#haunted mansion purse

[deebrisbyfish]

This is a strip where what's shown actually happened this time LAST year, but I didn't think to make a comic out of it until THIS year. (And yes, I DID successfully wear the suit to the pool!) Rest assured, that follow-up will make it into the strip for next Summer, for sure.

[plasticfashiondotpng]

Haunted Mansion Fashion Pack - Disney ily 4EVER

source

[dr-fumbles-mcstupid]

I've been in sewing hell for the past two weeks and will continue to be next week as well. I'm selling at Tucson comic con and I procrastinated.

But hey look at the hella cute purses I am gonna be selling

[2-dsimp]

===+====+======+==

Yandere monster gang

Introducing the poltergeist

===+====+======+==

(Fem! Reader)

===+====+======+=========

Cw: 🔞MDNI🔞 Slight smonophillia, slight degradation, slight rough play, facials, non-con, humiliation, titfuck, M! Oral receive

===+====+======+==

Yandere poltergeist who loves to watch you at every second of the day, In his lonesome plane of existence since you were the only source of happiness he could get due to his unfortunate circumstances. Which made you feel chills and goosebumps prickle on your skin whenever you could feel a presence. It didn’t matter if you were eating, sleeping, changing, or even taking a shower you’ve always felt as if you weren’t alone.

Yandere poltergeist who’s not shy to say hello with a lecherous grin on his face as his materialized hand gave the fat of your ass a smack while you passed him walking down the hallway to your room. Making you squeak, startled from the invisible force that assaulted your butt. But to no avail you kept on moving with the motive of brushing it off as a weird occurrence trying not to dwell on it too much.

Yandere poltergeist who is an attention whore that finds it amusing to watch you shrivel up in fear and scramble to find logical explanations for the little pranks he’s done in mansion. By leaving harsh markings in the form of bites or scratches that form scraggly initials on your skin, jerking off traces of his essence into the foods that you cook, and messily smearing mysterious goop on your panties, bras, and sheets on your bed so that it stains. He just loved the adorable expression of confusion and conflict making your face scrunch up in a cute frown.

Yandere poltergeist who was slowly starting to get irritated from the lack of reactions he’s been getting from you as you became more accustomed to the strange instances of random noises, missing items, knocked over books, and featherlight caresses of your body. The last straw was when you invited someone over without his permission his vision turning red as he saw them putting their hands over what’s his.

Yandere poltergeist that decides to take it into his own hands to punish his darling…

Yandere poltergeist who hovers above your defenseless body sprawled out in the bed. While he began to start using up the energy he’s saved up in return for halting his daily routine of actively haunting his darling. Taking advantage of the fact that you’re a heavy sleeper he put the ropes he found in the basement to use and tied your wrists and ankles down to the bed post. He planned to teach his darling some manners and make it so you respected his house rules.

Yandere poltergeist who greedily caresses every curve and crease of your skin while practically tearing off the thin layers of your sleeping pajamas. Exposing your breast and delectable pussy to his viewing pleasure before he uses his cold materialized hands to roughly grope and tweak at your hardened nipples which jolted you awake from your restful slumber as he’s leaving little love bites along the expanse of your neck.

Yandere poltergeist who smiles endearingly at your struggles and attempts at screaming for help at the sight of a faint mirage of a scruffy young lean man wearing glasses straddling you. while he continues to defile your body with his throbbing cold length that rubbed against your belly button getting coated in his slimy pre. As he makes his way up towards your breasts dragging the fat leaking tip between the valley of your generous mounds.

Yandere poltergeist that sandwiched his pulsating cock in between your tits using his hands to take your soft flesh and languid thrusts up against your pursed lips in rapid succession. Enjoying the way your boobs bounced and jiggled with every jab of his translucent dick that kept on prodding at your full lips.

Yandere poltergeist that whispered words of flith into your ears

”I love it when you struggle sweetheart it turns me on so much that I wanna ruin you”

“Now Why don’t you open that sweet mouth of yours and suck my cock like a good little slut”

Yandere poltergeist who takes his hand and forcefully squish your cheeks so your lips open into an o shape perfect for him to fully rock himself inside the moist cavern of your mouth hissing at the blissful feel of you having no choice but to suck on his twitching dick violating your throat.

Yandere poltergeist who doesn’t last long due to having no prolonged physical contact in years and plants his hips against your face driving his the tip of his balls deep down your throat expelling all the pent up cum he had stored in his transparent balls with a relaxed moan.

Yandere poltergeist Having some semblance to realize that you were choking on his dick and begrudgingly pulled out from your mouth with a small pop and continued to spurt lines of his semen all over your face, neck, and tits. His eyes filled with desire and satisfaction at your lewd state enjoying the embarrassment and defeat washed on your face. Oh he was going to have so much fun with all the plans he’s got stored for his dearest houseguest.

Yandere poltergeist who will haunt you forevermore and keep his pretty houseguest as his sole form of entertainment

[mattsangel]

𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅│𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉… your stalker is tormenting you at a party, almost revealing his identity in the process. 

stalker!matt x goodgirl!reader, party scene (mention of alcohol use), cursing, smut (no actual sex), dirty talk, pet names

3k words

loud bass is blaring through the dark neighborhood, the annual start of the year party being held at one of the school’s rich kid’s mansion. in this part of town, the houses are enormous, almost looking like castles, and modern, with multiple luxury cars parked in the driveways, the selection varying between porches and audis leaving the streets vacant for guests to park their cars. just like every year, there are cars parked everywhere, the front lawn of the house is full of teens and red plastic cups. the fall air is crisp, but it’s not cold just yet.

your friends walk up the stairs to the beautiful white and grey house, giggling to themselves while you take your time, trailing behind and observing your surroundings. you’re wearing a beautiful short, open-back black dress with a pink bow in the back and some matching pink heels. your long hair is in loose curls, pulled back by a bow, leaving only the front pieces out to catch in your glittery lip gloss when the wind hits your face. 

as you’re observing the people around you, most are students you’ve run into in the hallways, some are from other schools, just there for booze and a good time, you notice a dark form next to the garage doors. it’s too dark for you to be able to make up a face, or any trait, but from their build you can tell that it’s a male. he’s definitely wearing dark clothes, but before you can observe him some more, he’s vanished towards the wooded area behind the house. shaking your head slightly, you make your way towards the open front door to find your friends.

the house is packed, the walls are shaking from how loud the music is. there is a beer pong tournament in one room and people dancing in another. drinks are being left on various surfaces of the house, confettis are on the floor and you can even spot discarded shoes and purses. you make your way to the kitchen, where you assume you will find a drink and your friends. after almost getting lost in the big house, you finally find a beautiful kitchen, with marble counters and gold accents. alongside bottles of various alcohols, a bowl of fruit punch that people spiked with god knows what and some cans of soda are a few chips bags half eaten. pushing those to the side, you grab a red solo cup and fill it with rum and coke, not being much of a drinker but wanting to loosen up a little bit for once. 

cup in hand, you make your way to the dance floor, where you finally find your friends dancing and laughing with what seems to be the guys of the football team. as you try to make your way to them, mumbling sorry’s to the people around and pushing your way across the dance floor, the arm of a drunk guy slaps your drink all over your dress, making the black fabric stick to your skin. without even looking your way, the guy walks away, not even bothering to say sorry or help you out. 

giving up on your friends, you beeline for the staircase leading up fancy, white and gold stairs to try and find a bathroom. you reek of alcohol, the smell so strong it is almost making you nauseous. the upstairs area is just as beautiful as the rest of the house, the ceilings high, walls decorated by art pieces that must be worth millions, although for the owners it must be only a dime in their pockets. there are many doors, you push them open one by one, in hopes that the next one might be a bathroom. 

it is much quieter in this part of the house, and it takes you a few minutes to realize that you aren’t alone upstairs. at first, you assume that it must be some drunken kid looking for some place to crash in or even a horny couple trying to make their way to a bed but soon enough, you notice that the footsteps are going in the same direction as you are. your heart racing, you don’t want to turn around to face them so you open the next door in front of you and go in, realizing that it is a big library, only illuminated by the street lights from outside. forgetting about the mysterious footsteps, you walk in further, looking to find a light switch and admire the beauty that is this place.

there are at least 20 aisle of books all the way down to a beautiful red velvet couch against the wall. the carpeted floors are making it a bit hard for you to walk in your heels so you carefully step out of them and walk around the shelfs, admiring the endless copies of books, going from encyclopedias to fictions and memoirs. as you run your fingers against the dusty book covers, you suddenly hear a door close and someone walk in. you look through the shelves, but it is too dark for you to make out much.

“who’s in here?” you say softly, hoping that it is someone you might know.

you get no answer, only hearing soft footsteps against the carpet making it’s way closer to you. as you try to walk away and closer to the door, you notice a black doc marten boot from the other side of the shelf you were hiding behind, as your eyes go up the form of the man, he turns around and walks to the other side of the room. he is wearing black pants and a black hoodie, making it impossible for you to know who he is.

your heart rate is spiking up, your face is hot but somehow, you refuse to leave without knowing who he is. pushing your curled hair behind your shoulder, you slowly walk in the same direction as the dark figure.

you take a deep breath before addressing him again, “do i know you?”

he leans back against the wall next to the couch, his hood covering the upper half of his face, “maybe”, the raspy, dark voice says.

a shudder goes through your body after hearing his voice, which you don’t recognize. you walk closer, intrigued and somewhat feeling brave. as you get closer to him, you can see that the lower half of his face is adorning some stubble, his pink lips glistening as he licks them.

“it would help if i could see your face, don’t you think?” you lean your hip against the shelf closest to you, as you speak.

the mysterious figure let’s out a dry laugh, “it’s more fun if you don’t.”

he makes his way to the couch, sitting down and spreading his legs slightly, his lap almost inviting, “liking what you see, princess?”

you bite your lip to stop the tiny smile making it’s way onto your lips. you’ve always loved the unknown, being intrigued by things you couldn’t decipher, “maybe, but i’d like to know who you are, mr. darkness.”

you see a dark smirk coming onto his lips at the nickname, “let’s play a game, then maybe you’ll get to know who i am.”

“what kind of game?” in a very concerning way, this turned you on. it shouldn’t. you should be scared, although you could admit you were a little. but after being sheltered and watched over your whole life, the word innocence being automatically attached to your name by everyone, you needed an escape. 

an escape in a sick and twisted game with a stranger that looked impossibly dangerous but oh so captivating.

he pushed his hips up a bit, getting more comfortable in the soft couch before rubbing a hand across his jaw, “i’m going to ask you ten questions and if you answer all of them truthfully, i’ll answer your questions. don’t try to lie to me.”

your breathing picks up, “and if i don’t tell the truth?”

“believe me, you don’t want to go there,” he says, his voice low, “i know everything, sweetheart.”

your pride and curiosity takes the best of you and suddenly, you find yourself standing closer to him, ready for his game to begin.

it can’t be that bad.

he clears his throat, “question number one,” he pauses for a second, “what perfume are you wearing?”

you frowned, not understanding what kind of questions he’s asking. and for what?, “chanel number 5. always has, always will.”

“good,” he nods slowly, “question two, what shade of lipstick do you have on right now?”

“charlotte tilbury pillowtalk,” you continue, “how do you know i’m not lying?”

“i told you,” a dark smiles appear on his lips, “i know everything about you.”

you feel his gaze on your body, but his hood is still a bit too low for you to see much of his face.

“question three, what chapter of your favorite book do you keep rereading?”

his questions are getting weirder, “chapter twenty three.”

he hums, “it is a very good chapter,” he clears his throat, “question four, what color of underwear are you currently wearing?”

your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting such an intrusive question, and you choose to mess with him a little, “they’re purple.”

a sinister laugh comes out of his mouth as he gets up and walks towards you, “i thought you were a smart girl, y/n.”

you start to walk backwards, your back hitting the bookshelf behind you, trapping you, “i am smart.”

he tsk, using his two fingers to lift your jaw, “smart girls don’t lie,” he says, “and you don’t own a pair of purple underwear, you hate that color.”

shock takes over you as you realize that this man knows a lot more than you could imagine, “how would you even know that?”

“stupid question,” he answers, “you’re wearing pink lace panties.”

as you try to answer, he surprises you by grabbing your lower half, and swinging you over his shoulders, walking towards the couch. the alcohol on your dress now dry, only leaving the smell of rum lingering on you.

as he throws you down, your dress lifts up, revealing your light pink panties, “beautiful,” he says as sits next to you.

you pull down the hem of your dress, sitting down straight as you study the man, who is now very close to you. you can smell his cologne, and notice that his left sleeve has moved, revealing dark tattoos.

“what happens now?” you whisper in the silent room, now noticing that it started raining outside.

his right hand comes up, and he caresses your bare shoulder, gently removing your hair from there, “i’m going to have to punish you.”

his words make the pit of your stomach burn with excitement, arousal pooling in your now soaked panties, making you squeeze your legs together. 

this doesn’t go unnoticed as he looks down and licks his lips, letting out a small laugh, “but you won’t make this too hard for me, now will you, honey.”

you shake your head, “no, i won’t.”

“good,” he spreads his legs and pats his lap, “be a good girl and lay across my thighs. on your belly.”

you do as you are told, climbing over his lip and settling on your stomach, your head laying on the armrest. you feel his hands travel up your legs, stopping at your thighs before he roughly pulls the skirt of your dress over your ass, bunching it up on your hips. 

a low grunt comes out of him, as he caresses your now pantie-clad ass, “you know what happens to liars, right, y/n?”

you nod and he slaps your ass hard, “i need words, baby.”

“yes,” you whisper.

“what happens to liars, uh?” he smooths his hands over your ass before landing another hard slap.

you let out a hiss, “they get p-punished.”

the mystery man hums, slapping your ass again, “that’s right, honey,” he runs a hand up your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair, making the ribbon fall out, “but you’re a good girl aren’t you? you’ll take it well for me.”

as you squeak out a yes, he grabs both of your arms, crossing them behind your back and using the pink ribbon to tie them up, “that’s better.”

“count them with me, baby,” he says as he slaps your left ass cheek this time, harder. 

“one,” you say softly, your eyes watering from the pain.

he lands another one, “two.”

and another one, “three.”

once he gets to ten, you let out a sob that you’ve been holding for too long. the pain is making your ass cheeks burn, but your now soaked underwear is telling him that you secretly love it.

just as you think that he is about to slap your ass an eleventh time, he starts rubbing it in an almost tender way, “good girl, you did so good for me.”

“i think you deserve a reward,” he says moving his hand in between your thighs, pressing it onto your aching pussy, “what do you think?”

you nod vigorously, needing some sort of relief, “yes, please.” you whine out.

he starts to rub circles on to your covered clit, “you’re so wet, honey, is it all for me?”

“yes,” you try to muffle your moan by biting your lip.

he slaps your pussy lightly, “i want to hear you, don’t do that.”

he finally grabs the top of your soaked, lace panties and removes them, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, before running his fingers through your folds, “making a mess on my fingers already.”

he pushes his thick, middle finger inside of you, making your back arch into him and a high pitches moan come out of your mouth, “never had something so big inside of you before uh?”

he picks up his pace, as you start grinding onto his leg, looking for some more friction, “look at you, being so desperate for someone you don’t even know,” his other hand comes to grab at your neck from the side, squeezing it just the right amount, “i know you’ve been longing for this, baby, i know this is what you’ve always wanted.”

his words could make you think that he did know everything. like he knew that at night, you would watch videos of girls getting spanked and fucked by masked men, to get off. like he knew that you always secretly dreamed of being choked and tied up. like he knew that from the moment you saw him, all mysterious and dark , you weren’t instantly attracted to him.

as you get closer to your release, a familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach, his fingers pick up their speed, his breath hot on your back, “you look so pretty like this, all tied up and soaking my fingers.”

this is enough for you to come undone onto his fingers, your release coating your inner thighs and his hand, he removes his fingers and let out a satisfied hum before his other hand comes to grab at your hair, making your head turn towards his still hidden face. 

“look at that mess you’ve made on me, sweetheart,” you see his glistening fingers as he brings them to his mouth and suck on them, making your jaw hang slightly, “taste so good.”

after removing his fingers from his mouth, the brings them to yours, “taste yourself.”

you let out a moan as you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it. he takes them out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and starts untying the ribbon lacing your arms together. when your arms are finally free, he sits you up straight against the couch, letting you catch your breah for a minute.

just when you’re about to open your mouth to speak again, he gets up and walks towards the door, your pink and still wet panties still hanging out of his hoodie pocket.

just when he is about to grap the knob and open the door he turns slightly towards you and says, “see you around, pretty girl. next time, don’t lie to me.”

he closes the door behind him, and just like that, you are left completely on your own, the sticky mess still in between your thighs, your hair disheveled and absolutely confused as to what just happened.

when you finally get yourself together and go to put on your shoes, a small piece of paper falls down from the strap of your dress onto the floor. you pick it up and open it.

i’ll be watching you, darling. keep being a good girl and you might find me again.

and it’s signed; mr. darkness.

a few days later, as you get home from school, you find a bouquet of pink roses on your bed with a small note attached to it. you look around before opening it.

meet me at the abandoned house on main street friday at ten o’clock.

you smile down at the note, carefully putting it in your bedside table drawer, alongside all the other ones your stalker has been leaving around for you. 

© 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆; i’m thinking of maybe making a series out of this one since you guys are just as obsessed with stalker!matt as i am… i love writing him, let me know if you’d want more! i love you guys x

[cherryrikis]

OPERATION: LOCKDOWN - 008 ! mickey and minnie

pairing -> gamer!riki x beauty influencer!fem reader

synopsis -> you hated gamers. riki hated ulzzang’s (except you). so after weeks of fighting to be the top streamer, (and riki’s poor attempts to charm you), he suggests to collaborate so you could both be number one. you tried to keep it professional. but the more time you spent producing content together, the more you realized just how much nishimura riki really meant to you.

previous <> masterlist <> next

“riki! give me back my phone!” you gasped, seeing as he was texting minjeong and karina in the group chat. you didn’t bother asking if he saw any of your texts because you had nothing to hide.

riki pouted playfully, but still put the device into your open purse when you put your wallet away.

“here.” you said, taking the mickey ears out the plastic gift bag. “i wasn’t sure what you wanted but i knew you didn’t want something basic. so i got you this pirate themed one.” you showed the headband to him, lightly toying with it.

“it’s perfect.” riki assured as he gently held your wrist. “sorry..”

“let me put it on for you!” you squealed. you tapped his shoulder, gesturing for him to bend down.

“one sec.” he muttered, before taking off his current headband. “okay, go.”

you replaced his sweatband with the mickey ears, lightly fluffing up his hair as it was flattened by the headband. “looks good. thank you.”

“yeah of course. see, look! now we’re matching. we’re like mickey and minnie.” you exclaimed. riki smiled at your enthusiasm, but quickly stopped as he felt his cheeks grow warm.

“i never understood the concept behind these headbands anyway. but, it’s cute.”

“well it’s your first time at disneyland! i thought i should make it special for you.” “you’ve definitely succeeded so far, y/n.”

“hi guys! this is the first vlog after a long few months, since i’ve been so busy with modeling. nevertheless! this is a very special video. as you can see, i’m here at disneyland. but i’m not alone! because im here with…” you introduced, before the camera was turned around. “yo, this is nishiriki2005. you can call me riki.” he waved with a peace sign, before focusing the lens back onto you.

“we just got off pirates of the caribbean, and we’re about to get in line for haunted mansion. so stay tuned.” you smiled. “aaaaand, cut.” riki droned on, before signaling the recording ended.

“your online persona really is different from your real personality.” you hummed.

“you said that when we did the baking live. which do you like more?” he raised a brow with genuine curiosity.

“i like both. but the real you is my favorite.” you whispered as you held his hand tighter.

wait. pause. when did you start holding hands?

“now let’s go! i need content!” you laughed, before dragging him into the line.

“this is my favorite part of the ride.” you said to riki, not realizing you were yelling because of how loud the music was.

you quickly started recording and flipped the camera around to the grand hall scene, making sure your lens picked up the ballroom ghosts.

“how do you feel riki?” “yeah, i see why you like it. it’s beautiful.”

he gently took the camera out your hands as your vehicle moved past the scene. with his right arm, riki held the camera out facing you both. you stifled a chuckle as he grew startled, when the ride turned backwards and dropped.

riki wasn’t aware that his fingers were still interlocked with your warm ones. but you didn’t mind. his hand was cold. you liked the balance.

after you cleared a few more rides (including indiana jones, big thunder mountain, matterhorn, etc.), riki wanted to skip fantasyland (and whatever else you hadn’t gone to yet) because he also bought tickets to go to disney california adventures.

so, you left disneyland, and walked to the other side of the entrance, to california adventures.

originally, going to both parks wasn’t the plan. you didn’t want riki to spend so much on you, (even after you insisted to pay him, he refused), but riki heard so much about the latter park, he was certain he’d like it just as much.

he was right, almost. he liked it even more than disneyland. the rides were so much bigger and more intense.

currently, it was around 10pm. the park wouldn’t be closing until midnight seeing as it was a saturday. you two were stationed across from each other, outside of the restaurant ‘lucky fortune cookery’ in san fransokyo square.

the camera was propped up on a napkin holder, slightly facing away from you. riki was doing a mini mukbang segment for his channel (and a small part of your vlog), while you were eating in the background.

“so, riki.” you started speaking before taking a bite of your birria ramen. “what are your top 5 rides from both parks as a first time enjoyer?”

riki put his potsticker down and gasped. “that’s such a hard question! i can’t even decide right now with all this good food overwhelming me. you go first.”

“alright.” you chuckled. “in order, probably.. radiator springs for sure, and toy story mania second. hmm..” you hummed in thought.

“see! it’s a tough situation.” he laughed.

“alright! okay, i’ll prove it’s not. haunted mansion, star wars, and incredicoaster, that’s 5.” you exclaimed. riki lifted one hand up, giving you a high five.

“okay now me! definitely guardians of the galaxy as number one. then, incredicoaster second. matterhorn, radiator springs, and indiana jones!”

“perfect.” you said in awe, reaching to high five him with both hands. riki interlocked your fingers with his, but then reality hit you.

you froze, before gently pulling away. you realized you were getting too close, too comfortable. and you shut down, like you always did with any boy after gunwook. even sometimes seunghan.

you looked down, too scared to make eye contact. but when you did, riki smiled at you, before going back to eating his food.

it was silent for a moment, but not awkward at all. it was slightly comforting, even after the little moment you had.

“y/n..” he started. “i know, i’m sorry. i don’t know why it happens, i just-” you cut him off, beginning to ramble. but riki stopped you. he reached for your hand, holding it softly. “it’s not that. i just think that i know why.”

“you do? how..?” “it’s some kind of trauma response to gunwook. you shut down because you’re scared it’ll happen again.”

he took note of your silence. riki knew what you were thinking, it was written all over your face. “yeah, i know. sunoo and sunghoon told me.”

you nodded in response, before mumbling something. riki almost didn’t catch it, but hes glad that he did. “can i sit next to you?”

“of course you can.” he whispered back. riki pulled out the metal chair next to him, so you can take your place.

slowly, you leaned closer to him, before finally resting your shoulder in the crook of his neck. riki slightly flinched at the contact, but instinctively wrapped his arm tight around your waist.

“i’m tired.” you mumbled. “it’s okay. i’ll wake you up when it’s time to go home.” he said, bringing his free hand up to cradle your cheek.

“riki?” “i know.” riki sighed. “but you can trust me. i’ll never hurt you the way he did.” he muttered, before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. and that’s all you remembered, before falling into a deep sleep.

taglist ! (bold = cannot be tagged) @hannicorpse @gyuvision @yvjw @chaevibes @sakiimeo @allforhee @streamluckybyriize @soobinbunnie5 @lalaisve @xyzyx01 @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @brideslit @t0asterexe @ikeujyn @jaemified @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic @sirens-dreams @rikisgeef @i03jae @iheartshopping @wensurr @heartheejake @moonpri @nshmra-on-air @heeseungismymanz @st1llm0nster @ningx2stan @onlyhyunjin @d-dilemma @jjongarlic02 @wonkixo @kkamismom12 @jiyeons-closet @pshbites @haechansbbg @aeminju @xoxol3a @rairaiblog @kang-ulzzang @riksaes @kittsnewera @enhajungwonheart @madebylilia @orimuraa @heeheeswifey @artstaeh @r1kification @pinksdump @joyzluvr @academiq @sincerelyrki @tocupid

[lovelytsunoda]

kill of the night // lando norris

summary: she hates parties. especially quadrant parties hosted in large creepy mansions. at least the hot pirate hosting the party is into her, or she would have left ages ago.

pairing: lando norris x female reader

warnings: consumption of alcohol, lando cannot take anything seriously to save his life, the eerie feeling of being watched (anxiety or haunted house, you decide), pirate themed sexual innuendos, mention of spiders (arachnophobia warning!) reader has mild autism

the lights were low and the music loud as she pushed her way through the crowd, desperate for a drink and a moment of peace. the music was bad (some club mix of the rocky horror picture soundtrack) and all she wanted was for her massive headache to go away.

too bad she didn’t drink often. maybe something stronger than a hard lemonade would make this evening bearable.

she sat at the bar, feeling the eerie sensation of all eyes on her as she scanned the sea of bodies for the slew of other glittery fairy wings she had arrived with. she didn't even know some of the girls that well. all of the girls from her program had been invited, and she was trying to be a team player.

one girl was making out with a stranger, two others playing beer pong. the rest were lost to the crowd, dancing in ways that would definitely have disappointed their parents.

when the tuxedoed bartender came back with the crystal tumbler that had her vodka lemonade in it, she frowned at the tiny plastic sword, a gummy worm speared through it.

she just wanted a normal fucking drink.

sighing, she grabbed the glass and got to her feet, sending one last glance to the other girls before she started making her way towards the exit, mindful of the massive plastic wings strapped to her back. she had half a mind to just rip them off and throw them into the nearest trash can.

the outside hallway wasn't much better, and she found herself reaching into her purse for her airpods, less for music and more to just to cancel out the noise. she extracted the green plastic sword, taking the gummy worm off the plastic and dropping it into her mouth. the dj was playing ghostbusters, and she wanted nothing more than to be back home in her small, peaceful dorm, wrapped in her fleece blanket and reading 'love in the time of serial killers', or in the warm movie theatre watching 'a haunting in venice'.

instead she was here.

folding the small sword over in her hands, she grabbed her drink from the side table and made her way down the dreary hallway to get some fresh air.

the outside of the mansion was peaceful, if not a little disused. the hedges were neatly trimmed, the flowers well tended to as she sat down on a stone bench, the cold from the surface seeping in through the fabric of her dress as she took a sip of her drink.

truth be told, the peaceful atmosphere of the large, creepy mansion had been one of the few reasons she had agreed to come, living out her 'haunted mansion' fantasy: ghost who's been pining after her for centuries, the promise of eternal love. all but the evil ghost butler trying to kill her.

"the party's inside, you know!" a shout carried over the breeze, bristol accent sharp.

she yelped, dropping her drink and watching the glass shatter against flagstone.

"jesus! you can't just sneak up on people like that!" she shouted, yanking out her earbuds. "what is wrong with you, you fucking wanker!"

she got to her feet, spinning around to see who had spoken. he was tall enough (taller than her at least), dressed in a billowy white shirt and leather vest, leather breeches hugging his impressive thighs, a mane of curly brunette hair on the top of his head, and a fake sword strapped to his thigh.

at least, she hoped it was fake.

"woah, hang on." he frowned, coming closer to her. he looked like a prince, straight out of a disney movie. "i didn't mean to scare you."

could this be him? the ghost lover from her haunted mansion fantasy?

"it's fine. i guess i'm just jumpy. mansions that are almost certainly haunted will do that to a girl." she took a step back, trying to avoid the smashed glass as she turned, intending to go back to the stone bench before her wing got caught on a hedge. she cursed, resisting the urge to yank at the iridescent plastic.

"let me help." the stranger encouraged, coming closer to the hedge.

she shook her head. "it's fine, just let me take it off my back."

she gently eased out of the elastic straps securing the wings to her body, attempting to make it happen as gracefully as possible. one wing snapped back and smacked her in the face, and she tried to shake it off as she moved away, allowing them to dangle dejectedly from the hedge.

the prince came to stand beside her, his cologne overloading her senses as her reached over her to help disentangle the wings, his body heat against her back making her skin flush.

"here you go." his voice was soft as her passed her back her costume.

she could have left the wings there, she'd only paid three dollars to make them. she folded them up, placing the scratchy plastic on the stone bench before looking down at the shattered crystal.

“sorry about the glass. you’ll probably have to pay for it, being the host and all.”

“how did you know I was the host?”

her face blushed pink “havw you ever seen the haunted mansion? the original one with eddie murphy and wallace shawn?”

she gave him an opening, ready to hide her face behind her hands if it didn’t work out. there was a slight pause, and then he burst out laughing.

“you think that I’m some dead ghostly prince searching for his lost love?” he sputtered. “hate to break it to ya, tinker bell, but I’m not a prince, and I am very much alive.”

“I never said you were dead!” she crossed her arms indignantly, stomping one sneaker-clad foot against the flagstones.

chuckling, the suitor extended his hand. “I’m lando.”

“y/n.” she sighed, reaching to shake his hand. “sorry about the hostility, I just felt overstimulated in there. it’s the ‘tism in me.”

lando gestured for her to sit on one of the benches, looking out at the algae-caked fountain. it smelled earthly, yet his cologne was still all she could comprehend.

“have you had a chance to explore the house? based solely on your haunted mansion statement, I feel like that would be something you were in to.”

“it’s the only reason I came, truth be told. I hate parties, but some of the girls o study with thought it would be a good idea. what i didn’t realize was that we’d all be packed into the ballroom and pretty much the rest of the house would be off limits.”

lando laughed, straddling the bench next to her, one leg on either side. not very prince-like, if you had asked y/n. “well, I didn’t pick the venue. you can thank max and steve for that.”

“I don’t know who either of those people are.”

“I work with them in quadrant, they’re hosting this thing. I’d stepped out for a minute to take a business call.”

she snorted. “you? a business call?”

“what’s so hard to believe about that?” lando feigned offence, smacking his chest with his palm. “and why did your mind immediately go to the haunted mansion when you saw me? I was going for less master gracey and more will turner.”

“please, you’re jack sparrow at best. I can tell you bought your little pirate outfit at spirit halloween. and if my first instinct was that you were dressed as a prince, something is missing.”

she propped one leg lengthwise on the bench, tucking one sneaker-clad foot under the other, smoothing her dress over as to not give the man in front of her a glaring look at her dusty pink panties (although an intrusive thought did prompt her to wonder what would happen if she did).

“have you had a chance to explore the mansion yet?” she asked the man. well, the boy. he couldn’t have been too much older than she was.

lando shook his head, a few errant curls falling from his shaggy hair and over his eyebrows, and something about the way he shook his head to clear the curls from his eyes had her mouth watering. she wondered briefly what it would be like to kiss him.

“i saw a bit of it when we were bringing everything in. it’s a maze of service tunnels and secret doors. i actually got myself locked in a cellar.” lando laughed, and the butterflies erupted in her stomach, a giddy feeling spreading through her bones. “and that’s why ria thought it would be a good idea to cordon off most of the house. so that idiots like me didn’t get themselves locked in anywhere they couldn’t get out of.”

she raised an eyebrow, almost questioning exaclty how th man in front of her got himself locked in a cellar before she thought better of it. “so you know where all these secret passageways are?”

lando wagged his eyebrows. “is that something you’re into?”

“why do you have to say it like that?” she giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth when she remembered how she usually looked when she laughed. “you make it sound weird. like a sex thing.”

“well, it’s not a sex thing,” lando reassured, stepping off the bench like he was dismounting a noble steed. “unless you want it to be? I’d be down to, uh, shiver your timbers in a secret hidden alcove.”

“not if you make bad pirate puns.” she rolled her eyes, taking landos extended hand in hers and allowing him to help her up. “but we can see where the night takes us.”

she shouldn’t have said that. why did she say that? would he think she was propositioning him?

the wind was breezy on her bare legs as lando led her across the moonlit backyard, pushing open the same door they had just come through. the family photos on the wall were old and faded, frames of orange gold around them. lando ushered her up the stairs, clouds of dust flying off the carpet as they ascended. the further up the stairs they moved, the mustier it smelled.

lando stopped her on the landing, hardwood covered in a threadbare oriental carpet, everything covered in a fine layer of dust, save for the cracked mirror.

"press on the edges of the fame, but stand back." lando suggested. "max brushed up against it earlier and almost got flung off the landing. it's a service entrance door."

"sick." she mumbled, pressing her slender fingers along the filigree gold frame. "just like this? do you remember where the latch was?"

"if i did, i'd have opened the door myself." he shrugged.

all at once, she felt the mirror give way under her hand, a clicking sound barely audible as the door began to move. lando reached for her hand, gently pulling her out of the line of fire.

"that was fucking awesome." she giggled, pulling her phone out of her purse and switching on the flashlight. "you know we need to go in there now, right?"

"just as long as you can get us back out." lando pleaded. "i don't want to die in a service tunnel."

she lead the way up the stone staircase, her flashlight illuminating the pounds of dust and cobwebs (as well as the occasional lump that might have been a dead rat, but she actually didn't want to know).

"if i see any big ass spiders in here, killing them is your job." she tried to keep her voice steady, but the thought of a massive spider crawling up her leg was not her idea of a good time. in fact, it would likely send her into hysterics.

they reached the top of the winding staircase, coming to rest in front of a large wooden door with a wrought iron knocker shaped like medusa's head. the hinges were slightly rusted, and it was clear that nobody had come up here for a while.

until them, of course, their footsteps clearly imprinted in the dusty stairs below.

"well, it would be a shame to turn back now." lando remarked, reaching for the door handle. it was stiff, but the room was unlocked.

she followed lando inside, reaching blindly for the old dial lightswitch on the wall. the room flickered to life, lit by two dull bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

a large bookshelf took up one wall, a dust and dirt caked window overlooking the grounds on another, equipped with a window seat for reading. a small crosley record player sat on a teak stand, pressed up against a wall painted an off cinnamon color. she walked to the milk crates stacked neatly next to the the player, flipping through well-worn vinyls.

"whoever was last up here was really into seventies disco. we've got abba, donna summer, elton john, blondie, hot chocolate, earth wind and fire." she mused, pulling a blondie album out of the basket. "although i always considered blondie to be more new wave than anything."

lando reached over her, his chest just faintly burshing up against her arm, body heat causing her skin to flush as he grabbed an elton john record from the basket.

"elton john? now this guy wrote some great stuff."

"nothing in this basket is organized in any way! they've got wild cherry at the front with earth, wind and fire, but blondie is pushed way to the back with chaka khan and ike and tina. no rhyme or reason! i have half a mind to rearrange it myself."

the record player crackled to life, the sound coming out of two old wooden marley speakers, a sound system that hadn't been updated in a while but still came through crisp as they day it was put together. elton john and kiki dee's duetting voices began to fill the room, and lando extended a hand.

"can i have this dance, my fair maiden?"

she smiled, leaning against the stack of milk crates. "i dunno. ladies like me don't dance with scoundrels like you."

"but a scoundrel like me will show you a damn good time. if you let me, of course."

giggling, she grabbed his hand, allowing the young man to twirl her in a circle before dipping her towards the floor, her hair dusting the shag carpet. soon, their laughter was louder than the stereo itself.

out of breath, their gleeful dance began to slow. they stood in the middle of the dimly lit room, 'don't go breaking my heart' playing lowly in the background, the thumping bass from the ballroom travelling upstairs as lando leaned in.

the craned her face up, pressing on to her tip toes to meet him halfway, brushing her lips against his before her pulled her in for more, his strong arms like a safety net around her body, ready to catch her if her knees buckled (which she was almost sure they would).

"i've gotta hand it to ya, captain. you're one smooth operator." she giggled, kissing him again. "i wonder what else you can do with that tongue?"

"come dock in my port, and you'll find out."

she burst out laughing, dropping her arms to playfully smack him in the chest. "that was your worst pick up line yet!"

"really? i've got a ton more, read up for this very occasion. what else have i got? there's 'i sure would like to pillage your booty', but that one sounds a little sleazy, 'not only do i have a ship, but it's a long one."

"oh my god, you need to stop. they're all as bad as the one that came before." she was laughing so hard there were tears in the corners of her eye. he thought he was so suave, rattling off stupid pickup lines while he leaned against milk crates of vinyl pressings.

and the stupid thing was, it was working.

tired of listening to him ramble, she stalked over to him, grabbing his leather vest and pulling him in for another kiss.

TAGS: @userlando @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @scuderiamh @lorarri @cartierre @clemswrld @httpiastri @love4lando @silversainz @silverstonesainz @scuderiasundays

[audrey-carr1]

The Heiress and the Lady of the House (part 1)

Author's note: Due to a lack of Hetty x reader fics I decided to fix that. This will more than likely be a series! For future writings, I will take requests as well! Please don't be too upset with how i write because I'm still learning how to write for Hetty. We all know she's a simple yet complex lady. We learn as we go. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

warnings: fem!reader, hettyxreader

It was an accident when I stumbled upon the "Woodstone B&B "hiring ad". As a child visiting my grandmother, I remember riding my bike past the mansion. My grandmother used to take me trick or treating there, and the older woman who lived at the manor always gave the children king-sized candy bars.

After a near-death experience as a teen, I've been able to see ghosts. It began to happen on occasion before it became an everyday thing. I would pretend it wasn’t real and ignore every ghost I encountered. Unless they looked sorely out of place, I couldn't really tell if they weren't living anyway. Ignoring all of them had worked...at least up until I walked into the Woodstone B&B.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So is there a history convention in town or something?” I ask Sam teaches me the basics of the B&B website.

“Um no, why do you ask?” Sam questions nervously

“Because of the people in costume? Do you not see the Viking and Revolutionary officer in front of us?”

Sam gasps, “ Oh my gosh You can see them!?”

“She can see us?!” The two men ask.

“Am I not supposed to?” I asks

Sam quickly takes my hand and leads me into the living room. She has me sit and takes a seat in the spot next to me.

“What I’m about to say is going to seem absolutely insane,”

“Okay?” I say unsure of where Sam is taking this.

“This place is haunted, and everyone you see besides me and Jay are dead,” Sam explains

I didn’t mean to burst into laughter, but I did. How could something so absurd be true?

“My word what is all of this laughter about? Can you plebians be joyous outside of my napping hours,” a voice says

I turn to see a red-headed Victorian woman descend the main staircase. We both lock eyes and I feel as if time has stood still. My heart starts to beat a little faster and are my palms sweating? I could be mistaken but is that blush on the other woman's cheeks? "Can ghosts blush?" I ask myself

The redhead quirks and eyebrow before breaking the silence, “You can see me?”

Suddenly unable to speak I nod still looking into blue eyes.

“Hetty, this is (y/n). She is our new employee,”

“And she can see us? She’s not dead? How can you see us?”

Finally finding my words I reply, “I can see you, I’m not dead, and I’m not sure as to why I can see you but I can,”

“Did young girl fall and hit head like Sam?” The Viking asks

“I don’t remember falling recently,” I reply

“Have you always been able to see ghosts,” Sam turns and asks me.

“It’s a long complicated story, I’d rather not get into,” I say.

The redhead purses her lips not enthused by my answer. Soon I hear whispering of what I assume are the other ghosts.

“It’s okay guys, you can come out,” I say not sure of what could happen next.

Entering the room is a flapper, the Viking, the war officer, a hippie, an oversized Boy Scout, and a man without pants. My mind is filled with questions, but mainly I'm wondering why that man doesn’t have on pants. Before I can question his attire, Sam begins introducing everyone.

“There is one more of the main 8, his name is Sassapis, but we call him Sass. He’s out on a walk with Crash, our occasional headless ghost.”

“I see, well it’s nice to meet you all,” I say to them.

“Well go on tell us about your little cute self,” Alberta says “We want to know everything,”

“Well okay I’ve graduated college with a (insert major) degree, and my grandmother recently passed and left me with more money than I know what to do with. Which means I'm technically a heiress. I’m not sure I want to go into my field of work yet, that probably has something to do with my imposter syndrome. I’m an only child, my parents passed away when I was 19. Oh, I love jazz! I actually play piano and know almost all of the Jazz standards, my favorite pizza is pepperoni, and after reading a dystopian novel series I got into archery but that didn’t last long. Let’s see what else,” As I try to recall information I notice the redhead Victorian woman, Hetty looking at you. I begin to blush as I start my next sentence, “I was crowned queen at my senior prom, I love playing vintage Super Mario Brothers in my spare time, My favorite fish to cook is cod, I have a stuffed teddy bear named Daisy, and my favorite musical of all time is Hamilton,”

Isaac, the revolutionary war officer, scoffs and throws his hands up in exasperation while Hetty pats his shoulder while holding back a smirk.

“What about the juicy stuff, like do you have a significant other and have you ever killed someone?” Alberta asks.

“Oh well," I say a little overwhelmed, "I do not have a significant other, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. To answer your other question, I have not participated in a murder at least not to my knowledge,”

“Sam you have to keep her! She’s perfect for the job,” Flower says

“Except for the Hamilton thing,” Isaac says off the side.

“Plus she’s incredibly hot,” Trevor says. “Not like Tara Reid hot but she’s almost at your level Sam,”

Everyone rolls their eyes at his comment, “I find it best if you ignore his comments. He’s harmless ” The victorian woman who's the name I've learned is, Hetty, whispers in my ear and I try to ignore the sudden butterflies in my stomach. I don’t need to add attracted to a ghost to my resume.

“Well it seems like everyone is on board with you being here even though you were already hired. Why don’t we go back and get some training done,” Sam says heading back to the front desk.

I go to follow her, but I trip over my untied shoelace. Before I can hit the floor, I find myself caught by a pair of soft hands.

Everyone gasps, and I can tell it wasn’t from the fall.

“Did Hetty just catch a living?”

-end-

A/N: Oh I hope y'all don't hate it! This is the first fanfic I've written in about 11 years, so I'm a little rusty. As I said before this is the first part of this many-part series. I may even add this to AO3. Tell me what you think! Until later!

[paquerettexx]

edward hart — once more (one-shot)

he wishes to hear you call his name once more.

pairing: edward hart / reader

tags: angst, major character death

words: 1, 941

[cross-posted from ao3]

glossy eyes and a distracted expression. his dirty clothes were strewn across the floor and there were dishes piling up on his bedside table. edward could only focus his attention on the ceiling of his bedroom. rui does come by once in a while to clean up after him but that wasn't enough to keep it from becoming a mess again. edward wasn't this much of a slob; in fact, after centuries of living by himself, he'd watch his friends and loved once die off one by one, he had learned how to live by himself without anyone's interference. he's a proud vampire, the strongest one, the one no one could ever even think of harming. he was doing fine all on his own. he didn't need anyone– that was, and that has been always the case. everything stood true until he met you.

he once held your hand, bowing and leaning in to place a kiss on the back of your hand. he once held your hand flat against his chest– his heart wasn't beating, and he didn't even need to breathe but you told him that he still has a heart, you made his breath hitch in his throat even. indeed, though undead, he had used his heart to love you and only you. he once guided your hand to his shoulder and placed his hand on the curve of your waist. he once smiled at you and spun you around, hearing your mellifluous voice chuckle at his capricious actions. he once snapped his fingers and asked the piano anomaly for a music to slow dance to as he guided your head to the crook of his neck, basking in the candlelit silence of the haunted mansion's ballroom as you waltzed the night away in his embrace. he once plucked roses from the outdoor garden, painstakingly removed each other and offered it to you- the only one who made his still heart beat once again.

"oh? you're here." edward only notices rui once rui was already inside his room, picking up his discarded clothes and tossing them into a basket in his hands. "i'm going there." edward tells rui. rui, who always donned a smile and a carefree attitude, seemed to dim a bit, his expression darkening and his lips pursed into a thin line.

"hey... will you be okay?" rui asks, concerned about the captain. rui was reluctant, knowing that ed preferred to stay inside and never leave his bedroom, rui knew well enough from his observations alone that whenever ed visited that room, he came out worse than before. that room felt like something that constantly drained ed's vitality, the captain's eyes becoming more and more dull as he visited. that room felt like a calamity that dragged ed down for worse, yet the captain couldn't seem to let it go. ed was oddly overprotective of that room in particular, having sworn to secrecy that rui was never to speak of whatever was in that room; after all it was only the captain and vice-captain allowed.

"i'm going." edward stated firmly once again, standing up from his bed and weakly making it out into the hallway. it was a shame, he wasn't weak- he was never meant to be weak yet he crumbled even at the thought of you, of seeing you.

when edward's feet led him in front of that room, he took a deep breath, his hands coming to grasp the door handles yet he hesitated. how can he even show his face to you or be near you? would you even look at him in pity at his current state? would you spare him a glance? if only you were yourself, you would probably have a worried expression and scold him, telling him he should never let himself go. bracing himself for the pain, he held the door open and walked in.

he's a vampire– his heart is still and there's no warmth in him, by human standards he would be considered dead, a walking corpse. it was cruel, absolutely painfully heart wrenching cruel. the figure laying in the bed in front of him was also a corpse. a corpse resting on the line between life or death.

edward never really gave a damn about the rumors humans spew, a being of his status shouldn't regard baseless rumors but among the mountain of rumors, there's got to be one that's correct, right?

he's a murderer.

it had only been a few years since then. eyes brimming with excitement and anticipation, you held his hand and announced that darkwick has finally assigned you two a mission. you had done it, you were on par with edward to be sent on a mission alone with him! as lovers, the both of you were ecstatic yet the lingering fear and anxiety never went unnoticed. whatever, right? you're both powerful, what could go wrong?

yet in that moment, a mere moment of hesitation broke the glass castle you had built along with edward. a desperate call from your throat and edward's feet frozen in place. an anomalous monster took you right in front of his eyes. edward, though always seemingly composed and collected, saw red for the first time. he was sure it wasn't blood that blinded him but fury. seething rage devoured him in an instant. you were strong enough to fight and break free yet that wasn't where the problem laid. it was classified as a high ranking mission because of the effects the anomalous poison had on ghouls like you.

and did the poison consume you.

frankly, edward would've rather had you stricken with a poison that diminished your physical health. at least he can have sought after the most talented doctors in the world to treat you. at least that was something he can overcome. alas, it was something more, something that caused you so much pain mentally that it left you unable to do anything else. you neglected yourself, confined yourself to this room, and every time edward saw you, he watched the world collapsing from your very eyes. every time he embraced you after that incident, he felt you become colder than he was. his once overflowing love felt like a collection of percussive music bringing him down into a spiral and his anxiety accompanied the overbearing thuds like an uneasy rhythm of guitar strings being plucked.

"edward... will you grant me one last wish?" edward can still hear your pleading voice at the back of his mind, your sweet sweet voice asking for a sweet release from the prison the poison had entrapped you in. "can you give me rest, and wake me up when it's all over?"

he was willing to wait years, decades, and even centuries for you. he could even wait a millennia if you asked him to. he didn't care about the rumors that surrounded him, he didn't care that he was called a murderer behind his back, he didn't care that he was seen as a villain. this was his price to pay. this was all for him to bear, this was the rotten fruit his selfish greed bore. gone was his cunning and smug expression when darkwick finally called on him for the consequences of his action. after all, he did pull a few strings and deployed a little manipulation to orchestrate this joint mission between the two of you. the verdict was that he was to be banished to that haunted mansion, ostracized from everything and everyone. it was fine, right? at least he had you- you can live with him in that mansion for all eternity.

edward was filled with uncharacteristic time. wounds that can not be physically mended can be healed with time- it was something he heard humans say in passing. perhaps this was the same for you too. his unbridled hope felt like a fragile flower crushed to death in the face of reality when your eyes turned dull and cold towards him. no, no this was not the you edward offered his heart to. this wasn't the person he loved. you were becoming something else. the poison in your blood was turning you into an anomaly, the same anomaly that cursed you with its poison.

"edward..." he gritted his teeth when he heard your pleading voice once again, "i'm sure you know what's going on..."

"we can run away-" he started, yet you cut him off immediately, shutting down the sprout of hope and desperation brewing in his heart, "they'll find me and kill me. i'm becoming an anomaly, you know that." even when speaking of your foreboding death, he can still find traces of your kindness and of your warmth in your tone.

"edward, please forgive me, i'm being selfish." edward heard the waver in your voice that you tried so hard to conceal. "but when i die, i want it to be done by your hands."

the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. edward didn't say anything, he had no words to say just like he had no tears left to cry out. he had no will or life in him to scream and shout in despair because deep inside, he knew it was the better course. he understood you, he knew you'd feel better lulled into eternal sleep than being brutally tossed aside and killed by darkwick for becoming the foe of the institution.

even then, he couldn't keep his promise to you. edward was the strongest vampire, yet he came crumbling down in front of you. he couldn't keep his promise to end your life in his hands, instead he let his selfishness overcome him once more.

"years feel like eternity as of late..." edward mumbles as he sits by your bed where your lithe figure lies almost lifeless. "will you wake up and make this still heart of mine beat once more?" edward continues, lamenting over you. he sits on the edge of your bed, his hand caressing your lifeless ones.

"i know i broke the last wish you had entrusted to me..." he sighs, tracing circles on the back of your hand. "but i just can't bring myself to let you go yet."

"after darkwick made the decision to put you in an indefinite sleep to stop the poison, i've been ordered to grant you your last wish and strangle your throat with these very hands." edward reminisces, speaking bitterly as he brought his hand up to your forehead and tried to soothe the pained expression in your face. "but i couldn't do it. i'm a fool who's still waiting for you to wake up when everything is all over just as you once wished."

"everyone thinks i murdered you..." edward murmurs, "how detestable of humans to spark those rumors. i could never hurt you, even if it was to release you from your agony. a coward like myself could only hide you and hope to protect you from the confines of my own prison." he continues.

"lately, i couldn't bear anyone calling me by my name. it reminds me of your voice." edward adds, his hand coming to comb through your hair, his eyes soft just like his voice. "i asked them to call me ed instead, i think i heard a human regard it as a nickname." he heaves another sigh thereafter.

"please wake up soon." edward muttered under his breath as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead, "i'd like to hear my name fall from your lips again, that way i would feel this still heart beat once more for you.”

[basichextechml]

Wet Braids and Ribbon Ties

Wednesday Addams/Fem!Reader

Rating: Teen // 2.4K Words // No pronouns used for reader, but implied Fem, Soft as hell, Teen for graphic jokes and it being somewhat suggestive at the end, Wednesday being someone emotionally vulnerable, Makeout sesh 

A storm brings you closer to Wednesday than you’d ever thought it could.

---

     Pattern recognition was a necessary trait of human evolution, and essential for the continued survival of any species. Those that came before you had used it to scavenge food, tame animals, create languages, and form communities. Sure, you were still doing these things, but it was less urgent, society collectively pushing past those base instincts to refine such senses. Vaguely, you wondered if your ancestors would be a bit disappointed that your brain’s neocortex was being used to psych yourself out over the sight of braids. While they were trying to figure out what berries and fruits wouldn’t kill them, you were worrying about Wednesday Addams and her twin braids that seemed to haunt you. Though, you guess it wasn’t their fault that you had pavlov'd yourself into associating the hairstyle with pretty brown eyes and a penchant to make your heart race.

     It was all made much worse by the storm that had been rapidly approaching Nevermore. Again, ancestors fighting for their lives in the elements- while you were fighting for your life at the sight of Wednesday with water droplets clinging to her lashes.

     Wednesday’s investigation into the murders around the town had all but halted, all her leads running dry. The Sheriff wasn’t responding to her evidence, and Xavier hadn’t made any moves- but she still felt a pull in her chest, like something was missing. She had requested (demanded) that you follow her to the Gates mansion to poke around once more. Enid had vehemently rejected both of your requests to follow.

     “What time are we going then?” You ask, leaning against her bed frame as you watch her fill up a bag with flashlights, rope, and a first aid kit.

     She zips the bag shut in finality, “Tomorrow night, after curfew. We’ll have to walk, so wear a jacket.” It seems she never got over the time you wore a tank top in 45-degree weather and you kept putting your freezing hands on the back of her neck.

     “Isn’t there a storm coming, though?” She raises an eyebrow as if asking ‘so?’, “We don’t know how structurally sound that place is, what if it floods?”

     Wednesday lets out a quiet huff, lips pursed in a thin line, contemplating your words. Finally, she concedes. “You’re right, be ready to leave at 4. I’ll meet you in front of your dorm.”

     Okay, yeah that seemed more reasonable-

     “4? Like four in the morning?” You questioned incredulously, arms crossed in front of your chest.

     There was a ghost of a smile at your confusion, an inherent pride to it. “I thought you wanted to beat the rain?”

     While Wednesday had pavlov'd herself into being associated with the debilitating symptoms of falling in love, you also came to associate the girl and her long, dark braids with the troubling feeling of everything going wrong at once.

---

     Stupid Pavlov. Stupid neocortex. Stupid pattern-seeking brain.

     Due to years of evolution, you were now trudging through cold sheets of rain in a forest with the girl you liked looking for clues on a murder investigation at 4:48 in the morning. Your boots making contact with the mud made terrible squelching noises as you both slowly made your way back to Nevermore, the only sound between you being that of twigs snapping beneath your weight.

     This endeavor had resulted in nothing, it was a long shot if Wednesday was being honest. She had already found the evidence once in the basement, and it had been moved when she came back. Why would the perpetrator come back to the home? She had no clue- but she had nothing else to go on, and was feeling a bit -to her disgrace- defeated. While she was in the middle of looking around the basement for the umpteenth time, the storm predicted on the forecast came early, The house, just as you had predicted, began flooding, cutting her even deeper.

     Now, with no fruits born of her labor, and your cold hand in hers guiding her through the dawn of a new day; you were slowly and surely going home.

     As the lights of Nevermore Academy shone through the thicket of the forest, you both continued on your leisurely pace, despite the pouring rain. You both were already wet, running would do you no good now. Despite the shiver that ran down your spine at the nipping cold, you were fine with staying outside a little longer.

     “I’m sorry,” Wednesday said suddenly. The apology nearly made you stop in your tracks, looking at her in disbelief. Never had Wednesday apologized to you- for anything.

     The look on your face, as if you weren’t trusting the words she was saying, snapped at the strings of Wednesday’s heart. Enid’s words come back to haunt her, tearing into her about her inconsiderate nature. She’s sure you’d been made to feel that way as well. It was confusing. She should feel overjoyed at the misery of others. But seeing you by her side, being soaked head to toe by the rain, chilled to the bone? She was just as miserable as you.

     “I’m sorry.” She reiterates, knowing fully that you heard her the first time.

     “You don’t have to apologize-”

     “I do.” The words are biting, and that does stop you in your tracks, inadvertently stopping her as well. Wiping the rain from your eyes, you look down at your interconnected hands. This was the longest you had ever touched her. The longest she’d ever let you touch her. “I have been… Selfish, as of late. And for that, I apologize. I am single-minded, I put you in danger, and I…”

     You watch with a hitched breath as she avoids eye contact. This is difficult for her. Her shoulders are rigid, her mouth tense, and her hands twitching. The rain pelts down on you both, and you suddenly feel like you’re the main characters in a film.

     “I believe I’ve hurt you, so I’m sorry.”

     She looks terribly beautiful, hair sticking to her face in waves, her lips, and her nose the brightest red you’ve seen on her, doe eyes big with her eyeliner running from the rain. You simply squeeze her hand thrice. As unhealthy as it may sound, you had already forgiven her for anything she had done long ago- and you’d continue to do so, as long as she kept dragging you around with her hand in yours.

     “Thank you, Wednesday. I accept your apology.” And, again, you mean it. Pulling her a bit closer, just so your shoulders knock together, you begin your journey once again. “Now come on, I think we should both get dry before we die horrible deaths from contracting pneumonia.”

     “I believe we have conflicting ideas on what constitutes a “horrible death”.”

     “I’m sure we do, Wednesday.”

     You both gingerly sneak through the door and through the foyer, tracking mud on the carpet up the stairs. Wednesday makes you stop once you get to the top, and take off your shoes so you don’t track the mud back to the dorms- so Principle Weems doesn’t suspect you two. Though, you think it’s a lost cause because you’re both the number one suspects for anything slightly off that happens.

     Your dorm is closer, and quietly, in the early morning embers, you usher Wednesday into your room, locking the dorm behind you.

     The single dorm you resided in was smaller than the rest, the space easily filled up by your belongings. But you wouldn’t be caught dead asking to switch, you liked having your privacy- a rarity at a boarding school.

     Wednesday is already making herself at home, leaving her shoes at the door and shrugging off her coat and scarf. “You can shower first.”

     “Are you sure?” You ask, doing the same. Wordlessly, she takes your own jacket from your hands, spreading it on the floor next to hers. The space heater you have for nights like these is already cranked on high.

     “Yes,” Wednesday confirms, sitting down in front of the machine, “I just need some time to think.”

     “Alright, I’ll be quick.”

     You’re true to your word, grabbing your pajamas and heading to the bathroom. The shower feels nice on your frigid skin, and you make sure everything is still organized for when it’s Wednesday’s turn. An extra towel is left on the sink once you’re done. She’s sitting in the exact spot you’d left her, the lines troubling her forehead just as prominent. You search through the black clothes in your closet, pulling out a pair of sweats and a matching sweater with some socks, and tapping her shoulder. “Your turn,” You mumble, presenting your offering.

     Her fingers linger on yours, the shadows and movements emphasized by the low lights in your room. The clothes are held away from her still-wet body, and she gets up, closing the bathroom door behind her. As you hear the shower start again, you put your towel on the floor, mopping up any water that had dripped off of her.

     This evening hadn’t gone as you thought it would’ve. It was like that morality test, if an oncoming train had its brakes cut, and you had to choose between crushing six people or one, what would you choose? You, of course, were all seven people- you would die either way. That made Wednesday the train, didn’t it?

     Before you knew it, the door to your bathroom opened again, Wednesday stepped out in your clothes, using the towel you’d given her to scrunch the water out of the ends of her hair.

     Your mouth felt dry like you were at the dentist getting a tooth pulled, and they had to suction all the saliva from it.

     “Do you have a brush?” She asked. Getting up from your spot on the floor, you flitted around your desk, grabbing the one you’d left next to your vanity mirror. Holding it for a moment, you contemplated your next words.

     “Could I do it?”

     Time stood still in your dorm, fingers nervously pushing over the prongs on your brush as you awaited a response.

     Wednesday felt warm. Swallowing her tongue and sitting down on your bed, cross-legged. “You may.”

     Her hair was long and thick, pitch black as the night sky, and softer than anything you’d felt before. She smells faintly of your shampoo, and you find yourself light-headed as you gingerly rake your fingers through the ends of her hair, ridding it of any tangles. Starting at the ends, you slowly brush through the damp hair, working your way up. It’s longer than you had initially thought, undone of its iconic braided style.

     Wednesday felt nearly naked with her hair unstyled and wet in your hands. The brush working against her scalp treated her so tenderly. As if you would rather walk through the fires of hell than yank against a strand of her head. She licked her lips, eyes suddenly watery. She had forgotten what tenderness had felt like these past few years. She believed she didn’t need it. Maybe she was wrong.

     Using your nail to part her hair in two, you push both sections over her shoulders, and the bed creaks as you get off to sit in front of her.

     The girl who avoided your gaze when apologizing earlier is gone, and instead wholly intent on looking at you as you finger comb through the section of hair on her left shoulder. Deftly, you split it into another three, even sections, slowly beginning to put together her signature braids. Wednesday watches as your lashes flutter while you concentrate, enamored with how you lick your lips and twitch your nose. You’re engrossed in her. Sitting here in your clothes, letting you do her hair, she must be equally captivated.

     You get to the end of the first braid before you notice an issue. “I don’t have a tie,” You announce, pouting.

     “I left them in the bathroom,” Wednesday says, already getting up. But you stop her.

     “Wait-” And you're leaning over to your desk, rummaging through the top drawer. Pulling out two strands of black ribbon, you’re back in your spot in front of her. She’d seen them in your hair before. Setting one down in your lap, nimble fingers keep her braid in place while the other positions the ribbon. Soon enough, she had a perfect little bow tying the braid together. You start immediately on the next one.

     Wednesday Addams has bows in her hair.

     Once you’re confident they’re even, you lean back, eyes immediately shooting up to her neglected bangs. Taking the forgotten brush, you lean in. Much closer than necessary for the task, but instead of pushing you away, she tries to see if she can feel your breath. Rounding off her bangs, you discard the brush for a final time, hands coming up to finger curl the longer ends, framing the hollow of her cheeks perfectly. Your hands settle on the curves of her jaw.

     Her pupils are blown wide, eyes narrowed dangerously, and you feel like a meek hare in front of a desert viper. You’re sure her venom would sting, and you’d be happy to let it flow through you.

     She lets her fangs sink into you, pulling you in until her lips connect with yours. Unlike her demeanor, she was soft against you, hands coming up to the nape of your neck to keep your lips flush against hers. The warmth of your sweater and your hands and your lips are too much and not enough, and when you finally pull away to catch your breath- cheeks hot and eyes lidded- she finds you irrevocably adorable. She understands why Anaconda kill and eat their mate. If you don’t stop looking at her like that, you’ll undoubtedly meet the same demise. Wednesday finds herself pushing you down, pillows cushioning your fall as you lazily bring her back into your embrace.

     As the clocks crawl forward, you both stay the same, warm and flush against one another. And as the clock strikes 8:30am, you’re both broken from your reverie.

     “Good Morning everyone,” Principle Weems sounds from the intercom, “Due to the storm, faculty has made the decision to cancel classes and extracurricular activities for the remainder of the week. If the storm lets up, this schedule is subject to change. Stay dry everybody!”

     A bit late for that.

     “We’ll be staying here.” Wednesday decides for you both, already pulling you back in. You kiss against her jaw in agreement, fingers pulling apart the bows in her hair.

---

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider reblogging, I'd really appreciate it! As always, my asks are always open to talk ^-^

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1CbNa8jneefleLKCK98HHC?si=1c7e5b671ae14e42

[copperbadge]

[ID: Two images of a flat sewn cloth for reading tarot on; it is essentially a rectangle with tabs on the end. The "outside" is made from tan fabric edged with purple, with a pair of patches sewn on; the inside, where the cards would be kept and laid out for a reading, is a busy checkerboard pattern of black, grey, and orange.]

I've been trying to use up fabric from my stash, and also get better at both sewing and designing my own patterns, so I made a Tarot reading cloth that also carries a couple of decks stylishly and securely. Finished it this morning with the final addition of a couple of patches and the button closure.

The outer fabric is printed with dinosaur fossils and the purple is a replica of the wallpaper from Disney's Haunted Mansion. The inner fabric is skeletons (orange), Ed Emberley cats (grey), bats from an old pair of pajamas (other grey), and a couple of squares of plain orange from an old bedsheet.

[ID: Three detail images; left, a patch of a haunted garden featuring regular plants like carrots and watermelon, along with a skull, a ghost, a jack o'lantern, and several crossed bones; beneath the patch is a subtle buttonhole. Center, a pair of decks, the Fantod Pack by Edward Gorey and the British Gothic Tarot, are sitting in the center of the interior of the reading cloth. Right, the cloth has been wrapped around the decks and buttoned shut; it is a neat purse-like bundle.]

The patch on the front was a gift from a reader years ago who went by Niamh at the time, but that doesn't appear to exist anymore; if you're still reading, I saved it for YEARS so that I could put it on a tarot cloth and finally got to!

I'm pretty pleased with how the thing folds up -- it's not exactly how I wanted it to, but it gets the job done. I might put two more buttonholes into it so that I can fix a strap to the fabric itself, but if I want to carry the pad without a strap (just tucked into a bag) I can, and if I want to have a shoulder strap I can run a strap under the top flap pretty securely (the ends of this strap have D-rings that just hook into each other to make a loop).

[ID: The folded bundle of the cloth has a quilted strap attached, tucked under the upper flap; the strap suspends it from a coat hook on the wall, showing how it would hang from a shoulder.]

Very pleased to have completed a sewing project -- I basically at this point have a basket of half-finished stuff that I'm working through, and it's nice to be able to complete them and either put them to use or give them away.

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 3: Eternity (words: 1211)

Charles’ home was haunted.

The lights of his room would flicker at the strangest of times, he heard footsteps following him, shadows in the mirrors. When he’d left the gas stove on, the cabinet door above it slammed, getting his attention.

He’d asked Maa what she thought about it, receiving a puzzled look back. Maybe it was only Charles that was haunted.

He was more than excited about it. The empty rooms didn’t feel as desolate anymore when he had company. The ghosts hadn’t harmed him in any way, instead he’d been alerted to the unattended stove. It was like they were looking out for him.

Any time he was alone at home, he listened for the sound of the piano. So far that hadn’t happened again, so Charles opted on playing his few cassettes back to back, filling the silence.

By now he’d mastered both sliding down the handrail of the master staircase and playing hockey on the smooth marble floor with a cricket bat and a ball. But Charles’ favorite activity was exploring the house.

He felt himself a proper detective, inspecting floorboards and built-in bookshelves for hidden safes. It was a Victorian mansion, there had to be a few secrets buried inside the walls.

There were footsteps above him. Quiet, but intent. Charles knew for a fact that nobody was home except him. He sprinted towards the source of the sound, finding an attic ladder with a rope for pulling it down.

Someone was standing right above him. The small click of hard shoes sounded intentional, like someone was tapping his foot impatiently, saying come on now, don’t make me wait.

In the layer of dust that covered everything were footprints. Charles tried not to move too fast and kick up more dust than he wanted to breathe in when he followed them.

There was a desk with a chair by the window, bathed in the afternoon sun. Charles imagined the ghost had been sitting there, looking at the view towards the yard. Across it, a path went through the gate and over a river into the tall forest.

The footprints stopped in front of a wooden chest, which blue paint the years had almost completely washed out. Charles cranked it open to find a set of gentleman’s winter attire (a vest, a coat and a pair of gloves), and other clothes, all destroyed by moths.

The only thing left was a black-and white photograph of a wide-eyed boy in a dark suit. His lips were pursed tight, his eyes serious. Charles was drawn to him, tracing his pale cheekbones with his gaze, wondering why, despite his neutral face, his eyes betrayed a profound sadness.

At the back of the paper, only numbers were jotted down with a quivering handwriting.

1900-1918

“Is this what you wanted me to find?” Charles asked, flinching at his own voice echoing from bare walls.

Is this you?

Nobody answered. It was expected, but Charles was disappointed nevertheless. He kneeled on the dusty floor, leaning on the open chest, just staring at the photo.

Were you alone too? Were you lonely?

He slipped the photo in the inside pocket of his Harrington jacket, close to his heart.

Other days, he couldn’t muster up the curiosity anymore. Coming back to the dark house after visiting Niko’s grave pulled him down into a glum mood.

Their crammed London apartment had never let him relax, but the oppressive silence of spacious halls felt uncomfortable in a different way. Charles trudged the stairs up into his room and dropped his backpack to the floor before faceplanting onto the bed.

He wished he had somewhere to be or someone waiting for him. He wondered what “home” was supposed to feel like. Probably not like this.

He lay motionless for some time. Just when he groaned, attempting to pull himself together, the first notes of a melody floated down the hall.

Charles jumped up, holding his breath. The piano was playing again. A different tune, too.

He rushed out and to the stairs. The music had been slow and unsure at first, like the player was testing out the right keys, but it gained more confidence when it went on. Charles wondered why it sounded so familiar.

“No way, mate!” He grinned when he recognized the tune. He skipped down, two steps at a time. “No way! You liked it that much?”

The song the ghost was playing was unmistakably Under the Milky Way from the best The Church cassette Charles had played over and over again the last few weeks. It flowed from the piano with a slower tempo than the original, but Charles hummed along anyway.

He sat down on the duet bench, staring at the unmoving keys covered in dust. Then he turned around, gazing at the ceiling, just enjoying the music. He hoped he could tell what the ghost looked like. He wanted to know who was playing for him.

“I wish I knew what you were loo-king for… Might have known what you would find…”

The piano played for a few minutes, until both the verse and the chorus had been heard a couple of times, with Charles just sitting there, a content smile on his face. When the music finally faded, a slightly awkward silence fell in the foyer.

Charles was pulled out of his thoughts. He sprung to his feet, full of excitement again.

“Trust me mate, if you like that tape, I know one you’ll love!” He hyped. “Just a tick!”

He ran upstairs and grabbed his recorder, cradling it in his arms like his most precious treasure that it was, stuffed the tape in his pocket and jogged back.

He put the recorder on top of the piano and fiddled with it, his hands swift like every second without music was unbearable. He glanced around wanting to make sure his companion hadn’t left yet, which was useless as he couldn’t see him. With a clack he encased the B-side of Songs From the Big Chair and pressed record.

The sweet sound of synthesizer transformed the room instantly, flowing like waves over everything. It filled Charles’ chest with joy and the beat tugged his limbs into motion.

If he closed his eyes, he could see the bright colors and shapes the music took, pulling him from the bleak present into space without time, without worry or pain.

He opened his eyes, dancing in the middle of the empty house, but he wasn’t lonely. Maybe the ghost was the family’s son who’d died young. Young people liked good music, didn’t they? If he was here now, Charles was sure he could turn that sad frown into a smile.

He’d take his hand and pull him to dance with him. The heir had been a proper fit lad in the picture, handsome in that old-timey way, like he was a classical painting. Charles knew he could be wrong, but at that moment, it really felt like he was here, that they were dancing together.

As long as the music flowed, breathing was easy, movement was light, and nothing hurt. That moment only was worth all of eternity.

“Something happens and I’m head over heels

I never find out ‘till I’m head over heels…”

First Previous Next

[adverbally]

There’s Something Weird (And It Don’t Look Good)

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day six prompt “haunted” | wc: 1,445 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: modern au, ghost hunters, paranormal activity, potentially demonic entity | title from “Ghostbusters” by Ray Parker Jr.

Allison Mansion is a real place in Indianapolis that is allegedly haunted. I took a lot of creative liberties with the cause and manifestation of the haunting.

REM Pods and Alice Boxes are “real” equipment used by ghost hunters to detect paranormal activity. They both claim to operate using electromagnetic frequencies (EMF) to indicate the presence of spirits or channel verbal communication from them. I have never done any ghost hunting myself, so my knowledge is based on the paranormal investigations I have watched on YouTube.

———

They’re the only two people left in the old house now that the sun has set. No camera crew, none of the staff who oversee events at the historical site, just Steve and Eddie and their backpacks full of equipment, ready for another night of paranormal investigation.

It’s a gorgeous building, with an exterior of understated red brick that contrasts with the intricately crafted details inside the mansion. With its grand chandeliers, ornate rugs, and dark wood, Allison Mansion is certainly one of the most beautiful locations they’ve visited. It’s also rumored to be one of the most haunted.

They spend an hour or so exploring the main rooms to no avail before heading up to the library, since that’s supposed to be one of the most active spots.

“What are you thinking? A REM Pod over by that wall, maybe?” Steve suggests, pointing at a floor to ceiling bookcase across from them.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, unpacking the unit from his bag and extending the antenna before switching the device on. He slowly waves a hand back and forth over it, watching as it lights up and beeps every time he gets close. “What about something like the Alice Box?” he asks as he sets the REM Pod on the floor.

Steve holds up the box in question. “I figured a library spirit might want to flex their vocabulary a little,” he jokes.

As if objecting to the quip, the REM Pod suddenly flashes and beeps, even though Eddie has already returned to the table where their things are laid out.

“Whoa, we’re not wasting any time tonight, are we?” Eddie mutters as he fumbles for his camera. Once he’s recording, he announces to the room, “If anyone here wants to make their presence known, feel free to go near that device again.”

The atmosphere in the library is heavy with anticipation, but nothing happens. Steve’s gaze roams the room, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. In the warm glow of the matching Tiffany lamps in opposite corners, nothing seems to be amiss.

“You don’t even have to touch it,” Eddie explains encouragingly, “it will go off if you stand close to it.”

A tentative buzz sounds from the machine, accompanied by a brief burst of LED lights, as it activates again.

“Thank you,” Steve acknowledges the spirit, already rushing to turn on the Alice Box. “You can use this, too, if you’d like to speak to us.”

It’s silent again for a few moments before a loud beep indicates an EMF reading has set off the box. “TROUBLE,” an electronic voice reports from the device’s database of words.

“No, you’re not in trouble,” Eddie reassures the empty side of the room.

“We’re not trying to cause trouble, either,” Steve clarifies. “We just want to talk. Is this James, James Allison? You have a beautiful home.”

The Alice Box goes off again. The seconds between the indicator noise and the word’s selection feel like a small eternity. “SPECULATE,” it finally reads.

Eddie purses his lips thoughtfully as he adjusts the camera settings. “Yeah, I guess we are speculating. Not many people have been able to investigate the mansion before, so we’re not sure who we’re talking to. Can you give us a clue about who you are?”

The response is faster this time. “CONTEXT.”

Steve tries to recall the history of the Allison Mansion. Built in the early 1910s by a successful businessman in the car and plan industry, it was sold shortly a few years after his untimely death from pneumonia soon after his second marriage. The building had become an administrative office for a small college currently known as Marian University, which now rents out the mansion’s more grandiose rooms for events.

“The college used this library after the Allison family sold it, right? Maybe it was an early student or an employee?” Steve posits.

Before Eddie can respond, the REM Pod goes wild.

Steve speaks to it directly now. “I’m sure the university tried to change things in here over the last century. Is that why you rearrange the books and furniture? You want to keep it like it was before?”

“LOOSE,” the Alice Box intones, “PUNISH. CIVILIZATION.” Three words in quick succession. It’s pretty rare for that to happen.

A pit forms in Steve’s stomach, and he can see his uneasiness reflected on Eddie’s face. Sure, the words are random enough, but they’ve encountered darker entities before that invoked judgment and destruction. It seems unlikely that a simple librarian would see a loose organizational structure in their former workplace and react with the need to impose punishment, to reestablish a more civilized system. But something like… Steve hates to even think it, but something inhuman, even demonic?

“Steve,” Eddie warns, tilting his head and aiming the camera to wordlessly encourage Steve to check out what’s happening on the table in front of him.

He doesn’t want to look, but he can already see the flashing lights in his peripheral vision. He takes a deep breath and glances down. A chill runs down his spine.

Something is causing the cat toys in Steve’s backpack to light up, not two feet away from him. The plastic balls are touch activated and even harder to set off than the REM Pod.

“SATISFACTION,” the box reads. It sounds like it’s gloating.

Eddie closes the gap between himself and Steve in three big steps. “No, we’re done talking to you,” he spits at nobody. To Steve, he says, “Shut that thing off and let’s get out of here.”

Steve flicks the off switch, but the display on the Alice Box remains lit.

“TERMINAL,” it tells him ominously before it goes flying out of his hand and into the wall with a crack. The words still don’t stop coming, even as the electronic voice reading them out starts glitching and fading out. “HEART. WEAK. INDULGE. COMPROMISE.”

“Come on, just leave it,” Eddie commands, gathering up their backpacks in his arms and heading for the door with Steve close behind. He tugs at the antique doorknob, tries to turn it to either side, but it doesn’t budge.

Steve turns back to the room, where the Alice Box is still droning, “DEPARTURE. ISSUE. BEG,” and the REM Pod is blaring a solid tone of warning, all its multicolored indicator lights bright in the dim space. Even the lamps have begun to flicker as the energy in the room crackles.

“Let us go,” he implores, his voice strong and steady. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. Open the door and we’ll leave you in peace.”

On command, the door flies open with such force that the heavy wood slams against the bookshelf behind it, narrowly missing Eddie.

Steve barely has time to process that their path is clear before Eddie’s grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. They run down the grand staircase in the entrance hall, barely lit by the moonlight and street lamps shining in through the enormous windows covering the front of the mansion. Even once they burst through the front doors, they don’t slow down, continuing along the front drive to where Eddie’s van is parked.

“Eds, hey, it’s okay,” Steve pants, yanking Eddie to a stop beside the vehicle. Eddie’s eyes are still wide, and he’s shaking with adrenaline as he looks Steve up and down to make sure he’s unharmed. “We’re okay,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand.

Eddie claws at the collar of his shirt until he pulls out a selenite pendant. While Steve’s interest in ghost hunting comes from a place of scientific curiosity, all electromagnetic fields and physical manifestations of lingering energy, Eddie learned from his mother. She was a spiritual woman who told Eddie all about intention setting and magical protection, crystals and herbs and all manner of metaphysical tools. It’s evident as Eddie clutches the smooth white stone in his palm until his breathing evens out.

“Okay?” Steve checks in again, his touch gentle on Eddie’s cheeks, guiding him to meet his gaze.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, his shoulders finally relaxing. “Yeah, sorry, I just… that got real dark, real fast.” He stares hard at Steve like he’s looking beyond his physical form. “You’re okay,” he nods to himself, confirming that whatever entity they encountered hadn’t attached itself to Steve in any way.

Steve pulls him closer and presses their foreheads together. He may not share all of Eddie’s beliefs, but it’s comforting to get the all-clear from him anyway. “Why is it always the libraries?” he groans.

Eddie chuckles and promises, “No more libraries. Only creepy basements from now on.”

[pickalilywrites]

Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie, Marco, Reiner, Bertholdt, Porco and Marcel all go into a haunted house. First one who leaves the place screaming has to ride the most embarrassing kiddie ride in public

thanks, this was fun :)

never too old

104th trainee squad boys. modern au. 2789 words.

The group of friends stand in front of the haunted house, although some of them look more skeptical about entering than the others. Eren and Connie look especially excited, but Armin’s lips have been pursed nervously ever since they’ve entered the amusement park and Bertholdt has been growing an unsettling shade of green as they’ve neared the haunted house.  

“We’ve agreed, right? First one out of the haunted house screaming has to ride a kiddie ride?” Eren asks with the biggest grin on his face. Like Connie, he lives for horror and thrill rides and the thought of going through the haunted house excites him to no end. 

“We're going into a haunted house in the middle of the summer. Is it really going to be that scary?” Jean asks doubtfully. He looks up at the haunted house with a frown. It looks out of place in the middle of the amusement park, especially since it’s such a bright and sunny day. He glances over at Eren. “Is it even worth it at this point?” 

“Y-yeah,” Bertholdt stammers as he tries to put on his bravest face even as his knees shake horribly. “M-maybe we should t-turn back now. We c-can go on a different ride.”  

Eren shoves Bertholdt aside so he can get in Jean’s face, one side of his mouth upturned in a smirk. “What’s wrong, Kirstein? Are you scared you’re going to run out screaming?” 

There had been a time when Jean would have ignored any of Eren’s jibs, but Eren’s provoked him for far too long for him to hold back anymore. With a growl, he grabs Eren by the collar and pulls him forward. “Don’t talk as if you’re not going to be the one pissing his pants five minutes in,” Jean snarls before dragging Eren with him to the haunted house entrance.  

The doors are a muted purple, the paint peeling although that might be by design. The floorboards of the porch creak as the group of friends cross the boundary of the amusement park and this haunted mansion. Once they step inside, the light in the entrance hall flickers on and the lamps that line the corridor turn on one by one. The lights are dim, illuminating enough to give the visitors a glimpse of the ornate rug that runs from the entrance all the way down the seemingly endless hall and the detailed paintings that hang from the wall and seem to be staring at them intently as they hesitantly step forward. Once they make it past the front lobby, a figure steps forward from the shadows, making a few of them jump. 

“Holy shit!” Bertholdt yelps, stumbling backwards and nearly knocking over a vase sitting on an end table. He immediately turns his eyes downward to avoid any eye contact with the haunted house’s host whose skin has been painted blue to give them a ghostly appearance. He finds a way to stumble back and cling onto Reiner’s sleeve, groaning, “Oh my god, why’d they have to pop out like that?”  

“It’s just part of the gig, Bertl. Don’t be so jumpy. You know this is all fake anyway,” laughs Reiner, pulling Bertholdt from out behind him and giving the trembling giant a pat on the back. 

“Thank you kindly for visiting us today. Please be assured that we will take care of you as best as we can,” the host says, his voice more of a ghastly groan than a normal speaking voice. It only serves to make Bertholdt even more anxious about everything they’re about to encounter. The ghostly butler in front of them is welcoming them into the haunted house and giving them instructions, but only Armin, Marcel, and Marco seem to be paying any attention. If the butler minds, he doesn’t show it and continues to drone on and on about the horrors they might encounter and how they should continue to trudge forward even if they find their knees becoming weak. 

“Haunted house! Haunted house! Haunted house!” Connie and Eren chant in unison as the butler is finishing up his spiel.  

“Did you guys even listen to anything he said?” Jean asks with a roll of his eyes.  

“Doesn’t matter what he said. We’re going through this without batting an eyelash,” Eren says. His arm is linked with Connie’s and the two idiots stand with their chests puffed out proudly even as Jean shakes his head.  

“The deal is just that we had to get through the haunted house, right? Can we just go through the whole thing with our eyes closed?” Armin mumbles. He fiddles with his hair, twirling a lock between his fingers as he stares at his feet.  

“Wouldn’t that make it scarier? You don’t even know what’s jumping out and screaming at you or waving a chainsaw in your face,” Marcel points out, but he yelps when Porco elbows him.  

“This whole attraction is, what, twenty or thirty minutes? It’ll be fine,” Porco says. He takes a more empathetic approach to calming down the nervous people in their party, although it’s unclear if it’s more helpful than Marcel’s more rational approach. Porco rubs at the back of his neck when he sees that Armin and Bertholdt are still shaking. He wonders if he shouldn’t have said anything at all. “Anyway, it’s fine if you guys get scared. It’s just a stupid bet. You’re supposed to get scared in a haunted house.” 

As they walk down the corridor, they see that the hallway has become covered in cobwebs. There are only a few at first, but soon the entire hallway is covered and only the floors are free of spider silk. Even though Connie and Eren laugh and point at the various cocoons trapped in the spiderwebs, Armin and Bertholdt cringe especially when they see the cocoons wriggle as if the victims are alive and struggling to get free. There’s a particularly large cocoon in the corner, one that’s about Reiner’s size, where muffled screams can barely be heard.  

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real,” Armin whispers to himself in a mantra. Even though he had resolved himself to staring at the floor, he can’t tear his eyes away from the large cocoon the corner. He’s attached himself to Eren’s side, but even Eren’s hysterical laughter can’t ease his anxieties.  

“It’s probably just a clever machine,” Marco says reassuringly to Armin. “Most of the things in this haunted mansion are.” 

“Y-yeah,” Armin stammers.  

There’s a sharp screech and a shadow drops from the ceiling in the center of the hall. Armin and Bertholdt exclaim in alarm and even Porco and Reiner curse as a giant spider joins them. The spider is twice as big as Bertholdt and pitch black with glowing red eyes. It twirls around menacingly on its silk thread, its pincers opening and closing as it lets out another high-pitched screech before it slowly retreats into the ceiling. 

“I hate this place,” Bertholdt groans. He clings to Reiner’s back like a koala and Reiner laughs.  

“It’s fine if you want to keep going like this, but just don’t pass out on me. I don’t want to have to carry you the rest of the way. You’re pretty heavy,” Reiner jokes, but even his light-hearted words aren’t enough to make Bertholdt feel better. 

The corridor twists and turns as they continue to walk down the path. There are many different paths, but only one is open to the guests. The other paths are closed off with velvet ropes and signs that say, “Warning! Do not enter.”  

As they escape the cobwebbed corridor, the hallway soon evolves into a jungle of fake flora and fauna. Even though it was bright outside, the foliage blocks any sunlight that might be streaming through the musty windows of the greenhouse. Only the dim garden lamps give them any light and it makes it difficult to navigate, so the group sticks close together with the exception of Eren and Connie who keep darting towards every moving bush or running towards every sound of jostling leaves.  

“Do you really have to do that? It’s scary enough without you guys actively seeking the thing that’s supposed to scare us,” Bertholdt whimpers. He’s lagging behind, clinging to the hem of Reiner’s shirt. Despite his long and lanky legs, he’s only able to move an inch at a time.  

“It’s more fun this way,” Connie laughs. He gives an excited shout when they hear a low growl of a wolf, and he and Eren run forward to find out where it came from.  

“Our definitions of ‘fun’ are way too different,” Armin mutters. He’s grown increasingly pale the deeper they’ve gone into the haunted house. Like Bertholdt, he’s stumbling forward inch by inch, but unlike Bertholdt he has the ability to use his much larger friends as a shield from whatever horrors they might face. 

“If you think about it, you guys are really getting a better deal out of this,” Marcel says. After failing the first time to console his friends, it seems he’s trying his hand once more. “Isn’t the point of going into a haunted house to get scared? If you don’t, it’s not a very good haunted house.” 

A rapid flutter of wings and cicada screeches fill the air, causing Bertholdt and Armin to yelp. Any comforting words Marcel had offered have gone unheard. The wings flutter once more and the cicadas shriek, but this time they’re joined with the sounds of hissing and the rattle of a snake. A low growling can be heard in the distance. The growling grows louder and louder. Even as the group of friends inch closer, Bertholdt and Armin struggle to take steps forward and have to be dragged forward by everyone else. Without warning, the growl erupts into a piercing howl that makes Armin yelp, but Eren and Connie simply cackle and let out mocking howls of their own before bursting into giggles.  

“I hope you two are having fun,” Jean says dryly. He and Marco are holding up Armin whose knees have grown so weak that he can hardly stand upright. “Your friends are going to faint soon.” 

“Are you two able to keep going in this state?” Porco asks with a doubtful frown.  

“The faster we walk, the fast we can get this haunted house over with,” Bertholdt says. Though he does his best to sound confident, his words come out shakily and his gaze is terrified at what might lie ahead. 

They trudge on ahead, Bertholdt and Armin much more grudgingly than the others. Even though Connie and Eren forge ahead making jokes and mocking everything they encounter, it’s still not enough to ease Bertholdt and Armin’s worries. They’ve managed to make it past the strange greenhouse portion of the haunted mansion and have returned to a hallway that looks similar to the hallway entrance from before. The ornate carpet is the same, but this time the hallway is lit by wax candles that flicker as they walk by.  

“How much more of this do you think we have?” Marco murmurs. 

“Hopefully not much more,” Armin groans weakly. 

There’s a door where light is illuminating so much brighter than the dim candlelight. They are drawn to it like moths to a flame. Only their footsteps can be heard as they approach the room and as they cross the threshold, they see a warm fire burning in the fireplace. The room they’ve entered is decorated ornately like the rest of the house: various paraphernalia adorning the shelves and tabletops, books with titles written in strange scripts across the spine, torn curtains fluttering as wind streams in from the open window. A closer inspection shows even more oddities: blood staining the carpet and walls, scratches across the hardwood floor and stone walls, and a strange satanic pentagon carved on the exposed in the center of the room. Bertholdt realizes too late that he’s standing directly in the middle of the pentagon. 

“A sacrifice? The Master will be quite pleased,” a disembodied voice booms. It echoes across the room, seemingly coming from every direction.  

As the party looks around in alarm, a figure begins to form in the fireplace and a silhouette of ash and fire rises from the embers. Just before its final form can take place, the fire goes out completely and the room rumbles with the sound of laughter. Suddenly, a cloud of smoke appears from the ceiling, illuminated by flashes of lightning from the window, and a face appears in the clouds. Its expression is twisted in an evil grin, but everything about it — the eyes too far apart, the mouth too wide, the cheekbones too pointed — is too warped to be human.  

“Tonight, I shall feast!” the voice cackles and Armin faints in Jean and Marco’s arms. Bertholdt’s reaction is much more severe. 

The gentle giant, finally scared out of his wits, jumps up a foot in the air screaming before running out of the room in the direction they came from. His friends, baffled, stare after him. 

“Should we ... should we go after him?” Porco asks. 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to go backwards,” Marco says worriedly. 

“Is he going to be alright? He’s going to see everything that scared him again,” Marcel points out.  

“We should probably go after him,” Jean sighs. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ 

It turns out that running out of the haunted house in the wrong direction is highly discouraged, which is something the party would have realized if they had paid attention during the host’s speech at the entrance of the haunted house. There are many alternative routes that are typically closed off to guests and only available to amusement park workers, but guests are known to wander off either in panic or out of pure curiosity and then get lost. In his fright, Bertholdt had scurried down one of these forbidden paths and had gotten lost. In the end, the haunted house had to usher its guests out and enlist the help of additional park workers to find Bertholdt in the haunted house in an operation that took nearly an hour. 

“I feel kind of bad. Maybe I should have offered that park worker more than fifty dollars to not ban us for life,” Eren says even though most of that money was Jean’s. “He was pretty young. He doesn’t understand the value of money yet. You know how kids are.”  

“We shouldn’t have gone into that haunted house in the first place,” Marcel sighs.  

“At least Bertholdt looks like he’s having a better time,” Reiner remarks. 

The friends look over at Bertholdt riding in a small dragon roller coaster. His smile has returned to his face. He’s in the very front seat despite being the largest person on the ride. Behind him are Gabi and Falco who look like they’re having a much less fun time than Bertholdt despite being the appropriate age for the ride. The friend watch as Bertholdt loops around the tiny rollercoaster, a smile on his face as the wind whips through his hair.  

“... does that look kind of fun?” Connie asks and Eren nods beside him. 

“He looks like a giant on that ride,” Eren says almost enviously.  

“We can’t ride on that thing. We’re not kids, and we don’t have kids,” Porco points out. 

Eren grins wickedly at him. “Don’t we?” 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ 

The tired, underpaid park employee looks tiredly at the group of friends and the two children that the friends are claiming to be the guardians of. The young teenager asks once more skeptically, “So all of you are fathers of these two children?” 

“Yup!” Eren says with his chest puffed out confidently. He gives the employee a charming smile, but she couldn’t care less whether or not he was telling the truth. “All of us are their legal guardians. Should we have brought the legal documents? Who brings that sort of thing around with them?” 

The girl remains unconvinced, but she sighs and opens the gate for them to enter the ride. She doesn’t get paid nearly enough for this. “Enjoy the ride.”  

The friends all shuffle into the carts in the front, leaving Gabi and Falco to take the cart in the back. Even though Falco seems disappointed about having to ride the same kiddie ride again, Gabi looks excited. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this. Aren’t they too old for this?” Falco mumbles under his breath. 

“Aw, lighten up, Falco. It’s only just this once. And they said they’d take us to two PG-13 movies next weekend,” Gabi says with a grin as she straps her seatbelt around her stomach. “Besides, nobody’s ever too old to have fun!” 

[jimothy-hopkins]

Let me cook guys hold on

Info about Silena!

General Description:

Silena is a young greaser who works to keep herself in the best shape possible. She has a confident walk and holds her head high. When speaking she is rather loud and loves to fit in a jab or joke whenever she can. Silena likes to socialize and is often always with friends.

Silena is 5’7 with an athletic build. She has a few northern Mediterranean features such as an olive undertone to her skin and a very defined face. Her hair is naturally wavy and is well kept and styled. Her eyes are a bright blue, and are often the first thing people notice when they see her. Silena also enjoys wearing very striking makeup, and always sports a red lip.

Interests and whatnot:

Silena LOVES makeup. She never goes a day without it. This isn’t out of insecurity, or a need to impress boys. Makeup is a way for Silena to express herself and boost her confidence. She loves bold colors and shimmers

Additionally, Silena is also very interested in hair care, styling, and hygiene. Her mother is a beautician and has taught her every trick in the book to keep nice, healthy, beautiful features. Silena will even pass her knowledge to other girls who ask. She’s happy to help.

There’s a certain boys she’s interested in. A lanky, brooding guy. Travis. (Travis is an oc that belongs to my partner.) She spends a lot of time with him, and I mean A LOT. It’s almost like he’s more of her boyfriend than her ACTUAL boyfriend. Hm. Strange. Great friends they are. Not like her boyfriend should be jealous, he goes after other girls all the time? What’s wrong with her getting even?

Silena loves Halloween. She goes all out for the holiday. She has Kate assist her in making her costumes and she goes to contests. Silena also works at a haunted house during the fall as a scare actor.

Beating up Earnest is a must.

Reputation:

Silena is liked amongst the jocks. As a cheerleader she pulls her weight on the team. She actually gets along with Mandy very well, and often worried about her due to Mandy’s self image.

She’s a well respected member of the greasers. Although she exhibits some of the same habits as Lola, Silena hasn’t yet brought her secret boyfriend around the greasers. She sees Lola as a blueprint of what not to do if you wanna cheat. She is close friends with Kate, and even views her as the twin sister she never had.

The press hate Silena and Silena hates the preps. She takes joy in egging their cats and tp’ing their mansions. Her favorite past time is watching the clique inevitably get squashed in rumbles. Although she does feel bad for Tad. He reminds her of Kate, just, really unbearable and rich.

Silena has gained enough respect with the greasers to mostly be left alone by the bullies. She can fend for herself against them pretty well. Bullying someone isn’t very fun when they give you back the same energy instead of cowering.

Silena hates Earnest, so she doesn’t like the nerds. She thinks most of them are smelly, unhygienic, and gross. Every once in a while she will either bully them or bribe them into giving her test or homework answers.

Quotes:

“Deodorant is a dollar there is no reason to smell like ass!”

“No offense but you look like you could use a good shampoo.”

“Ow! I got mascara in my eyeball!”

“My boyfriend is so fucking annoying!”

“You know that Travis guy? He’s kinda…”

“How about you get ahold of that frizzy hair before you talk about how I look!”

“Jimmy’s bald by CHOICE? Ew!”

“Wanna go egg Justin’s car with me?”

“I can’t wait to graduate. Senior year is sooo boring.”

“Who let you walk out of the house like that?!”

“Girl don’t worry I have what you need in my purse.”

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

Chapter 2

Boundary Between Good And Evil

???: "Wait!!"

(.....!)

I see a little girl and an angry man leaped in front of me, entangled.

Little girl: "Ow!"

He shakes her wrist roughly and I see a small twinkle between her closed fist.

(Is she a thief?)

Man: "I'll make sure you can't use that arm of yours!"

The man raised a fire poker.

(If you hit her hard with that it will break her bones for sure!)

A moment unfolds before my eyes and----

Kate: "Wait!"

Unintentionally, I shouted.

Man: "Huh?! What do you want?"

(I didn't mean to step in, but...!)

Kate: "Hey, first return what you stole. After that, I'll listen to what you have to say."

Little girl: "Ngh!"

Man: "Ow!?"

(Huh!?)

The little girl took this opportunity to kick the man in the arm and disappeared into the crowd.

Man: "Come back, you bitch! And you, what the hell were you trying to do, huh!?"

Kate: "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to...."

(It didn't come to my mind that she would kick the man and run away)

I regret sticking my nose into other people's business, but I'm sure it will haunt me later.

Man: "She stole something very expensive from me! Of course, you're going to pay me for that, right?"

Kate: "Yes, I'll pay you!"

I can feel tears running down my face, as I took out my purse.

...........

Man with long black hair: ".....I see. So that's the cute little robin."

...........

Kate: "Haa....I did it again."

(Although to that jeweler, that little girl may have been an outright bad person, stealing things)

(But I also didn't think it was good to...hurt and blame the little girl who was so cornered that she had to steal)

Everyone knows that East London is full of people living in poverty.

I couldn't just stand by and watch a little girl get hurt without knowing what kind of feelings she was having about stealing.

(But in the end, the jeweler was victimized and the child got away with the crime)

Kate: "....I don't know if what I did was good or bad."

Kate: "All I know is I'm a little short on money for tickets to this month's play."

It is my humble hobby to go to the theater once every few months with the salary I have saved up.

(I was supposed to save up enough after today's delivery...looks like I won't be able to make it this month)

Kate: "Well, I guess there is no point in crying over the spilled milk. I'll just have to make some more money again!"

...........

Kate: "I'm back."

Postmaster: "Kate! Thank god you're here!.....No wait! On second thoughts maybe not, the streets at this hour would be dangerous..."

Kate: "What's wrong?"

Colleague: "Actually, we're understaffed. There is still a vacancy for night delivery."

(Night delivery...that's it!)

Kate: "I'll do it!"

Postmaster: "Are you sure, you will be safe? I appreciate the help...but."

Postmaster: "Okay look, the delivery block is a safe townhouse area, but don't wander off carelessly."

Kate: "Got it!"

(Great! Now can make up for the money I lost earlier!)

(It's my first time doing night delivery...as long as I'm cautious, I'll be fine)

..........

Man with long black: "Now, gentlemen, are you ready?"

Man that looks like a cat: "Of course, Victor. It's been a long time since we've all been on a mission together. It's very exciting."

Aloof man: "You're getting too excited. Too much excitement can backfire and you'll end up hurting yourself. So just chill."

Man with a gun: "I'll fix you up if you're not too badly hurt. If you die, then I'll have one less person to help me with my research."

Man that looks like a cat: "Thank you, Roger. As expected from a former doctor."

Man with blond hair and blue eyes: ".......Al, do I have to go too?"

Gentlemanly man: "Yes. It's a lovely evening and there may be something you're looking for in the target's mansion."

Man with blond hair and blue eyes: "Really....okay."

Best man: "If we're going anyway, get on with it quickly. Unlike the nobles, I don't have time for this."

Tall young man: "You don't have business meetings or collections scheduled for tonight."

Best man: "Tsk....Can't you just read the room and not be honest for once. Shut up."

Man with red eyes: "As you can see, the Crown is ready, Victor."

Man with long black hair: "Ahaha, as usual. You guys are so carefree. Well, let's get started then."

Man with long black hair: "Loyalty to your evil tonight."

Chapter 3 - Invitation To The Dark Night