#he likes to have fun and has good taste and loves halloween

[99probalos]

anguishing over jay bauman tonight. Clap if you're anguishing over jay bauman

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑨𝒃𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏*

Pairing: Alien!OT8 x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warning: Barely any real plot, Alien!Skz, Weird dicks, multiple rounds, Multiple Orgasms, Oral (Both), Long tongues, Aphrodisiac, Abduction, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Double Penetration, Slight Hair Pulling. Sorry for any mistakes or missing tags

Find The Halloween Master List Here

A/N: this is just pure smut- please hear me out on this one.. Don’t come at me😂 also HAPPY HALLOWEEN SLUTS😘. EDIT: after already having this posted a lovely anon informed me that I forgot to put hyunjin in this. So this has been edited from what I originally posted because I will not have an OT8 with out all the members😤

-🎃

Lying down in bed, it felt cozy. So warm in the cool night as you cuddled up to your pillow. You drifted off to sleep fast before suddenly being woken up by hands. Eyes slowly blinking awake, your body felt out of it. Your eyes flickered around seeing a bright light before you saw around you. There were a handful of men around you. ‘Men? Are they men?’ You asked yourself. They’re strange looking.”

“You’re gonna scare her!” A voice came across.

The men? Creatures? Moved away leaving you lying on the table. You were completely naked, with everyone gone you felt the cold air finally hit you. You shivered before you felt another hand on you.

“Easy pretty, we are gonna take good care of you ok?” The creature said before rubbing his hand up your body a slimy substance coming off him seeping into your pours.

“What’s going on? Where- what are you?” You asked.

“We are from the far off planet pretty. My name is Chan.” He said a weird long smile came across his face. He pointed to each of the other strange men telling you who everyone was.

“So you’re aliens?” You asked.

“Well technically you’re the alien to us. But yes.” He said.

There was a warmth creeping up your body. Heat going straight to your core, nipples perking up. You felt yourself becoming soaking wet, you were so confused.

“We are gonna have some fun ok? You’re uhm.. horny right?” He asked a bit confused at the words.

“Mhm” you nod looking at him.

“Good, the stuff I coated your body with is like an aphrodisiac. It’ll make you want us to out any thoughts” he said with a smirk.

These men were lengthy, skin slightly colored different. Their bodies abnormal to you with long fingers. They looked like something out of a movie, but not the typical big head and eyes combo. None of them looked the same different skin tones ranging from blues to reds to pinks. You could see they all had their cocks out which were also all different. Some big resembling human cocks almost, some tentacle like, some had two, and the man who was talking to you? He had a long cock, tentacle like with little filler looking tentacles around.

“Tell us if you need a break.” He said and before you could respond someone was already pressing their mouth to your cunt. It was Changbin? You think that’s his name. His long thick tongue pushed into you fucking you as he slurped at you. The others attached themselves where they could. Felix and Jisung Sucking at your nipples. Minho pushed himself into your mouth his long leaky cock sliding easily down your throat. The others stood by you, watching as they pumped their cocks. Jeongin using your hand that was now untied from the bed to jerk himself off with.

“She tastes so sweet.” Changbin groaned from below.

The strange place filled with lewd sex sounds combined with the moans and groans from everyone. The feeling of more of the slime being rubbed against your body.

Your body ached off the table as Changbin fucked his tongue rougher into you, Felix hand coming down to rub your clit. Your body felt like it was on fire. Not from just all the attention but this damn slimy shit. It had you feeling like a bitch in heat. With one more thrust of his tongue changbin had you cumming. You came around his tongue moaning around Minhos cock that was still buried in your mouth.

Changbin cleaned you up, not letting a drop go to waste before Chan moved between your legs he pushed himself into you his weird small tentacles moving over you clit. He cock pushed far into you pushing past your cervix fucking you completely in your womb.

Chan had pushed a button on the side of the table making another opening underneath. Jeongin quickly moved to go under it he pushed himself into you. Cock pressing against Chans as they filled your cunt to the max. His cock wasn’t as thick but it was even longer. You don’t know how he was under the table and still being able to fuck you like this. Honestly you didn’t really care either. It just felt to good to question right now.

Felix had traded places with Minho fucking into your mouth now. He gripped at your hair small whimpers escaping his mouth as you felt his cock becoming a thicker by the second. “Shit- shit- gonna fuck gonna!” Is all he got out before cumming down your throat. You swallowed around him his cock slowly becoming smaller as the loads of cum came pouring out. When he finally pulled out he leaned down kissing you softly.

“You doing ok?” He asked eyes fixated on your expression.

“Y-es” you gargled out.

He smiled before another pair of hands turned your head to them. Jisung was awaiting his turn, he looked at you his eyes half open. His cock was a pretty lavender, he had two tentacle like cocks both equally dripping. Before Felix moved away he whispered into your ear.

“The smaller one, it’s super sensitive. Suck it and he’s done for” he said a devilish smirk across his face as he went to clean himself a bit before next round.

Jeongin was fucking into you like a mad man, he was chasing his high and he was chasing it fast. His cock felt like it entangled around Chans making his cock feel even thicker even deeper. Chan was fucking into you so rough. His hands digging into your thighs, head thrown back as he let out low grunts. His little tentacles moving quickly over your clit.

“Gonna cum for me pretty? Make a mess. Fuck make a mess for us” he groaned out. Your walls becoming tighter as you felt your release close. Minho bit at your nipples as Seungmin sucked marks on the other side. Changbin had his cock in your hand fucking it into it like his very own pocket pussy.

You were about to say you were cumming but jisung took the opportunity to push into your mouth. No warning as he pushed his pretty cock down your throat. You were gushing around them, squirting wetness all over their bodies. The feeling making both Chan and Jeongin cum deep inside you. Their cocks throbbed as they filled your womb with their loads. Coating yours walls as they pulled out.

They were panting trying to catch their breathes. The emptiness didn’t last long before Minho pushed into you. His cock had ridges, they hit spots in you only toys could with that texture. It was so different from what you just had your body was already so close to cuming again. Changbin made his was under you before pushing himself into you. His cock was so- so fucking thick. What he lacked in length did he ever make it up in girth.

“Fuck- you make her feel so fucking- tight” Minho hissed down at the other man.

“Yeah? Our cocks are made to fuck together” he teased.

Jisung was being rough with your mouth. His hands gripped at your hair pulling it harshly. In a moment of annoyance at that you moved your head to fully take both his cocks. His hips stuttered at the feeling of you sucking his smaller cock. “Wa- i- fuck” he whimpered out. His voice sounding pathetic. You sucked his cock swirling around them both the longer one twitching back your throat. His hands rested at the sides of your head as you saw what looked like tears pricking at his eyes.

“T’much-“ he moaned out feeling you suck harsher paying extra attention to the smaller one rolling your tongue over on it. He let out an almost scream as he came hard in your mouth his hands gripping at your face trying to keep you steady as he came. He looked so fucked out, with one swallow he was screaming his smaller cock releasing. His body felt almost limp as he did. Felix came behind him holding onto him as he pulled him from you. He shot you a grin before pulling Jisungs limp body to the seats across.

Changbin and Minho weren’t doing any better. Their thrusts were becoming sloppy. Seungmin who was still at your side started to play with your clit. He let his long tongue come down to play with it instead. Wanting to taste you, wanting to have all your juices for himself. Minho hissed at him “damnit- you’re making her- fuck she’s clenching so tightly I’m-“ Minho groaned out feeling his high about to wash over him. He picked up his pace, the feeling of his cock made Changbin moan.

“Dude- slow down-“ he pleaded but it fell on deaf ears. Or no ears I guess.

Minho couldn’t be stopped his eyes met yours keeping eye contact as he came deep inside you his cock twitching as he released.

“Shit!” Changbin groaned.

Your walls clamped around them as you came once again. Your body stuttered shaking as you did. Seungmin lapped at everything that was spilled from your sweet cunt.

Changbin gripped at your hips before pushing once more into you releasing quickly after you both. His cock pushed all of Minhos cum deep with in you.

“Alright move, I’ve waited long enough” Seungmin said pulling Minho from you who stumbled back a bit. Changbins body laid on the floor under you as he caught his breath. Seungmin pushed into you quickly, his cock was a bit like Jisungs however it was definitely thicker at the base. He had a second cock like jisung however it was a different color than his main cock.

Seungmin pushed deep into you his arms came down to grip your hips hard adding to the many little bruises from the others. He leaned down to kiss you before slipping his long tongue down your throat. He fucked into you sloppily to both your surprises Felix made his way underneath you, pushing his cock in with seungmins. He hissed breaking the kiss, the new tightness of you, your walls clenching around them both.

Hyunjin took a spot beside you, he pushed his almost human like cock into your mouth. His cock was long, a mix of purple and pink. It got thicker as you went down it with almost a knot looking bulge at the end. He fucked into your mouth softer than the other. His hands came up to cup your face making you look at him as he fucked down your throat. His pretty pink eyes locked on yours watching your every expression. His finger ran over the side of your cheek whipping a small tear that had fallen. “You’re being so good for us” he whispered out.

Felix matched seungmins pace however from Seungmin leaning down his smaller cock was rubbing against your clit. The moans you both let out were almost pornagraphic. He pulled away from the kiss a long string of spit connecting you both hands coming up to grab at your chest as he felt himself close already. Damn your warm cunt, it was just sucking him so well he couldn’t hold it. Seungmins movements started to slow a bit making Felix pick up the speed. Felix’s cock reached your g-spot making your body shake.

Your moans were sending vibrations around hyunjin’s cock making his body stutter. He grabbed ahold of your hand trying to steady himself as he was reaching his high. He glanced down at the other men making his head roll back. By accident while looking down his cock pushed as far as it could go making him groan loudly. “Fuck- c-cuming!” He said squeezing your hand ever so softly his thick cum gliding down your throat. You looked up at him with hooded eyes as you watched the pretty pink turn into a deep purple. His cock twitched a bit before pulling out. He kissed you ever so softly before moving away.

“She’s close-“ seungmin groaned. He pushed his sensitive cock against your clit as he moved his hips. The cock hitting your clit so Nicely the warmth of his precum making you groan. Your hand came down to touch it, to toy with it. Seungmins body trembled, he gripped your hips hard digging his fingers into your soft flesh as he came. He came hard too, both cocks releasing at the same time. He felt his body go limp like Jisungs as he stumbled back searching for a place to sit.

Felix was fucking into you hard now. His high was close and so was yours. Your body was covered in sweat, marks and now cum. Your brain was gone, eyes clouded from pleasure. You felt a figure approach you before you could open your eyes you felt the familiar cock push into you. It was Chan, fuck almost all of them were ready to go again.

This went on for a while. One finishing another one coming to fuck you. What felt like hours had passed, you didn’t even realize they had brought you to a bed. It felt like a water bed almost as it moved, it was so warm it felt like it was hugging you almost. All the men were curled around you Minho behind you buried deep you still. You heared Chan whisper softly as he played with your hair.

“Don’t worry pretty, we are gonna spoil you forever. Our pretty little love” he said before kissing your forehead. If this was gonna be the rest of your life honestly you were fine with it. You weren’t much of anything back on earth but here, you felt like everything to them. Yeah. You were fine with this.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Halloween Taglist: @ldysmfrst @kissesmellow21 @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @sheerfreesia007

[hotheadedhero]

Daft Pretty Boys

AN: I was going to try and get something Halloween-like out but it's been busy lately. Have some fluffy angst with Raph, instead :D

Raphael x Reader

Warning: kinda angsty, soft-hearted Raph ahead :)

When you blessed the turtles with your bright presence and inevitably befriended them, Raphael didn’t realise just how much of an emotional rollercoaster it would be. As a person, you are amazing. You always make a point to engage with him and his brothers, even for the small things. Other than April, they’ve never felt more welcomed by human company before. The thing is, if he were to put one fault on you, it’s your taste in men. 

You fall fast and hard, and it’s not because of their looks. It’s the ones who have this idea that they know they look good: the confidence they exude, sharp-witted flattery on the end of a hook that you can’t help biting into. You get caught, pulled in, they have their fun, and then you’re chucked back into sea awaiting the next juicy-looking cast of bait. One would think you’d be smart enough to not fall for the same routine tricks over and over again but here we are.

Each time you say, “He’s really sweet,” followed by a “This one is different,” but he never is. You’re always taking that chance, betting on the next guy being Mr Right, only for it to end in heartbreak, and every time Raph’s at your aid when you come crying to him. That isn’t said with any malice for you. He will always be there to pick up the pieces. Maybe broken pieces of these stupid shmucks if he just had five minutes alone with them.

You grasp so desperately to hope. Raph would commend you for your optimistic persistence if it didn’t break him to see you in tears. There’s only so much one heart can take. He doesn’t want you to become some calloused husk of your sweet self, too afraid to take another chance. He doesn’t want you to end up like him. Raphael knows he’s unloveable. Regardless of his appearance, he has a temper - one that he keeps as far away from you as he possibly can. His feelings for you never seem to pass despite how much he tries but he isn’t meant for love. That isn’t how this world works. You, on the other hand, should be cherished and he’ll beat the next sorry sucker who does any less than that.

How? How can someone be so foolish to drop you like these men have? He doesn’t get it. Were it him, he’d spend every waking moment appreciating you, letting it be known just how precious you are and how lucky he is to be the one to call you his. But he isn’t. The same daydream can play as many times as it likes, it’s never going to go in that direction. He needs to keep reminding himself of that.

You just deserve so much more than the cards you keep getting dealt. You’ve probably got to be the sweetest person he’s ever had the luxury of meeting. A little bubble-brained at times but that’s in part what makes you so cute. It’s also why you end up in and out of these short-lived relationships, he reckons. Much like now, for instance. It’s almost routine, weirdly systematic in a way, how you waddle into the lair glassy-eyed and red-faced wearing that grey sweater - the one he calls your breakup sweater - that’s two sizes too big for you. So much for the macho man with the green eyes. Making it to one month is a record, so there’s that at least.

Raphael doesn’t say anything, just holds a hand out whilst the other cradles the back of his neck. By now, he’s learnt that there’s nothing he can say. It’s better to wait on you until you manage to find your words. You slowly trudge towards him and smack your forehead into his chest. All he can do is stand there and stare at the top of your head whilst he battles the urge to pick you up and take you away from all this frivolous bullshit. His arm falls to his side as he watches you, and you just about say what he would expect you to.

“I really thought this one would be different,�� you whimper quietly and the hiccup in your throat makes his chest burn. “He seemed so genuine.”

Raphael’s heart clenches. He wants to scream that he’s the one who’s genuine, that he’s the one who’s been here through every heartbreak, every tear. But instead, he swallows his words, feeling the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on his chest.

He pats the top of your head, almost awkwardly, and sighs, “I know.”

A pained laugh muffles against his chest. “I’m the problem, aren’t I?” you ask rhetorically, playing it off as some joke at your own expense but it only angers him further.

“It’s not you,” Raph replies, a hint of a growl edging into his tone. “They’re the ones who don’t know what they’re missin’.”

“But there’s a common denominator here. It feels like it’s me.” You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Like, maybe if I was just different-”

“Stop right there,” he interjects, his brow furrowing. “You are not the problem. They are. Trust me on that.”

You always say the wrong things about yourself: the things he thinks about himself on a daily; if he was different. You are such an honest person and yet you lie so frequently when you talk about yourself. A nasty bi-product of those worthless scumbags treating you the way they do. You want to believe him on his word but you also can’t ignore the facts. It’s always the same song and dance. You stupidly cling to hope, searching for the silver lining that never seems to come, and end up in this sad mess of a person.

Raphael watches as you pull away, the warmth of his body replaced by the chill of reality. It’s painful to see you so vulnerable, so exposed. He wishes he could shake you out of this cycle, snap his fingers and make you see what’s right in front of you. But he can’t. All he can do is stand there, the silent sentinel, while you cry into the fabric of your sweater. The moment lingers, heavy and full of unsaid words. He wants to tell you that you deserve better, that you should never settle for the likes of those clowns who don’t recognize your worth. Yet, the words stick in his throat, tangled with his own fear of inadequacy.

He clears his throat, trying to break the tension. “Tell you what, let’s grab a couple sodas and a slice. Sit up top for a bit, yeah?”

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know if I can eat right now, Raph.”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to get outta this gloom. Plus, I’m starving,” he responds with a half-hearted attempt at humor, but the grin doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Finally, you yield. Begrudgingly, he might add, but food and the fresh night air is what you need right now, especially seeing as you’ve been cooped up in your apartment all day crying. He takes whatever pizza he had leftover - it’s only lasted because Mikey has luckily been out - along with a couple cans and leads you through the sewers. Whilst he’s essentially forcing you outside, he goes at your pace, never pushing you beyond that. Sure, it takes longer than it should but you get to a nice rooftop eventually, and before you know it, he’s already got you venting with a slice in your hand.

“And then he pulls out the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ shtick,” you say and Raph follows with a quiet “Of course, he does,” before you continue, “and I swear, I could’ve just slapped him.”

“You should have.”

You hum shortly against a bite of pizza and shrug. “Ah, the moment’s long gone, anyway.”

The two of you glance at each other with a small laugh before returning to the view ahead. This feels better. Much better. Once again, your knight in shell-y armour has helped you bounce back from your foreboding. If you had it your way earlier, you would have loved nothing more than to curl up on the couch and watch some bad reality TV to cheer you up. Not where Raph is concerned. He’s soft-natured when you need that shoulder to cry on but knows when to crack out a bit of that tough love, too. You’re always thankful for that - him - and you hope he knows just how much of a difference he makes.

"Hey.” He nudges you with his elbow and you look up, noting the light smirk on his face, though the seriousness behind his eyes isn’t something to be ignored. “Next asshole that breaks your heart, you just point me in the right direction.”

"And be an active participant in murder? Not a chance," you laugh and playfully swat him, earning a low chortle. You think you know what he’s getting at and it’s sweet in weird kind of way. With a perma-smile now glued to your face, you rest your head on his arm and speak more gently, "Thanks, though."

He glances down at you and tempts the idea of stroking a hand over your head. His fingers clasp into a fist and he looks ahead again, taking a gentle breath before responding quietly, "Yeah... don't mention it."

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters: What Type of Halloween Candy They'd Be

Happy Halloween! Last year, Cosmere characters dressed up. This year, I'm going to compare them to candy. Who knows what will happen next year?

Anyway, here's what type of candy I think each of them would be!

1. Szeth: Jawbreaker

Yes, this is a joke about his bald head.

2. Elend: Nerds

Yes, this is a joke about how Elend is a big nerd.

3. Siri: Skittles

They are a rainbow, just like Siri's hair!

4. Shallan: Three Musketeers

One candy. Three musketeers. Shallan.

5. Ham: Tootsie Pop

The tagline "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop" is a quasi-philosophical question that we as kids really felt was important. Ham loves debating shit. My wife says no one will remember this slogan because it's from the 90s but I was a kid then and I'm doing it.

6. Vin: Warhead

It's a weapon of mass destruction in candy form.

7. Kaladin: Kit Kat

A candy made to be broken in half. The tag line (from the 90s again probably shut up) is "Give me a break." But no one gives Kaladin a break. He just gets...broken.

8. Wayne: 100 Grand

First slogan: "Tastes so good it's almost illegal!" Second slogan: "That's rich!" Wayne: likes to steal, like recreationally, but not like in an illegal-illegal way. Then he gets Super Rich. Look, it makes sense in my head.

9. Steris: Homemade caramel apples

Steris doesn't do anything halfway. The caramel is homemade too.

10. Lift: Sour Patch Kids

I think Lift would be a candy with "kid" in the name. You know, because she's never going to grow up.

11. Renarin: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

The slogan I know is "There's no wrong way to eat a Reese's." And Renarin is a guy who likes to go his own way.

12. Leshwi: M&Ms

Hard outer shell (=crab lady) + delicious cholate interior (=Leshwi is sweet) and then there's slogan about how it m-melts in your m-mouth not in your hand.... Ha ha did it get hot in here or is it just me?

13. Dalinar: Twix

It's a candy that is a BONDED pair. I tried.

14. Adolin: Lindor Truffle

I felt that Adolin should be chocolate: solid, dependable, comforting. But, like, a fancy chocolate. Rich. Higher quality. That sort of thing.

15. Raoden: Snickers

Slogan (current, for once!): "You're not you when you're hungry." And, you know, as a person with the Shaod and an all-consuming hunger...

16. Moash: Candy Corn

People who hate candy corn: "Candy corn is the WORST thing to have EVER happened in the UNIVERSE and anybody who likes it is PROBABLY SICK AND TWISTED."

People who like candy corn: "It sucks! I love it so much."

(I like candy corn.)

17. Kelsier: Everlasting Gobstopper

My original joke: Because it survives forever!

My current joke: Holy shit I really thought this was a real candy but apparently it is a fictional candy from Willy Wonka that was later made into a real candy? Only the fictional candy really did last forever but of course the real candy doesn't; it's just a story.

That's somehow even more Kelsier.

18. Nale: Floss

There's always the one house that hands out floss, to remind the children that life is not about fun candy, it's about Responsibility. That's Nale.

[kannouo]

This Is Halloween!

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers x gn!reader. summary: how each of the demon brothers celebrate halloween. warnings: slightly suggestive on some parts, but not much. A/N: nobody asked for this i just really love halloween. had a lot of fun with writing these!

LUCIFER

• Predictably, Lucifer is very vocal with his complaints about this holiday. However, no matter how much he has to say about how pointless or childish these traditions are, you will always catch him going along with it anyway.

• "I don't see the appeal of these silly decorations," he says, and then spends the evening decorating the front lawn with elaborate props. "Why should we spend so much money on sweets if we're just going to give it all away?" He asks right before buying multiple bucket-fulls of candy because he wasn't sure how quickly they'd run out. "These costumes are ridiculous," he sighs, and later you find him trying on some newly-bought fake vampire fangs.

• He would only fully dress up if there was some kind of costume party orchestrated by Diavolo or the like. And when he does, he goes all out. Did you think the Avatar of Pride was going to settle for cheap, store-bought costumes? No — he's going to make sure his look is spectacular. You aren't sure how he's so good at special effects make-up.

• Dressing as a vampire is a pretty standard and basic choice, but Lucifer really brings it to life. To be honest, he already sort of dresses like a stereotypical vampire anyway, but he goes all-out this time. A long black cloak and formal outfit with red accents, some foundation for the illusion of paler skin, and some very well-done fake blood dripping from his lips. He probably carries around a goblet full of red wine just to really sell it.

• He doesn't need to do much else. He already has the good looks, black hair and red eyes. If you find him particularly attractive in this costume, you can expect him to teasingly indulge your fantasies throughout the evening and well into the night.

• If you let him buy garden props or decorations around the house, he will somehow find the most genuinely terrifying things out there. He very much enjoys the fear his very well-placed jumpscares and strangely realistic-looking skeletons spark in you and his brothers.

• A downside is his lawn decorations absolutely scare off a good amount of trick-or-treaters. Oh well. Beel will eat all the candy he bought instead, so at least it won't go to waste.

"Where did you get such good fake blood?" You question, wiping your thumb over Lucifer's bottom lip. He smirked, and you caught a glimpse of the fangs you'd helped him put in earlier. Trapped between him and the wall at your back, you allowed yourself to lean your head back as he kissed you. Only... His lips tasted... coppery? You pulled away for breath and stared at him. "It... it is fake, right?" "...Lucifer, please tell me that's fake blood."

MAMMON

• Hell yeah, Halloween! Sexy costumes, parties, sale opportunities! Mammon loves Halloween.

• Takes a bunch of Halloween-themed modelling gigs, since the season means anything related to it will sell way better. He can even make some extra money by making crappy T-shirts and charms and selling them to people who are crazy about this time of year.

• What Mammon doesn't love about Halloween, though, are two things. Horror and witches. Specifically witch costumes, because sometimes they look too realistic to a witch he's had "dealings" with in the past and trigger his fight or flight panic response. Maybe just choose something else to dress up as when you're with Mammon.

• As for horror, Mammon will deny to the grave that he's scared of horror movies, but he is, and he hates the uptick in scary films and horror attractions. He tries to avoid going near them or talking about them in general, because if you were to ask him to watch a horror movie or to come with you to a haunted house attraction, he has to say yes. He can't have his human thinking he's scared of something so silly! So for that reason, he tries to steer clear of the subject altogether.

• Mammon doesn't need a motive to dress up. It's Halloween, of course he's going to. The costume he chooses is likely to be something related to whatever is trending that year. If a new movie just came out that's all the rage online, he'll dress as a character from it. Aside from that, I can see him doing a werewolf look. He might even wear a collar if you ask.

• Will lose all ability to speak if you show up in a costume, too. It doesn't even matter if it's actually revealing at all, no matter what he will be absolutely floored. If it is something a little riskier though, expect him to get kind of possessive and very protective. Especially in public. His brothers think this behaviour is hilarious. "LOLOLOL, MC has a guard dog!" "Shaddup!"

• Super eager to answer the door to trick-or-treaters, but there has to be a rule set in place that he isn't allowed to go out there and demand money in exchange for candy from anyone who looks old enough, otherwise he will do just that.

• Takes all the candy from those "take one!" buckets left outside of people's houses and probably gets some kind of curse put on him because of it. Mammon becomes one of Lucifer's decorations that day.

You approached a smaller house with one hand intertwined with Mammon's, and a candy bag in the other. You were already a little sceptical as there weren't any lights on, but to your delight, there was a fake cauldron set up outside the door with a sign reading "please take one!" You picked out a candy bar of your choosing, only for Mammon to grab the bag from your hands. "Wha—" To your horror, he reached his arm in and scooped out all of the candy into the bag in chunks. "Mammon!" You scolded. "Shhh!" He shoved the — now full — bag back into your arms and grabbed you. "Just go!" ...You're pretty sure you saw the light of a doorbell camera as you both ran from the scene of the crime.

LEVIATHAN

• Levi does not like Halloween.

• I mean, any other time of the year normies make fun of cosplay and refuse to participate in it! But on Halloween night, it's suddenly okay?! And he's expected to greet all these snot-nosed little kids at the door and give them treats?! Absolutely not. He holes himself up in his room until Halloween night is over and done with, but honestly, it's not much of a difference to how he usually is.

• I can see him enjoying the decorations aspect of it, though. Even if he won't willingly participate in anything else, you can expect his room to be fully decked out in Halloween props and decor. He definitely buys stickers off of Akuzon to put on the windows.

• Another aspect he does actually like is the horror marketing, specifically if it's revolved around horror games. His idea of getting into the Halloween spirit is inviting you on a horror game binge in his room, but most of the games he chooses are very obscure and disturbing. If you like stuff like that, great! If you don't... ah... I'm sure he can find one that's a little less upsetting for you.

• He's too embarrassed to wear a costume in public, but if he were to dress-up at all, it'd be in cosplay. Maybe of Ruri-chan or one of his other beloved anime characters. It isn't horror-themed at all, but whatever, it's still a costume. He'll let you see him in it if you ask nicely, but he won't be going outside his room with it on. He also didn't need to order anything, he already had all of these cosplays hidden away in his closet for... personal reasons.

• Might actually get a kick out of one other thing — pumpkin carving! He'll carve a video game character into it instead of an actually frightening or classic Halloween design, but it turns out really good anyway.

• If anyone organises an apple-bobbing contest, he absolutely dominates. You're pretty sure being able to breathe underwater is against some kind of rule because he just doesn't need to come up at all, he'll dunk his head in and not come out until he gets an apple.

• Levi is the house leaving out "take one!" buckets.

After the umpteenth time of Levi insisting that this next game will be "more up your alley," you started to lose faith. All of these Devildom horror games seemed especially gore-y and cruel in a way that would not fly if they were released in the human realm. "Maybe... this one?" Levi hovered over another horror game he already downloaded and selected it. As soon as it booted up, the background 'music' on the title screen had the most horrific and genuine terror-filled screams you'd ever heard in your life. You winced and he immediately went back to the homescreen. "...Let's just play Devilkart," he conceded. "Yeah. Let's."

SATAN

• Doesn't mind Halloween as a whole, but gets really into certain aspects of it.

• Satan is another one likely to get in the "Halloween spirit" by binging horror media for the whole month, in his case, books. Most conversations with him in the month of October will lead back to the latest horror novel he's reading and his thoughts on it. He might recommend it to you if he knows you like horror, but if you don't, he'll also go in-depth about the plot.

• He really enjoys elaborate Halloween props, but if you set up one of those jumpscare machines to pop out at him, he will destroy it on instinct. Will later deny that it scared him at all, though.

• He likes all of the human-world Halloween traditions and tries to organise them for him and his brothers to participate. Apple-bobbing, pumpkin carving, ghost stories, you name it; he'll push for everyone to take part.

• Satan would only dress up if you managed to convince him to do so or if, like Lucifer, there was some kind of event that required all attendees to be in costume. Either way, he figures out he actually enjoys it way more than he thought he would. He dresses in a stereotypical 'detective' outfit and gets really into character. He even carries around a fake pipe.

• ...Might dress up as a cat. It depends on his mood. He would much prefer to see you dressed as one, though. If you do show up dressed in some kind of 'sexy cat' costume, he will drag you away with him at the earliest convenience.

• He and Belphie put a smoke machine in Lucifer's room while he was busy decorating the lawn.

• Doesn't like handing out sweets. If he's the one answering the door, you'll have to stop him from trying to give the kids fruit instead of the candy you already bought. "These are unhealthy. We shouldn't be encouraging such young children to have bad eating habits—" "Satan, just give the kid a snickers."

"Just put them on? Please?" You pouted, holding a black cat headband in front of his face. He glanced between you and the cheap cat ears for a moment, before sighing and grabbing them off of you. You grinned as he put the headband on his head, then stared at you with raised eyebrows and an unimpressed glare. "Happy?" "Very," you nodded. Then you reached to pull out your D.D.D. "Now meow for the camera." "Don't push your luck."

ASMODEUS

• "In girl world, Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it." — Mean Girls, 2004.

• Granted, he's not a girl, and he'll dress exactly how he wants any other day of the year too. But still, Halloween is special! He has so many things to choose from. Sexy cat? Sexy nurse? Sexy cop? Sexy—

• Like Mammon, he might choose a costume based on a popular or trending movie, just with his own special Asmo-touch. He won't settle for cheap, store-bought costumes — even if he'd still look damn good in them — and probably makes his outfit himself. Try and tell me you can't see him dressing as Barbie. You can't, because he would.

• He does Halloween-themed makeup looks throughout the whole month of October. You can expect his Devilgram to be filled with pictures of cute Halloween nail designs he did, and a matching makeup look. If any sort of event happens and you're going — he'll insist on dolling you up for it himself! He's your personal makeup artist.

• Isn't a fan of horror movies, horror attraction or those creepy decorations Satan and Lucifer keep buying. He might accompany you to a haunted house though, so he can dramatically throw himself at you whenever he encounters something even mildly frightening.

• If you convince him to do pumpkin-carving (despite his insistence that it would ruin his perfectly manicured nails), he carves a some kind of cute design, like a pretty flower. He would carve his beautiful face into it, but... he isn't quite at that level of expertise.

• Asmo is very excited to hand out all the candy! All the kids that come to the door look so adorable in their little costumes! And if you think you saw him sneak a few sweets for himself when he's supposedly on a diet, no you didn't.

"Aaaah! MC, save meee!~" Asmo came running down the hall of the haunted house attraction, jumping into your arms and clinging to you for dear life. As you looked in the direction he came from to see what could have possibly startled him so badly, you saw nothing but a tiny, fake spider prop. "...Asmo, it's a plastic spider." "But it looks ickyyy!" He whined. "Can I hold onto you until we get through this hall? So you can protect me!~" "...Fine." "Oh, MC, my hero!~" He began to pepper kisses all over your face. "A—Asmo! Where do you think you're touching?!"

BEELZEBUB

• You can probably see where this is going, but yes, he will eat all of the candy you buy.

• He doesn't mean it, honestly. But it just smells so good and it's right in front of him. Pumpkin carving is also impossible with Beel for this reason. He will just eat the whole pumpkin. It's best to hide all of the sweets from him until Halloween night, but considering his excellent sense of smell, even that won't work for long if he wakes up in the middle of the night with a craving.

• He does his best to be helpful where he can, however. He's very tall, so he'll help with putting up decorations in high places. He's also capable of carrying large props to and fro with minimal effort, so Lucifer found him very useful for setting up the lawn decor.

• Beel doesn't mind dressing up if it'll make you happy. He also doesn't really care what his costume is. If you take him out to choose, he'll constantly turn the question of what he should wear back on you, because he really can't decide and honestly doesn't care that much. You could point to the most ridiculous-looking Winnie the Pooh costume and he'd shrug and say "okay."

• That being said... a bear costume would suit him pretty well. Imagine seeing an absolute beast of a man dressed as Winnie the Pooh and absolutely downing pots of honey. People are just kind of like huh... that's a really dedicated Winnie the Pooh cosplayer, I guess. Another costume I can see for him is a zombie because... "eating brains"? Idk.

• He also isn't a good choice to compete in apple-bobbing competitions for obvious reasons. If you thought Levi would dominate, wait until Beel starts consuming the entire container of water and apples. The apple-bobbing event had to be cut short.

• He doesn't mind horror movies and attractions. He won't go to them of his own accord, but if you take him along, he'll hold your hand the whole time so you don't get too scared. The only downside is that the scare actors will probably be too terrified of him and his RBF to actually jump out and scare either of you, so... it kind of just feels like a tour of some weird abandoned house.

You flinched and covered your eyes as the screen before you displayed yet another jumpscare. You couldn't help but curse Levi for recommending this movie... what is wrong with the Devildom film industry?! You heard Beel's crunching on chips cease next to you for a moment before he shuffled closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to rest against his side. "Beel?" "Shh," he lifted a few more of the chips from the bag to his mouth. "You're okay." Usually, him talking with his mouth full would diminish how he was trying to comfort you, but... you had to admit, you felt much safer snuggled against him like this. "...Thanks." You try to ignore the crumbs he's getting on you.

BELPHEGOR

• It's Halloween?... Okay? Snooore.

• He's about as apathetic as you would expect. He doesn't care what day it is, he's going back to bed. Will not assist any of his brothers in decoration, except for maybe Beel if he's feeling awake enough. But Beel doesn't usually require that much help anyway.

• Belphie isn't going to buy himself a costume. You'll have to get him one. "Belphie! I got something for you to wear!" "Yeah? What?" The look he gave you when you held up the disney princess gown suggested he didn't quite think it was as amusing as you did. Still, if it's all you got him, he probably would wear it.

• Obviously, the most fitting costume you can buy him is one of an actual sloth. Just make sure it's comfortable enough, and he'll be wearing it long after Halloween is over. Another costume he'd appreciate is a zombie similar to Beel's or a mummy, because then he can just lay down, sleep, and excuse it as the fact the thing he's dressed as is literally dead.

• Is not affected by jumpscares in the slightest. He might watch a horror movie with you, but he probably won't accompany you to any attractions unless you carry him. If you do get him there, though, he'll make fun of you for being scared and keep hiding behind corners to make you think he disappeared or went ahead without you.

• Apple-bobbing? Pumpkin carving? Costume parties? Eh... Beel, MC, can you guys handle this for him? Pretty please?

• Isn't too thrilled about answering the door, but he will do it if you pester him. He kind of just chucks a bunch of random candy into all the kids' bags and probably scares one or two of them off by making a poorly timed, slightly threatening joke. You have to remind him they're children and don't understand he's kidding.

• That doesn't mean he'll stop. He's now just scaring them on purpose because it's funny.

"Belphie, wake up!" You lightly slap the back of his head and he jolts awake, shooting you a glare. You frown right back at him. "We're going to be late to the party." "Why are we even going?" He whined, rubbing his eyes. "Because we were invited? And it'd be rude to not at least try and show up?'' "Whatever..." You hit him again as he went limp. "Stop doing that. I'm a sloth. Sloths sleep." "Get up, Belphegor! I am not carrying you all the way there!"

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

Ticci Toby/Tobias Rogers

Sorry this took so long!! I’ve been contemplating writing one shots, but I feel like I should get the head canons out first. If any of you have any ideas for one shots (x readers, char x char, nsfw), my request box is open! I’ll get around to them as soon as possible. :)

- 5’11! Sleeper build and scrawny, but extremely strong upper arms. He’s not as fast as Kate and Brian, but he makes up for it with how long he can run. He never gets tired and can chase victims for hours. Lots of freckles, too!

- White with mostly German heritage. He doesn’t know very much German, just baseline stuff he learned from his mom. (Connie grew up in Germany until she was 15.)

- Medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He’s pretty pale, but being outside most of the time he does have a slight tan, lots of freckles too.

- His dad was extremely abusive and would beat him, his mom, and his sister, it was rare for him to not be drunk. Toby killed him only a few hours after his father beat his mom to the point she was unconscious. He’d rather his mom lose both of her children and her abusive husband than endure so much pain, he cared about her more than anything. He didn’t want to sit idly by as he loses his sister and mother.

- His fingers are TORN up. Bites and picks at his nails, cuticles, dry knuckles, all of it. His fingertips and palms are also super calloused.

- Hangs out with Jeff and Ben most of the time. He’s closer to Ben and thinks Jeff’s a douche, but he puts up with him since sometimes the three of them have fun.

- He can be a jerk, but if you’re able to break past his shell he’s super sweet. He’s still sarcastic and snarky, but not necessarily mean. VERY smug.

- Had Jeff do a tattoo of Lyra’s birthday on his shoulder. It turned out surprisingly good. He was originally going to do her death date, but he felt like it was better to honor the time she was alive.

- Halloween junkie. He has a massive sweet tooth and loves autumn, so it’s the perfect day ever in his eyes.

- This guy DESTROYS in poker and blackjack. The few times his dad would spend time with him they’d play together. Even though he hated him, it meant a lot to him when he was little. Has the teeny tiniest gambling addiction, makes a bunch of bets with other residents of the mansion and usually wins.

- MIDWESTERN EMO BOY!!!! I will die on this hill. Music taste, clothing, all of it.

- His tics are pretty rare now that he’s older, but when he’s anxious they get bad.

- Exclusively wears comfortable clothes. Not because he gets uncomfortable, he could (and does) sleep in jeans and not be bothered. When he was younger he would always be forced to wear slacks, dress shoes, button ups, and ties for church or family gatherings. He HATED it.

- Him, Tim, and Brian are usually put on missions together. They’re all pretty compatible, and it’s nice to talk to just some regular ass dudes. Sometimes all three of them will go to run down diner’s if they finished their mission early, it’s the most normality any of them have in their lives.

- He and Tim bicker a LOT, but he secretly find comfort in it. He sees Tim as a protective older brother, rather than someone who just hates him. With how his dad treated him growing up, he thought all arguing was yelling and being aggressive, but Tim’s is more disagreement or annoyance.

- Almost knows how to play the acoustic guitar. He’s a quick learner, but he doesn’t have a crazy strong desire to get better at it.

- Pretty much always wears a big bandaid over his cheek gash. He’s not necessarily insecure about it unless he has a crush on someone, but it’s hard to eat or drink when it’s just open.

- He’s actually not to bad at soccer! Sometimes when it’s nice out him and Cody find a ball and play.

- Anywho, I’m in love with him.

Feedback and requests are welcome! Thank you for reading. :)

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

[kandyshoppe]

Just some baby ideas that I (hopefully) will (eventually) draw!

Riddle as a little baby and kid was in and out of the hospital. I feel he was a premie baby, and really struggled for a few years. He’s obviously better now, but a lot of his younger years were spent in hospitals and sickly.

Trey working the counter, and younger Crewel buying something, and just fawning over the cute baby! And Trey being like “can I takes you order!” And “fank you!” As he waves at Crewel with his arms FULL of baked goods! He bought them out, just so he could stay with the baby longer!

Cater playing with a camera, I bet he LOVED being his sisters camera man much more than their dress up doll. He liked pictures cause he can go through them and remember stuff!

Deuce just being a mama’s boy. Helping carry anything and everything, though the grocery bag drags on the ground, trying to cook and burning the eggs, picking flowers for her.

Ace just following his brother like a duckling, copying whatever his big brother does! (Silver doing this with Lilia too!)

Leona also having a nice relationship with his brother, but his brother is probably a little overbearing as many kids can be. Leona is such a cat he needs his space sometimes, but Falena just loves his baby bro so much!

Ruggie helping granny with laundry, and cleaning. Also crying cause he ate all the food, and it’s gone, he knows he ate it, but he wanted more! Oh! Ruggie was probably a messy eater, sprinkles and frosting everywhere!

Jack doggy paddling, Jack chasing his tail, Jack playing with squeaky toys, just Jack being a little puppy!

Azul helping cook, and run the restaurant! I like the idea that he would make pretend food and feed the customers the “special” he cooked up! Showing people to their tables, and helping taste test food! As well as his first Father’s Day present for his step dad!

Jade And Floyd just being brothers, fighting, stealing, arguing, but also just having so much fun together. Being silly and having fun.

Kalim chewing shiny jewelry, and just being a silly baby. I also like the idea he would run through the fountain with his nice party clothes, right before the party!

Jamil probably adored having his hair done by his mama, and would try to do his sisters hair, but as a baby she had short hair and he couldn’t do much. Put bows all over her! I also be as a little little kid he was allowed to shine, and liked showing off to his sister.

Vil just being a cutie! He’s adorable no matter what he does! He probably wasn’t a big model as a kid, and his dad tried to protect him, but man! Holidays are fun, and he does share his holiday pictures with Vil. Not to mention Vil’s Halloween MEGA photo shoot, cause his dad is a Halloween lover!

Rook being in his outdoorsy family, learning to fish, and track, helping garden. I have a headcannon that as a toddler, and he was mad, he would go eat the mint plant (his mother’s favorite) as like a gotcha! He always felt bad and would help heal it, but three year olds don’t think far ahead.

Epel helping Granny in the kitchen, covered in flour, carefully carrying the eggs! I also bet he was a big helper with picking the apples! On his dad’s shoulders, reaching as high as he can for the shiniest apples!

Idia and Ortho! Idia holding baby Ortho, showing baby Ortho his favorite games, and his toys! Crying when Ortho drooled on his favorite stuffies, and his mama comforting while she dries the toys.

Malleus learning how to shift to his human body, and him having hiccups that make him blow small fires!

Silver and Lilia! Omg! So many ideas! I love the idea of Lilia struggling with baby Silver, as a new parent, exhausted from baby cries, panicking over every little thing, ect! Lilia also crying and having to be comforted by Silver on Silver’s first day of school.

Sebek with his little crocodile tail, and teething! I bet his home has a lot of teething damages on chairs and table legs. Bet he had a favorite blankie too! Oh! And him and Silver being friends!

[amomentsescape]

I'd love to see y/n making Halloween treats with the slashers from the prompt list!!!

Slashers Making Halloween Treats with You

October 2023 Halloween Prompt List

A/N: Thank you for this request! My inbox is still open and empty so feel free to send in more requests (with or without the prompts)!

Freddy Krueger

This man literally takes nothing seriously

The moment you step away from the counter, the fun pretzel treats are now wiggling fingers

Your immediate glare silences Freddy's laughs as he finally changes them back

"You're no fun"

Doesn't really help you with the process

Not because he doesn't want to, but because you refuse to let him

He doesn't want to take off his glove and would probably set the place ablaze somehow

So he's left to just watch

But he doesn't mind

He comes up behind you a lot and holds you close, peeking over your shoulder

Steals a few tastes of chocolate here and there

Will also make whatever spatulas or cups you need appear right beside you

Occasionally it's a severed head, but it wouldn't be Freddy without some dumb scares

He might not be much help in the kitchen, but he'll gladly lend a hand in tasting everything

Just don't leave him unintended

He has literally no self control

Michael Myers

Michael may not seem like the type, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth

Halloween is clearly his favorite time of year, and it wouldn't make much sense for him to not like the occasional sugary treat

So of course, you had to take advantage of this

He doesn't really understand what you're doing (kitchen stuff isn't his thing)

It's honestly kind of cute how he just follows you around like a lost puppy, only doing what you ask of him

He'll hand you whatever supplies you need

Doesn't touch any of the food though

Wants to leave the house a couple of times, but you don't let him

Eventually decides on sitting in a chair and watching you

Will only actually help you if it involves using a knife

He doesn't enjoy doing things he's not good at, but using a blade is something he feels confident with

Honestly, anything that involves the use of a sharp object is something he'd rather do (he thinks you're too clumsy)

Just tell him and he'll do it, and he'll do it well too

You have him taste some of the ingredients along the way

He shows no reaction, but he secretly loves it

Jason Voorhees

Despite everything, Jason is still a bit of a child at heart

He doesn’t really eat, but he’s happy to be there with you (and he makes an exception here and there)

He’s very eager to help you in the kitchen!

All you have to do is ask and he’s there

It reminds him of what he and his mother used to do when he was younger

Would rather build each treat together than do it separately

This takes a lot more time, but he’s happy to spend all night doing it if it’s by your side

Loves when you give him a small kiss or a bump of your hip as you reach around him

Holds each cookie with such gentleness that you’d think it was alive

Gets all pouty if he accidentally makes a mess

But a small smile is all it takes for him to pep up again

Thomas Hewitt

The occasional piece of candy would be handed out during this time of year, but actual baked goods were rare for him

So when you brought up the idea of making some treats, Thomas was almost a bit confused

But any activity with you was quality time in his book, so he agreed

He's not much of a chef since his job is mainly to catch the food, but he tries his best

All the measuring and cooking is solely up to you, but the decorating is something he's eager for

The occasional frosting boop ends up on your nose

And sugar has somehow found its way all over the floor and table

But Thomas's excitement makes up for it all

He's not much of an artist, but they'll all taste the same

Definitely wants to lick out the bowl before you have a chance to wash it

But he's happy to help you clean after everything is done

Bubba Sawyer

This man has the biggest sweet tooth ever

Immediately jumps on the chance to make some Halloween treats with you

He not only likes sweets, but he also enjoys the process of making them

Is a bit too eager to help and ends up just throwing flour and sugar into the bowl before measuring them

Will probably need to give him a lollipop or something to calm him down a bit

Hands you all the ingredients you need

Doesn't know the difference between a 1/2 cup and 1/4 cup though

He ends up eating a good amount of the batter while you were washing your hands

So your full-sized cake was going to need to be resized

You end up settling on making cake pops

Bubba has a lot of fun rolling the dough into little balls and dipping them into the icing

He ends up getting food all over his clothing and has to change before they're done

Brahms Heelshire

It was actually his idea to make some treats in the first place

You were feeling a bit bummed that you couldn't do the normal fall things you used to do since Brahms hates leaving the house

He tried to make up for it by recommending the spooky activity

You were excited and decided to get started that night

Brahms would probably burn down the house if you tried to bake anything, so you settled on some rice krispie treats instead

He stayed by your side the entire time, but wasn't really much help until the mixing part

He jumped at the chance to stick his hand in the marshmallowy mess

However, he also tried everything in his power to eat it before you had even added the food coloring

You basically had to threaten to not sleep in bed with him that night for him to stop

Ends up adding too much food coloring

And still finds a way to eat some of treat when your back was turned

This resulted in the making of just one rice krispie treat

Norman Bates

He loves the idea and wants to make it into a date night

He lights some candles and gets the record player going

Norman isn't one for sugary sweets, but he does enjoy pie during this cooler weather

He also knows his way around the kitchen pretty well so of course he already has the recipe memorized

Wants to make everything from scratch (the filling, the crust, all of it)

Shows you the correct way to knead the dough and will stand behind you to guide your hands

Rewards you with small kisses on the forehead

Once the pies are in the oven, he takes you by the hand and dances a bit to the music while you wait

You both end up cooking an entire dinner to go along with the pies

They honestly came out delicious and the night was absolutely perfect for you two

Billy Loomis

Billy is a decent cook, he just lacks motivation

But he agrees to the idea as long as they can be Ghostface themed (you couldn't expect anything less honestly)

Will do most of the work making the batter and letting you lick the spoon

Gives you kisses in between each task

He leaves the decorating up to you though, since art isn't really his forte

He also doesn't want to get colored icing on his clothes

Of course, you have to have a scary movie playing in the background

Helps you clean up if you ask him to

Holds you to his chest while you try to work, completely distracting you the whole time

Sweet kisses along your neck

The occasional compliment in your ear

He's having a much better time than he had originally thought

Once they're done, you both have trouble waiting and immediately cut into them

The brownies are shared on the couch during your horror movie marathon

Stu Macher

So this isn't the first time you guys tried to make some treats

Cookies, cupcakes, and candies have all been attempted before only to fail

Mostly Stu's fault to be honest

He burnt pretty much everything

So you finally decided to go with the complete opposite

Milkshakes!

He sneaks a few spoonfuls of ice cream before you guys start

Spills milk on the floor and on your shirt a couple times

But the enthusiasm is there

Has a fun Halloween playlist going on in the background as well

His favorite part is rolling the glasses around in the sprinkles

Dumps half the container in his mouth first though and stains his lips black

Tries to kiss you despite your giggling protests

By the time you guys finally finish decorating the shakes, the ice cream has pretty much melted down

But they still taste great

Eric Draven

Anything that feels like normal domestic living is a win in Eric's book

He honestly looks forward to the task all week and even comes home super early that night so you two can spend time together

But of course, he somehow manages to choose the most decoratively challenging treat he possibly could

Lights some candles and leaves the window cracked, letting the cool fall air inside

Hums while he mixes ingredients together, giving you a warm smile whenever he catches your eye

Doesn't even let one drip of batter fall onto the counter

He is somehow that skilled

Wraps his arms around you and sways back and forth while you work

You leave all the bone decorating to him though

Eric is incredibly artistic, and he somehow pulls off everything he tries for the first time

The treats end up coming out just like the picture

You end the night taking turns feeding each other the little treats

[animeyanderelover]

Halloween is almost upon us and so I have decided to write a short something as well. It doesn’t include a specific character though and only focuses on the concept of a siren reader in the world of One Piece. I took the liberty of taking my own spin on the sirens, though there are still known themes in here.

Tw: Yandere themes, sirens are extremely cruel in here, manipulation, hypnosis, sadism, blood lust, sirens play around with their victims for the fun of it, sirens have a human and a monster form, the monster form is going to have very specific physical features, cannibalism, slavery, sexual abuse, violence, mentions of suicide, death, female reader

A reader's origin

You still remember it. Your human life. Yes, once upon a time you used to be a human. One who lived above the sea water, who walked on two legs and one who lived a puny and mortal life. Young, naïve and deeply in love with a sailor who had found his second love in you with his first being the sea and its alluring promise of adventure. You poor maiden, always filled with longing and heartbreak whenever he left you on the island where you had been born and raised to chase his next adventure. Always waiting for him every day on the port, your hopeful gaze focused on the horizon. Your sailor always kept you waiting, the distance only making your heart grow fonder as you waited day and night for your darling’s arrival. Wondering, weeping, moaning for your sailor until he sailed home to you. Weeks or even months sometimes passed as you longed for him, your innocent heart slowly filling with disdain for the sea and all the glittering gold it hid, for stealing your man from you. What a boring and meaningless existence it has been in hindsight.

What a good-natured person you used to be. Your heart filled with longing for your sailor and resentment against the ocean that constantly stole him from you. How many times did you beg your lover to take you with him only for him to laugh at you and tell you that you aren't made for the harsh sea. His comments were hurtful yet there still was a grain of truth in his words that you couldn't deny. Then one day he announces news that nearly break your heart. He plans to sail to the New World, plans to plunge himself into unknown seas that have taken the lives of so many other people before him. You beg him to not go, to stay with you instead of risking his life on seas where he may never return to you. Yet on that day you realise once more that you have never been the one he loves most. His heart belongs to the sea. So you have no choice but to let him go, tears cascading down your cheeks as you watch his ship leaving the ship, disappearing beyond the horizon. The sunset dips the sky in warm colours of red, casting a bloody light upon the ship as it sails away. An eerie forboding for the future that awaits the crew.

Only a few weeks after his crew has left the island they come. Real pirates. They raid the island, steal away all the riches your village possesses, imprison men, women and children alike. You are under those who are enslaved, who spent weeks on a cold and reeking ship where they push you around, where they grope you and mistreat you and everyone else. Weeks you have to spend on deck of the ship, malnourished, dehydrated and abused. Not everyone makes it sadly and those who die due to the mistreatment are thrown into the seawater, damned to serve as food for the sea beasts. You protest, you cry, you plead for them to at least allow the rest of the captured villagers to bury the dead properly only to be thrown around like a ragdoll as they mock you for your desperate pleas. Clothes are torn of your body, your nose is weeping red blood and your lip is busted as the taste of metal fills your mouth. Hands are all over your body, taint your skin and leave you shaking and crying on the dirty ground, the anguished cries of the other villagers filling your ears as the limp corpse is thrown overboard.

You're sold in Sabaody Archipelago to a Celestial Dragon, added to an evergrowing collection of women he buys as if they were souvenirs. To him they most likely are. Every day is torture for you. A collar around your neck that could explode any moment, skimpy clothes that tear away the last shreds of your dignity as you are forced to serve a slimy and disgusting master who touches you whenever he wishes and has a temper worse than a toddler. Something always sets him off even if you did nothing wrong. You're always slapped, grabbed roughly by your growing hair or forced on your knees to serve him pleasure. There is no bond that holds you or the other female slaves together as everyone is focused on her own survival, fingers constantly pointed at each other to avoid the punishment. You do not find it in you to blame them though as you start mimicking the other female slaves, pushing the blame on others and listening with closed eyes as their screams of pain fill the halls. It feels like you're going insane as weeks pass, every day a fight for survival and the bare necessities, a fight for no new wounds and scars.

You barely have any time to think about your lover, too preoccupied with your own survival. Sometimes though he crosses your mind at night when your whole body is aching from the intense labor of the day. You find the love you hold for him slowly dimishing, overshadowed by your own suffering. If only he wouldn't have left for the sea, if only he would have stayed with you and wouldn't have taken all those men with him. Then maybe, maybe, your village would have been able to defend itself better. Then maybe the pirates wouldn't have been able to take so many of you as prisoners. Then maybe you wouldn't have seen them dying or watching as they were sold to different people. Then maybe you wouldn't have to go through the torture that you are now forced to endure. All of that didn't happen though. And why did none of those what-if-scenarios happen? Because you were less important to him than the sea. Your thoughts are selfish and filled with resentment as those black emotions nourish themselves from all your pain and your suffering, tainting your once pure love more and more.

A storm is raging on one fateful night as you and other female slaves are upon a ship as your master has insisted to travel across the oceans of the New World as he has heard about another auction to buy a new female slave as one of his own has recently caved in to all the torture and took her own life. You do not know what happened to her body as you did not belong to the group that was forced to discard her body. You only remember the whiplashs you received as a punishment for her disobedience as her life was not her own and for that she didn't have the right to just kill herself. Truly, as you lay in the tiny room all of the female slaves sleep in with your back still screaming in agony, you wonder what you have turned into for you feel only bitterness for the woman who is responsible for the pain that was inflicted upon you. It's as if any empathy you ever possessed has slowly been stomped out like a dying spark. This is what you have turned into. You do your best to ignore the searing pain in your back as you close your eyes, hoping to at least get some hours of sleep only to wake up and repeat your daily hell.

There's a pleasant buzz drapped within your brain like heavy fog when you awake, sitting up as the rest of the other female slaves. The storm outside has calmed down as if falling silent for those humming melodies coming from everywhere. Your thoughts are slow, your body seemingly not your own as your limbs start moving on their own. The sounds of dragging footsteps are heard everywhere as all people on board start moving outside, even your master. Once outside the strange melody amplifies in volume now that there is nothing shielding you anymore from its sound, the fog within your mind thickening until your slow thoughts completely vanish. Your only desire in that moment is to get closer to that melody, to drown yourself within that sound that seems to erasse every single trace of pain and agony. You're not the only one. One after the other everyone jumps into the water. Once you stand on the edge you catch sight of something that almost stops your heart, your eyes widening subtly as you stare down into the bubbling and dark waters as everyone around you drops into the salty water as if they were stones.

They're slithering around within the water like the predators they are, webbed hands with sharp claws stretched out as they welcome their prey which jumps into the dark waves. Razor sharp teeth are within their mouths as they continue singing with those hypnotising voices of theirs, their eyes completely white, ears shaped like little fins and the skin of their upper body a light grey. Long fish tails in an even darker grey than the skin on their human torso, gills on their necks as they snatch away all those who fall into the waters, grabbing them and dragging them into their kingdom where they will be drowned and devoured. The wind is howling around you, almost drowning out the screams of terror and pain as those creatures start feasting from their prey yet not enough to erase the sound of their voices. You are shaking, whether its due to the biting cold, newfound terror or morbid excitement is unclear. Blotches of red swirl around within the water all around the ship, slashed clothes resurfacing here and there as all former passengers are eaten. There's only you left now, standing there and staring into the abyss which stares right back at you with shimmering white eyes.

The final step you take almost feels liberating as you leave the ship behind, leave every bad memory behind. The few brief seconds where you fall feel freeing before you plunge into the cold water that almost immediately numbs your body. The salty water irritates your eyes as soon as you try to open them, everything around you dark and ominous as you make out the dark silhouttes of the monsters as they drag people deep within the ocean to enjoy their meal. One of them approaches you slowly, her head tilted as if she is observing you. Somewhere within the deepest part of your mind you wonder what creature they are. Mermaids? No, that can't be. The descriptions and rumors that you have heard do not fit those strangely beautiful creatures at all. Clawed hands suddenly touch your cheeks, high-pitched chirps resonating through the sea as she seems to communicate with her sisters all whilst not looking away from you. The emptiness of air within your lungs is but a dull sensation, your mind still strangely serene and peaceful as you listen to the weird chatter of those creatures before your body forces you to refexively gasp for air, water filling your lungs, nose and mouth.

You only have hazy memories. The taste of salty air on your tongue as the she-monster helps you back to the surface. A swarm of them swimming close to the surface, all of them holding other female slaves from the sinking ship close to them, frequently resurfacing to allow you to breathe. Pressure popping in your ears as suddenly they take all of you into a mysterious cave, the entrance deeper within the ocean. You remember that you gasp desperately for air at one point as soon as you resurface, your lower body still in the water. There is mostly darkness around you, not a single ray of light that reaches the underwater cave, only the dim glow of their bodies. Only the sounds of splashing water and other human women gasping and coughing around you. The very last memory that you have is the sensation of being dragged underwater once more, smothered by the cold skin of the sirens who produce slimy and thick threats from their bodies and wrap you inside of them as if it was a coccon before they attach you to the wall within the cave, half of the strange creation still hanging outside the water. After that you barely remember anything as you fall into a deep sleep that is going to last for months.

You dream a lot during that time, revisiting your whole human life as you are shielded within that cocoon. Sometimes you stir awake though when wails of agony and sorrow suddenly fill the cave, telling you that one of the other female slaves hatched too early, their metamorphosis not complete and their body unable to survive under the water. At one point you find yourself weeping along, a strange agony filling your soul, a new compassion for the loss of a potential sister that you never felt before as a human. The feeling of hunger and the wish for freedom is what causes you one day to wake up all by yourself, the tightness around you restricting you and making you uncomfortable. Something compels you to leave, your instincts telling you that it is time. Sharp claws tear into the thick and gooey egg, tearing it effortlessly apart as you create a hole big enough for you to slip out. A light glow emits from your body, your senses completely different. Only freshly hatched yet your instincts seem to already know what to do as you quickly find your way outside the cave, joined by joyful sisters who welcome you as a new sister and invite you to your first hunt. You're the only survivor.

Free to explore the sea all by yourself, your first desire is to find the man who betrayed you but who you still long for. The very sailor who chose the ocean over you. You long to see him, to hold him, to kiss him, to devour him. Unable to deal with your heartbreak anymore you wish to unite with him forever, to never let him leave you ever again. A few of your older sisters follow you, the promise of fresh flesh alluring as they help you to hunt him down if he should still be alive. Luckily he very much is and you expected nothing less from the man you love. You feel your heart trembling with affection and wrath when you spot that familiar ship, you and your sisters slowly swimming closer without being spotted. Still, you wish for him to see you, to see what has become of you since his departure. Only after he has jumped right into your arms do you take him further away, allow him to come to his senses for a little while. A sweet smile on your face, one that quickly transforms into a bloodthirsty grin which reveals a row of sharp teeth, claws stealing his pretty eyes before you slowly drag him down with you, watching the life slowly fade from his body, forever united with the two biggest loves of his life. The sea and you.

Your kind doesn't have any specific name. Not until a few decades after the World Government has been established and accidents surrounding crews disappearing mysteriously from ships in the New World become more frequent. Sirens. No one exactly knows where your kind originated from or for how long you have been existing already, though tales from Fishman-Island suggest that you are related to their kind and therefore have been luring beneath the ocean for a long time already. However, your kind is forbidden to enter Fishman-Island, stories of your kind hunting mermaids and Fishmen alike, toying around with them and playing around with them for fun making the seafolk fear you and your sadistic nature. You feast on flesh from all living creatures, use your voices to lure prey to you and then devour them like starved piranhas. Underwater you are dangerous predators, fast and surprisingly strong. Your voices hynotise your targets, their brains mushy and slow as they fall victim to your songs. Sirens do not only use their voices to bewitch people though. You are also able to release a high-pitched scream which causes everyone who hears it extreme pain.

Those screams can even be enough to kill someone as the sound can cause not only eardrums but even the brain within the head to burst. It is a rare line of defense for your kind to use your voices that way, a last resort if you are cornered or wounded. Your bodies heal faster than other creatures, wounds that may take weeks to months to heal only take you days if you rest enough and receive proper nourishment. Sirens are very closely connected, treating each other as sisters even if everyone is free to travel alone through the oceans. A siren can live up to a millennium before she passes away, looking as beautiful and young as the day she hatched. However, once the life has left the body the remains can rot and unable to bear the heartbreak of your sister withering away into ugliness, your kind has developed a morbid tradition. Once one of your own dies you weep for days and nights, the eerie sounds carried across the seas and keeping entire islands awake in terror and bliss before you feed on her dead body before she can lose her beauty, even devouring her bones so that nothing remains, so that no one may ever take your beloved sisters or her remains away from you.

It is unclear to the Government if your kind procreates. Truth is, none of you has been born from a mother and a father. All of you hatched in the cave from the gooey threads you were wrapped in, creating the cocoon which slowly transformed you into sirens. The Government spectulates that technically it should be possible though for your kind to bear children biologically if you should ever decide to mate with a man. However, it simply doesn't seem to be an instinct installed into your biology. Your kind does feel affection but often only in short-lived sparks with the end goal always being to ultimately feed from your chosen victim. Your kind is even able to transform back into the race they were before being made a siren, allowing you to travel even on land and mix in with the rest. You're almost indistinguishable from other people living above the water from that point on which makes it extremely tricky for people to realise what you really are, especially since sirens naturally attract people to their sides, bewitching without even speaking. Your kind is far from wild animals after all. You are fast learners and your threat levels have only gone up after your kind learned how to use and utilise Haki.

The mere solace for the World Government is that your kind only lives within the New World. Very rarely does a siren travel to Paradise and even if she does, the government proceeds carefully. They never kill one of your kind as they know that other sirens will take merciless revenge if one of their sisters should be murdered. They've learnt it the hard way and that accident remains one of the worst in their history, one that only few know of. In Paradise and other parts of the Blue sirens only remain legends meant to scare children. In the New World however those legends quickly turn into a fearful reality. Still, you are no brainless predators. You do not attack and kill just anyone. Your kind doesn't kill every pirate crew whose ship they spot. You respect those who are strong and who you personally deem intriguing, the golden rule to never get on the bad side of a siren is to never kill one of their sisters and those pirates who disobey that rule learn to pay with their lives. The New World is indeed filled with many new dangers, with some of them more enchanting and tempting than even the finest riches. Yet obtaining such treasure has cost many pirates their sanity, their heart and even their life.

[esggs]

dealer!Shoko x addict!reader, addicted to Shoko that is, no way jjk society doesn’t have a rampant drug problem, light smut, drugs, tragic yuri <3

“Shoko, I got a boo-boo here.” You tap your lips. “Kiss it away?”

“Just take your drugs and go.”

-----

Shoko is of the variety of women who survive. Born for it, in a way, with her coveted powers. You could fold her paper-hollow bones into a pretzel with very little effort, but nothing could truly kill her. 

It’s not like that for the majority of the sorcerers who file daily into her infirmary. Or the attached mortuary. For them (and you) a little something extra is needed to keep inevitable death from constantly poaching their minds. Yaga looks the other way if a few boxes of Xanax go missing unprescribed. 

But that’s not what you’re sitting on her operating table for. You’re of a more civilised sort: your addiction is Shoko, as you declare while blowing her a finger-heart. 

“And Klonopin.” Shoko deadpans, throwing you two packets of the aquarium-blue itty bitty pills that make your life itty bitty bearable. And then a hard-plastic bottle: “Pass these on to Nanami, will you?”  

“Du-ra-morph?” The print is so small you have to squint to read. 

“Painkillers. He’s always aching somewhere.” That makes sense, that man is worked to the bone. You wonder how much of his paycheck goes to this and the Zyn habit that stayed with him since his investment banker days.

“He’s taking a break after this mission. Shoko, let’s do that too, the countryside is calling.”

It’d be nice to take her out of this sour 9 x 9 mortuary she exists in. You think of the fresh air, swaying red poppies, fish in lakes, open skies up ahead: a water-coloured Ghibli movie. The guarantee of growing old with your loved ones. When you turn your head, Shoko will be right there, right next to you. 

She considers it, leaning on the desk and lighting a cigarette. You pop a pill dry, the foil packet crinkling, watching her. Dark circles that nothing could fix. Eyes red with the constant smoke. Thin wrists, creased fingertips. Gorgeous. 

The clock ticks 2 past midnight. Klonopin isn’t cutting it, especially not tonight: Shoko can tell by the lines on your brow. 

“Want something else? On me.” She leaves her cigarette in the safety of your lips to reach under the desk, pawing for the most expensive lifesavers she hides (she won’t tell for whom). 

You can’t resist it. “Nice ass, babe.”

“I know,” she straightens up, holding the baggie out for you. At first you’re offended– why would Shoko offer you crack as if she doesn’t even know you, but then it clicks that it’s heroin, purer white than you’ve ever seen before. Fuck. That has to be a small fortune, even wedding rings come cheaper.

“Is this how you’re saying that you love me, Shoko? Because I–”

She never gets to know what you’ll say next because you (very rudely, she thinks) blow the smoke in her face. It’s fun to tease Shoko. Keeps morale up and feelings away.  

You gingerly sniff into the baggie. “Don’t kill me, but it smells like your pussy.” Shoko pointedly refuses to reply, busying wiping a glass cup clean with the tail of her lab coat. “Not in a bad way. Doesn’t taste anything like your pussy, don’t worry.”

“When are you leaving?” 

“Relax, woman.” You pull up the sleeves of your blazer– standard Jujutsu High issue, rank stamped on the collar. These smoke detectors aren’t to be fucked with; injection it is. The inside of your pock-marked elbow (your hands shake sometimes) are always itchy. “You’ll cry about me after I’m dead.”

She would. Soon. 

But for now she simply hands you the syringe and the glass: 22,000 yen per uncut gram, dissolved in water. All for you. A token of love. 

Over her long existence (long enough, she says), Shoko Ieri had learnt of the utter uselessness of romance. What good could she do with a flower bouquet, eat it like a horse? At least promise rings  could be resold on eBay. And chocolates end up being saved for Halloween. Looking as good as she did, she never had to go Halloween shopping: the candy accumulated from various stupid men throughout the year was always more than enough. 

Somedays she’d rock back in her chair and count all the beams on the infirmary roof. Name them after the people who confessed their love to her. Yours doesn’t come up. 

But not even Shoko could deny that this was romantic. You always claim that you can’t inject yourself (even though you have no problem doing so on mission trips) and every time you just have to wrap your arms around her neck to steady yourself. Scared of needles, my ass. 

The tip of the syringe at your skin, her hair in your eyes. Pricking. “Distract me.”

You feel euphoria fill your vein the moment Shoko’s tongue warms yours. She tastes of unflavoured Blackstone smoke, depression left untreated for a decade. Poppy fields. The promise of love. You bite her lip, feeling her moan in your mouth.

Breath on cold breath, you know how she likes to be kissed: hold her jaw firm, tilt her head, suck on her bottom lip while you tell her that you missed her. Push your tongue into her mouth. Claw red lines down her neck, into her collarbones. Her heart, pressed against yours, thumps painfully. 

You could press through her unsunned skin and tear it out whole, dissect every inch with her scalpel and yet find nothing but holes in there. Too many cigarettes. Too many friends on her autopsy table. 

Your blood trickles lightly from the puncture, staining her lab coat. Come the news tomorrow, she wouldn’t ever have the heart to wash it out. 

“Here, baby?”

Orgasms that have made you cry, body-shaking and toes-curling, made you fall in love, none of that could hold a candle to the weightless paradise of a heroin high. Warm sunshine. Grass under your feet. One day you’ll get a little cottage with Shoko by those poppy fields, sorcerer business far away from both your minds. 

Shoko’s voice answers like angel-song, “Here, yes.” 

Wind off the cliff you’re standing on whips your skin. Her hand handles your lightheavy head, pushes your face into her tits, shirt tucked up under her neck, her fingers tightening in your nape-hair. 

You’re lying face down on the ground, earthworms and rats scurrying along. Damp dirt. Cool on your cheek. Shoko’s grip stings your scalp. She thinks, moaning, of cutting you when you lick the cigarette ash off the top of her boob. Must be a careless flick that went through her collar. Tastes bitter. Soft dirt. Refuse of the earth. Melting bones, melting muscles, melting skin– all soaked up into the ground you lie flat on. 

You’re too far gone to do anything; Shoko doubts that you can even see her. Your practised hands struggle to pull her bra down, you’re drooling on her tits in what she assumes is an attempt to leave hickeys. Flags pitched on the moon, ‘I was here’. Remember me, please. Remember me when I’m gone.

Rats and earthworms decompose your remains until you return to whence you came from. Peace. Natural death. Order of life. 

It’s soft.

Shoko is still sitting in the cottage, waiting for you to come back. 

She kisses your forehead, letting your faded self rot on her chest. “I wuvv yooo.” It’s comforting, almost motherly, wiping the excess spit off your lips, uncontrollable tears from your eyes. “Sokoo, I wuv yoooo. I’ll commme bak-backk. I’ll come, pwomiseee.” 

Shoko keeps looking around, lonely in the cottage. None of her loved ones are here. Not even you. Shoko keeps sitting alone. Waiting. 

You’re crying hysterically, fully gone. 2.45 am– she manhandles you off her, fixes your clothing, slips you some more Klonopin packets sheathed with emergency aluminium foil.  You’ll need them tomorrow: Shibuya will be difficult. Kisses you good-bye, drool be damned, sends you off in an assistant manager’s car. You keep garbling that you love her and that you’ll come back. 

You won’t. Shoko has heard this lie many times before. 

a/n: Gojo doesn’t partake in any drugs at all. At the lowest point in his life, Geto smoked a bit, tried Xanax once, but has been completely clean ever since. Gakuganji is fucked up on all uppers man, you don’t become a rock guitarist without cocaine/LSD fueling you. Utahime needs codeine/Xanax/Klonopin to sleep, mixes with alcohol. Yuta smokes, sometimes and secretly. Maki is clean. Kamo keeps a pack of Zyns (undetectable cigs in a way) by his bedside drawer. 

All too often people think of drug-addicts as meth heads lying in the gutter, while it's more common to be a completely normal functioning member of the society whose life rests on the relief that their chosen drugs bring them. 

Because there are kids reading my works, I feel the need to say this. Many people do drugs for different reasons, none of which are for us to judge, especially if they’re strangers. But if you ever feel like ‘trying out’ drugs for any reason, draw Noritoshi Kamo instead. Pick a pencil and paper or your phone and just keep drawing that man. God knows we need more fanart of him. Stay away from all this nonsense, kids. 

[montyfinchirl]

Some Dead Boy Detectives Halloween Headcanons

Headcanons

halloween was the only time of year the boys ever change clothes until very recently

they like to people watch during halloween, go on walks and look at everyone’s costumes

charles hates that he can’t eat candy anymore and every year Edwin tries and fails to find a spell that’ll let them taste food again

the boys both HATE horror movies secretly, they tried to watch them in the 2000s but always leave the cinema halfway through

Charles always decorates the office for halloween, he tries to discreetly get Edwin to leave for a couple hours so he can surprise him but Edwin always knows, he goes along with it anyway.

On their latest halloween, Crystal wanted Charles to do a couples costume with her but Charles refused because he and Edwin always match and he wanted it to stay that way (that made Edwin cry)

Edwin secretly loves vampires, he tried to read Twilight once and threw the book out their office window after half an hour

Charles loves werewolves, Niko showed him the twilight movies and he unknowingly developed a crush on Jacob

Edwin reads classic spooky novels to Charles during October

Charles finds it strange they never get any clients on Halloween but doesn’t mind because he has such a good time anyway

Edwin uses every spell and charm he can to deter clients on Halloween so no one ruins Charles’ (and secretly his) fun.

Costumes

Every year since 1992 Edwin and Charles have done matching costumes (it took Charles three halloweens of convincing).

(Try to guess which years Edwin chose their costumes and which years Charles did)

1992- Vampire and Werewolf

1994- Stereotypical ghosts (The sheets with holes for eyes)

1996- Sherlock and Watson (the year Edwin finally stopped pretending he didn’t enjoy it)

1998- Devil and Angel (they both ended up in devil costumes, thinking the other would be the angel)

2000- Achilles and Patroclus

2002- Each other

2004- Frog and Toad

2006- Bert and Ernie

2008- Sun and Moon

2010- Bowser and Princess Peach

2012- The Mad Hatter and The March Hare

2014- Pirates

2016- Jekyll and Hyde

2018- Bonnie and Clyde

2020- Skeletons (Just like the intro)

2022- Velma and Shaggy (Crystal was Daphne and Niko was Fred)

in conclusion, my fucking god these bitches gay good for them good for them

[tinycoffeeroom]

tiny room | arthur hill

again inspo from the lovely @mrstelevision [and by extension @whoetoshaw :) ]

face claim: sophia birlem ᡣ𐭩

request: here !

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by arthurtv, georgeclarkeey and 10,394 others

arthurnfhill i'm going on my first ever headline tour! manchester, glasgow, liverpool and london see you in feb! (tix in bio)

arthurtv can you dedicate a song to me xx ↳ arthurnfhill only if it can be fuck you

georgeclarkeey big sexy arthur hill can i be a groupie ↳ arthurnfhill you get enough of it at home big boy x

fan1 !!! may have accidentally got 2 tix to london instead of 1 but i will clone myself if i have to!!!!! ↳ arthurnfhill appreciate the support <3

📍 london

liked by georgeclarkeey, youruser and 19,083 others

arthurnfhill despite the absolutely terrified look in my eyes, london you were amazing! ended ar-tour on a complete high! thank you to everyone who came along, you made this chappy very happy <3

youruser was not familiar with your game but you're not a god has rearranged my brain chemistry ↳ arthurnfhill that song is definitely one of my faves ↳ fan1 youruser thanks for coming with me! glad you enjoyed the show and the cocktails after! <3333 ↳ youruser fan1 thank YOU for introducing me to his music, love you! ♥️ arthurnfhill

👤 fan1 liked by fan1, arthurnfhill and 19,495 others

youruser enjoying new music with new friends fan1 absolutely adore you sweetie pie ❤️

fan1 could do a little weep... sweetest girl alive!! ↳ youruser excited for our next adventure ❤️

max_balegde the second slide... no one has ever looked at arthur like that before ↳ arthurnfhill ?? well fuck my life i guess ↳ youruser apparently i'm a sucker for a good singer :p ♥️ arthurnfhill

📍 ibiza

liked by youruser, arthurtv and 29,485 others

arthurnfhill don't let my cool exterior fool you, june in ibiza is no joke

youruser this is certainly a look mr hill ↳ arthurnfhill it's called fashion sweetie, look it up x

arthurtv the sunburn really ties the look together ↳ arthurnfhill i will bring up the surfboard incident. ↳ arthurtv apologies big man 🫡

liked by arthurnfhill, faithlouisak and 21,493 others

youruser happy halloween from your fave fembot ❤️

arthurnfhill still think my dress looked better ↳ youruser idk i think george looked the best... before the incident :p ↳ georgeclarkeey uncalled for?

faithlouisak absolutely obsessed with you 😍 ↳ youruser date me xx ↳ faithlouisak behzingagram gonna have to leave you sorry babe

👤 queenofthebabies, arthurnfhill, friend1, friend2 liked by arthurnfhill, queenofthebabies and 59,283 others

youruser save a horse, ride a cowboy xx (also arthur's big head stretched out my cowboy hat 😡 )

faithlousiak its a yes to you, a no to arthur ↳ youruser come over babygirl xx ↳ behzingagram being cucked in my own household wow ♥️ youruser

theburntchip bet that wasn't the only thing he stretched out ↳ youruser pooja what is this behaviour sabrinablair come get ur man ↳ theburntchip dragged the mrs into this... i won't forget this y/n

arthurtv yeehaw🤠 ↳ youruser yeehaw!! 🤠

liked by fan1, arthurnfhill and 83,948 others

youruser another trip around the sun ☀️ excited to see what this year brings :)

fan1 happy birthday loml! would have gotten you smth else if i knew there was gonna be 6 whole cakes 😭 ↳ youruser don't be silly!! yours tasted the best ❤️ (don't tell the others :p)

faithlouisak january is y/ns month only!! happy birthday pookie can't wait to give you a million kisses tonight xx ↳ youruser ditch ethan, tonight can just be about me and you xx

arthurnfhill happy birthday y/n 💜 the fella in the second slide seems to be having fun ↳ youruser tbh he's a bit of a nuisance, rocked up at my door at 8am with arms full of flowers 🙄

👤 youruser liked by youruser, fan1 and 42,942 others

arthurnfhill happy birthday lover 💜 so glad you stumbled upon my silly little show

youruser thank you my love, so excited to experience life with you ❤️

fan1 y/nnie got the guy 🥹 i was serious arthur, don't fuck this up ↳ youruser can always count on you to have my back xx ↳ arthurnfhill even though you threaten me, i appreciate you for bringing her into my life :)

behzingagram now you're official can she leave my girlfriend alone? ↳ youruser NEVER! that's wifey ♥️ faithlouisak

👤 arthurnfhill liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 78,939 others

youruser 1 whole year of us :) will always be your #1 fan ❤️

fan1 happy to give up his #1 fan title to you, a worthy opponent x ↳ youruser we come as a pair!! #1 fans together 4eva

arthurnfhill most successful groupie award goes to... ↳ youruser behave mr hill

georgeclarkeey we get it you're in love blah blah blah ↳ youruser you'll find someone clarkey xx (also stop trying to take my someone you lil homewrecker) ♥️ arthurnfhill

TIME SKIP 2 YEARS

👤 arthurnfhill liked by faithlouisak, arthurtv and 89,394 others

youruser easiest yes of my life ❤️ my forever lover

arthurnfhill guess i gotta rerelease bride and gloom ↳ youruser i take back my yes ↳ arthurnfhill no can do sweetheart, you're all mine now 💜

arthurtv HE'S DONE IT LADS !!

faithlouisak y/n it's not too late, i'm right here xx ↳ arthurnfhill womp womp thats MY wifey now ♥️ youruser, behzingagram

georgeclarkeey g'warn lad!! gonna miss our snuggles xxx ↳ youruser he'll still be getting shipped off to yours regularly, don't worry

fan1 y/n!!!!!!! actual tears in my eyes!! wedding of the year incoming!! ↳ youruser hope you have a good bridesmaid dress in mind ❤️

[intrepidacious]

about that night (the bugs and the dirt)

summary: You never talk about that night, and Bucky never asks. Even though he can't help but suspect something is wrong.

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: past character death and vague mentions of blood (yk, spooky stuff); there's no actual dialogue in this and the characters are worse for it 💛 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: it only took me three years but i finally managed to finish a fic in time for halloween 😌🎃 i genuinely don't know how to describe the vibes of this except buffy the vampire slayer season six meets "if lisa frankenstein was a drama" meets hozier's like real people do. have fun 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

Something’s wrong.

Something’s been wrong for a while, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s a fragile thing, this knowledge, this certainty, lingering at the back of his mind like the dim light of a forgotten lamp, shimmering, seeping through the cracks.

Whenever he asks you, you tell him that everything is fine, and he wants to believe you, desperately. You wouldn’t lie to him, you with your luminous eyes and your soft smile. Deceptions would taste foul on your lips.

But something’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

He’s always been too smart for his own good, and he’s going to find out, you know he will, but that’s precisely why you can’t let him. He’s going to know how far you’ve fallen, and he’s going to despise you for it.

So he forgets.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, his tongue is heavy with bile and dirt, his eyes crusted shut with something worse than bad dreams. Sometimes, when he listens closely, he can hear the air humming with lost hymns that are not from this earth.

Maybe he should’ve gotten used to that, by now; your walls have always had ears and mouths and eyes, after all. That’s the price for loving a witch, you’d say, back in the days when your smiles came easy. Wherever you are, you’re never alone.

It’s different than he remembers, though, even through the cracked and blurry pictures of his memories, his foggy mind, but he can’t put his finger on why. Darker. Colder. Damp. It’s like something has left.

Doubt follows his every waking hour, even more so when he tries to think of that night.

That night.

Oh, that night.

The taste of blood on your lips when you kissed him, desperately, like you hadn’t seen him in months. The muddy streaks on your arms when he looked at you in the pale moonlight, the scrape of dirt underneath your fingernails. It had been raining. You smelt like pain.

What had you been digging?

He needs to forget about that night and what it actually was you’d dug up, then. You’d told him you’d had to bury an animal that had gotten lost and died in the garden, and it was a half-truth even by the most generous account.

Dark, evil things happened that night, and no matter their intent, you were the sum of them.

You’d sacrificed a lamb to dig up a wolf.

He doesn’t remember your answer now, but it must’ve been enough for him, then. It must have been.

So he doesn’t ask again, no matter how hard uncertainty tugs on his lungs.

On that old, familiar path, he follows you home and feels like a stranger.

The blood itself was the easiest to wash off, and maybe that was the worst part. In the human world, crime rarely disappeared without a trace, but magic always left its mark.

You remember tumbling on your way back, almost tripping over your doorstep, a sudden pulse of energy pulling the breath from your lungs. These were your own four walls, the ones you’d blessed yourself, tended to and looked after for years, and they seemed to recoil.

Bucky caught your arm without even looking, catching you like he always had, and you crossed the threshold together. You looked at him, then, for the first time since the graveyard. You could feel his pulse under your grip, his heartbeat strong and loud enough to be mistaken for your own, but his gaze so uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he actually belonged here.

With you.

You made up your mind right then and there. He could never know.

You stir your tea as you always do, and you’ve set out his cup on the kitchen table. Alpine paws at it before he can pick it up, a fierce growl accompanying the sound of smashing porcelain.

She’s been angry with both of you, and he doesn’t know why. She keeps hissing at him, and she refuses to sit on your lap when you study your books next to the fireplace like she always used to. Like she’s punishing you in whatever little way she can for a crime he doesn’t understand.

You sigh, and you repair the cup with a flick of your wrist, and then you don’t reach out to pet that spot behind Alpine’s ears.

It’s little things like that.

And it’s your tired eyes.

Of course, no one else can know either; it’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

If Bucky notices the phone’s been unplugged all this time, he’s never said a word. He’s never been much for talking, anyway, but he does it even less so these days. You’ve both turned quiet around each other, but the only thing that matters is that you’re both still here.

Even now, you can feel the dark powers humming through your veins, just like you could that night. You hear the whispers calling out your name and see the shadows at the very periphery of your vision. They follow you into your dreams until you give up on them, slipping out of the warm embrace of your bed to hunch over the tome again, again, just a little more.

Perhaps you should worry about repercussions, but what for? After all, everything you did that night, you did out of love.

Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for him.

Sometimes, he doesn’t notice them for a very long time, and then it hits him all over again just how exhausted you look. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, your side of the bed is empty and the roof of his mouth tastes like ash and decay. In those moments, he thinks he might still be dreaming; his bones are heavy and cold and unyielding, and he lies there like something forgotten, and all of his thoughts revolve around you.

He’s so worried about you.

He wants to ask if it’s something he’s done. He wants to know if he can make it better, make you smile again like you always did at the sight of him, every time. But he’s afraid of the answer.

You’ve not been yourself and you know it, but at this point, you feel unable to stop it. It’s too late, anyway. The dead already walk to earth, and you’re the one to blame. You’re the one to thank.

Sometimes, the thought does hit you that there’s something a little wrong with you these days. But then he looks at you and he smiles, and you’re young and foolish and in love all over again, that weight of all those weeks of screaming and crying lifted with every glance, every touch, every kiss.

This, the uncertainty, is the worst part of it. It becomes his closest companion, and it only lifts slightly when you return to him, if only for a moment. When you do smile, when you put your hands around his neck and kiss him and he can feel real again, feel like himself again.

He barely notices that you will only look him in the eye when it’s dark, when he can lose himself in your touch, foreheads pressed together, breaths heavy and mingling, the only real creatures in the world. The sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you are wicked and evil and rotten to the core, and maybe there’ll be hell to pay for it yet.

But you’re not sorry.

hearing hozier perform "like real people do" as a duet with victoria canal changed lives y'all

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! also, comments are trick or treats that last all year long. just saying 💛

oh, before we leave, here's an extra shoutout to @brandycranby for telling me this was fun and the perfect length. i accidentally made it longer again. love u 🫶🏼

[transbunnyboi]

Okokokokok I have to detail this because its still fresh in my brain and I don't wanna forget it so !!!! ALSO This is gonna be a long post sooo!!! So what happened was, we were talking about automatic pianos and he said had one and that he could show it to me because he had it in his apartment. So we go and THIS DUDE ACTUALLY HAS ONE I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A PLOY TO GET ME TO HIS PLACE BUT NO. So he shows it to me and we talk about that and other stuff for a while and he asks if I wanna stay over for a bit and watch something with him so I agree and we get on the couch and I'm a feral idiot and I asked "Oh so is this when you pretend to yawn so you can pull me in for a kiss?" and we. Ended up making out on his couch without even turning the TV on >//////<

He just tastes soooo so so so good aaaaa I'm blushing just thinking about him!!!! You guys already know how I am and how feral I've been recently so I actually was very uhmmmmm rough with him kinda slightly a little bit (I pushed him down and got on top of him while kissing him and he bit my lip and it bled anddhfgsgdfjhgf >/////< !!!!!) and he kept calling me a pretty boy and oughhhhhhh (btw he really likes the colour brown, everything in there was like being at a really old dude's place. OKAY. I will say this in the middle of describing sex. His place is kinda exactly how someone would expect a professor's house to be. Like. It's like looking up dark acidemia on Pinterest and selecting the first image to be your entire house 😭 he also has old Halloween decorations still up 😭 this dude) ANYWAYS So I, a WHORE, started begging him to fuck me and I ended up with my pants and underwear at my ankles and him on his knees without his shirt and he… wasn't very good at oral but that's alright because his tongue felt really really good inside of me and he kept saying I tasted good sdfhgjsdgjfhd, and when his jaw got tired he leaned his head against my thigh and started stretching my boycunt with his fingers and then after a bit of that he went back to sucking my tdick. And okay. Okay. This is the part I. omfg.

He pulled back again and looked up at me and there was blood all over his lips and I guess it turns out that he ?? accidentally cut me or scraped against me too hard or something with his nails (his fingers are so big) or something but I didn't feel it at all and so I got kinda embarrassed and I started apologising and this bitch goes "It's okay, I like the taste of blood." AND WENT BACK IN AND OH MY GODDD Eventually he stands up and I'm practically frothing at the mouth because I can see how hard he is in his pants and I'm praying that he'll fuck me because my boycunt is literally stretched and my thighs are spread open for him but he ends up sitting next to me and pulling me onto his lap (having me face away), and this bastard moved my hair slightly and started biting me and. I haven't mentioned the fact that I get VERY limp with love bites, my entire body gets really really weak because my neck is extremely sensitive and dhsgdjfhgdhfg

And he starts asking me random fucking questions and I can't even respond because of the fact that I can fucking hear him biting and sucking on my neck and I'm WHIMPERING and squirming so fucking much and he fucking laughs slightly and makes fun of me for not being able to talk and fucckhdfgjdhgsjhdgf After me begging for so fucking fucking long he finally fucking buried his fingers back into my boycunt and hsdfghgfhjdsgfh gOd it felt so good and he kept palming my poor tdick and I swear to god it made up for him not being great at giving head I swear it felt so fucking good. His fingers felt so so so good inside my wet boycunt and he kept asking me questions about stupid shit and I couldn't pay attention at all and it felt so so fucking good !!!!!!!

two of the things that stuck out to me were "Does it feel good, baby? You're soaking my hand so well right now." And (this one made me whine and buck my hips sooo so much oguhh), "You always talk so much. What happened, honey?" AND OUGHHH FUCK. I feel the need to emphasise that he's. Southern. That he has a heavy southern accent, and a low voice. When I say that he fucking growled that petname in my ear I mean it, he fucking growled it and went back to biting my neck oughhh fucccck.

My cunt felt so fucking good and he ended up making out with me again before making me cum. He literally made me feel so fucking good and ough my god.

I asked if he wanted me to reciprocate but he said he didn't need it and we kissed for a really long time afterward and talked. I'm still at his place right now. I feel. Weird??? Idk just pray that he has like. idk a really weird hobby or is an actual murderer or something because I???? Idk aaaaaaaaaaaaa

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Three)

Ledger! Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of violence

Words: 4.1k

Chapter Summary: The third session with the Joker, and as you try and delve into the man he is, you can't help the connection you feel. Seems he might feel it too...

previous part: part 2 | next part: part 4

Notes: Hello everyone! Apologies for the wait, took a bit longer because of Halloween, was having too much fun to write. But here we are! This series is def picking up the pace now and soon we will dive into some real chaos lol. Please enjoy :) (I love inputting bits of Arkham dialogue in these because i can >:) )

_____________________________________________

On your way to work, it seems Gotham is in shambles. 

There seems to be some type of announcement going on, by someone from the GPD. You could care less, honestly, especially since you need to get to work before you’re late, but what piques your interest is the crowds of people. There is an obvious rift amongst them. Some of them hold signs displaying the infamous bat symbol, crying out in favor for Batman, it seems, some holding children at their hip who cry for the man they’ve lost. The other half push back against the pro-Batman crowd, yelling things like ‘murderer’ and ‘fraud’. The tension is so thick you can taste it. These people might tear each other apart.

Oh, if only Joker were here to see this. He’d never shut up.

A woman bumps into you, clutching a sign with that bat symbol painted on it, with words beneath it reading ‘come back’. You sneer, and she retreats back to her other Batman groupies. How could anyone get so worked up over a man in a mask? Take the mask off and we’re all messed up inside. Batman had worn the mask of a hero, parading around as Gotham’s salvation, and yet he killed people just like his enemies had. Like Joker had. Except Joker didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. 

Mr. Dale may be right about keeping all this from Joker, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He’s going to get out eventually and see all this mess. They can’t hide it from him forever. Even if he’s on house arrest for the rest of his damn life, he’s the Joker, and they won’t be able to stop him. They’re just scared. Scared that the Joker may have won. 

You walk through the city, broken into chaos, all the way to Arkham.

———————————————

This time when you enter Joker’s little conference room, he lacks his usual straitjacket, and you’re both surprised and relieved that your bosses actually listened to you. His asylum garb has been replaced with the usual Arkham patient outfit, an orange baggy shirt with matching orange pants. Immediately, as ashamed as you are, your eyes go to his arms, which are surprisingly lean and toned, probably from numerous fights. You trace his arms down to his hands, each of which have a separate handcuff linked to a man made circle jutting from the table. You look at every crinkle, every callus, every line. Human hands. Dangerous hands.

“Uh, doll, my eyes are up here, ya know.”

Shit. You look up into his eyes as you take your seat, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m… sorry, I was just-“ You try to search for an excuse, but it’s clear from the teasing look Joker gives you that he’s not looking for one. You flush. “I’m surprised they let you out of the jacket.” I’m surprised your hands are so normal. 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t from my good behavior,” he clucks, his tongue hitting the top of his mouth. “Did you ask them to get rid of it?”

You can’t tell if he’s angry or not. “I did.”

He breaks into his signature, manic grin. Not angry. Good. “I knew I liked you, doll.”

Joker doesn’t say ‘thank you’ or ‘I appreciate it’ but somehow, this is better. It’s probably as close as you’ll get to hearing those words from him and it ignites something in you. You feel proud of yourself. Proud that he’s proud of you. Before you can return his smile, you remember ‘hey, wait a fucking second, this is my patient The Joker we’re talking about here’. You settle for a small smile. Be professional. “Mr. J, I wanna start this session off by just saying I think we’re making some good progress-“

“Doctor y/n, you seem to have quite the fascination with my hands,” Joker interrupts, a giggle rising in his throat. 

Dammit. Were you looking at his hands again? You didn’t even fucking notice. You’re not trying to. You’re probably just a little shocked. Again, it’s like pulling back the curtain, getting a glimpse at the man behind the act. And there he sits, with such human looking hands. “Excuse me, I’m just…” You search for the words. “I’m not used to seeing you without being all wrapped in a jacket.”

“Well, ah, they’re just hands. Did ya think I’d have talons?”

“Maybe. Or maybe, like, robotic hands. Rocket launchers for hands. Something cooler.” Are you teasing him? Your patient? You might be teasing him, just a little.

At your teasing, his smile shifts sideways into a smirk, eyes thinning. “Cooler? What’s cool is, ah, what these hands have done. They’ve been the cause of the end of so many lives.” He tries to lace his hands together, but the handcuffs keep his arms too far apart, so his fingers touch only slightly. “Now, ah, where were we?”

You stumble to find the words. So much for professionalism. “R-right, sorry. I think we’re making real progress here. Yesterday was a good session, and I’m hoping today will follow suit.” You bring out your clipboard. Click your pen open. “Now, why don’t we pick up where we left off? We were analyzing your crimes-“

“Spectacles.”

“Whatever you wanna call em’. Now those are only one part of the man you call the Joker-“

“That is, ah, my name, doll face.”

You hold your hand up. “Let me finish. We haven’t talked about you. About this person you present as the Joker. And yes,” you say roughly, before he can cut you off again, “I know you say that you and this character you present are one in the same, but nobody is exactly the person they put out. I mean, you did say we all hide behind a facade. So, let’s talk about Joker, the one we see on TV getting the best of Batman.” You scribble a little picture of him, smiling wide and in his signature purple suit. Jutting your chin, you gestured for him to look at it. “This will be the outside Joker…” You do another little doodle, one of Joker without his makeup and in the Arkham garb. “And this will be the you in here.”

The Joker looks down at your drawings and bites the inside of his cheek. “Not much of a difference, doll face, except that I look even crappier in here.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you proud of the person that Gotham has come to know?”

“Define proud.”

“Do you feel a sense of satisfaction over the person you allow Gotham to see? This crazy clown figure?”

Joker tilts his head back, thinking, and you can’t help but stare intensely at his neck, tracing down his throat to his Adam’s apple, which moves as he swallows. Geez, what is up with you and the staring today? Luckily, he doesn’t think for long, tilting his head back down to look at you. “I’m just fine with whatever I showed to Gotham. And I don’t regret-tah one bit of it.” Looking all smug, he smirks. “I’m not proud of who I am, I relish it. Bask in it. The Clown Prince of Crime, they call me! Nothin’ better than that, doll. Means I’ve made a difference.”

“You’ve certainly made an impact, Mr. J. For better or for worse.”

“And whaddya get out of all that, doll? That I’m some kind of egotistical maniac?”

“Let me do the analyzing, please, Mr. J.”

He grunts. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile. “You say you’re proud, but clearly it’s not enough,” you tell him, scribbling notes underneath the doodle of him. “When you get out of here, you’d like to go back to all that, wouldn’t you? Go back to testing the B-Man?”

“Batsy and I just fit so well together, dolly. We’re meant to chase one another to the end of our days!”

If you can find him. “All the stuff you pulled then, did it really amount to anything if you want more?”

“Oh, doll, it’s not that I want more. I’m not just some kinda freak gettin’ a good fix when I cause havoc. My point just keeps needing to be made!” He winks at you. “Course, I know that if I get out of here I’ll have to behave.”

You seriously doubt Joker even knows the concept of behaving. “B-Man would just get you again, would he not?”

Joker cackles. He laughs at everything but you’re always confused when he laughs at something you don’t find remotely humorous. “That’s the fun part! He and I, we’re like a cat and mouse, like in those old cartoons. We’re just chasing each other in damn circles and, ah, the fun doesn’t-tah stop until one of us falls.” With a cruel smile, he flicks his fingers, as if toppling something over. “And I don’t intend to be the first to fall.”

“And after B-Man falls?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose. Doesn’t sound very fun. Why, you got a soft spot for the Bat?”

“For Batsy?” Technically, you’re not supposed to be very vocal in your own opinions, especially when they do nothing to help, but wouldn’t it be good for Joker to know you’re with him on some things? Not that Joker has too much disdain in Batman, he clearly loves to mess with him, but obviously the two are on very different sides. You want to show Joker you stand with him. “Absolutely not. The Bat hasn’t done anything to benefit me. If anything I feel more… useless. This man in a mask gets to go around fighting criminals and gets praised and here I am busting my butt everyday and what do I get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You clap a hand over your mouth. Way to go overboard. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

The Joker, of course, doesn’t care that you rambled on. He looks amused. No, not just amused, he looks pleased. His whole face contorts into an evil grin. “Well well well, doll face, nowwww we’re talking. Why didn’t you tell me you loathed the Batman so much?”

“Didn’t think it important.”

“Well, ah, I find it important. Looks like we wanna both go after the Batman, don’t we?”

“Go after him?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Obviously I’m not going to do that.”

He scooches forward. “But you’d like to. Come on, doll, given the chance, wouldn’t you wanna, ah, take the Bat down?”

For some reason, you actually think about it. If you really did have the chance, would you want to bring down the Bat? He was already down now, obviously, but if you had had the chance before then, would you have taken B-Man down? Before you can even dive into it, you snap yourself out of it. Why would you even care to do all that in the first place? Imagine you, beating up Batman? You’re not crazy. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Joker shrugs. “That isn’t a no.”

Things are going far from where you need them to be. “Let’s take this conversation back to you, Mr. J. How about we talk about the Joker in here? Nothing left for you to do except sit and think. You’re not out causing havoc, you’ve been stripped of your weapons and your makeup, what do you feel about yourself now?”

Already, you can tell the Joker isn’t too fond of the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his chair, muttering things under his breath that all sound nonsensical to you. For some reason, you kinda like it. It’s about time you get under his skin too.  “I feel like I wanna hurt someone,” he answers, clenching his fists. “I just wanna get out there and get back to everything.”

“Okay… see, you’re angry at being in here, and you don’t know how to handle your emotions so you’re resorting to violence.” As much as that’s probably true, you’re almost sure that if you were stuck in Arkham, you’d wanna hurt a few people too but that won’t help.

“Violence solves a lot more problems than ya think.”

“Not mental ones. I think I’m seeing what’s going on here, Mr. J.”

Joker taps on the table, a random pattern of noise. “And that is?”

You point with your pen between the two Joker sketches. “Both these people have unresolved problems, problems coped with by violence. Plenty of people do this, but they don’t go around trying to make their points to the whole damn city. These huge acts of violence are outcries and you don’t even realize it. You have no one to turn to to sort your feelings out with and this is what the outcome is.” You look back up at him, and it’s clear he’s confused. “I told you at our last session, you need company. Someone you can relate to, empathize with, talk through these feelings with.”

He frowns. “And what about you, huh? You’re, ah, just as alone as me, not a soul to talk to, and yet you’re not blowing up hospitals.”

Will he ever quit trying to analyze you? “I have other means of coping, Mr. J. Whatever happened to you… it made you hurt. And this hurt, it turned you away from people, even though we need companionship. We seek attention and validation and yet I fear you’re seeking it in all the wrong ways.”

“Who says we need companionship?”

“Human nature. Our hearts. Your mental state,” you say harshly.

His tongue pushes out his scar as he licks the inside of his cheek. “Feistyyy. I like it when you’re all, ah, riled up.”

Joker was really pushing your buttons now, and it was worse that no matter how upset you got at him, he’d find some kind of enjoyment in it. You really couldn��t win some of the battles he put you up against. Yet, the purr in his voice made your cheeks heat. You could never tell when to be angered or enamored. “I really do think that whatever happened in your childhood resulted in your detachment from emotion, and a distrust in people, and this mix of the two… well, it hasn’t been the best for you.”

“So, whaddya suggest? I go mingle with some of the other Arkham patients? Spend some quality time together finger painting and singing Christmas carols?” His laugh comes out as a sharp exhale. “I don’t think friendship is gonna fix me, doll.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest any of that,” you assert. “I just think that isolating ourselves from not just people but also feelings, now that doesn’t get us anywhere good.”

“Clearly,” he giggles, lifting up his cuffed wrists. “But I’ve been doing just fine, doll, aside from this little incident of being locked up in here.”

It was like the Joker just considered Arkham some bump in the road before he could continue his anarchy. That wasn’t good. He couldn’t have his heart set on going back to taking down Batman, no matter how good his reason. Especially considering, well, Batman was nowhere to be seen. Gosh, you wish you could just tell him. Maybe he wouldn’t see it as motivation, maybe it would shut down all his ideas. There was just far too much risk with everything. Say something, say nothing. The Joker was a lot of uncertainties. “But you shouldn’t have to be locked up in here. You don’t have to be if you just try and listen to me. I really want you to get better.”

“I don’t need to get better,” he growls. “The way other people feel, it’s just a soft spot for others to exploit. I’m already winning because nobody has anything on me. Chaos stirs something inside me, isn’t that enough?”

“No, Mr. J, you need more than that,” you plead. Why is he so stubborn? “Just a little company can do wonders. Just some faith in someone.”

“So they can do what? Push me down on my knees like some kind of sinner, making me beg for forgiveness? Making me change my ways? You really are crazy if you believe that.”

Joker is impossible, really. You don’t know how else to get your message across, how to make him listen. So instead, you think back on your deal, take a deep breath, and give him a story.

“When I was ten years old, the kids at school all decided they hated me so much that they all pretended I didn’t exist. I’d try and approach people and… and they never even acknowledged me. It followed me all throughout the rest of my school years.” You mess with your coat, fidgeting with the buttons, not quite able to meet Joker’s gaze. “I know how it feels when people hurt you.”

You wait, wondering if the Joker will give you a story back. You’re surprised when he opens his mouth to speak. “Once, ah, when I was just starting out, one of the criminals I hired managed to sneak up on me, knocked me to the floor real good. Kept babblin’ on about how I was a freak, how I’d never amount to anything, the heel of his boot digging into my back.” He stops, taking a deep breath, and you wonder for a moment if he’s going to stop all together but he continues. “Course, with all his ramblin’, he failed to notice me grabbing a blade. I stabbed him right in the foot, and oh boy, did he scream. I gave him the nastiest beating of his life, I’m sure. Blood all over the floor. And right before I was done, I made sure to give him and I matching smiles. Die with a smile, no?” Joker holds his chin up. “I don’t need people. People don’t care.”

It’s only a single story yet you realize the Joker has so much behind him. So many incidents that seemed to have fueled the thunderous rage beneath his skin. This man, finding humor in the wickedness of the world, wanting to show that everyone is essentially just as rotten as he, has been torn apart over and over again. Society had crushed the both of you yet here you sat, a doctor, and there he sat before you, a madman. In your anger towards the world, you had sought to try and help it, and in his anger, he wanted to burn it all down. You still had hope left in people, he had let that all die away.

He said people didn’t care, but you cared. This was more than just a way towards a paycheck, you really did want to help him. That’s what you’d always wanted for every Arkham patient. Yet the others did not quite distrust people as much as Joker did. Joker didn’t have anyone for him. How was it that Batman, a murderer playing superhero, still had half the city on his side and yet everyone just wanted Joker to rot away in here? You think about yourself, and how much better you would feel if you did have someone, if you had been given love and support along your miserable journey. If you could give Joker the support you’d always wanted, well, maybe that would change something in him.

“We’re both pretty messed up, huh?” you finally say, deciding not to comment on anything specifically about Joker’s anecdote. No need to keep talking about something so horrific. Joker didn’t need that. He needed comfort. 

Joker blows air from his nose, smiling softly. “We are, aren’t we? Just a buncha freaks.”

“Freaks still need to stick with other freaks.”

“And who have you got exactly, Miss l/n?”

You freeze. Nobody. Absolutely nobody. He knows it. Yet for a moment you feel… well, embarrassed. Your hand creeps to your warming face, your eyes feel suddenly watery. You don’t have your parents anymore. No old friends from school or college, not that there were many to begin with. No coworker friends, shitty bosses. All you have is yourself and you hate it. 

Joker seems to notice that his comment didn’t go down well, and he holds up his hands like he’s gesturing for you to stop, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Uh, doll, I didn’t mean to pry…”

“No, no, it’s fine…” You quickly wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Just wasn’t expecting the question, I guess.”

“Right,” he mumbles. “It wasn’t, uh, meant to be an insult.”

You let your eyes flutter close for a second and take a nice, long breath in. When your eyes open again, you straighten yourself out, contemplating your next words. “I know how it feels to be alone, Mr. J. More than anything.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, your fingers drifting towards his own, which are splayed out on the table. He sits up very still, unmoving save for a twitch in his jaw, as he watches you place your hand on top of his. You’re not sure what you’re doing, but you need your point made. “I… I know how much you think you don’t need people, but people offer support and guidance, and if I could have some of that right now, for fucks sake, I would.” You sigh. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

Joker’s tongue slowly traces along his chapped lips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You hated how well he read you and you could hardly get anything on him. Finally, he speaks. “Well, you got one now.”

The Joker, a friend. It sounds like the stupidest thing in the entire world. This was someone who had hurt and killed and destroyed. Someone who was close to no one, the people around him with one purpose: to serve him. He had said how loyalty didn’t come for free, that it needed to be bought. If something so simple as loyalty was seen as a transaction to him, did he even comprehend the concept of companionship? He must have, at some point, whoever the man before the Joker was. But the person you were dealing with was not that man, you were dealing with Joker. Joker did not seem a man who connected with anyone yet he tells you how alike the two of you are, and you can’t help but believe it. Alone in the world, the two of you. Maybe he can’t yet bring himself to make a real connection with anyone but, goddammit, you wanted him to try.

Why not be alone together?

It would all be in hopes of helping him, you told yourself. Whatever relationship the two of you were forming. If he could have someone to talk to, not just in a professional sense, but someone who would really be there for him, you think that would help a lot.

That’s all this is. This is to help him.

You squeeze his hand. “I like the sound of that, Mr. J.”

—————

It started off as a joke, really. 

Joker didn’t want to be analyzed. The first night he had been brought into Arkham, he had been poked and prodded, as doctors tried to decipher what kinda pills to stuff him full of. Joker had tried to fight them off, but they had injected him with something that made him sluggish. Just a few hours later was when they had sent in all the psychiatrists to try and fix him. Joker didn’t need to be fixed. He was an agent of chaos, a force to be reckoned with, something they just couldn’t comprehend. Then you’d come along, and you were so lonely, and Joker liked toying with things that were easy to break. Except you’re nothing like the others. There’s something about you, this way that you interact with him, the way you don’t see him as some freak. When you stare at him, you don’t look at him like he’s a monster. It’s strange.

Joker doesn’t do friends. The term itself means nothing to him. It’s a meaningless word. Most words are meaningless to him, empty sayings. Yet when you look at him with those eyes, like he’s your equal rather than beneath you, Joker does feel something. Some kind of connection. He’s never thought about killing you, which says something. It’s the only way he can describe this feeling towards you, something other than the pure disdain he usually feels towards others. There is something… warm about you. Joker didn’t like it. Yet he let it happen anyways.

Long after you’re gone, when he’s strapped onto the metal slab the Arkham guards call a bed, he thinks on some of your words. You thought a companion would help him. Someone he could rely on. Someone who would truly be loyal.

He smiles wickedly to himself. You might just be right.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey

Lmk if you'd like to be added! Hope the @'s are working lol...

[fireya-x]

luna sanguinis // CHAPTER I: nox fatalis

[PREVIOUS] || CHAPTER MASTERLIST || [NEXT]

AO3 Link

John isn't the party type. But a Halloween invitation to a secluded manor and an encounter with the alluring Victoria prove to be a temptation he can’t resist.

[4k words]

cw: blood, violence

nox fatalis

“Oi, cowboy!” A way too enthusiastic voice boomed from his right, and John Price looked up to see Soap approaching. He blinked, almost rubbing his eyes to fully take in the costume his comrade was wearing.

“Soap, are you wearing a bloody skirt ?” another voice beat John to it. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve a cigar. Why did he agree to go to a Halloween party, of all places?

“It’s a kilt, you fuckin’ uncultured dog,” Soap shot back, his Scottish accent thick, turning to face Gaz. “What are you supposed to be? The saddest vampire in town?”

“Dracula,” Gaz flashed his fake plastic dentures with a smirk. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Sorry, the runny eyeliner threw me off. It makes you look miserable, not threatening.” Johnny laughed, then turned to John, giving him a once-over. “Nice costume, cowboy.”

“Gunslinger,” Price corrected, his voice flat.

“What?” Gaz asked, looking confused.

“Not a cowboy,” John repeated.

“Practically the same thing,” a low, raspy voice joined them, and John rolled his eyes.

He turned to see Ghost approaching, clad all in black, his skull balaclava and skeleton gloves the only concession to the holiday. “The dress code was Halloween costume, Simon, in case you missed the cue.”

Ghost gestured to his face. “This has to do. I scared enough kids on the way.”

Price sighed audibly. “I need a fucking drink if I am supposed to survive this. Y’all owe me for dragging me here.”

“Oh come on, it will be fun. Snacks, drinks and maybe some lovely women - what’s not to love?” Gaz clapped a hand on Price’s shoulder, always the optimist.

“Is that a skirt, Johnny?” Ghost’s voice rasped through the chatter of nearby partygoers, catching their attention.

“Fuck all of you,” Soap replied, holding his finger up to point at each of them in turn. Then, turning to Ghost, he added, "At least I put some effort into this."

Ghost just huffed and grabbed an envelope that Gaz held out. “How’d you get invitations anyway?”

Gaz flashed his fake teeth in a dramatic grin. “I know some people who know some people. This is the most prestigious party in the country, you should be grateful.”

“I am so grateful,” Price muttered sarcastically, taking a long drag of his cigar before discarding the butt and grinding it out with his boot. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

They turned toward the imposing front gate of the mansion. It was an old, stately building, quintessentially English, with a rose garden stretching out to either side. Price had expected over-the-top Halloween decorations, but the decor was surprisingly tasteful. Candles flickered in ornate lanterns, eerily realistic skulls were perched on stone pillars, and real ravens perched on the wrought iron fence, their caws echoing through the driveway that circled a towering willow tree. 

He had to admit, there was a certain prestige, a sense of history, that hung about the place. Why he’d agreed to come, he still didn’t know. He would have much preferred mission reports, a good whiskey, and a cigar in the quiet of his office. He was lucky he’d even found this old outfit buried in the back of his closet - leather jacket, fake revolvers, cowboy hat, and boots that were more for show than practicality these days.

The mansion seemed to loom over them, its dark windows like watchful eyes. Soap was openly gawking, while Gaz wore a knowing smirk that suggested he’d been here before. They climbed the short flight of steps leading to the massive oak double doors, flanked by two imposing figures in black suits who were checking invitations.

“Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll get to chat with the hostess,” Gaz murmured, handing his envelope to one of the men who barely glanced at it before nodding curtly, granting him entrance. “She’s a bloody smoke show,” he added in a low voice, earning a dramatic eye roll from Price.

John handed his own invitation over, meeting the guard's gaze with his usual intensity. The man’s eyes flicked to the revolvers in Price's holsters. “They’re fake,” Price said, already reaching for them and offering them to the guard for inspection.

To his surprise, the man just grunted and nodded, gesturing for Price to enter. Holstering his weapons, Price stepped inside, following Gaz into the grand foyer. He paused, taking in the opulent surroundings. It was a strange mix of old-world elegance and modern sophistication. Centuries-old tapestries hung alongside abstract art, and antique furniture was arranged with an eye for minimalist design. It felt surprisingly welcoming, despite the sheer size of the place.

After everyone was admitted inside, they all headed straight for the bar, dying to have drinks for the night. Price needed something stronger than the lukewarm champagne being offered on silver trays by circulating waiters.

“Whiskey, neat.” He barked the order to the bartender, a pale, skinny man with nervous eyes, who hurried to pour him a generous measure.

“Never been to one of these fancy dos before, eh?” Gaz asked, leaning against the bar.

“Can’t say I make a habit of it.” Price replied, downing half his whiskey in one long swallow, letting the familiar burn settle in his chest.

“You’d be surprised,” Gaz said with a wink. “There’s more to these high-society types than meets the eye.”

Soap had been quiet, his eyes wide as he took in the entirety of the place. “Aye, and some right mental costumes.” He jerked his head towards a group of guests dressed as mythical creatures, their outfits more resembling something out of a fever dream than a Halloween party.

Ghost, as always the silent observer, was leaning against a pillar, his skull balaclava a stark contrast to the brightly coloured masks and outlandish outfits surrounding him. He watched the crowd with a predator's intensity, his gaze missing nothing.

While his comrades continued chatting about all the costumes, his eyes followed the impressive staircase that separated the main foyer from the second level, until they landed on her . 

She was standing at the top of the grand staircase, her figure framed by the golden glow of the crystal chandelier. Her gown, a deep red that seemed to absorb the light, clung to her curves, accentuating the slimness of her waist and the fullness of her hips. Her dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of ink, and her skin – so pale it seemed to glow in the dim light – was flawless, spared by the passing of time. She wasn’t wearing a costume, not really, she didn’t need to. She didn’t need the theatrics; she was the spectacle.

Price felt his breath catch in his throat. Time seemed to stop. The noise of the party, the chatter of the guests, the music, all faded away, leaving only the steady thump of his own heart.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away.

“Told you she was a smokeshow,” Gaz leaned in, a smug grin on his face.

Price ignored him, his gaze fixated on the woman on the stairs. It was more than just her beauty, though, that alone was enough to stop a man in his tracks. There was something else about her, something that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. A power, an intensity, that he’d never encountered before. It was more than just physical attraction; it was a pull, a magnetic force that went straight to his bones.

He cleared his throat. “Who is she?”

“Victoria Di Corvo. The hostess. She owns the place.”

The conversation, though spoken in hushed tones, drifted towards you above the noise of the party. You followed the direction of it, and turned your head to find the source. And that’s when his scent hit you, too – it was like it suddenly called out to you. Primal, spicy, wild, full of strength. Raw and untamed like the deepest, darkest corners of your soul.

You felt a jolt of excitement, a thrill that sent a shiver down your spine. It had been centuries since you'd felt such a powerful pull, such an undeniable connection.

He stood by the bar, tall and broad-shouldered, his black pants and gray leather jacket doing little to conceal the power of his frame. His cowboy hat shadowed his eyes, giving him an air of quiet danger that made your heart skip a beat.

“Never seen her before.” The man’s voice was rough with an undertone of curiosity.

“She’s not the most social one, it is said.” His friend said, with an easy charm, which seemed like a gift that gave him the ability to slip into conversations easily, blending into the crowd.

You raised a hand, a small, elegant gesture that summoned your closest companion and most loyal servant, Beth, to your side. She moved with a grace born of centuries of service, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Yes, my lady?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur.

“Spare his friends, tonight,” you instructed, your gaze never leaving Price.

“Do you think –” Beth began, her voice hushed.

“I don’t know,” you cut her off, your voice laced with a hint of weariness. “And I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to assume,” Beth murmured apologetically.

You sighed. “Just make sure his friends are safe. They may live, if he lives. They seem important to him.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Beth bowed her head.

Your gaze returned to Price. He was watching you, his eyes locked on yours. It was as if you could taste him with a single glance, the intensity of his presence overwhelming. His scent was more potent, more exquisite than any of the other humans in the room. Their scents, while intoxicating in their own way, were sweet and naive. His was something else entirely.

Hope, a dangerous, forbidden thing, flickered within you. Was it wrong to have hope? Probably.

But you couldn’t afford to be wrong anymore. The curse that bound you, the curse that made you queen of all creatures, living and dead, was a double-edged sword. It gave you power, immortality, but it came at a terrible price. Your life was tied to the Blood Moon, and each year, it demanded a sacrifice to maintain its power. A sacrifice of blood.

For centuries, you’d endured this burden, keeping the balance between the human and vampire worlds. A balance that prevented chaos, that kept the darkness at bay. But with each passing Blood Moon, the curse grew stronger, the hunger more intense.

The lavish party, the carefully crafted disguise for the brutal ritual to come – it was all a desperate attempt to cling to life, to maintain an equilibrium. One that only you could uphold. You were its core, the nexus point between light and darkness. 

Watching every guest dance, celebrate, feast, and drink, oblivious to their fate, filled you with a melancholy that had become as familiar as your own heartbeat. They didn’t know that, either way, their lives were in your hands. 

If you fell, the world would fall with you.

But if you could find your king, your mate, to rule at your side – your strength would be bound, the need for sacrifice eliminated. But every time you'd sensed a possibility, a flicker of hope in the blood of a human male, he'd failed the test. Each failure, each death, had chipped away at your hope, leaving you weary and vulnerable.

Your gaze remained locked on Price. He was still watching you, his eyes holding yours with a steady intensity that both intrigued and excited you. He smirked and raised his glass to you before taking a sip of his drink. The simple act, the way his throat moved as he swallowed, was strangely sensual. Your fangs ached, calling to the predator within you.

Leaning further over the railing, you smiled back at him, a slow, deliberate curve of your lips. You knew you held a certain power over human men. It was one of the many gifts that came with your lineage.

Without breaking eye contact, you turned and walked towards the gardens.

He followed. Of course, he did. You didn’t even have to try. You heard his footsteps, the faint, steady beat of his heart behind you, as you stepped out onto the terrace and leaned against the railing, overlooking the moonlit expanse of the garden.

“Enjoying the party, cowboy?” you asked, your voice low and smooth as velvet.

“Gunslinger, actually, ma’am,” he corrected, his voice a deep rumble.

“Oh?” you tilted your head, intrigued. “And what makes a gunslinger different from a cowboy?” You knew the answer, obviously, being alive during the wild times you spent at countless saloons, but you wanted to hear it from him, anyway.

“A gunslinger is more precise. More deadly. Very skilled with firearms,” he explained. “I like to keep people informed.” His accent intrigued you. And the way he corrected you, it wasn’t meant to be demeaning. Simply informative. It was refreshing.

“Is that just part of the costume, or are you actually skilled with guns?” 

“I’m a Captain in the military. SAS, to be precise. John Price,” he said, stepping closer.

He couldn’t know why he told you the truth. He simply felt compelled to. It was so easy to sway a human’s mind, to make them reveal their secrets. But with him, it felt different. You didn’t even have to try. As if he wanted to tell you, wanted to offer himself to you.

“You’ve never been here before,” you stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. You could sense it in the way he moved, the way he looked at everything with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“I’m not the party type,” he admitted.

“Yet you seem to be enjoying yourself a lot.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “If you can call sipping a drink and watching ridiculous costumes enjoyment, sure.” You noticed the wrinkles that formed at his eyes when he smiled.

He joined you at the railing, his presence beside you so incredibly livid. You could hear the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that seemed to echo in your own chest. The scent of him was so intoxicating – cedarwood and tobacco, but beneath that, a primal musk that spoke of strength and untamed desire. It was a scent that resonated deep within you, awakening something ancient and powerful.

Something you hadn’t felt in centuries.

“Are you not enjoying your own party?”

You turned to face him, and the world tilted on its axis.

His eyes, as blue as a winter sky, locked onto yours, and a shock of recognition, as sharp and undeniable as a lightning strike, went through you. This was him. Yours. Your mate.

It was written in the depths of his eyes, in the way his scent wrapped around you like a promise, in the very essence of his being. The one you’d waited centuries for, the one who would complete you, who would make you whole.

He was here.

Your breath caught in your throat. You couldn't tear your gaze away. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, seeing through the layers of his human facade to the soul that mirrored your own. A soul that had been searching for you, just as you had been searching for it, across lifetimes and continents.

A wave of possessive joy surged through you, so fierce it made your heart ache.

You shook your head. Despite all the feelings and signs the universe seemed to give you, you couldn’t be too sure, he had to prove himself worthy first.

“It’s complicated,” you finally managed to say, your voice husky with emotion.

He frowned slightly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to unravel the mystery you presented. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint sweetness of his breath. His hand brushed yours as he shifted his weight, leaving a trail of elecrictiy on your skin.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, a hunger that mirrored your own. He leaned in, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.

Then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his expression clouded with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “I don’t know why I feel so…” He trailed off, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His hands were fisted at his sides, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He was fighting it, you realized. Fighting the pull, the connection that he couldn't understand. 

You stepped back from him, breaking the spell that had held you both captive. “So, you’re a skilled fighter?”

“You could probably say that,” he replied, his gaze sharpening. “Why do you ask?”

You’d have to risk it. 678 years and no chance, what could be one more year added to the pile? It would be a shame if your assumptions were wrong yet again, but what did it matter? Humans would die that night either way, it would just be a shame that he would be among them. You’d like to get to know him a little better, his eyes told you more than he could have in a matter of a few seconds. He probably had stories to tell that could keep you entertained for a while. His scent was exciting, a strong mix that you longed to breathe in, to savour. And the way he’d looked at you, the hunger in his eyes – you'd imagine he’d be more than inclined to kiss you. It would indeed be a shame to lose it all, simply because you dared to believe for yet another chance.

But did you have a choice? Not really. It was the cruel irony of the curse – your survival demanded sacrifice. Was it selfish? Incredibly so. But the cost of your demise would be far greater. You had to be selfish, not just for yourself, but for everyone.

You couldn’t tell him the truth. With a subtle gesture, you raised a hand, signalling to your guards who were hidden in the shadows of the garden. They emerged silently, moving with an unnatural grace that hinted at something other than human.

Price, ever alert, noticed their approach immediately. “Did I say something to offend you?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

You froze, stunned by his reaction. That was his first thought? Not that he was surrounded by creatures , but that he might have said something wrong? You met his gaze, and saw genuine concern in those blue eyes.

The pang of regret was almost unbearable. It had been so long since you’d encountered such genuine concern, such selfless care. 

It had been forever since you felt this honest care for you, this genuine concern for your feelings. It had always been just a quick encounter for their pleasure, for their needs. Nobody had asked about yours, absolutely genuinely so, in decades.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, before taking a step back from the railing, and turned away. It was barely audible in the music filled air, but Price heard it — a hint of regret in that tone sent a chill down his spine, as he tried to rationalize the sudden shift in your demeanour. It didn’t match the heat that had been building between you just moments ago.

If he really was the one, he’d have to survive.

If he really was a fighter, he would.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

You stepped even further away, putting more distance between you and him. He watched, confused, as he was circled by shadowy figures. They moved with unnatural grace, and their eyes were glowing with a hunger that made him be fully alert in a split second.

“What the hell —?” he muttered, his glass slipping from his grasp and shattering against the stone patio. He didn’t have time to process the situation before they were upon him.

As the guards attacked, a surge of power, raw and untamed, pulsed through your veins. It was his power, his life force, echoing through the bond that was already forming between you. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

You looked up at the moon as it began to shift, a slow bleed of crimson spreading across its silver face.

As soon as you had given the silent command with the raise of your hand, the true night had begun.

Inside the mansion, Beth glided through the throngs of guests, a phantom in a sea of revellers. She found Price’s friends – Soap, still boisterous in his kilt, Gaz, charming his way through a group of costumed women, and Ghost, a silent observer at the edge of the crowd – and, with a few carefully chosen words, lured them away. An exclusive after-party, she’d hinted, just for them and their cowboy friend. They followed willingly, oblivious to the darkness gathering outside.

But you had no interest in them as the other creatures began to feast.

Your gaze was fixated on the man in front of you. He had faced many impossible odds, and he noticed quickly that the men surrounding him weren’t ordinary men. 

Moving with the precision of a soldier, his body was a weapon honed by years of training. He didn’t need guns, he fought with his hands that spoke of deadly efficiency, every blow calculated to maximize damage. He was fighting for his life, as was the purpose of this test.

He wasn’t even panicking, just confused, as you saw in his eyes as he took in the situation. It was as if you could read his mind as it went through quick calculations and assessments to analyse threats and exploiting weaknesses.

One of your guards lunged, fangs glinting in the red shimmering moonlight, and John met the attack head-on. He didn’t even flinch from the creature's superhuman strength but used his own weight to his advantage, pivoting on his heel and sending the attacker crashing into the marble ground.

A smile of fascination played on your lips, the sound of the fight was music to your ears, especially the rush of blood in his human flesh. Surviving the attack of one vampire was already a promise more than anyone had withstood before him.

Two more came at him, and he met them equally with a ruthless grace that made your blood sing. He ducked under the blows, his fist connected with a crack against a jaw. He made quick work of the other one, too, using the guard's own momentum to send him over the railing.

With each passing moment, the connection between you intensified. You could feel his pain, his determination, the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. And the scent of his blood – oh, it was intoxicating. Like the finest wine and the most potent drug. The spice of it shot through your system like a wildfire, it felt almost too strong, too overwhelming — yet so incredibly intimate and familiar, even though you had never met this man before in your life.

But also, his blood reminded you that he was still just human, after all. Now that it was running free, as he used his last strength to fight against more of your guards, it was mingling with the scent of cigars and the whiskey that he drank, and turned it into an irresistable concoction. The more he fought, the more you realized he was everything you craved, everything you needed — strong, defiant — as if he was singing a siren song to your soul.

With every drop of his blood that spilled onto the moonlit marble, the ground of your home, the connection between you sparked, and you were absolutely, undeniably sure. 

Price staggered, his vision blurring. He’d taken down at least four of them now, but he was wounded, fatigued and dying. His clothes were torn, his cowboy hat long gone, and blood soaked his shirt. And as he felt a sharp sting of pain in his side, he knew he was losing too much blood. That was it. Whatever it was. He came here not really expecting a good time, but dying here, in some English garden of a lavish mansion, surely hadn’t been among the plan. 

Just as he braced himself for the final blow, as he felt hot breath on his neck, a strong commanding voice, your voice, cut through the night.

“Enough!” You shouted, at the attacking guard's side in a flash, your movements a blur, as your hand closed around the guards' throat in a grip that could crush stone. You’d stopped him from biting him at the last second, with a surge of possessive fury that you had never felt before.

“He’s mine.” You hissed, your eyes blazing, and fear shot through the poor young vampire's face. “Nobody has his blood but me .”

The guard whimpered, and you released him with a shove. He scrambled back, taking an exaggerated bow as he did.

“Leave us. Make sure you feed to survive the night.” You commanded the remaining of them, and with sharp bows of their heads, they joined the rest of your court inside the mansion.

Price collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his body screaming in pain. His chest was slowly rising and falling in shallow breaths, but his pulse still beat. You were suddenly there, kneeling in front of him, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, running through the blood soaked beard.

He looked at you, and you expected fear in his eyes, but there was nothing of that sort. There was a soft gaze as his eyes found yours, he was staring at you almost admiringly, and you knew.

He really must have felt it too. The connection. The pull.

The strength he displayed against superhuman creatures wasn’t bestowed upon just anyone.

He was it.

He was both your greatest hope and only salvation.

He was your king.