#ibvsfanfic

[horribleauthortm]

Based on that one time Charlie said he wanted to go haunt some rich old lady's house and sleep in there.

Prompt: Scared Shitless || Dark Places

Words: 2274

IBVS by @onebizarrekai

Charlie looked ahead.

Perfect

The mansion standing in front of him was gorgeous. Behind the high fences, a pebble pathway surrounded by perfectly-trimmed grass led up to the two-storey build of white stone walls and dark wood outlining the windows. Four marble pillars stood high, two holding up a balcony over the entrance, the other two supporting the roof-overhang by the corners. Right behind a smaller brick wall, hedges circled around the house, leaving an opening only where the path connected with the porch. Two trees-acorn, Charlie thought them to be-grew on either end of the hedges.

The young boy smiled to himself, phasing right through the fences.

He learned from around town that this house was inhabited by an old lady, a widow whose husband had left his entire fortune to back in the 70’s or something.

He went up the few stairs leading to the front entrance, stopping momentarily to admire the intricate details on the door. He moved to the windows, finding the windowsills just as detailed.

Someone must have paid a lot for this mansion.

He peered inside, where he found what seemed to be the living room. No one, exactly as he had hoped.

The ghost let himself in.

The house seemed even bigger on the inside. The room he was in was probably three times the size of their own. On the left was the hall, a wide set of stairs led to the second floor, branching at the top into two smaller ones.

Fancy.

He poked his head into the kitchen, also finding it 1- bigger than necessary and 2- completely empty. Same went for the dining room, which had a little too many chairs for a house where a lonely old lady lived by herself.

Charlie passed through the hall. The walls were crowded with picture frames, many were black-and-white pictures of a young couple, with a variety of different-clearly important-people. One portrait featured the young man, whom Charlie concluded was the dead husband, in his 40’s or 50’s. Up front, hung alone on the opposite wall, in such a way it’s the first thing you find when entering, was a large colored portrait of a woman, barely resembling the woman in the other pictures, who looked maybe 113 years old.

Damn, she’s OLD old. He giggled to himself. Hope I don’t find her dead right now.

He backed up slightly, peering upstairs. Still so much to explore.

The second storey had a much different floor-plan. There were two hallways opposite each other. Two simple arm chairs sat on either side of a high table with a vase on top.

“Hm…” Charlie looked at the hallways. “Eenie meenie minie moe.” His finger pointed left. “Alright, left it is, let’s go.”

Minutes later, he returned, having found nothing but empty rooms making up an office, three spare bedrooms, and yet another, slightly smaller, living room.

The other hallway was very similar, containing a fancy bathroom, another office, and the master bedroom. The bedroom caught his attention the most. It was a wing by itself: A king-sized bed with a silk canopy in the center, a large dresser to its right, and an even larger closet on the opposing wall. Next to the dresser was a door, presumably leading to a private bathroom.

Charlie went in, looking around. The wallpaper, the chandelier and lamps, everything down to the fabric of the blankets screamed expensive, and taste, too.

“Yoooooooooooo.”

He went up to the dresser, which had all types of jewelry and perfumes scattered around it. A picture frame of the supposed-dead husband was perched on the mirror. Charlie opened the drawers slightly, finding more sets of jewelry, makeup products, and hair-styling pieces rolling in it.

The lady sure liked to take good care of her looks.

A door handle rattled next to him.

He didn’t have time to look before the bathroom door swung open, leaving him less than a second to duck under the dresser.

An old woman-the one in the portrait downstairs-took slow steps into the room. Charlie held his breath, not knowing why exactly he did so. The steps sounded slower than ever, shuffling against the carpeted floor. The boy peeked out, seeing the elderly lady still barely halfway through the room.

The woman stopped, taking a quick glance to her right, right where Charlie’s head was poking.

He jerked back, scooting as back as he could as the steps-much quicker than they had been just moments earlier- approached him. Why Charlie hadn’t just phased out of there was a mystery, even to himself.

“Roberto, is that you again?” She sighed loudly.

She bent over, looking under the dresser.

“Umm…hi?” He waved awkwardly. She looked slightly better than she did in the photos.

“Oh…You’re not Roberto…”

He coughed, recomposing himself, “I am the cursed spirit of this home-“

“Oh you poor thing!” She wailed, putting a hand on her chest. “You’re just a child! What could have possibly happened to you to end up like this?”

Charlie blinked. Well, this surely wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“Come out here, sonny, I don’t bite.” She gave a reassuring smile and extended her hand to him. Charlie stared at her wrinkly hand, looking up at her face for a moment before grabbing it and hoisting himself up from where he was hiding.

“What’s your name, honey?” She asked him, cupping his face in her palms.

“Um…I’m Charlie?”

“Such a cute name for an even cuter child.” She pinched his cheek. “Come on downstairs and drink a cup of tea with me, won’t you?”

Charlie looked around for a moment, then he turned back to her. “Alright? I wouldn’t mind…”

The woman turned to the door, pulling Charlie behind her.

“It’s been so long since I last had any visitors,” She spoke as they headed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom. She gestured to the living room. “Would you go wait for me there? I’ll be right back with the tea.”

Charlie nodded and headed for the living room as the woman stepped into the kitchen.

Now that he was waiting, he actually paid attention to the contents of the room. A glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the entire room. A TV sat on a stone counter extended from the wall straight ahead, a set of maroon couches around a low coffee table gathered in front of it. A knitting basket was placed beside the only armchair in the set. To the right wall, an old bookshelf of some type of dark wood towered high, its shelves filled to the brim with all types of books. An old grandfather clock ticked slowly beside it.

This was going much smoother than he had thought. He didn’t need to haunt or scare the little old lady to stay in here, as fun as that would have been. Sure, he would feel guilty, but it’s not that bad. She seemed desperate for company, he could probably convince her to let him stay effortlessly.

“Hope I didn’t leave you waiting too long.”

Charlie turned around, finding the elderly lady shuffling her way into the room, a tray in her hands.

“Really nice place you got here, Ma’am,” he said as she set the tray down in front of him, then started to pour the tea.

“Thank you, dearie.” She handed him his cup, taking one herself then sitting on the chair opposite of him. “Did my own renovations to it lately.”

Charlie took a sip from his cup, still checking the details of the room.

“So,” she started, looking up at the fascinated boy, “What are you, if you don’t mind me asking? I know you’re not a spirit that haunts this place, I’ve been here for decades.”

He looked up at her, looking to the side and smiling awkwardly. “Yeah…About that, sorry. I just… wanted to stay here, I don’t really have anywhere to stay.”

She smiled, “Don’t worry about it, dear. Now tell me, what are you, really?

His eyes lit up. “Oh! I’m a superhero!”

“Is that so?” She chuckled. “And what does this ‘superhero’ do?”

He took another sip from the tea. “I go around kicking asses and serving justice where it’s lacking!”

The woman chuckled again, setting her tea down and picking up her knitting equipment. “I hope you don’t hurt yourself when doing that.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that bad.”

“I’m guessing it’s because you are a ghost, isn’t it?” She looked up at him for a moment before turning back to the project at hand.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but I think it’s because I’m just that good at my job. No one can hurt me.”

She chuckled again. “Well, that’s what Roberto used to say.”

Charlie took another sip, tilting his head slightly. “Wait, who’s Roberto?”

“My late husband,” she answered, not looking up from the yarn in her lap.

“Oh.” He pursed his lips, looking away, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be, honey. He was a prick.”

“Really?” He slid to the edge slightly, moving his weight forward. “Why? What did he do?”

The woman took a deep breath, setting her knitting needles on her lap, then sighing a sad old lady sigh.

“Oh, baby, he was hard-headed. Always must have his way and no one else’s.”

Charlie listened intently as the lady spoke, sipping his tea every now and then. The description of the man didn’t fit the pictures he had seen of him around the house. At first, he had seemed a really nice, kind man to Charlie. But the more the woman spoke, the less he sounded a remotely decent guy. He even wondered why she would keep his pictures-including a small picture frame on the table beside her-if she hated him so much.

“And you know what the worst thing is?” She looked at the boy on the edge of his seat, literally.

“What?” He asked.

“He had a mistress.” She spat the last word out, her heartbreak clear in her tone. “And he had the nerve to bring her here one night.”

“No…” Charlie straightened his back. “That bastard.”

The woman only nodded slowly, her eyes seeming to fill up with tears. “It’s true.”

“And what did you do that night?”

“What could I have done?” She glanced at the boy momentarily, then looked away to the side. “I could only watch.”

Charlie took a deep breath, drinking from his cup in an attempt to fill the silence.

The woman sighed loudly, picking the needles back up. “But, fortunately, that didn’t last for long, for he died not too long after, leaving little old me all alone in this house.”

The ghost’s head perked up, and he lowered his drink. “He died after that? He kinda deserved it to be honest.” He shrugged. “But how did he die?”

She looked up at the boy. “I killed him.”

Charlie almost choked on his drink.

“Wha- You what?”

“I killed him.” She simply repeated, sparing the wide-eyed boy a glance before turning to the yarns again.

“And, uh, how did you, um, kill him?” He asked, sitting up straight, cracking his knuckles as he spoke.

“I poisoned his drink.” She didn’t look up, but she clearly heard Charlie set his cup on the table to his right.

“O-oh, wow,” he laughed nervously, glancing around the room.

“He came back to me years later as a ghost.” The woman continued, still not looking at the boy.

“Oh, he, uh, he did? And, um, what did you do then?”

“We eventually came to a truce, and he ended up staying here for the night.”

“So he stays here now? As a ghost?”

The lady laughed, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh no, honey, of course not,” she smiled up at Charlie, “I called an exorcist that night, and I got rid of him for the second time.”

Charlie forced a smile to go along with hers.

Okay, this wasn’t fun anymore.

He needed to get out of here asap.

”Anyway, enough about me,” she looked at the boy, smiling again. “You said you wanted to stay here, Charlie?" She set the needles down again, scooting forward slightly. “You're more than welcome, I’d love the company.”

“Oh, but you didn’t get to taste my cookies!” She protested, also standing up and following him as he practically ran backwards for the door. “Surely you can stay a little longer!”

“Um, actually, I, uh, I should probably go find my family.” He said, rising to his feet as the old woman’s eyes followed him. “They must be looking for me.” He took a couple steps backward as he spoke.

“Oh well,” she sighed, “Make sure to come visit me, alright, Charlie honey?”

“I’m really sorry, Ma’am,” he held his hands up, “I‘m....lactose intolerant? Thank you for the tea, really awesome place you got here.”

“Of course I will! Goodbye, Ma’am, see you later!”

With that, he bolted out the door, down the porch, and on the path, and within moments, he was nowhere to be seen.

The old woman chuckled to herself, dropping the curtains and heading back to her seat. She picked up the frame next to her, which held the picture of her loyal, loving husband, who had tragically died of a heart attack some 40 years prior.

“Oh, Roberto,” she smiled, sighing and placing the portrait to her chest. “How I wish you were here to see his face.”

[zuzuma-katpaws]

IBVS Week! I'm a bit nervous about posting anything still, so I hope you like it.

Day 1 - Sleeping

IBVS - @onebizarrekai

He slowly opened the door and little by little crept in, without making a single sound. He saw his target, Drew, sleeping ever so peacefully on his back and blissfully unaware of what awaited him. He had fallen asleep reading his book again. A soft red blanket covered most of his body which contrasted his yellow shirt and blue denims. There was a small lamp on that provided light, but it was dim and not very reliable. Like a ninja, Nevin maneuvered around the darkness of the room till he reached the edge of the bed, where his twin laid upon. 

Drew breathed in and out in hypnotic rhythm that even made Nevin tired. One of his hands was hanging off the edge of the bed which was perfect for what Nevin had in store for his unsuspecting victim. Bringing out the can of whipped cream, he carefully covered the hand with the sweet edible foam. Drew’s right eye twitched ever so slightly, causing alarm in Nevin and his nerves. After waiting for  another minute, Nevin continued spraying the whipping cream with caution until it was slightly overfilling the hand. 

Nevin then put away the can before pulling out the softest feather that he could find. It was one of those colorful feathers that Abuela kept for her arts and crafts, barely long enough to tickle anyone with. Nevin smirked evilly as he raised the feather just a few centimeters away from the nose. 

“This is for changing my mouthwash, dear brother” Nevin cackled softly, very sure of his victory. 

“SILLY STRING AMBUSH!” cried out Drew as he quickly sat up and revealed his other hand that happened to be under the blanket the entire time, which held the weapon of choice. Nevin gasped and tried to back away, however it was in vain. Yellow string covered Nevin all over from head to toe, rendering the teen in full shock. The icing on the cake was that Drew decided to place the whipped creamed hand gently on Nevin’s face, covering it completely. 

“Gotcha” Drew said gleefully, pulling his hand away so that he could see his brother’s face. Nevin licked some of the whipped cream off his mouth while the rest started melting off his face. “Congratulations brother. You have bested me at my own game. Well done.” 

They both stood up at the same time, with some of the excitement settling down. Drew was so sure that it was over, however the smug Nevin was not done. “Now then Drew, give me a hug” Nevin said with his arms open, having much of the cream covering his clothes now. Drew’s eyes widened before taking off into a sprint, screaming out, “NOOOO!” 

Nevin guffawed as he ran after his twin, ready to tackle him and spray him with the rest of the can. 

[horribleauthortm]

Actual Day 3 thing cause that Isaac/Monika thing doesn't count-

Prompt: Pay Attention || Games We Play

Words: 821

IBVS by @onebizarrekai

Colors.

Weird colors and shapes.

Purple, with hints of lime green, a few yellow sparkles here and there.

Was he seeing things?

Blue, a couple reddish ovals sprinkled between.

Drew couldn’t help but stare at the floating shapes, which he had been seeing since he woke up that morning. At first, he thought he was still sleepy and half-dreaming when he looked at his brother and found the cloud of randomly colored ‘bubbles’ around him. He even found it funny, Nevin’s grumpy morning-face through all the blues, reds, and purples.

…

It wasn’t funny anymore.

What even is this?

Is he going crazy or what?

He’s not mad, come on. What are you thinking?

…

Maybe it’s some neuro-thingy disorder. This type of thing was a symptom of some of them, right? He read about something like that before, what was it called? Synesthesia? Synthetic hallucinations? Maybe some type of schizophrenia, could that be it?

But it wouldn’t show up suddenly, right? Just yesterday everything was normal. Nothing could have happened between the evening and this morning. It’s not like it would just ‘awaken’ randomly. That’s not how it works.

What else could it be? It’s either that or he’s going crazy, and frankly, he preferred the first possibility.

Okay, he’s not crazy, he’s just got some hallucinating disorder.

Should he tell someone about this? If it is some disorder like that, he would need to address it, right? What if it evolves and gets worse, or branches out into more life-altering side-effects? He’ll need treatment, wouldn’t he?

He really didn’t want to have to tell anyone. Would they even believe him if he did? They’d probably think he’s lying or playing around.

And even if they did, they’re too busy to take him for diagnosis.

There’s no need to bother them with it. It’s not that bad. If it gets worse, then he’ll think about telling them.

…

What if he tells Nevin? Would he laugh at him and think he’s joking too? What if he thinks he’s crazy?

…

No, Nevin would believe him.

He glanced up at Nevin, who was sitting across the table from him.

Forget it, it’s not like he would be able to do much about it, either.

Nevin was looking back at him.

Orange?

“Drew!”

Drew jerked his head up, looking at the man sitting to his left.

Red, orange.

“Yes, sir?”

“Were you listening to me just now?”

“Of course, Mr. Baker.” He smiled nervously.

The tutor stared silently at him.

Orange, green.

“What’s the answer then?”

Crap.

Drew glanced back at his brother. The shapes were now of a red-purple palette. He was looking at him weird. “Five,” he mouthed, after making sure Mr. Baker was focused on Drew.

He turned back to the older man. “Ummmm…five?”

Red, green.

“Nevin,” Mr. Baker said sternly, side-eyeing him, “I’m asking him, not you.”

Drew looked at his brother.

Blue, red, purple.

“Sorry, sir.” Nevin huffed under his breath, propping his elbow on the table and leaning his head on his hand. He looked up at the other.

“Solve the next one, Drew.”

Drew took a deep breath, gulping then turning to the book sitting open in front of him.

What was he supposed to solve again?

“I’m sorry,” the boy mumbled, looking up at the formally-dressed man, “What number do you want me to solve?”

Orange, magenta.

The man sighed. “Drew, are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been distracted since the beginning of the lesson, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, that.” Drew laughed nervously. “I, uh, didn’t get much sleep last night?”

He did not like this.

The man raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And why is that?”

Please just tell me what to solve and move on.

“I…had a nightmare.”

“Uh huh.” He nodded slowly, “Well, I hope it didn’t scare you too bad.” He gave him a small smile.

Magenta, reddish-pink.

Drew chuckled, hoping this conversation was over.

“Which one should I solve?”

“Thirteen. You’ll need your notebook for it.”

“Okay.”

Drew pulled his notebook from the side, turning to a blank page somewhere near the end.

Find the GCF and LCM of the following numbers, then write each fraction in the simplest form:

He copied the numbers to his paper when a phone rang. Mr. Baker picked it up.

“Hello? Yeah, this is Derrell Baker, who’s with me? Oh, Jenny! Sorry, I didn’t save your number yet.”

The conversation was tuned out. Drew side-eyed the teacher.

Yellow, sparkles of magenta.

Drew took a deep breath.

“Psst, Drew.”

He turned to the black-haired boy.

Blue, orange, some reddish-pink here and there.

“What’s up?” He mouthed, sparing the tutor, who was looking off into the wall as he spoke, a side glance.

The boy smiled and gave his brother a quick thumbs-up. He then turned back to his work, noticing that Nevin was still looking at him.

But Nevin wasn’t.

He was looking only slightly higher.

[gleaeut]

Saving this for a rainy day...

IBVS Errink but maybe just random drabbles? With the couples dynamic that we all know they need- arguing. but sarcastically. and maybe they smooch to stop themselves from arguing. and secret.... secret relationship. but error's an idiot and does something stupid. add ur own spin but please,,,,

hey, IBVS belongs to @onebizarrekai!!

~~

“INK!”

Isaac looked up from the lunch table, before his eyes widened and he hurriedly shut his sketchbook, grabbed his bag, and ran for it.

Pounding footsteps followed him, and dammit, the one chasing him played football and was much more used to running than him what was he thinking trying to outrun Edward Quinton?

He ducked down a side hallway and then another, his feet instinctively taking him towards the art room.

As he continued running, the footsteps behind him tapered off, and when he slowed and looked behind himself, Edward was nowhere to be seen. He stopped, trying to catch his breath.

Isaac had no idea why Edward was trying to bother him this time, but he was far from in the mood to deal with whatever he wanted. There was no point in going back to the lunchroom, because lunch was basically already over, so after a moment, Isacc continued on his way to the art room.

He turned down the last hallway and foraged on. Halfway to the room, the janitor’s closet on the opposite wall burst open and Edward tackled him, slamming him against the other wall. Isaac hissed in pain, letting Edward drag him into the closet and pull it shut.

It was dark, and there was hardly any space to move around.

“Good God, the fuck do you want this time Error?” Isaac groaned, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the wall.

There was some sort of shuffling, and then hands grasped his shoulders. Isaac stood up straight, squinting up at where he thought Edward’s face was.

“… You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Uh, duh, I don’t like putting up with your dumb shit every day.” Isaac rolled his eyes, even though he knew Edward couldn’t see. It was definitely worth the action, though.

“I thought we were fine now.”

“Obviously, you thought wrong.”

“Okay, listen up you little shit, not many people get the honor of being my friend.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit back and let you harass me and call it friendship? That’s not how it FUCKING WORKS, ERROR.”

Edward’s grip tightened on his shoulders, and Isaac braced himself to get either punched or shoved back against the wall.

He was not prepared for a pair of chapped lips to be roughly pressed against his own.

He let out a muffled grunt of surprise, and Edward pulled back, though he didn’t go very far.

“What,” Isaac wheezed, and as his eyes gradually adjusted to the dark, he could make out Edward’s face. The jock looked determined, his face set with resolve. “What the fuck was that?”

Edward’s eyes were impossible to read. His grip loosened and he let go. Staring in shock, Isaac watched Edward open the door to the janitor’s closet and leave without a single word.

~~

Isaac sat alone in the school library, crouched over his homework. He hadn’t finished it the night before and it was due the next day. He had some free time, so he figured he better just get it done and over with so he didn’t have to worry about it.

“Hey.”

A bag was dropped next to his seat, the chair next to him was pulled out, and Edward fucking Quinton sat himself down next to the very person he’d been avoiding like the plague.

“… Hey,” Isaac muttered, marking something on the article he was poring over.

Edward’s hands drummed nervously on the table, and he tried speaking several times before cutting himself off.

Finally, Isaac looked up and snapped.

“Do you need something?”

“I was just-” Edward looked like a deer caught in headlights, and his eyes shifted off to the side. “… Wondering if you wanted to hang out?”

Isaac’s jaw dropped.

And he surprised himself even further by agreeing.

~~

“Error, for the last GOD DAMN TIME, I am NOT letting you use my sketchbook to kill that fucking spider.”

Isaac held the aforementioned book out of reach, Edward clinging to him and reaching for it. The spider scuttled around on the floor. The only reason they were safe was because they had already been sitting on Edward’s bed.

“Ink, please you don’t understand, we’re trapped up here and there’s nothing else we can use!” Edward reached harder for the sketchbook, and Isaac leaned backwards so that he couldn’t grab it yet again.

Edward looked down at Isaac, his mouth open and ready to chew him out, but he really hadn’t realized how close he’d let himself get to the other boy. He paused in shock, eyes wide as they stared into Isaac’s, before they flicked down, eyes tentative before sliding shut.

Isaac blinked slowly, letting out a small stuttering breath, and then, it was just Edward, Edward’s lips crushed against his own, Edward’s arms wrapped around him and a hand buried in his hair, a tongue poking out-

Isaac dropped the sketchbook, and it hit the ground next to Edward’s bed with a thump as he let himself fall backwards, Edward following him and pressing him against the mattress.

Edward pulled back, before slowly pressing his lips down Isaac’s neck, causing the artist’s breathing to stutter.

“A-Ah, hey, not - not yet.”

Edward pulled himself all the way back, muttering out an apology as he stared down at Isaac.

“S-So, uh, I think this makes us a bit more than just friends…” Edward muttered, and Isaac stared at him in shock before bursting out laughing.

He wrapped his arms around the other boy and pulled him down into another kiss.

“Yeah, I guess it does.”