn't catch it as a well-dressed gentleman walks up with a grin, giving her a polite hug.

"ah! ricca, how nice to see you again! i haven't seen you since- what, our little outing to bali a month ago? wanted a little bit of racing action now huh?" he asks, swishing his whiskey on the rocks. he turns after finishing his sentence, as if just realizing you and your boyfriend's presence. his gives the both of you a demeaning look, as if you were the ones butting into the conversation instead of him. however, after a beat, his eyes grow wide, and it is obvious when it clicks in his brain where he has seen george.

"oh my!" he proclaims, clutching his chest. "you're that- that racing driver! what's your name again? lando norrin? ferdinand alonso?"

that really said a lot about the reason these socialites were here. who the fuck was ferdinand?

your boyfriend, like the kind-hearted person he was, pastes on a smile and gently corrects the man.

"er- no, sir. i'm george russell- driver for mercedes."

"as i thought," he states with no shame. he then loudly clinks his drink with the young lady, ricca's, glass, and they both down their respective liquids.

you literally could not take it anymore.

"let me take those onto the bar for you," you offer helpfully to the affluent pair. "another whiskey and margarita?"

they have the decency to thank you tipsily before shoving the empty glasses in your hand. you turn back to george, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"i'll be right back," you whisper.

squeezing through the crush of the crowd, you station yourself in an mostly empty table in the corner of the room placed next to a floor-to-ceiling window. the empty glasses in your hand clink when you set it on the table, the last dregs of the drinks swirling at the bottom of the glasses. a quick wave of your hand summons fresh ice cubes in each glass, and a practiced flick of your middle finger and thumb sends a stream of margarita and whiskey out of thin air into its respective glasses. from your pocket, you retrieve a vial of silver liquid that you brewed just about every grand prix. with a hint of nightshade, wings of a spanish fly, and ground up pearls, it made the drinker do whatever you wanted, really. after carefully pouring half into each drink, you throw the empty vial into the air, where it is promptly teleported to your vial cabinet back in george's driver room.

perfect.

before heading back, you take one last look through the glass that presented the night sky and darkened track below. the track still had streaks of black from the burnt rubber from the race only a few hours ago.

it was a wonderful sport really. it was a shame that implemented these barbaric rules that forced your hand. but if that's what you had to do for george, then you would do it.

it didn't take very long for the potion to take effect. you could tell from their slurred speech and slow movements that one could pass off as being drunk.

deciding to waste no time, you pull out your quill pen and paper out of a hidden pocket in your dress. it levitates in the air, visible to only you.

with a nod to george, you both go through the usual spiel- bank account numbers? passwords? credit card numbers?

the vips list off the information as if it is public knowledge, unknowingly allowing your quill to copy the numbers and sensitive information into your notebook.

when you are satisfied, you slip the notebook back into your pocket.

"alright, i think we're done here, georgie," you say to your boyfriend, ignoring the two figures that sway, silent, next to the two of you.

george pouts.

"aww, i was really having fun with that!" he whines.

"well," you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "do you want to stay at this god-forsaken place where you might be stabbed by "ferdinand" alonso for no reason or do you want to go home to our comfy flat?"

he shrugs.

"i guess you have a point," he says unhappily.

taking his hand, you lead him out of the still-packed event, but not before slipping another vial of blood-red liquid into their drinks- mind-wiping serum that worked perfectly every single time, except the fact that it also had a tiny side effect of excruciating pain that lasted a few hours.

eh, they deserved it for not even knowing your boyfriend's name.

tomorrow- if they even survived- they would wake up to see their bank accounts drained. you suppose you should send them a thank-you letter next time for single-handedly sponsoring the next merc upgrades, even if they didn't know it.

VI - hellhound!shapeshifter - cs55

at this point in time, you didn't care anymore. you dared one person- a fan, an official, or opposing team member to try again to break into carlos' driver room. they never seemed to learn their lesson of how loyal and protective you were of your boyfriend. one bite with your teeth are sure to dismember an arm and one swipe of your paw could brake even the most sturdy tire drills, as demonstrated with the last haas mechanic that tried in vain to murder carlos.

it might not seem like it, the way you were curled in carlos' arms on his couch. you practically had your face buried in his red branded hoodie, half-asleep, while he scrolled mindlessly on his phone. it's so soft and comfy, you can't help let out a soft snore as you drift off.

carlos laughs, chest rumbling, patting your head with his free hand. "i thought you were supposed to be on guard, protecting me, mi amor!"

opening your eyes a tiny bit, you pull yourself even closer to carlos, reveling in the warmth of his body.

"i am on alert," you defend, but it doesn't help your case the way your voice comes out muffled from being pressed against his hoodie. "i am always list-"

footsteps.

you hear a pair of scuffled footsteps from the hallway outside of carlos' door, thanks to your exceptional hearing. it slowly drags closer and closer to the only door out of the room, a slow patter of sneaker on pavement that is only audible to you.

without wasting a second, you leap up off the couch and shift into your hellhound form, baring your sharp teeth towards the door, poised, ready to attack whatever poor soul that had decided had your boyfriend was an easy target.

behind you, carlos slides off the couch slowly, recognizing something was wrong.

a knock sounds on the door, making him flinch and eliciting a warning growl from you. however, when both you and carlos don't move an inch toward the entryway, the door slowly slides open.

you muster up all the power you have to leap straight at the attacker, making sure to aim for the neck. but before you can pounce and go for the kill, carlos roughly yanks you back by the scruff of your neck.

"woahwoahwoah," he says to you, pushing your foaming mouth away from the cowering man in the doorway. "it's fine- it's okay!"

you snap at the man once, making sure to purposely show off your canines, but back off a little into the room. if carlos said the man was safe, you wouldn't go against his words.

carlos scratches his head, briefly apologizing to what you realize was his head race engineer, riccardo adami, explaining the precautions he had to take in light of the fia's new rules.

riccardo laughs nervously, but proceeds to let carlos know that he is wanted in the media pen.

carlos holds your hand in his when you stroll down the lighted walkways of the paddock. you flounce your way past the plush couches next to the walkway and the little cafe/bar that served absolutely bomb coffee and cocktails. honestly, you missed the times before the fia's stupid fucking rule where you could drink cocktails with alex's girlfriend or gossip with yuki's girlfriend without fearing that they would poison your drinks or strangle you behind the mclaren hospitality just to help their boyfriends. you guess you still could if you really wanted to, though. maybe you'll do the poisoning and strangling if really needed.

lost in thought, you miss the fake smile the interviewer gives you before dragging your boyfriend off into the media pen.

throwing yourself onto the said couches from before, you convince yourself that he'd probably be fine, but you make sure to keep an eye out and train yourself to listen to any concerning sounds within all the chatter and crowds.

to your surprise, the interview ends quite early, and you have hardly taken a sip of your iced coffee (even though it was, like, 8pm a the track) before carlos storms out of the media pen.

"you okay?" you ask your boyfriend concerningly as you take another swig of the still-full iced coffee in your hand.

carlos huffs angrily, running a hand through his hair, before grasping your free hand to lead you back to his driver's room.

"it's fine, let's just go," he says dismissively, straight-up dragging you behind him.

you pull him to stop with your strength, and glare at him with your arms crossed.

"no! carlos sainz, you tell me what happened in there," you demand.

he rolls his eyes. "well, that stupid interviewer just kept on asking me questions about my thoughts on the missing otmar, dead steward, the fan "falling" from the stands, and all that bullshit that i said didn't want to talk about. i told her i wanted to talk about the race, but then she just responded with a question about my reaction to max's pit crew being injected with some type of venom. i was so done at that point, i just walked out."

you frown. that woman sure sounded like a bitch. honing in your hearing to find the woman through the noise in the media pen, you hear what you assume to be the interviewer mention carlos' name.

"...no, and like i felt like he was so hard to work with," she laughs.

perhaps she was talking to a friend in the media pen?

"...yeah, and he wouldn't answer any of my questions- like what am i going to put in my article? nothing?" she says incredulously. "honestly," she continues, "i hope he dies next on the grid, so it'll make it easier for the next poor reporter who has do an article on him, because then, she won't have to go through the misery of interviewing him!"

a symphony of giggles from a group follow her sentence, a few muttering their agreement.

you turn back to carlos, purposely blocking off the noise of the media pen in your ear, and give him a genuine smile. pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek, you comfort him, "i'm sorry that happened to you, baby. i'm sure it won't happen again- ever."

true to your word, you wait until carlos is proccupied with arguing with charles in the hospitality about one of the controversial on-track battles that took place earlier in the day when you make your move.

the sky is dark, throughly littered with sparkling diamonds, when you pad through the mostly-empty paddock towards the media pen. several fans and officials, seeing your demonic form, scamper out of the way in an effort to avoid your wrath.

you spot your target with your sharp eyesight immediately, walking wobbly in her high heels with a clipboard in one hand. several of her reporter friends huddle next to her, their laughs echoing through the darkened paddock.

time to enact your plan.

stopping a meter behind them, you use your sharp claws to draw a circle on the ground. with three taps of your paw and a breath of fire into the middle, the pavement slides away to reveal a portal into a fiery pit. you're not too sure where it leads, but you don't really plan on finding out either.

silently scampering over to the group, you clamp your jaws down the legs of one of the people that you heard agreeing with the interviewer. you ignore the group's screams before roughly dragging the woman towards the pit. she falls, and it's not long before her yells are covered up in the rumble of the flames.

even when the group scatters in different ways, it doesn't take long with your supernatural speed to catch up to them and drag each person into the pit. you purposely save the main interviewer for last.

when she lies at the edge of the pit, arm bleeding profusely from the wounds from your teeth, you shift back into your human form.

"don't fucking talk shit about my boyfriend ever again," you snarl.

with a shove from your arm, she falls backwards into the deep fire pit with the rest of her "friends."

if carlos was hard to work with, you bet whatever demons down there were so much more harder to work with. oh well, that was her problem.

[kookygranger]

Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Steve Harrington falls for you a little harder every time he meets you. Now you're free to live your life and he's ready to make a move on the girl he thinks about every day.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut-ish (allusions to sex), secondary character death, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2k

Author's note: This story is inspired by a trippy and vividly detailed dream I had, minus the lovechild because that's not my vibe but good for dream me I guess.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One: When Under Ether

1979

The first time Steve Harrington saw you was on a brisk fall night. Brown leaves lifted in small whirlpools down the street as children’s laughter and sugar-induced screams permeated the air. It was Halloween.

Steve wanted to dress up as Robin Hood, his outfit complete with feathered cap and fox tail sitting on his navy-blue bedspread at home, but his friends thought trying was lame now – so he settled for a ripped shirt and a half-assed green face paint job. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to be a zombie or Frankenstein’s monster.

He’d done that a lot lately. Changed things about himself that others his age suddenly found uncool or only suitable behaviour for babies. He may not have known as much as the kids that sat up the front of class, but he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want to be thought of as a baby.

Maybe that’s why he was stood in front of the rotting wooden gate that led up to the house at the end of Maple Street, so far away from the rest of the neighbours that it could only barely be counted. Unless it was to get its own street name entirely, which right now Steve felt like it could, as far away from safety as possible to his small legs.

See, the old Ravenwood house was only spoken about in whispers, its history revealed in rumours perpetuated by ghost story obsessed children for as long as anyone can even remember the house being occupied. And with its peeling paint, overgrown and weed-riddled front yard, and creaking front porch, it was a ripe opportunity for a young boy to prove that he was no scaredy cat on All Hallows’ Eve.

Steve walked up the sunken stone path with his two friends in tow. Tommy, the boy who’d suggested the dare earlier in the night brought up the rear of the small group, knobbly knees knocking together.

Steve was wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans when a flurry of bats, unnative to this part of the world, flew into their path, screeching only slightly higher than the two boys behind him who ran straight back through the front gate. His heart battered against his ribcage as he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath like his grandma had taught him to when he’d get mad or upset, and when he opened his eyes he saw you.

Watching curiously through the second-floor window, where you sat perched inside, a warm glow framing your small body. Steve thought you looked to be the same age as him, but he’d never seen you before. He smiled that charming Harrington grin he’d been told he possessed, then waved – you, more shyly returned the gesture. Then he’d heard his name called somewhere back beyond the threshold of this strange house, and he’d returned to his friends. Brushing off the ill attempt at machismo with talks of scoring candy.

When Steve’s head hit his pillow that night, veins pumping with sugar, he thought of you. He would never forget about the girl in the window. A beacon of light that dissolved his fears.

***

1986

The second time Steve saw you everything faded away into the background.

He’d been swapping occupational war stories with Robin at the bar in town, the one that didn’t refuse service based on age but based on your likeability according to the bartender. He’d made his way up to the bar through the lively post-work week crowd to order another round when he saw you. Through the far from sober bodies, tucked away on a barstool up against the wall, your hands playing with a sodden beer mat as your eyes wandered, people watching, Steve Harrington swore he saw the face of an angel.

Although time had changed you both, bodies growing up and through awkward stages, arms and chests filling out to be hugged now by the scratchy material of Steve’s striped polo and the soft cotton of your dress, your legs strong enough to bring a grown man to his knees (as far as Steve was concerned), the glint of a thin silver chain on the wrist that supported his big hands enough to capture the attention of almost all the girls in town – Steve had still known. It was you. By looks alone, you may have been a far cry from the little girl in the window, but he knew.

Inexplicably, for he could not cite the hairs on his toned arms raising at the sight of your eyes gazing back at his, or the warm, tight feeling in his chest he’d only ever felt once before as proper methods of identification. But your shy smile and hitched breathing as he drew near only confirmed it for him.

And before he knew it, his lips oh so close to yours, shining after his tongue had poked out to wet them were asking if you wanted to get out of there.

“Yes.”

Robin would later get more than her fair share of making up for his total abandonment of her without so much as a goodbye, but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

How he could taste the bitterness of your perfume on your skin when he kissed your bare shoulder, how you sounded when he sucked on the skin under your ear and the vibrations you made together when he swallowed your moans, how you squeezed his hand that held yours beside your head laying on the pillow that wouldn’t be rid of your scent for a week after, and how you kissed him deeply after the seventh time he’d asked if you were still okay, if you still wanted this as much as he did.

When you left him, asleep with kissed lips parted in soft snores and hair mussed, the marks he’d left on your neck and thighs would serve you as a sweet reminder. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla followed you as you snuck back into your house through the back door, the quiet creak masked by the singing cicadas. Your uncle exactly where you'd left him, still sleeping off the extra spoonful of valerian extract and dried chamomile you’d steeped with his tea to buy yourself a little more time out there.

Where magic was forbidden. Where children threw cruel comments and the adults they’d overheard them from ushered them across the other side of the street. Out there where people would never be understanding of you, and boys who could trick you into giving up your power ran rampant.

You’d thought – hoped, dreamed – that maybe on your eighteenth birthday you could get a kiss. A moment of normalcy outside of your life stuck in this house but what you got was so much better.

What you got was imprinted on your skin with the lingering feeling of his lips.

***

1993

The third time you meet Steve, you breathe in your first taste of free air.

Steve had volunteered to take a ride with the EMT to transport a body to the morgue, on an otherwise slow shift at the firehouse. The only other one in town had called in sick and the nearest hospital was a town over.

When the bus turned down Maple Street, Steve immediately felt off. A sense of dread washed over him and only increased when the car continued off the main street and down the dirt road that led to the Ravenwood house. As the vehicle kicked up stones and a cloud of dust in its wake he’d been hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu, remembering dreams that felt as real as memories of walking up this path only to find himself back at the start over and over again.

When the bus finally came to a stop in the driveway Steve barrelled out, running up to the front door in a panic, his raised fist ready to knock it down before it abruptly opened. Exhaling quickly at the site of you, the sinking feeling in his stomach alleviated as he took you in for the first time in years.

You’re dressed for mourning. A soft black dress and scuffed boots, hair pulled back to reveal a bare face that Steve had the sudden urge to kiss.

“H-Hi.” He managed to stammer out a greeting as his colleague finally caught up to him, walking up the creaking steps to your front porch.

“He’s in the bedroom.” You held open the front door, moving aside to let them in. Voice small, smelling of lemon, cedarwood and white musk and Steve had to physically keep himself moving as he brushed past you.

Your uncle laid stiff on a double bed, on top of the covers and dressed in a tattered corduroy suit as if ready for viewing, his body now an empty vessel left only for a ceremonial send-off. A white handkerchief covered his face, a small bundle of dried cypress and sweet cicely perched on his forehead. A breeze from the open window across the room swayed the hem of your skirt as you stared at him.

Steve pointed to the handkerchief, asking you if they could move it but stopped his movements right away when you tensed. His colleague tells you it’ll have to come off during the autopsy and you fold, asking if it can at least go back on afterwards.

“Once we drop him off he’s out of our hands ma’am.”

“I’ll make sure it does,” Steve placates you and you offer him a small nod in thanks. He barely remembers to breathe.

You followed the stretcher out to the bus, a rumbling of thunder catching the two men’s gaze up to the sky when the back doors thud shut. The view was clear when they entered the house, no forecast for rain on this mild summer’s day. Now fat drops began to hit the ground with the rolling in of grey clouds. Steve looked down and noticed a small smile on your face.

You took a deep breath in with eyes softly shut. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” You took off down the front path, stopping at the front gate when Steve called after you, asking if you were sure as the rain only intensified.

You just turn and smile at him, waving with a fixed mind. “It’s cleansing.” Only to disappear into the tall grass fields across from your house in a blur of black. Walking away, a free woman.

The front door creaked closed, making Steve’s companion jump.

“Freaky.”

After that day Steve hears of regular sightings of the girl who grew up in that house. Gossip of blooming, bright lavender and bluebells, buzzing bees – life where there once was nothing but rot and death. A fixed white picket fence and carefully laid stone-path that led up to a now bright and welcoming looking house at the end of Maple Street. But this was still a small town and generational rumours took more than a fresh coat of paint to cover up. The witch who lived at the old Ravenwood house was still feared among small minds.

***

The fourth time Steve Harrington saw you he was dropping Robin’s overdue books off at the library on his way to work. Navy blue t-shirt hugging his biceps, tucked neatly into his uniform pants, the stomp of his steel-capped boots muffled by the scratchy charcoal carpet.

Robin had sent him in the hopes that he could get her late fees waived. He’d spritzed an extra spray of his cologne on before leaving their shared apartment, Harrington charm plastered on his face as he prepared to win over an elderly lady who was reminded of her husband when they first met. Only, the person behind the counter wasn’t wearing a blouse with a frilly collar or sporting a purple rinse quaff.

The person who greeted Steve was wearing a well-loved PJ Harvey shirt, with long braids running down her back, flashing a timid smile that ripped through his chest.

“Hi, Steve.”

End note: If you want dedicatedly researched, heart-wrenching witch core you should go read @storiesbyrhi's Eddie fic Burning Yarrow. I'd also recommend @rosewaterandivy's S.H. x witch!reader story, which is just blow me down gorgeous. Their words probably inspired the dream that inspired this story ✨

Thank you for reading! x

Steve edit by @/vasguett on pinterest

[amymbona]

we need more domestic bf patrick fics in this app

Bf Patrick decorating your little apartment from Easter, Halloween, Christmas... Because his parents used to be so adamant on keeping the house clean and wouldn't allow any decoration apart from the Christmas three and a single pumpkin for the thirty-one days of October.

So every time a certain holiday approached, Patrick gets into this mother of a family mode, like he's running through all the stores and picking out the best looking pieces (he usually ends up feeling bad for the uglier one of the two so he buys it as well). You're gonna love it, he thinks.

Patrick shows up with a little head piece, two bats flying above his mop of curls, a boyish smile on his face. Calls you darling and baby and tells you how wonderful of a girlfriend you are just so you don't make him get rid of all this stupid looking beauty.

Together, you decorated the apartment for autumn, the third Harry Potter movie (Patrick's favourite) playing in the background. Little stuffed pumpkins are sitting on either side of the TV, and a silly ghost chain is hanging above the sofa. Patrick has bought a questionable amount of little dwarf figures that have their faces completely covered by their pointy hats, only their big noses poking out. They're everywhere around the apartment.

Patrick notices the sun begins setting earlier and so he lights up some candles while you make hot chocolate for the two of you.

"C'mon darling, Sirius is gonna show up soon!" he calls you excitedly, bouncing on the sofa like a little boy, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen.

You come into the living room, carrying two cups, and set them down on the coffee table. "How many times have you seen this movie before?"

Patrick only huffs as you sit down next to him, automatically throwing an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to himself. You can't help but giggle at his entranced expression, noticing his plush lips part in surprise, as if this wasn't at least the fiftieth time he's seeing this particular scene.

"Oh, no, no, no..." he rambles as Remus Lupin begins transforming into a werewolf, squeezing your shoulder tightly. It makes you wanna burst out laughing but you hold it, knowing how serious the movie is for your boyfriend.

He ends up sobbing in your lap about the unfairness of it all, about the fact that Remus and Sirius deserved to end up together and live a happy life, and that he'd be unable to watch the fifth movie in the series. "That's just cruel, darling. They deserved to be happy."

[whiskey-bumblebee]

trick or treat aaron hotchner pls 🙏

treat! 🍬

A/N: gender neutral reader (Aaron slips up at one point but we correct him), Halloween-decoration-typical horror (just in case). Also the writing in this is super lazy because I am what? Lazy <3 Hope you enjoy! And keep the requests coming!

Aaron loves that you love Halloween, but he can't stand the decorations. He's seen a lot of things in his life, and Spirit Halloween reminds him of the worst of them: dismembered limbs, blood, scary masks, references to weapons and poison, death all around. To him, it's a blessing that you have the stomach for the plastic version. It means he's doing his job, as an agent and a boyfriend. He's not bringing it home. He's keeping you safe from the horrors of the world.

So he gives you a list of boundaries, lovingly handwritten in his neatest print:

please no: -weapons -gore/blood -body parts/bones/tombstones -jumping things -masks -murder/crime scene paraphernalia

You take the list in hand and give him a look. "Honey, I respect this, but are there things you do want? That might be easier."

He considers it for a second. "Bats. Pumpkins. Spiders. Witches. Cats. Vampires. Frankenstein. Cute ghosts."

You smile and give him a kiss because you can't help it. "Cute ghosts."

"You know. Sheet ghosts."

"So you can watch scary movies but you can't have scary decorations?" You're only teasing, and he knows that, but he still pouts a little.

"Michael Myers on the television is different to Michael Myers in the living room."

You nod. "Okay, honey. I'll see what we can do."

So you head to the halloween store and do a little bit of damage with your credit card, and head home to set up. You don't get many trick or treaters, since you live in a small neighborhood, but it's just as fun to decorate for yourself, right?

You decide to go with plenty of fuzzy spiders, a jack o lantern for the porch, and a sheet ghost for the lawn.

Aaron gets home, and you're careful to meet him out in the driveway so you can check for his approval.

"Cute ghost," You point out, after giving him a quick kiss. He nods.

There are some comically large spiders climbing up the outside of the house, and he laughs.

"Sure."

Then the two pumpkins on the porch.

"I thought we'd carve them together another time."

He nods again. You know the lack of reaction is just his way of assessing a situation wholly before he makes an overall judgement.

You walk him through the door, where you've kept things much more minimal. Your home is your shared sanctuary after all, and the last thing you need is to give him a heart attack in the middle of the night.

The front door reads "Haus Frankenstein", with the silhouette of a castle underneath. In the kitchen, you've suspended a sign reading "it's electrifying!" with a picture of Frankenstein's monster in the lightning trap.

"I know this is kind of verging into corpse territory, but I thought it was cute, if you don't like it-"

Aaron shakes his head quickly. "No, it's cute. Thank you."

The guest bathroom has sticky green gels over the tile.

"Ectoplasm," You smile, and Hotch falls even more in love with you.

"Everything is temporary, it's peel and stick. If you don't like anything, I kept the receipts, so we can return it-"

"Everything is perfect, honey. Is that it?"

You nod. "That's it."

His face falls a little, although he's quick to shield it.

"What?" You ask quickly. "Do you want something else?"

"I was hoping you'd pick the costumes, I'm no good with that s-"

You beam. "I did. They're in the bedroom."

Aaron smiles at that. "You think of everything. I love you."

You lead him to the bedroom, and you're delighted to walk him through the costumes, a mixture of thrifted items, costume pieces, makeup, and a wig for you.

"Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein?"

"Partner of Frankenstein," You correct him. "I thought since I kind of themed the house as the Haus Frankenstein, we could be the Frankensteins. And I was talking to my friend about it and we thought you looked kind of like Boris Karloff."

Aaron raises an eyebrow.

"In a good way!" You interject. "I think he's sexy."

He grins and pulls you in by the waist. "Good."

[plaindangan]

October Update + New Event!

Update Below

(Your Hostess pops into view!~)

Puhuhuhuhuhu!!! Hello my precious little participants!! Welcome to the 1st Annual Jabberwock Island Survival Game!!! Hosted by none other than your favorite bear/humanoid robot thing - Monokuma-Chan!~

…Eh?!!! What do you mean I’m in the least popular requested?!!! ;_; Ugh, this wounds me more than learning my cherished manga had to wrap everything up in less than five chapters!!

Hm?? What’s that you say? To you, beyond the 4th wall, you never heard of it before in your life? Aren’t you supposed to be a part of the info savvy generation?!!!! How un-bear-able!!!!

But, I’d be a bad Headmistress if I didn’t educate my precious audience, so I’ll give you the scoop on this sensual situation:

As the name suggests, it’s up to every player here to survive on Jabberwock Island up until November 1st! Seems easy enough, yeah? Weeeeeell, it won’t be!! Because thanks to a certain genius bimbo we got some actual stakes here!!!

See, Jabberwock Island is INFESTED with ghouls!!!!!!

(...Or zombies if you prefer, blegh)

Naming conventions aside, these will be your main foes they must outwit and outrun, for they have quite the taste for flesh~ Now, should also note, they don’t really want to eat your brains or skin off…but, they are into another sort of ‘flesh tasting’~

Yeah, since this is Miu, she pretty much created absolute sex ghouls that look hawt as Hell (gotta emphasis no rot, just gray skin, white eyes, with curvy-ass to hunky bodies here) and want nothing more than to fuck the players sideways!! Though, there is a catch to this. See, it wouldn’t be a good undead apocalypse if there wasn’t a way for the ghouls to increase their numbers, right?~

Basically any player who winds up being fucked silly by these guys will become a ghoul themselves, becoming a member of the horny horde~ Completely unable to think of anything but fucking the next person they see!!! Puhuhuhuhhuhu!!!

Also, don’t worry your little heads about whether or not your faves will be like that forever if caught or even if we snatched them against their wills. We’ve made sure that not only is everyone aware they’ll be fixed up in a jiffy afterwards, but all have signed on…….mostly since the thought of being chased, trying to avoid falling into temptation and being fucking railed by a hot ass monster does hold an immense appeal to these freaky lot~

Here’s how it’ll go for First Round:

Available Islands for the players will be:

Central Island, First Island and Second Island!! 

Because there’s no fun if all the islands were available right off the bat!!! It’s all up to them to see if they can survive this first wave up until Oct 7th!! Puhuhuhu!! Wonder who's gonna get out during this time~

-

Hello, welcome to the new event for the Halloween Season!!!! I was inspired to try my hand at it thanks to the great @ghostsbest and their own zombie survival game last year for their Fangan blog @sdranothersmut.

In this case, it’s pretty much all the muses of PlainDangan trying to rough it out. Following in Ghost’s set-up, they have 4 ‘chances’ to so to speak before a ghoul could get to them and turn them into apart of the horny dead~ If you’re also wondering

As the asker, you can decide how a muse eventually winds up in the situation they’re in, though whether or not that results in loss of ‘armor’ depends on the whims of the die (and, occasionally, if I just find it fitting. Mostly dice and I would tell you otherwise XD)

In this case:

Roll 1-2: Muse keeps the armor

Roll 3-4: Muse loses 1 armor

Roll 5-6: Muse loses 2 armor

Likewise, of if the muse has no armor than 3 and above is gonna be wraps for them~

Which brings us to the other aspect of this game…for now~

Muse Zombies! Muses Zombies are stronger than normal zombies, dealing 2 armor loss on a 3-4 roll, and 3 armor loss on a 5-6 roll. At least, in terms of encounters they are neutral against.

Depending on who gets turned, they might do better or worse against certain Muses than others. For example, a Ghoul Akane, might do really well against a weaker muse…but someone of the same strength as her or greater could be able to repel her better.

In this case, for types I feel would have the advantage, they need to hit a 1-2 to escape, as 3-4 now becomes 3 armor loss and 5-6 is 4 straight. Which, depending on how a muse is currently with their armor, could mean another one joins the horde~ This system also works vice-versa, with the defending muse being in a better position as the encounter would become just a regular zombie encounter.

Can have asks with up to 4 muses in them. When that happens, who loses out and who gains will be determined by a bit of randomization as well, in addition to taking in what the scenario wants.

Finally, use Survival Jabberwock (SJ) for

Anyways, for now, that’s pretty much the gift of things! Hope you enjoy this event and send the asks in to see who might survive it all! You can still send in regular asks too as well! Though am super leaning on Halloween or monster based asks too!!!

…

Oh, also Tribe Nine girls can now be asked, with Kuronaka and Haru as their guys' representatives for now! Finished their anime and got to know more about its closed beta so felt it was right have them join the Tookyoverse

Mainline: Komaru, Hiyoko, Akane, Sakura, Kyoko, Kanon, Peko, Ruruka, Miaya, Maki, Tenko, Himiko, Older WOH

Fangan: Hu Jing, J, Rose, Eva, Wenona, Eloise, Emma, Iroha, Kanade, Akane Taira, Mikako, Rei

Tookyo: Fubuki, Guillame, Melami, Iruka, Nun, Enyne, Ryo, Swindler, Pupil, Enoki, Minami, Tsuki, Saori, Yui Kamiki

Special: Juniper Shields (Successor Beta), Reiko Kamitsuki, DR0/Student Council Asks, Killer Killer girls asks,, Yori Fuchisaki, Kotone Naegi, Sato, Miyadera

Genderbend: Kyosuke, Juzo, Makoto, Komaru, Byakuya, Kokichi, Rantaro, Mahiru, Mikan, Kazuichi, Leon, Kiyo

[blanketmoss]

Ok here’s the second banned episode of Critter Cul-de-sac, again under a cut because I started writing a novel towards the end there

Banned ep 2

‘Crazy creepy Cathartiformes’

S2 ep2 ‘Crazy creepy cathartiformes’ was set to air on Halloween, and introduced the ‘villain’ characters Boris Bat and Viktor Vulture

The episode starts with a few of the main characters in Halloween costumes, all boasting about who’s going to get the most treats. They all suddenly scream as a dark figure swoops over their heads, a giant bat dressed as a vampire. They decide it must have been a trick and laugh it off. Later on in the episode they encounter the bat again, but this time he’s crouched down in front of a lady, Primrose Peacock, and there’s a red substance over the floor and his face. When he sees the main cast approaching he’s startled, and takes off into the night.

Scared and confused they all rush to the aid of Miss Primrose but she’s unconscious, so they take her to doctor damselfly, all the while fearfully discussing the possibility of a real life vampire and comforting each other. However the episode gets worse from here, another scene shows Millie Moth, excited for a celebration that happens when she’s awake, walking past a graveyard. However when she peeks through the fence she’s met with a horrifying sight. It’s the same bat her friends saw earlier drinking a large glass of something red while the biggest bird she’s ever seen, a giant vulture, seems to be trying to dig into a grave with his bare claws. The vulture slowly lifts his head and something red and stringy falls from his beak.

Millie screams and runs away to find her friends, before the two cannibals can get her. The whole friend group ends up preparing things to go on a vampire hunt, even the usually dubious of the group banding together to collect wooden stakes, silver jewellery and garlic. They sneak back to the graveyard but as they peer through the fence a giant shadow looms behind them, the clawed tip of a bat’s wing taps Millie on the shoulder. The group all scream, turning around and ready to launch their collection of weapons and repellant when suddenly the bat speaks. He asks in a voice much meeker than they were expecting if Miss Primrose is feeling alright.

The group express their disbelief, immediately accusing Boris of drinking blood and hanging out with cannibalistic birds, among a slew of other criminal activity they’d imagined in their fear. He gets very flustered and explains that wasn’t the case; when he’d swooped over their heads he’d simply dropped his watch and didn’t want it to hit them, he hadn’t drank Miss primrose’s blood, he’d been drinking juice but he’d spilled it all over the floor. Miss primrose had been walking over to offer him some money to buy a new carton, but she’d slipped in the puddle and bumped her head. He’d left because he knew that they knew her much better than he did, and thought that he’d just get in the way of help.

The group calmed down, but that still didn’t explain his friends grave robbing! They started to accuse again, until Barry provided another explanation. The digging motion wasn’t digging at all, he was pulling weeds from around the headstone, and the red stringy stuff? It was wool, the grave was for Viktors beloved pet cat mimi, (for explanation there are both anthropomorphic bipedal and regular quadruped versions of animals. It’s like similar to humans vs monkeys) every Halloween night her ghost comes back with all the others, so he was making sure her ball of wool was untangled for her to play with. The episode ended with a lengthy apology from each of the group, which Barry seemed satisfied with, however at the very last part Viktor is seen scowling at the group from a hiding spot in the dark, quietly voicing his hatred for those who jump to conclusions to himself.

The entire episode was banned after airing once, due to massive complaints from parents about children getting nightmares, satanic imagery and depictions of cannibalism. (Also the implication ghosts were real near the end) Most of the issue was due to the fact the horror was simply too much for the intended younger audience, even if it was proven false at the end. Most parents didn’t let their kids watch that far, especially after seeing the grave scene in particular.

An entirely different episode 2 was made with a different villain origin for Boris and Viktor. This ended up being for the best though, as the new story put much more reason behind Viktor’s motives.

[thedarkcknight]

Day 28 Halloween animals (CyclopsMartin Kratt) MALE!READER

3rd person pov

The dense forest around them rustled as the wind blew through the branches, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the promise of nightfall. Halloween was near, and Martin Kratt, known for his enthusiasm for wildlife and adventure, found himself in the woods again but this time, things were very different.

Martin wasn't his usual self anymore. Due to a mysterious accident during a recent expedition, he had been transformed into a Cyclops. Where there had once been two bright, curious eyes, now there was only one large eye in the center of his forehead, glowing faintly in the twilight. The change hadn’t dulled his spirit for adventure, but it had certainly made blending in a challenge.

He trudged along a forest path, his single eye scanning the underbrush for signs of life, when he spotted a lone figure approaching from the opposite direction. The man had a rugged, adventurous look about him, with a scruffy beard and a backpack slung over his shoulders. He raised a hand in greeting as he got closer.

“Hey there, stranger!” the man called out, pausing as he caught sight of Martin’s unusual appearance. For a moment, his eyes widened in surprise, but then he chuckled, a friendly glint in his eyes. “Looks like you’ve had quite the run-in with the supernatural, huh?”

Martin managed a smile, his large eye crinkling at the edges. “Yeah, you could say that. Name’s Martin. Long story short, there was a cave, an ancient inscription I shouldn’t have read out loud, and now... well, here I am, a Cyclops.”

The man shook Martin’s hand, seemingly unfazed. “I’m Y/N. I’m an adventurer too always on the lookout for a new story or a hidden mystery. Seems like we both have a knack for getting into trouble.”

Martin nodded, a lighthearted laugh escaping him. “Yeah, but being a Cyclops does come with a few perks, like seeing further into the dark. Speaking of which, I’ve been out here looking for some Halloween-themed animals for an old show segment I used to do. Thought it might cheer me up. What about you?”

Y/N smiled, slinging off his backpack and pulling out a small flashlight. “Halloween animals, huh? Sounds fun. I’ve always liked talking about the creatures that make this time of year special. How about we swap some stories while we explore?”

Martin’s eye lit up with excitement, and he gestured for Y/N to follow him down the path. “Sure, I’ll start. Ever heard of the vampire bat? Those little guys get such a bad rap, but they’re actually fascinating! They live in Central and South America, and while they do feed on blood, they only take a small amount, often without the host even noticing. It’s more about the way they use their teeth and their ability to detect heat to find a good spot to bite.”

Y/N nodded, clearly enjoying the enthusiasm in Martin’s voice. “Yeah, and they’re known to share their meals with others in their group if a bat goes hungry. Kind of makes them seem more like Halloween-themed good Samaritans than villains, right?”

“Exactly!” Martin agreed, his eye shining. “What about you? Any spooky animals come to mind?”

Y/N tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How about the owl? A classic Halloween animal, with their silent flight and eerie calls. I was hiking once in the Appalachian Mountains, and I came across a barn owl. It swooped right over me, and I swear, I didn’t hear a thing until it landed. It’s like they’re ghosts themselves, moving through the night without a sound.”

Martin shivered, but in the way an adventurer does when they hear a great story. “Owls are amazing. That silent flight is because of the special structure of their feathers. It lets them sneak up on their prey without a whisper.”

They continued down the path, the darkness deepening around them. The trees stretched tall like skeletal fingers against the dusky sky, and the calls of distant creatures echoed through the woods. As they walked, Martin’s large eye scanned their surroundings, while Y/N’s flashlight flickered across the path.

“Have you ever heard of the black cat legend?” Martin asked after a while, his voice hushed with a touch of mystery. “People always say they’re bad luck, especially around Halloween, but I think they’re just misunderstood. In some cultures, black cats are actually symbols of good fortune.”

Y/N grinned, turning his flashlight toward Martin. “Yeah, and they’re also incredibly resourceful hunters. I’ve always thought it was kind of unfair how they got labeled as spooky. I once had a black cat that used to follow me on hikes. He’d slip through the shadows like a ninja, and whenever people saw us, they’d think he was some kind of Halloween spirit.”

Martin laughed at the image, feeling a little lighter despite his strange new form. “Sounds like a real adventuring partner. You know, there’s something about Halloween animals: bats, owls, cats they’re all creatures that thrive in the darkness, just like I have to now, I guess.”

Y/N gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Hey, you’re still the same explorer at heart, Martin. Maybe being a Cyclops is just a new way to see the world literally. Plus, imagine the stories you’ll be able to tell from this!”

Martin smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. “You’re right, Y/N. I’ll just have to make the best of it. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even find a way to reverse this curse.”

They continued walking, swapping stories about creatures of the night, from the creepy crawlies of the forest floor to the misunderstood predators that ruled the shadows. As the night deepened, the two adventurers found that they shared more than just a love for Halloween and wildlife; they shared a bond forged in the thrill of discovery and the mysteries that lurked just beyond the edge of the light.

For Martin, it wasn’t just the stories that made this night special. It was the reminder that even in his new, strange form, he wasn’t alone in his adventures. And as the forest came alive with the sounds of creatures all around them, he knew that Halloween would always be a time of mystery and magic no matter what form he took.

Wrote: Me

[hinacu-arts]

Tags That Made Me Smile 2023 — Part 1 (Jan-June)

Ive collected so many of my "Tags That Made Me Smile List" that i wont be posting it annually this year, its going to be at least biannually (although a good portion of this list is actually random comments in the author notes/lines and not tags 🤣)

[2022's List] [2021's List]

.

Not Fandom Specific

if they seem ooc at times (to YOU) just ignore it... i know Them

“It’s impossible to figure out comic book timelines” - people who are not me and who I cannot relate to

im ace but i tried my damnest to emulate allo behaviour

canon is nothing more than the sandbox in which I choose to build my castle

Not canon, not fanon, but some other third thing (my love for extravagant world building)

fan fiction vs foe fiction

bro we are teens its ok to be vunerable in front of me #now we are kissing bro dont stop

They have my mind on fucking speed dial i stg

intentional miscommunication in the name of fuckery

Cheesy romance taken seriously

The universe frantically consults the rule book while fate runs off with their action figures

getting a toddler dumped on you by your ex’s ex

“I’m not dying without kissing you” #And then they don’t die #And It’s all quite awkward

"Now if you'll excuse me… Tonight's bad decision isn't going to make itself."

“What’s a ‘boyfriend’? And why am I yours?”

“It has come to my attention that you are, unfortunately, my favorite person on this planet.”

i’m staring at the ceiling fighting the urge to kick you -a love story

Accidental Soul-Bonding oops

Enemy to Caretaker

Wooing via Prank War

Allegedly Platonic Kissing

Fandom Specific

These are ordered by the chronological order of which fandom i was reading at the time

Wednesday

werewolves mate for life

The Gomezification of Wednesday Addams

Legend of Zelda

Hi my name is Link and Welcome to Jackass

Link and Sidon both get a little bit gay: The Chapter

Gerudo Vai Outfit shenanigans

DC x Danny Phantom

Danny is the Tom Bombadil of Superheroes

Jack Fenton’s ability to casually Cool-Aid-Man his way through walls is a symptom of ectoplasm exposure

Skulker, No Skulking!

Danger Twink!Danny Fenton

Red Hood: Civilian Edition

inception—magic school bus version

a guy on staff so adorable it triggers Jason’s fight or flight response

Jason gets diagnosed with "bro your ectoplasm is fucked up" disease

Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies #But make it Halloween #where Tim Drake finds out the true meaning of love and Halloween #a true Rom-Com that's just a lil spooky

keeps the Hallmark themes of anti-capitalism #Vlad is the capitalism

pit is gone #raging anger has been replaced with raging hormones

All the (pit) rage he felt at the Joker for killing him is now being redirected and funneled into admiration/gratitude for the guy who did kill Joker

What is a murderer, a maker of ghosts, to the king of ghosts, but a faithful servant?

“Hood, your boyfriend's haunted!”

batman looked at gotham and said "i can fix her" #gotham looked at batman and said "i can make him worse"

Various DC Media

DC stands for Disregard Canon

Pining batman? more like Down Badman

Fortress of Sulkitude

Hurricane Dick and smaller Tropical Storm Damian

Tim finds his missing spleen #:)

just two dudes chillin' in a sleeping bag zero feet apart because Bart stole the other one

Kon's jacket #(it's made from boyfriend material)

Batfam? Bat colony? #how exactly do you to refer to the fascinating taxon that is Tim's family

Breaking the laws of Nature with sheer fucking will and bullshit circumstance (Time and Dimension Travel)

"Ha! Ive been sleeping in his bed for years, i no longer register as a threat"

Let it not be said that Bruce Wayne is a coward. A fool, perhaps, but never a coward.

"This is not very slay of you Tim" Bruce said

[squeakyfir]

The Love from a Skeleton [Jack Skellington X Reader]

Plot:

Halloween...

The time of year you absolutely hate. Not because of the ghouls and monsters, you enjoyed that kind of thing, it's because of trick or treaters. They get free candy and whine and complain to their parents if they didn't get what they expected, which is the whole bowl of candy. Anyways, since you don't celebrate that holiday, you decide to go for a late stroll through the woods on the hiking trail. While walking, your whole life changes.

And I mean that literally...

Everything started to change drastically until you find trees with holiday symbols on it. One of them being a Jack-o-lantern. Being curious, you enter through the door and discover a world that would represent a children's book written by Stephen King. But the leader of this place was a king. Not just any king...

A pumpkin king.

His name is Jack Skellington. He's a very tall and slender skeleton with a pinstripe suit, a black cat bow tie and ghost dog named Zero. He discovers you and welcomes you to Halloween town until he can figure out how to send you home. But this place is perfect!

No taxes to pay

No drama

And no more loneliness

Jack believes that your hideous. But don't worry, hideous in the Halloween town definition means... Beautiful.

Enjoy!

*I do not own the Nightmare before Christmas. All rights belong to Tim Burton and Disney™*

Chapter 8

Previous ~ Next

After returning to Jack, you told him that you were going to go take a walk. He offered to go with you but you said you wished to be alone for awhile. He understood but he gave off that vibe that he was confused. You left the town gates with Jack constantly reminding you to be careful. You didn't know how you were going to find the three monster children but you had to try.

You went down the path they went and you had a feeling that it would take awhile until you probably find them but you didn't want to give up. They were probably going to hurt Santa! You were told he doesn't exist but now that you were proven wrong, you couldn't let him get hurt. After mindless minutes of mindless walking, you came across a strange structure. It looked really feeble and didn't look sturdy. Maybe this was it. You start walking towards it and then hear shouting and arguing. There was a long pipe that went down and there was something inside it going down it screaming.

It was Santa!

You ran towards it and found a way to climb down the side of the large pit to find a bars showing you inside. Santa fell to the floor with his hands restrained over his head. Music was heard and you saw a pair of dice thrown at him. You looked towards of where the dice was thrown and couldn't believe what you saw. A fat sack with small stubs for feet and arms that had no hands. He had two eyeless sockets and his whole body was, as I said, a sack. He started to sing a song with a bit of a catchy tune.

Well, well, well, what have we here?

Sandy Claws, huh?

Oh, I'm really scared

So you're the one everybody's talkin' about, ha, ha

Bugs were dangling out of his mouth and some of them fell into Santas beard. Gross.

You're jokin' x2

I can't believe my eyes

You're jokin' me, you gotta be

This can't be the right guy

Oogie spun Santa in a small circle and held him by the beard.

He's ancient, he's ugly

I don't know which is worse

I might just split a seam now

If I don't die laughing first

Santa was being lifted up and dropped on a spinner and spun around and was stopped only to be swayed like he was dancing with Oogie. Geez, this monster was weird.

When Mr. Oogie Boogie says

There's trouble close at hand

You'd better pay attention now

'Cause I'm the Boogie Man

And if you aren't shakin'

Then there's something very wrong

A snake popped out of his mouth in a sudden way. Eww!

'Cause this may be the last time now

That you hear the boogie song, ohhh

Not only was Oogie singing, there were other creatures down here that sang along with the song. Such as other skeletons and bats.

OOGIE BOOGIE:

Ohhh

THREE SKELETONS:

Ohhh

OOGIE BOOGIE:

Ohhh

OTHER SKELETONS:

Ohhh

OOGIE BOOGIE:

Ohhh

THREE BATS:

Ohhh

OOGIE BOOGIE:

I'm the Oogie Boogie Man

Santa then started to talk but it seemed like he was singing along but it was obvious it was unintentional. Three jackpot machines that looked like cowboys with guns were moving towards Santa about to shoot him but Oogie quickly grabbed him before they actually shot him.

SANTA:

Release me now

Or you must face the dire consequences

The children are expecting me

So please, come to your senses

OOGIE BOOGIE:

You're jokin' x2

I can't believe my ears

Would someone shut this fella up

Oogie spun Santa around fast and kicked him as fell backwards back to where he was laying when he was almost shot.

I'm drownin' in my tears

It's funny, I'm laughing

You really are too much

And now, with your permission

I'm going to do my stuff

Oogie got down real close to his face and had the same snake pop out two more times. It made you think what was he made of. Snakes? Bugs?

SANTA:

What are you going to do?

OOGIE BOOGIE:

I'm gonna do the best I can

The whole room then lit up to look like a vegas casino.

Oh, the sound of rollin' dice

To me is music in the air

'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man

Although I don't play fair

It's much more fun, I must confess

When lives are on the line

Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy

Now that'd be just fine

Oogie then grabbed a hook that was attached to a rope and the rope was attached to the ceiling. He slipped the hook on Santas hands and lifted him into the air. Stage lights were turned on to male the whole thing more dramatic than it already was.

SANTA:

Release me fast or you will have to

Answer for this heinous act

Oogie was spinning a lever to make Santa come back down to his eye level.

OOGIE BOOGIE:

Oh, brother, you're something

You put me in a spin

You aren't comprehending

The position that you're in

It's hopeless, you're finished

You haven't got a prayer

'Cause I'm Mr. Oogie Boogie

And you ain't going nowhere

Oogie then laughed in an evil way and from up above, you heard the three monster children cackle loudly. You knew you had to get out of here to quickly warn Jack. You quickly climbed back up and once you reached the top, you ran as fast as you could. While running, you felt like this whole thing was your fault. If you hadn't discovered those doors, you wouldn't be here right now. It made you feel horrible. But right now, you had to get to Jack.

And fast...

[emilou-keen-gear]

Halloween Story

Word Approx.: 2,900

Characters: Webby, Lena, Violet, May and June

Title: Three’s a Crowd Part 1

            “Halloween Slumber Party!” Webby shouted at the top of her lungs as she performed a perfect pile-drive onto a stack of pillows, sending them flying in all directions.

            Lena blocked a few with just a wave of her hand, magic sending the fluffy projectiles harmlessly away. Violet batted one away from her book without looking up. May swatted the pillows with an irritated frown but June took one full in the face, then laughed at herself.

            Webby was giddy with delight. Not only was this her first slumber party with her clone-sisters, but it also promised to be an extra delightful one with it being during the Halloween season. Which meant telling ghost stories into the night, playing scary games, and eating way too much candy.

            However, Webby’s plans for her slumber parties never turned out how she wanted them to go. Little did she know that she thought would be a fun night filled with harmless thrills and chills would turn into a slumber party she would soon regret.

            “I’m glad that you planned this slumber party,” Lena said, digging into her backpack.

            “Of course. All my slumber parties are totally excellent,” Webby said, trying to remain upbeat for May and June’s sake. After all, they had no knowledge of her previous slumber parties. That last thing she needed was for them to know about the money shark, jumping into the Shadow Realm, and the weird shared dream.

            “Because I really need to practice my necromancy and it’s not a good idea to do it alone,” Lena said, bringing out candles, chalk, and incense.

            “What?” Webby cried out before laughing. “Oh, Lena, you joker.” She nervously glanced at May and June. They didn’t seem to notice. “Lena, is this really a good time? Couldn’t we do it a different time?”

            “But it’s a full moon, and it’s only a week before Halloween. It’s prime spirit communication time,” Lena said. “I won’t have an opportunity like this until next year.”

            Webby bit her lower lip. Why couldn’t she, for once, have a nice, normal slumber party? Given, because of these weird episodes, she was able to get Lena back from the shadow realm, but still, it would be nice to have one night where the most exciting thing she did was play Truth or Dare.

            “Necromancy? Isn’t that, like, raising zombies and bringing the dead back to life?” May asked skeptically.

            June’s eyes widened.

            “Technically, Necromancy is magic dealing with the dead. From what I was able to read from Lena’s spell books, most of Necromancy is communication with spirits and sending them to the next world. Zombies is high level necromancy, and nobody can bring the dead back to life,” Violet said in her no-nonsense way. “Although there is a lot more to it than that.”

            “Oh, so we’re going to play that one game with the magnifying glass and letters and numbers on the board to talk to ghosts, right?” April asked. She didn’t seem concerned by the idea, nor did she sound interested. In fact, she sounded bored.

            But June looked worried. “Aren’t those things dangerous? Don’t they summon evil spirits?”

            Lena rolled her eyes. “What you’re describing is an Ouija board, and, yeah, I have one of those. We can try one out. And, no, we’re not going to summon an evil spirit, June. Scrooge has this mansion protected against evil spirits. Plus he has Duckworth, who would keep us safe. We’ll only communicate with good spirits. Besides, I can only summon weak ones at my level of necromancy.”

            April rolled her eyes. “You really are selling us on this party game.”

            “Party game?” Lena repeated.

            “Yeah. It’s just a game,” April said. “We’ll ask the board a bunch of questions, and one of you will move the magnifying glass around and pretend that a spirit has come to talk to us. Let’s skip it. We’re not that gullible.”

            June still looked nervous but nodded her head in agreement with her sister. “Yeah, it sounds…silly. Let’s do something else.”

            Webby jumped on that idea. “Yeah, because I have a whole bunch of activities we can do tonight. We don’t have to summon spirits. Right, Lena?” She looked at her friend hopefully.

            Lena sighed. “Fine. I’ll put all this stuff away. I wouldn’t want to scare anyone tonight anyway.”

            “Scare?” May demanded, knowing a challenge when she heard one. “This child’s game doesn’t scare us, right June?”

            June had found a blanket to wrap around herself with only her eyes peeking out. “Yeah. It doesn’t scare us.”

            Lena and May looked at those wide-eyes, not believing that lie.

            “Prove it,” Lena said, pulling out her Ouija board—a homemade one—and waggled it at May.

            “Fine,” May said, snatching the board and setting it on the floor.

            “Hey, I understand that you want to practice, Lena, but this is a slumber party and it’s obvious that not everyone wants to summon spirits,” Webby said. “Maybe we should do something that all of us will enjoy. How about we watch a movie?”

            “Or we could put it to a vote and let majority rule?” May said. “There’s two for summoning spirits—or at least pretending to summon spirits—“ She shot a smirk at Lena. “—and two for doing something else.”

            The four ducklings turned to the fifth member of their party who had remained quiet for the most part.

            Violet set her book down. “And it looks like it comes to me to be the tie-breaker. As much as I would like to stop the squabbling, perhaps I could propose a compromise so that there are no hard feelings throughout the night and spoil Webbigail’s slumber party.”

            Lena rolled her eyes at her adopted sister’s lengthy explanation.

            May looked intrigued.

            “I suggest we allow Lena to practice her necromancy for a limited time of fifteen minutes and fifteen minutes only, just to see if she can do it or not since there isn’t any guarantee that it will work,” Violet continued.

            Lena folded her arms. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Vi.”

            “You’re welcome. I, for one, believe that you could if you have the concentration since we all know you’re powerful enough to do it,” Violet said. “I would love to be able to communicate with some historical figures once you have mastered this branch of magic. However, for the sake of certain members of the group who are uncomfortable with the subject matter, I suggest that some of us go downstairs and prepare snacks and the movie.”

            “Oh, I could do that,” June said, jumping out of her blanket. “I’ll just wait in the TV room until you’re done.”

            Webby was surprised with how quickly June had gone for the compromise. “Great, June. Thanks. Do you want any help?”

            “No, I got it. I’ll just ask Mrs. Beakley if I can’t find anything,” June said, going out the door.

            Webby turned to the others, having found Lena already drawing a protective circle large enough for the board and everyone to sit around it. Violet was getting her phone ready to time the séance so they didn’t go over the fifteen minute time period.

            “Okay, everyone, sit in the circle,” Lena said, putting down the last candle.

            “And let me guess, we all hold hands,” May said blithely.

            “Only if you get scared,” Lena said with a smirk. “I have to hold the crystal, so we won’t be able to hold hands, but I should only be summoning a low-level spirit, so the protective circle should be enough.”

            May frowned, looking uncertain. But she sat down on one side of the Ouija board, the others joining her until they formed a square facing the board.

            Lena held out a crystal on a chain over the board, the crystal dangling just a few inches over the letters and numbers on the board.

            “I thought we had that magnifying glass that we all touch,” May wondered.

            “Yeah, because that’s for a game,” Lena said. “This is the real thing. Do you honestly think that a ghost is going to visit a bunch of kids and try to wrestle a little plastic triangle just to write out a dumb message to scare them?”

            “Uh…no. Thus the sarcasm,” May pointed out.

            “Well, this is how a real spirit medium does it,” Lena said. “Now before I begin, everyone must expel all negative emotions. We must have positive emotions in the circle. Most spirits are neutral, and our positive energy will make them positive. If a negative spirit answers our summons, positive energy will deflect them. But it is unlikely that a negative spirit will come.”

            “Based on Webbigail’s record for slumber parties, I think that statement is false,” Violet said.

            Webby’s face fell, her worries showing through.

            “It was a joke,” Violet said, a smile showing through her deadpan demeanor. “I was trying to bring in some levity to help with the positive emotions.”

            Webby laughed. “Yeah, good one, Violet,” she said. The joke actually helped.

            “Okay, I think we’re ready,” Lena said with a smile and started a chant in a language nobody but Violet recognized. After a while, Lena asked, “Is there a spirit here that is willing to communicate?”

            Everyone looked to the crystal still dangling over the Ouija board. It didn’t move.

            “We’d like to talk to a spirit. If there are any nearby, use the crystal to speak to us,” Lena said, trying to concentrate on positive energy as well as clear thoughts for the spirit. Both of these things weren’t her strongest suits.

            She kept asking questions and inviting spirits to come talk to them, but still the crystal didn’t move except for a bit of trembling from Lena’s hand. It was hard to keep her hand still while holding it out.

            “We have two minutes left,” Violet announced, glancing at her phone.

            “Let me try one more time,” Lena said. “I think I sense something, but something is preventing it from communicating. Is everyone thinking positive thoughts?” She shot a glare at May.

            May shrugged. “Hey, I have been thinking positive thoughts. I’m positive that this won’t work.”

            Lena gave a frustrated sigh. “Come on, May.”

            “Okay, okay. Positive thoughts. Kittens and rainbow and marshmallows,” May said.

            Lena glared again.

            “Hey, those were positive,” May defended. “I like kittens and rainbows and marshmallows.” She was sincere.

            “I’m getting something,” Lena said, closing her eyes. “If you’re there, do you want to talk to us?”

            Suddenly, the crystal started to rotate in a circle slightly then it straightened, pointing to the “Yes” on the board.

            “Yes!” Lena cheered.

            May’s eyes widened. “Okay, I’m not going to insult you by asking how you’re doing that. I’m just going to swallow my pride. But I’m not scared.”

            Then the chain jerked to the “No”.

            “Whoa, what’s going on?” Violet asked.

            “I’m sensing there’s two spirits,” Lena said. “They seem to be fighting over the crystal.”

            “Are they both friendly? Maybe one of them is shy?” Webby asked, not liking how quickly the crystal went to “No” but she was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt, even ghosts.

            “And are there only two of them?” May asked, looking around as if there were hordes of ghosts spying on her.

            The crystal moved to the number two and then it went to the one.

            “I guess one left,” May thought and she shivered. “Did it suddenly get cold in here?”

            “The temperature has dropped by twenty degrees ever since the crystal started moving,” Violet said. “I brought my equipment to test Lena’s experiment, and I’ve been getting some interesting data. I can’t wait to listen to the audio recording I made once I get it on my computer.”

            “Did the other ghost leave?” Lena asked.

            The crystal went to the “Yes.”

            “Where did the other ghost go?” Webby asked.

            The crystal jerked again, this time going to a letter, then another, spelling something out. The girls spoke each letter as the crystal pointed to it.

            “H. E. S. W. I. T. H. J. U. N. E.”

            “He’s with June?” May spoke the words once the crystal stopped moving. Her eyes widened. “June.”

            She raced out of the circle and downstairs, calling for her sister’s name. She didn’t know why, but she felt scared. She hadn’t felt scared all night, but she did then. She first checked the TV room, and finding it empty, went to the kitchen. She shoved the door open and shouted her sister’s name.

            June was standing by the back door that was wide open and was waving. “Bye, Auggie. Thanks for your help.” Turning around, she looked at May curiously. “Oh, are you guys done already? Wow, time sure flies.”

            “June, are you okay?” May asked, going to her sister.

            “I’m fine. It’s not that hard to make some brownies,” June said. “I just barely put them in, so they won’t be done for a while, but you can start the movie without me.”

            May looked to the open back door. “What were you doing? Who were you talking to?”

            “Just a boy. Auggie,” June said, confused. “He stopped by and helped me make some brownies. Why do you sound angry?”

            “I—I’m not. You just shouldn’t talk to strangers,” May said, closing the door.

            “He said he knew Scrooge McDuck,” June said. “I thought that Auggie was Huey, Dewey and Louie’s friend. He was so nice, and he knew his way around the kitchen, so he must know the house.”

            “It’s not your house. You shouldn’t invite strangers in,” May said before realizing how loud she was talking. The look on June’s face was enough to make her realize that she was yelling.

            “I’m sorry,” June said.

            Webby stepped forward. She, Lena and Violet had followed May but kept back until now. “There’s no harm done. Everything is fine.”

            June wiped at her eyes, clearing away any tears before they could be seen and nodded. “I’m sorry. He was just so nice, and I promise that nothing bad happened.”

            “It’s okay,” Webby said again. “It’s just…we contacted some spirits and…we think…”

            “We think that they were just trying to scare us, and I was afraid that one of them would try to scare you,” May jumped in. “But you’re fine, and the spirits are all gone, so everything is fine.”

            Webby was surprised by May’s lie, but she kept her beak shut.

            “Oh,” June said. “Then I’m glad Auggie was with me. He made it so I wasn’t scared. And I bet that if a ghost did appear, he would have protected me.” She then hummed a bit, happily.

            May cast a glance at Lena before saying, “We’re going to go get the movie ready. Violet, could you help June with the rest of the snacks.”

            “Sure,” Violet said.

            May then pushed Lena and Webby out of the kitchen.

            “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were being too bossy,” Lena quipped.

            “Are those ghosts gone?” May demanded of Lena.

            Lena shrugged. “I’m not sure. You left the circle so suddenly that I didn’t have time to end the ritual. But more than likely, the ghosts weren’t powerful enough to stay. The mansion’s protection should move them along. Not unless they have an emotional attachment to the area.”

            “But you could do something else to make sure they don’t come back, right?” May asked.

            Lena nodded. “Sure.”

            “Could you do it now, please?” May asked, her bossiness dropping. She looked more concern.

            “Yeah, I’ll get to it now,” Lena said. “Don’t worry. The ghost was just a kid. More than likely, he won’t do your sister any harm.”

            “Yeah, okay,” May said, folding her arms.

            After Lena left, Webby said, “I feel kind of sorry for Auggie.”

            “The ghost? You feel sorry for a ghost?” May asked.

            “Well, he’s just a kid, like us,” Webby said sadly. “He died so young. It doesn’t really seem fair.”

            May’s face slipped to sorry. “Yeah, that is kind of sad.”

            “And since he’s a ghost, there’s probably not a lot of ghosts his age around. He’s probably lonely,” Webby continued. “I bet he just wanted to spend time with June. She’s really nice and likes to make people happy.”

            May knew that June was a people pleaser. She always had. She always sought out approval to anyone around. To May. To Bradford. To Red Heron. And they had all demanded so much of June. Even May demanded things of June.

            At least they had Donald and Daisy and all these new friends. With the kindness and attention that they were giving the clone sisters, June might eventually learn that the only person she had to please was herself.

            “At least he seemed to be a friendly ghost,” Webby said. “Don’t worry about it.”

            But May did worry. But perhaps the boy wasn’t who she should worry about. What about the other ghost? And were there truly only two ghosts? Could there be more?

            Bad things come in threes.

            Could there be a third ghost?

            May felt a chill go down her spine which she shook away. She had been thinking too many dark thoughts. Lena was going to wiggle her fingers and say a few magic words, and all the ghosts would be gone.

            And that would be the end of that.

End of part 1

Hi, I was trying to write a bunch of short stories for the Halloween month, and this one kind of went a little longer than I wanted to. I thought I would break it up in sections. I have a few other stories I want to get to first, so the second part may take me a few days to get to.

[thebonnevillegamepodcast]

It's time to learn a little more about our lead characters!

Araminta "Minty" Lam

Full Name: Araminta Joy Lam Nicknames: Minty, Mint, and the Spooky Girl Age: 25 Birthday: November 22 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Bisexual Height: 5’4” Nationality: Chinese and Filipino American Religion: Spiritual but not religious  Place of Birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Occupation: Supernatural Podcaster (The Night Owls of Philly) and Graphic Designer Face Model: Lydia Shum and Joyce Cheng Voice: Rachanee Lumayno

Minty is excitable and bubbly. She's a kind-hearted, friendly, and cheerful spooky goth girl. She can be one-track minded, especially when it comes to anything related to the supernatural. This can make Minty seem rude when she’s just bulldozing right past someone’s point or attempt at changing the topic. She’s a little too confident in her knowledge of the occult, believing she can handle whatever is thrown at her because she’s seen a lot of scary movies. She’d never be “stupid” like a horror movie character would be.

She’s a healthy skeptic. She doesn’t believe everything she hears and prefers to investigate before she buys into something. She knows there are a lot of scam artists out there that will take advantage of people who believe in the supernatural.

Minty desperately wants to find proof of ghosts and the afterlife. So far, she’s come up empty and that disappoints her.

She is very family oriented and gets along with most of her family. Her father passed away when she was young, and she currently lives with her mom and older sister.

Likes: Her friends and family, horror and sci-fi, romcoms, queer media, socks, laughing at Hallmark movies with her mom and sister, scary stories, podcasts, podcasting, autumn, rainstorms, MST3K, rock, death rock, goth rock, post punk, rockabilly, coffee shops, and video games

Dislikes: Humidity, feet, styrofoam, doing laundry, glue smell, cold fries, wearing pants, beer, fatphobia, and flies

Favorite Foods: Grilled Cheese and Pickle Sandwiches, Siopao Asado, Picarones, Hong Kong Egg Tarts, Egg and Banana Roti, Mooncakes, and Wawa Soft Pretzels

Favorite Drinks: Boba Milk Tea and Amaretto Sour

Favorite Animal: Bats

Favorite Color: Green

Laura Bates

Full Name: Laura Marion Bates Nicknames: Laurie, Lulu, Lars, and Lala Age: 25 Birthday: March 4 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Lesbian Height: 5’6” Nationality: Black American Religion: Agnostic, but exploring Witchcraft Place of Birth: Somewhere in Pennsylvania (It'll be revealed later!) Occupation: Supernatural Podcaster (The Night Owls of Philly) and Accountant Face Models: Bern Nadette Stanis and Cicely Tyson Voice: Krystal Gem

While Laura’s love of all things supernatural and macabre could rival Minty’s, she’s a lot less excitable. She’s sarcastic with deadpan sense of humor without being cynical. Laura is blunt about her opinions, but she has some sense of tact. She can be just as dorky as Minty and she feels absolutely no shame about it. Life is too short to worry about what other people think.

Laura is a natural born leader. She’s talented and brilliant, but she doesn’t trust people easily. Minty and Ingrid are the only two people she truly trusts. She struggles with her self-worth and PTSD, preferring to fight her inner demons in private. Laura doesn’t reach out for help nearly as often as she should. She is a lot better at helping other people with their problems and she’s a humanitarian at heart.

Likes: The macabre, scary movies, Halloween, autumn, the countryside, small cottages and cabins, farms, theme parks (especally abandoned ones), sci-fi, the Star Battles franchise, terrible YA romance books and movies, murder mysteries, punk rock, reading, books, video games, dark academia, and cottagecore

Dislikes: Talking about her past, washing dishes by hand, heights, parking, this economy, balloons, and sports

Favorite Foods: Seafood, Croquettes, Chocoflan, Philly Cheesesteak, Sweet Potato Muffins, Pineapple Salsa, and Guava Pastries

Favorite Drinks: Strawberry Mint Tea and Long Island Iced Tea

Favorite Animal: Horses

Favorite Color: Orange

Ingrid Sullenberger

Full Name: Ingrid Ellen Sullenberger Nicknames: Inga, Ingri, and Ing Age: 24 Birthday: February 22 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Pansexual Height: 5’3" Nationality: White American (German, Norwegian, and English) Religion: Pagan Place of Birth: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Occupation: Supernatural Podcaster (The Night Owls of Philly) and Tattoo Artist Face Models: Macha Méril and Lynn Lowry Voice: Kat Walker Shea

Ingrid is soft-spoken and timid. She can be shy, but once she feels comfortable, she loves to talk! She seems like she would be the polar opposite of Minty, but she’s just as into horror, spooky things, and alternative culture. She just also really likes cutesy things and romance movies.

Most of her tattoos are also very easy to hide with clothing, making her appear more conservative than she actually is. While she's gained respect in the tattoo community, she does still stick out like a sore thumb among her own.

She’s a pushover and she lacks assertiveness. While she’ll always come through in a clutch, she is the easiest to scare. She must overcome her intense fears to help Minty go toe-to-toe with O'Malley the Smiling Demon. She's the type of person who forces herself to power through her terror. Ingrid is incredibly kind and she has a strong sense of empathy.

She believes in the paranormal and she takes it deathly serious. She will often butt heads with Minty over not being cautious enough. She and Laura don't always agree on matters of the supernatural, but immensely respect each other.

Likes: Tattoos, tattoo artistry, drawing, paganism, witchcraft, scary movies, Halloween, Christmas, romance movies, cute accessories, stuffed spiders, sweets, animals, autumn, sweaters, musicals, cinema history, the beach, forests, and winter

Dislikes: Disrespecting the occult, standing up for herself, baking or cooking, animatronics, sand (it gets everywhere), and bitter foods

Favorite Foods: Strawberries, Hidden Rose Apple Toast, Pasta, Black Bean Burgers, Tacos de Papa, Potato Soup, and Russian Honey Cake

Favorite Drinks: Thai Iced Coffee and Mai Tai

Favorite Animal: Spiders

Favorite Color: Blue

Rebecca "Bex" McQuoid

Full Name: Rebecca Elspeth McQuoid Nicknames: Bex, Beck, and Becka Age: 36 Birthday: October 5 Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Female Orientation: Pansexual Height: 5’6” Nationality: White American (Scottish, Irish, and German) Religion: Atheist  Place of Birth: Bonneville, Pennsylvania Occupation: Cook at Bonneville Podcasters' Retreat Face Models: Melanie Papalia Voice: Kat Walker Shea

Bex is a little weird. You have to be a little weird when you’re raised in a white trash family in the middle of nowhere. Bex is intelligent, but flippant. Not very many things upset her, but when they do anger her, she goes from 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye. She can typically diffuse tense situations simply by a lack of reaction or by telling a joke. She generally keeps a cool head, so much so it seems like she doesn’t care. In reality, she’s tired. She’s seen some shit and she is over it.

She's friendly yet apathetic to most people when she meets them at first. She doesn't hate a lot of people either. Someone would really have to press her buttons or give her a reason to hate them. She struggles to trust people on a deeper level, yet she continues to seek out connection with others. Under all her bluster, she has a good heart. She's just used to taking care of herself with little to no help from anybody else.

She’s blunt, but she’s never intentionally hurtful. Sometimes she just sucks at wording herself. She’s never been one to brush off someone else’s hurt feelings with “I’m just being honest” either.

Her life is mostly ruled by giving into the existential dread and some form of nihilism, which can make it difficult for her to form and maintain relationships with people.

Likes: Her dog and cat, animals, money, cooking, baking, discovering new recipes and foods, working out, being outside, collecting cookbooks, oat milk, and reading

Dislikes: Cops, debt collectors, working customer service, large crowds, amusement parks, almond milk, and being seen as “soft”

Favorite Foods: Homemade Bread, Macarons, Brownies, Kimchi Carbonara, Paella, Bobotie, and Pretzel Pot Pie

Favorite Drinks: Vanilla Lattes and Corpse Reviver

Favorite Animal: Cats and Dogs

Favorite Color: Pink

[im-some-lionheart]

#Destielmonth22 Day 7: Decorate

(oh, my! Time is a lie! aka: shhh pretend it's still November and I know how to finish projects like a neurotypical person)

There are certain things that will make a man stop in his tracks and wonder what random decision taken recklessly years ago might have changed forever the course of his life and brought him... Here.

Apparently, what does it for Dean is opening the door for the underground bunker he calls a home (after inheriting it from the secret society his grandfather was a part of) and finding himself face to face with the white cluster of a fake spider web.

“What the...?”

His green, sniper trained, eyes flicker from the fake bats on the roof to the cut-outs of smiling white ghost, and land over the plastic jack-o-lantern glowing from the center of the dinner table. And. Yeah. Those are definitely Halloween decorations all over the Men Of Letters' bunker.

"Saaam? Cas?" he yells, absent-mindedly walking into the kitchen to leave the grocery bags he's still carrying on top of the counter.

When a good 30 seconds pass without an answer, he heads to the library. The hallway (naturally) is also cluttered with Party City's tackiest mummy-witch-Frankenstein banners.

When he reaches the library, he's met with the sight of his brother, his partner, and their collective son (it's complicated), sitting around the table, with painted fake scars on their faces.

“Um, hello?” he asks from the doorway, louder than necessary, to get their attention as he widely waves both of his hands at the sides of his face.

“Hi!” Jack smiles at him openly, with fake fangs on his teeth.

Cas turns around to face him, and his smile is softer, but his eyes light with it the way they usually do when he looks at Dean.

His angel's voice is a deep rumble that does things to Dean's body when he says, “Hello, Dean.”

He's not used to it yet. Being on the receiving end of such devotion can be overwhelming and Dean still has to actively remind himself that he deserves this. He gets to have this, gets to have Cas, that he's worthy of Cas' love, that good things do happen to him. And sometimes –not often, but each day a little bit more– he manages to convince himself of it.

“Hey.” is all Sam says, not even looking up from where he's sticking a prosthetic wound to Jack's hand, “did you get the Greek yogurt I like?”

“Yeah. Uhh...” Dean walks towards the table where his weird-ass family sits, frown still on his face and confused as he'll ever be, “Care to explain the...?” he gestures vaguely with his left hand, the right one easily settling on Cas' shoulder in front of him.

“It's Halloween!” Jack answers, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, no, I gathered that. But, um... Why?”

Sam shrugs, “Why not? We've never had a proper Halloween before.”

“Yeah, maybe because our whole lives are a Halloween special, like, all the time?”

“Come on, it's fun!”

“To turn the bunker into a haunted house?” he asks, eyebrows rising to meet his hairline.

“Dean.” Cas interjects, throwing his head back to look up at him, “We've been to haunted houses before, they look nothing like this.”

He rolls his eyes at Cas' Casness, and also at the fake wound and stitches on his left cheek.

“You look ridiculous, you know that? And don't encourage him!” he quips back, pointing a finger at Cas' face.

“Jack wanted to watch the Nightmare before Christmas tonight”, is what Cas says, instead of acknowledging Dean's words.

Slowly, he blinks up at Dean, toeing dangerously close to batting eyelashes territory, “I was thinking... ” he places a hand on top of Dean's where it rests on his shoulder and starts softly stroking at the knuckles, “We can make some popcorn and maybe bake a pumpkin pie later?”

And Dean snorts because he knows damn well that "we" actually means "you". But Cas is looking up at him with those impossibly deep eyes, and his eyebrows knit together and his lips slightly pursed. And. Yeah, that is definitely his puppy face. The bastard. He knows Dean can never say no to that face.

After a few seconds of holding onto that ocean blue stare, he sighs.

“Fine.” he says, dramatically rolling his eyes before bringing his head down to capture Cas' lips.

“Ugh. Get a room.”

And he can hear the smile in his brother's voice. But he still uses his free hand to throw Sam a middle finger, before bringing it to rest on Cas' jaw and deepening their Spiderman kiss.

“They have a room, though,” he hears Jack whisper, more to himself than anything.

But it's still enough to make Dean break the kiss and start laughing until his stomach hurts. Because. What the hell is his life. How did he end up on pie duty for a nephilim in an underground bunker covered in Halloween decorations.

He doesn't know. But Sam pats him on the back on his way to get the popcorn started, and Jack is thrilled about his cheap plastic fangs, and Cas' eyes crease at the corners when he smiles at him.

And all Dean can think is, whatever random decision he took on a whim years ago that brought him here... he sure as hell is thankful for it.

[lesvegas]

ritchie’s🎃💀 ABCs of Horror Movie Marathon!! 💀🎃

Horror movie challenge prompted by @quintsmachete

Day One - A is for An American Werewolf in London (1981)

An American Werewolf in London has been on the unwritten 'to watch' list in the back of my mind since I started coming to terms with horror as a genre nearly a decade ago, but it never really felt like the right time to watch this until today. There's a ton of horror movies I still need to see as a relatively new viewer, and I couldn't think of a better way to start a marathon of horror movies I've yet to see with one that's been on my peripheral for years now.

I think I just knew I was going to love this movie as soon as the opening credits kicked in to the tune of a Blue Moon cover; and like Johnny Guitar in Johnny Guitar (1954), the song is used multiple times throughout the movie in different styles. This might not seem that important but it did add a lot of charm by default for me, so I feel like I couldn't not mention it.

Right off the bat, movie really taps into a lot of nostalgia for me even though I've never seen it before. It felt very reminiscent of all the werewolf-themed TV show specials I grew up watching around Halloween, which did mean I could predict quite a bit, but I think the fact that I only got more invested as it went along despite that gives the movie a lot of credit. It hits all the notes one would expect from a modern werewolf movie, and it hits them well. Much of the beginning of the movie is almost pleasantly ominous, with nice tension leading up to the initial werewolf attack that turns the protagonist, David. The attack itself is very early 80s; we don't see much of the wolf, but we do get to see some good but not extreme gore that would net this film an R rating even if there weren't boobs later on. The rest of the werewolf attacks that follow are more or less the same, and we don't get to see much of the wolf until the end, and even then it's. Well. It's aged. But I still liked it.

Speaking of effects, that first transformation sequence is easily one of the best, most horrifying w- no, not even werewolf, just transformation scenes in general. From the bones crunching to the extremities elongating, from the fur growing to the face distorting, it leaves very few details out and is honestly refreshing after seeing countless transformation sequences cheap out with fast cuts and keeping it mostly off-camera. We get two sequences with the second one being much shorter, but it felt like more than enough the first time. One last note about the effects and make-up: I LOVE how Jack (David's best friend who died to the werewolf that turned him) keeps showing up more and more decayed every time he tries to warn him. I thought he'd just look as torn-up as he did when he died but the fact that he continues to decay because he's undead and not just a ghost was such a nice touch.

I will admit the one thing I felt the movie might have been lacking in was comedy, but only because it's labelled as 'horror/comedy'. I wouldn't say it doesn't count as a comedy, but none of the scenes really made me laugh that hard. I mean there were still scenes that made me laugh in general; every time David's dreams get more and more extreme, how he tried to get arrested by offending a cop with some extremely dated remarks, the theatre scene where his victims propose methods of ending his life; there's a lot of moments that range from silly to hilarious especially if it's been a while since you've seen a movie from before 2010. I just went in expecting there to be a little more of that. I think I'll enjoy it more on rewatch with tempered expectations.

There's a lot of other things I really liked that I jotted down but don't really have super detailed thoughts about:

I love how the first dreams David starts having where he's running and hunting in the woods just feels like the kind of dreams a dog or cat or wolf would have

I love how it's not really clear whether David is losing his mind, just suffering from trauma, or is genuinely being contacted by Jack, or some mix of all three

I really do like how much of a time capsule this movie is, especially the subway scene with all the early 80's punks and the old ads

I like how the beats and lore really feel based on/inspired by old werewolf movies without mocking them

(cw self harm) I don't know if it's because I also have a younger brother and sister and have also gotten really close to self-harming or even attempting before backing off, but the moment where David calls his little sister who's only 10 but left home alone to tell the family that he loves them before he tries to cut himself with a small knife in a phone booth really uh. Really hit close to home there. In a good way. The scene felt a little silly (he's trying to kill himself in a London phone booth in the middle of a busy street for fuck's sake) but real to me.

The climax was literally a car crash I didn't want to look away from. The ending felt genuinely tragic before it was abruptly cut off by the silliest rendition of Blue Moon, but it made me laugh and just felt right for this movie somehow.

On a final note, they very end of the credits congratulates Princess Diana and Prince Charles on their engagement which happened that same year, and I found that unintentionally, darkly funny. This movie really is a time capsule in the best ways. Oh, and the moral of the story is something I already learned at the age of 14: small towns SUCK.

My arbitrary rating is: Four outta five quid 💷💷💷💷🗌