#it's now in a halloween junk box

[shiftythrifting]

Worcester, MA

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 16: Dress up - Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, kissing, marking, fingering, degrading (nothing too bad) I don’t think it’s too graphic.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: You were trying on Halloween costumes when Billy walks in on you.

Notes: Literally don’t bully me.

Definitely frustrated with your wardrobe, you were trying anything and everything to make something work. Of course nothing felt right, you feared you had to buy something last minute for Stu’s yearly Halloween party.

You know you should’ve planned ahead, you kept telling yourself that for the past few months and now here you were in a skintight black bodysuit with an old pair of cat ears that you just didn’t like.

It had been two hours since you told Billy you were ready, not that you were lying, but it just didn’t feel right to you.

You’ve been friends with the boys since you were in middle school. When Stu brought up the party at the mall, Billy offered to drive you, it wasn’t out of the ordinary, it didn’t take long for him to be friends with your brother, then you.

Shuffling through your wardrobe, you kept ratteling your brain to make the best of what you had. You could only be so creative. You opted to keep your best friends away from making any choices for you. How hard could it be? However, the more you pulled from the hangers, the more complicated it seemed to become.

Your eyes scanned through the remainder of the clothes still on hangers when a sparkly number caught your eye.

It was pink, coated in iridescent glitter. It made a mess in your closet, sure, perhaps that’s why it was tucked so tightly away close to the wall. You yanked it from the hanger, causing the plastic to pop off the pole and into the rest of the pile of clothes.

Walking it over to your full length mirror, you pressed it against your figure. After a few seconds you opted to try it on. Before you did, you were sure you had some accessories to go with it. Along the shelf in your closet, you pulled some boxes that were hidden away, knowing you stuffed a few miscellaneous items in there. You couldn’t remember exactly what was in there, but it had to be something to go along with a costume of some sort.

As the boxes fell onto the floor, you pried them open, quickly digging through them. There was a few headbands, some satchels, a tiny hat. “What a bunch of junk” you murmured to yourself. Your hands kept digging through when something shiny caught your eye.

It was a crappy tiara, tiny and cheap, but it would do.

You tossed it onto your bed, with a sigh you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. You then struggled out of your jeans, stepping over each leg to free yourself from them.

Standing in your room, clad in your underwear, you unhooked your bra, knowing there wasn’t one to go well with the dress when you felt a pair of eyes watching you.

Turning around, you pressed your loose bra against your breasts when your breath hitched to see Billy at the door frame. “I thought you said you were ready-“ he whispered as he stayed leaned against the frame.

“Change of plans” you argued.

“We’re going to miss the movie.” He added, yet stayed in the same position.

“You don’t have to take me.” You snarked, half joking. It didn’t phase him though, he was used to your bratty attitude.

“I know. Doesn’t make us any less late.” Still in the same spot.

There was a silence between you two, only interrupted by the music playing through your radio.

You're talking a lot, but you're not saying anything

“What are you choosing?” He wandered out loud, you didn’t know if you were more annoyed or embarrassed that he seemed to have no reaction.

“I don’t know, I was going to try this on.” You confessed.

“Then try it on.”

The music again taking place instead of your bickering. Suddenly there was a knot in your throat, he was slowly chipping away at your wall.

“Are you just going to watch me?” Your face contorted as you tried to keep the facade.

“Yeah.” He said in a matter of fact manner. There was a faint appearance of enjoyment in his face, if you squint you could see it. You knew your cheeks reddened at his abrasive mannerism, there was a silent mutual agreement that if anyone was uncomfortable, something would be said.

Secretly, Billy was expecting you to yell at him or shoo him out of the room.

“I mean, I think you would’ve closed the door if you didn’t want anyone to see you, but you didn’t.” Billy argued, letting a smirk form on his lips. He got you there, but you didn’t think he would check in on you like this.

There was nothing for you to say, other than to let your bra fall to the ground along with the rest of the piles.

The air only seemed to thicken. You hated that he was getting his way, but you hated even more that you were sinfully proud that your bare chest finally caused a reaction, even if it was so subtle. You saw the shift in his posture, but his face remained the same.

Reluctantly, you pulled the pink dress into your body, shimmying into the bodice, for a moment forgetting Billy was watching your breasts shift around with your movements. You pulled your spaghetti straps to sit upon your shoulders properly.

“Spin.”

He really had some nerve and again, you hated that something in you listened to him. You twirled around once, the skirt of your dress along with your movement.

You flattened out the wrinkles of your dress after it set from the abrupt spin.

“Put the crown on.”

“What?” Your breath halted, you looked over at Billy in confusion.

“The crown” he gestured to the piece of plastic on the bed.

“Really?” You pressed your lips together throwing daggers at him through your eyes.

“Really.” He confirmed.

You hesitantly reached for the tiara, holding it in your hands for a few moments before putting it on your head, the teeth of the tiaras band hooking into your locks.

When you felt it secure onto your head, you waited for a moment before looking back to Billy, who stared at you in awe.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss a princess.” Billy hissed through his teeth, taking the pressure away from the frame and making his way towards you. Your body turned to face him, staying put until he reached you, nearly breathing on your head.

Taking a step back, he took a step forward to follow you. What the hell is he doing?

His eyes were eating you alive, tracing all the outlines of your face, then your neck, down to your collarbones. You could feel his mouth watering, you could see his pupils getting larger.

Billy’s hand rose to touch your bare arm, his other trickling into your waist. You felt goosebumps form as his hands met your body for the first time. Your face looked up to him as he towered over you.

You’d never admit out loud that you were completely his, if he said strip you’d strip, if he’d ask you to bend over, you would, if he told you to pose for a photo, you would.

But he didn’t ask for any of those things.

Instead he dipped his head low, lips open and ready to consume you. His hot breath grazed your chapping lips, he stood there for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you abruptly.

His hands gripped you in an animalistic manner, his lips clashed against yours, you felt his tooth bump against yours as he bit down to your bottom lip. You were just limp in his arms, opening your mouth to let his tongue swipe across your bottom lip and against your own tongue.

Billy’s hands gripped your figure as he backed you up against the bed, the back of your knees hitting the corner. His hands reached down to lift you by the back of your knees, your dress hitched up by his grip. His hands traveled up your thighs as he gently placed you to fall against the mattress. Your hands wrapped around his neck, trying to intensify the kiss as you felt more and more of his hands explore the bare side of your body.

You felt his fingers hook onto the waistband of your underwear making way to shimmy it down your legs. You moved however you could to help him undress you, your arms still attached to him like he was going to disappear any second.

“Pretty little princess.” He murmured against the corner of your lips. Billy opened his mouth to press wet kisses against your cheek, his tongue and lips clashing against your jaw, then down to your neck. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive regions of your neck, slow at first, but eager not too long after.

All you felt was the sting of his bite, feeling the welts form as he kept sucking and nipping, not giving you time to catch your breath.

“Let me hear what makes you feel good.” He pleaded, smiling at the breathy moans he worked out of you.

“I’ve always wanted this little princess sitting on my lap. But I think this is better.” He groaned out, pushing two fingers against your folds. Your heart raced when you heard his breath hitch as your slick coated his fingers, he was already involuntarily moving his hips against you, pants still on, constricting him. He must’ve been aching.

You gathered up all your strength to reach down to his belt, trying to work at unhooking it.

“Don’t be a fucking brat.” He hissed, abruptly using his free hand to pull yours back causing you to lay flat on your back. You looked up at Billy through your lashes, his cheeks were flushed, hair was tousled and his chest was moving faster than normal.

Before you could whine, he sunk two fingers into your wet mouth, pulling them down against the corner of your mouth, forcing you to moan louder. He took this opportunity to sink his other two fingers into your slick hole, pumping in and out slowly before forming a hook with his fingers.

The feeling was pure bliss, your tongue spewed out, trying to describe your pleasure through a moan, it just sounded like a wet mess. Your eyes crossed as he wiggled his fingers roughly inside of you, he did this more for him than you.

“Bi-“ you choked out, causing the fingers in your mouth to grip your cheek tighter. Your legs were held open by his waist, only your knees were able to touch each other.

“Fuck. Good fucking princess. You’re such a mess.” He groaned, smeared lipstick stained your cheeks due to his grip, mascara stains were already forming due to the sinful tears of delight he was brewing in you.

“Fucking good little whore too, y’know that?” He asked without wanting a real response, you cried out when he kept his moment fast, still hooking into your cunt, your hips bucked at the overstimulation, forcing your eyes shut as you descended into bliss.

“My slutty princess looks so good when I play with her. Haven’t even sticked my dick in her, I wonder how many times I can make her squirt before I even take off my pants.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, half there, half not. Squirt? Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment before it turned into pleasure, feeling your core tighten as he kept his speed only adding a third finger.

Eyelids closing again, you felt yourself wetter than before, choking out moans at the feeling of defeat in your core. When your eyelids barely opened again, you only saw Billy’s mischievous and delighted grin. “Come on princess, I’m just getting ready.”

[sadslay]

m0re daryl pleaase

- HALLOWEEN NIGHT ⋆☆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings - not really any? its just hella short im so sorry it was meant to be published for halloween, and i planned on writing so much more but writers block has me in a chokehold 😔

brown and deep auburn leaves crunched beneath your feet as you snuck around to the back of the dixons home. it was a small cabin in a remote part of town, the walls were damaged after years of neglect and piles of junk and rusted motorbike parts surrounded the walls and surrounding land.

you had been a neighbour to the dixons for a few years now. william dixon and his two sons had moved in a few years prior after the death of his wife who died in a house fire. it took his sons, merle and daryl a few months to warm up but after a few failed attempts of merle trying to hit on you and the odd occasion you’d actually get a more then a few words out of daryl, the three of you have been inseparable since.

tonight was halloween night. you had rented some movies from the near by town and picked up some discounted candy before sneaking your way onto the dixon property. william dixon wasn’t all too fond of guests, especially when it was a young girl around his sons.

approaching the back of the cabin you swung your bag over your shoulder before stepping up onto a few chopped logged stacked up against the wall, you tapped on the window a few times before peering inside.

“dixon!” you whispered, finally catching his attention.

looking up from his box tv that looked like it belonged in the eighties, a smile flashed across his face as he stood up to open the small window. “you’re late.” he spoke softly, taking the tapes and candy from you.

pushing the plastic bag through the window you let out a sigh of frustration. “it would have been quicker if you or your idiot brother gave me a ride.” you mumbled, beginning to hoist yourself upwards through the small window.

“merle dicked off to some party.” daryl spat bitterly as he helped your through the window. “saw it as an opportunity.” he said raising his eyebrows before wandering back to the couch. daryl began to look through the bag of tapes and candy, pulling everything out one by one. “these are all horror movies.” he scoffed.

dropped down to sit beside daryl you let out a quiet laugh, taking the tapes from daryls hands. “it’s halloween dixon, its like the law to watch scary movies on halloween.”

“night of the living dead?” daryl chuckled, looking at back of the tape to read the movies description. “for reasons unknown, the recently deceased are,” he paused for a second to let out a laugh before continuing. “are raising from the grave as flesh-hungry zombies. fleeing from the undead horde- this sounds so stupid.” he laughed, passing the tape to you before looking through the mixture of candy.

“it’s not stupid!” you exclaimed, “its a classic.” you added, standing up to put the tape in the vcr.

“a classic?” daryl scoffed, opening a bag of chips. “ridiculous.” he mumbled.

you giggled, sitting back down beside daryl. “you’re ridiculous.” you quipped, grabbing the remote to turn up the volume.

leaning your head up against his shoulder as you took a small hand full of chips from the bag sitting on his lap. as the opening credits of the film began to play, you and daryl settled in for the night.

around you the room slowly grew dark as the sun set beyond the georgian mountains. the soft glow of the television was enough for you to see the soft outlines of daryls face as he tentatively watched the movie.

“yer payin’ attention to the movie?” daryl huffed, not taking his eyes off the screen.

you sat up, letting out a soft giggle looking at daryl as he finally pulled his eyes away from the screen.

“you got eyes in the side of ya head or somethin’?” you asked, causing a smile to creep onto daryls lips. you were met with a scoff causing you to roll your eyes. “i was just makin’ sure you were watchin’ the movie.” you informed him, lying through your teeth.

daryl had been a long time crush that had been slowly, and deeply festering since you’d first met him. it was something unrecognizable at first, your heart would skip a beat or your cheeks would flush a deep shade of pink and slowly it turned into flirty comments from one another to lingering touches. but something you didn’t quite realize yet, was that daryl had been yearning for you.

every waking moment of his day you were always on his mind. if he wasn’t with you, he’d be thinking about you, thinking about what the two of you could be if he had the balls to make you his own. in fact, daryl had been thinking of halloween night for weeks. he had been subtly hinting to merle about a party in town and when he finally took the bait, daryl knew that he had to do something. tonight was the night.

the stillness in the room was palpable. the film slowly drifted into the background and all you could focus on, was daryls face under the soft moon light peaking through the dirty cabin windows. you both slowly leaned in toward each other. daryl could smell the strawberry shampoo you use, and it drove him near insanity. he had longed to touch, and hold you for so long and now you were finally close enough for it to happen, and he wouldn’t back out this time!

[silverzoomies]

silverzoomiezzz hi hi i was eating my cloudberry ice cream and i dont know why i start to think about peter and then i think about you. and i have a question for you. what do you think peter’s fav snacks that he would save it for you because he wanted you to enjoy and love it as much as he does? this is so silly lol but anyway have a great summer <3

💗oh my gosh, hello anon sweetie !! i'm sorry for answering so late !! i hope your summer has been nice !! it's been pretty decent here, aside from the lame ass humidity.🔥🫠🔥

i'm so honored you would think of me, after thinking of our beloved speedy boy. 💗honestly, i take that as such a huge compliment !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would like (he hoards them, cuz he's the snack hoarding type. ty dofp 💗):

⚡in canon, he hoards hostess snack cakes. specifically the chocolatey, cream-filled kind ⚡and twinkies. dude's got twinkies for two movies in a row ⚡like it's no wonder people assume he's a twinkie fiend ⚡we also see him with so much pepsi and mtn dew ⚡and i know it's just product placement obvi. but he does seem like a mtn dew guy, right? i bet he'd love baja blast. code red too ⚡dk if this counts as a snack, but he'd probably love taco bell. i mean, it's fast. it's cheap. it's addictive. it's easy to indulge in. mans would quote those old taco bell commercials with the chihuahua ⚡sour candy. all of it. gummy worms, airhead x-tremes, sour twists, sour patch kids. tell me i'm wrong. i'm not ⚡he'd make a mess with some fun dip, lemme tell ya ⚡any candy they used to give out on halloween? he'd be addicted to all that shit. he'd love sugary junk. he constantly needs his fix. laffy taffy, nerds, now and laters, skittles, pop rocks, m&m's - you name it, he's into it ⚡imagine the dorito fingers, anon. the cheeto fingers. the takis fingers. do y'all think he'd be more into regular cheetos, or hot cheetos? he reads as a hot cheetos guy to me ⚡he'd slam some icees. slurpees. any kinda syrupy, frozen drink. he mixes all the flavors, sucks it down, and feels no brain freeze ⚡if you took him to carnivals, boardwalks, or amusement parks; he'd put the funnel cake stands out of business ⚡sweets are his kryptonite, really ⚡i personally like to imagine he knows his fair share of international snacks too. since he can zip around the world in a blink. taiyaki. baklava. conchas. tres leches. pirozhki. european chocolate. any and all kinds of street food. he knows all the best 7-eleven instant ramen - and the best toppings for 'em too ⚡i think he'd also go hog wild over a really good steak, y'know? or some barbecue. some ribs. some brisket. all the shmeats !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would save, just so he could share them with you💗:

⚡he wouldn't ⚡correction: he couldn't ⚡c'mon, do you honestly think he'd have the self control? ⚡you're asking him to do the impossible ⚡see, anon, he'd think about saving a yummy treat for you ⚡keyword being think ⚡like, just as he starts to realize he's crushing on you big time ⚡he's guzzling something tasty, when he has the thought: hey...wait a sec! you'd probably really like this!! ⚡but a second later, the treat's already gone. devoured in an instant. whoops! oh well!! ⚡he's just way too impulsive to save anything ⚡like it would have to be out of sight, out of mind ⚡or you'd have to pick from his own, secret stash ⚡because otherwise, he can't hold himself back. he'll gorge any snacks in the nearest vicinity ⚡he'd legit have to wait 'til you were both together. in that moment. if you had a few minutes. he'd be like, "hey. babe. babe. babe. babe. i got somethin' i wanna show you." ⚡he speeds you away for some mind-blowingly good street food, in some country you've never been to, nor heard of ⚡even on valentine's day. he has to snag you one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates last minute ⚡that, or he has to hide it from himself. if he doesn't, he'll be lookin' down at an empty box - chocolate all over the corners of his mouth - like "ah, shit."

[crackrodent]

Check out the rest of my Flufftober library!

Poor Baxter

“Niff how fucking many bags of candy corn do you need? Poor Baxter can barely push the cart!” Husk huffed while absentmindedly rubbing the spot on his arm where Alastor’s mic had struck him for attempting to get out of driving Niffty on her seasonal sugar shopping spree.

Charlie should have picked anyone else to pick up the snacks and decorations for the holiday party. Niffty was going to really remind everyone that they are in hell at this rate.

“All of them!” Niffty said pulling another bag of the multicolored junk out of an unsuspecting hellhound’s basket and tossing it into her cart.

Baxter’s sinister little laugh forced its way into Husk’s ears leading to the former overlord wishing he could punt the tiny man. Husk was way too sober to be in Hellmart at six in the morning.

Baxter’s voice almost made Husk’s brain implode as he encouraged this bullshit, “Niffty, I think I saw some imps back in the freezer aisle, they must have had at least a dozen bags of candied corn, perhaps we could claim their share as well?”

Niffty looked like she had skipped Halloween and Thanksgiving and went straight to Christmas as she bolted out of Husk’s view dragging the cart behind her.

“Baxter! You fucking lost her now!” Husk hissed as he attempted to follow her.

“Nonsense Husk. She is in aisle 2 looking for imps that don’t exist.” Baxter said calmly, looking at his phone while walking opposite of Niffty.

Husk switched directions and followed the other short monster, “What? Why would you lie about that?”

“I needed to ask your advice on something,” Baxter said stopping in front of some big box of overpriced seasonal kid’s toy animals, “Do you think Niffty would prefer the stuffed spider or the stuffed scorpion?”

“Excuse me?” Husk asked, suddenly wishing he was more sober because he had to have caught a secondhand high when he hugged Angel goodbye as they left.

“The woman displays the most familial behavior to you and that radio demon. Since I do not plan to have my voice added to his broadcast, I require your assistance.” Baxter explained.

“Why the hell do you need my opinion? You just sent Niffty off to aisle 2 tracking down imaginary imps! You could’ve asked her yourself!”

Baxter rolled his eyes, “That would ruin the point of the surprise you dunce.”

“And you are trying to surprise her with children’s toys?” Husk asked, the annoyance flowing from his voice in contrast to its usual drip.

The fishy little man was definitely showing his form as he looked down checking the seams on the spider. "I wanted to ask her to accompany me during Charlie’s party. She doesn't seem like the kind to like flowers. I have observed her with bugs and other creepy crawlies however and she seems fixated on them."

Husk stopped and judged the pathetic scientist. Poor dude was going to get himself stabbed.

"The scorpion."

"You are sure Husk?” Baxter suddenly seemed hesitant to accept the help he was pleading for, “I wish they just had a roach. I know she likes those." Baxter said sorting through the bin.

"Women like her, like venom. And ya know scorpions got that stinger thing. Little shits like to stab people. Just like Niffty." Husk paused after his warning, "Trust me."

He was back to feeling too sober. Advising an adult about what teddy bug to buy for another adult added to the headache sobriety was bringing on.

Baxter quickly shoved the scorpion into his pocket as Niffty came back, the cart now full of candy corn décor as well as her 40 pounds of actual candy corn. Husk was going to have to take charge and grab the actual stuff from Charlie’s list.

Husk’s arms were on the verge of falling off by the time all the candy, drinks, food, and décor were inside the hotel. He grabbed a bottle of cheap booze that he was horrified to learn was pumpkin spice flavored after he already committed to a chair in the living room.

"Hey, Whiskers!" Angel Dusk said strolling in and perching himself on the arm of the chair Husk was already melting into. “How was your trip to the store?”

Husk chuckled a little. Sore and annoyed but still laughing at the fishy idiot. “Baxter has a crush on Niffty. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.”

“I know that already,” Angel said, fidgeting with the bag Husk had failed to see in his hands before now. “He told me a couple of weeks ago.” He gave a nervous laugh.

“What is it Legs?”

“I’ve been trying to help out as his wingman and he keeps trying to ask her out and,” the sinner was shaking his head, “she just doesn’t hear him.”

“Yeah she tends to ignore people a lot-”

“No whiskers I mean, he keeps trying the dumbest things to get her attention, and she just doesn’t get it. He tried inviting her on a walk the other day and she responded that she was already walking and just went ‘see?’ and walked out of the room.”

“Today he bought her a stuffed animal to use as a bribe for her to be his date to the hotel’s Halloween party.” Husk took his turn to shake his head at Baxter. “Like I don’t even know how a normal person would react to that, let alone Niffty.”

“Yeah... that might not go well.” The bag Angel had been fidgeting with ripped and the contents fell on Husk’s lap. Angel attempted to recover the item but Husk was faster.

He looked at the stuffed orange cat wearing a little white ghost costume. Its little ears and nose poked out from underneath. And the belly of it had a little pun that read,

‘You look BOO-tiful today!’ in black factory print with ‘Husk’ written underneath in red marker.

“Hey Husk listen it was stupid, I just saw it when I was out with Cherri and thought ‘Hey! Husk is a cat, well kind-’” The rumble of purrs drowned out the end of his rambles.

Husk was certain of two things.

1. Baxter was going to get the Jack-o-lantern treatment from Niffty.

2. If Angel asked him to be his date to the Halloween party he would be the happiest sinner in hell.

[baddreamsandoldbones]

Hellcheer Week Day 3 - Cursed

@hellcheerweek I reference this particular event in one of my previous Buffy oneshots. I didn't get time to write the whole thing but maybe I can finish it after the event.

“Halloween,” Robin says with relish, as they haul boxes. Although some are managing easier than others - Robin can carry three boxes of books with ease and Chrissy feels like her arms are about to drop off. “My night off.”

“Why is that again?” Eddie asks, saving Chrissy from having to do it. She doesn’t look up, even though she can almost feel the heat of his body from where their elbows are mere inches from each other. 

She hadn’t expected this to happen when Eddie joined their group. 

“The vamps think it’s too commercial,” Steve says, passing by. “Like it’s a cliche if they roam the streets when everyone is out in costume.”

“Huh,” Eddie says, resting a crystal ball in the palm of his hand. “You’d have thought it would be easier to sneak around while everyone else is dressed up.” Robin just shrugs. 

“Who cares why they do it, I just know that I get to relax at home and watch Nightmare on Elm Street,” she says and rips through a cardboard lid to peer inside. “Uh…Murray, where do you want the assortment of chicken feet?” 

“Why exactly are we sorting all of this junk?” Steve asks, and gets swatted around the head for his trouble. 

“A fellow watcher retired and sent me all of his resources,” Murray says, as though he hadn’t just removed a few of Steve’s brain cells with a copy of Common Curses. “He thought I might have a use for them living on the Hellmouth.”

“Okay, but why send them to the school library?” Jonathan asks, sitting on one of the stairs as he sorts through yet another box. “Literally anyone could walk in and see…” He pulls what looks like a shrunken head out of the box with an obvious look of disgust. “Well, they might have some questions.”

“I wasn’t about to have them delivered to my house,” Murray says, pushing Chrissy aside so he can take a look at the contents of her box. “My neighbors are notoriously nosy and I don’t think I should leave ancient spell books and relics out on my porch all day.”

“Are any of them likely to come alive?” Eddie asks with interest, tossing the crystal ball from one hand to another. 

“No, but if that ball gets too hot in the sun it will set my house on fire,” Murray says pointedly and snatches it right out of Eddie’s hands. “Spell books to my private collection in the back, everything else needs to be loaded into my car.”

“Some of these books look like they’re bound in skin,” Steve says doubtfully and Murray groans. 

“It’s Halloween,” he says, gesturing to the orange and black sign above the counter, like they could miss it. Murray makes a minimal effort to decorate the library for the holiday - it’s not Chrissy’s favorite event but even she finds the skeleton wearing a paper hat a little sad. “Don’t you people have plans?”

“Taking my brother trick or treating,” Jonathan says, and judging by his expression, his box contains more shrunken heads. 

“Band practice,” Eddie says. 

“Eating and scary films!” Robin chimes in, lifting the last few boxes over her shoulder to bring them down to the front desk like they weigh nothing at all. 

“Tina’s having a party,” Steve says, throwing himself down into a chair. But much like Chrissy, he doesn’t look to be racing out of the door. It’s been getting harder these days to care - about parties, about homecoming, about all of it. She knows what’s out there now. She’d much rather be with these people, watching Jonathan make faces and Robin be giddy about her night off. 

“Great,” Murray says weakly as Robin puts the last few boxes down. Eddie tugs the nearest one open and lets out a shout of delight. 

“Hey, is this a Viking drinking horn?” 

“Yes, and it’s old,” Murray says, looking disgruntled. “Box, car, now.”

But Eddie only pretends to put it away, waiting until Murray’s back is turned before he whisks it out again. 

“Isn’t it cool?” he says, his eyes bright. Chrissy risks a peek while he’s enraptured, watching his long fingers turn the horn around to admire it. “Look at these markings.”

“It’s nice,” Chrissy says, because she doesn’t really see the appeal. It has elaborate etchings and even she can recognise the symbols near the mouth as runes. “What’s it for?” 

“They used to drink out of these,” Eddie says, still admiring it. “This one looks like it was made out of a real horn…” Chrissy makes a face out of sight of Eddie’s eyeline. 

“Man,” Eddie says ruefully, holding the horn up to the light. For a second the runes look unusually bright, gleaming against the library’s overhead lighting. “If only Murray would let me have it.”

“What would you use it for?” Chrissy asks and he flashes her a grin. 

“Drink Dr Pepper out of it?” he jokes, pretending to raise the horn to his lips. “Would give my D&D sessions a real air of drama.”

“You play while sitting on a throne,” Chrissy says, without thinking. “Don’t they have enough drama already?” Eddie pauses, lowering the horn. 

“How do you know that?” he asks and Chrissy nearly lets the large chunk of amethyst slip from her fingers. Damn. 

She’s kept her crush on Eddie pretty cool so far. Before he was just…Eddie. He was in the cafeteria, in the back of some of her classes, a vague memory from a middle school talent show. It was easy to keep at a distance. 

And then he joined their party and it all got so much harder. Suddenly she’s very aware of him in a way that she hadn’t been before, and she’s picked up a few details about him that she probably shouldn’t know. 

“I’ve been downstairs,” Chrissy fibs, picking up another book rather than looking at Eddie. “I’ve seen the drama storerooms, remember?”

“Ah,” Eddie says and puts down the horn. “You know…you’d be very welcome to come see us sometime. I know you don’t play and we don’t exactly get a lot of girls down there but…I’d like to see you.”

It’s not exactly a date invitation. But it sounds like something. She knows how seriously Eddie takes his role as head of the club and Dungeon master. He doesn’t just invite people to watch their campaigns. 

“I’d like that,” she says, heart pounding in her chest. She might be wrong, and he’s just being polite. He might have no feelings for her at all. 

But his pleased smile says something different. 

She picks up a smaller box to put by the door - they’ve borrowed one of the AV club carts to move most of the boxes out to Murray’s car - when Eddie tenses. When she looks at him, his face is almost unrecognizable, frozen into a strange, stiff mask. 

“Hey,” she says, because there’s something not right about that terrible stillness in his face. When he still doesn’t respond, she reaches out and rests her hand on his arm. “You okay?”

Eddie jerks suddenly, all of the tension easing out of his face. But he still looks pale, and probably not too different from how she looks after a vision.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, raising a hand to his head. Chrissy knows that gesture - she uses it every time she’s had a vision and the pounding in her head is worse than she wants to let on. “Fuck. Sorry. I just felt lightheaded for a second.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Chrissy says anxiously. But he just smiles at her and shakes his head. 

“I’m good,” he says, dropping the horn back into the box. “Probably just need to hit the vending machine. Let me take that. I’ll stop by one the way back from Murray’s car.”

“Are you sure?” Chrissy asks, as he removes the box from her arms and stacks it on top of his own. 

“Promise. Red Bull and a Mars bar will fix it,” he says. Jonathan stops counting heads long enough to make a face. 

“I doubt that would fix anything,” he says bluntly. “Fuck’s sake, Murray, how many fucking shrunken heads are in here?”

“Are they human?” Robin asks curiously, peering over the bannister. Jonathan shakes his head. 

“Mostly birds,” he says ruefully. Eddie nudges Chrissy with his elbow, still balancing both boxes. 

“Bet you never had conversations like this with your other friends,” he says, eyes bright. He loves all this, even with the blood and fear that they live with every day. A Dungeon Master finding out that monsters and magic really exists? He’d almost been unable to resist the chance to touch real spellbooks, watch real magic being cast. Steve had even offered to teach Eddie some basic magic to his complete delight.

“Not even,” Chrissy says and turns to the next box. They’re nearly done and she’s almost upset about it. She much prefers being here, in the light with her friends, breathing in the smell of old books and wood polish, rather than going home. 

“I’ll be back,” Eddie says, and as he turns something strange reflects in his eyes, like headlights catching something in the glare of a beam on the road. The unearthly glow against the brightness before whatever it was scurries back into the undergrowth - certainly not a trait for anything human. 

When Eddie returns he bought a packet of Twizzlers just for her and she forgets all about it.

[phynoma]

HALLOWEEN COUNTDOWN

As a countdown to Halloween, I'm sharing the original statements I wrote for the Consuming AU! (<<click for ao3 link) The statements function as horror shorts that work on their own, and I'm proud of them, ngl

Without further ado:

Statement 1: The Chocolate Pot

CW: Manipulation, supernatural compulsion, accidental dead-naming, drowning

[Tape clicks on. Head Archivist’s Office]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Corey Garrett, regarding his discovery of a vintage, silver chocolate pot. Original statement taken August 9th, 2007. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

It was an estate auction that did it.

My cousin, Niamh Flaherty and I, would get out of mum's house by taking our bikes up and down Elvendon Lane. There aren't a lot of turnoffs, and it's one of those narrow, country lanes that seems like it keeps its own secrets. We were lonely, in the way that two young adults in the countryside could be: on the edge of adulthood and the fears of being cast into the unknown, even as we longed for it with all our fledgling desire for flight.

It was the end of summer, and Niamh was visiting from Limerick, and we were terribly bored with country life. Just eighteen, the both of us, and playing at being proper adults. Independant, all that. Both of us had a thing for antiques–though I’ve lost a bit of my taste for it, now–and we were incorrigibly curious.

There's not much that goes on around Woodcote that the whole village doesn't know about, so when Niamh and I saw the lorry at the end of a short drive, nearly blocking the narrow road into town, we stopped. The drive itself was far too small for the mini tipper to navigate; just a blind opening to a gravel track so overgrown it could have just been a path into the woods that would end, like a fairy-path, with no house or sign of humanity in sight.

My parents had moved out to the village when I was at school, and I didn’t know whose house it was that had attracted the house clearance auctioneers like flies to a decaying corpse. All I knew was folks that needed seven tonne lorries were likely old and rich, and that sounded like a magic combination. A proper treasure hunt, you know?

Maybe it was a bit ghoulish, but the idea of a dusty, mouldering house of forgotten and unwanted treasures really got to us–Niamh and me. Like I said, Niamh and I were still pretty young, but I was always impressed with her. She seemed sort of worldly, always got men's attention. She wasn't that pretty, I don't think–well, I mean, I don't know. I'm her cousin, aren't I? But she had a way about her, something that drew people in. I could never figure out if I was jealous of her or if I wanted to be her.

Anyway, watching strangers pack up a lorry with some old, unlucky geezer's worldly treasures might not seem like a good time, but we made the most of it. We made guesses of what was in the boxes, what kind of person they'd been, why they didn't have any family to collect the goods. It was an “adult” kind of fun, nothing kids would be interested in, but now that Niamh and I were grown up we could watch the delivery men carting boxes and furniture down the dusty drive and feel like we were gossiping like real people, real adults did. We were so hungry for a world beyond us.

And there was plenty to gossip about. Crates of old knickknacks and rubbish– porcelain table sets shaped like too-quaint dolls, ratty old tapestries from the 70’s made to look mediaeval and missing the mark– that sort of thing. We sat on our bikes across the lane and kept our eyes peeled for the priceless artefacts we knew we’d spot among all the junk. With our keen, young minds we had a plan that if we did see anything, we’d be the first down at the auction houses and charity shops in Reading to snatch it up. Ghoulish, like I said. But at the time we felt very clever and sophisticated as we guessed at values and made crude but cutting remarks.

We could see a bit of the house from the road–disappointingly normal, all told. Renovated maybe in the mid-90s, one of those monstrosities that was probably a fine thing when it was built two centuries ago and which had been “upgraded” nearly out of existence. We were guessing at how terribly the inside had been refurbished when a woman wearing a cream suit left the front door. For a moment, I could have sworn she looked right at us, down by the road. And she smiled. I don't know how, but I could feel it, like an itch behind my teeth. Then she turned and disappeared behind the hedges and fruit trees that blocked most of the house.

I shook off the shudder that half-imagined smile had given me, and put her from my mind. In any case, Niamh hadn’t seemed to notice the woman. I’d have almost thought I’d made her up, except after a good ten or fifteen minutes she appeared again at the bottom of the lane. She must have walked all the way down, and her cream suit was coated in a fine layer of dust. She held a small crate in her hands.

I don’t know how, but I knew that crate was full of the treasures Niamh and I were waiting to see. I tried to be subtle watching her, but Niamh and I were the only ones on a long, lonely lane, so it was pretty obvious we were gawking. I expected an annoyed glance, maybe, or for the woman to shoo us off. Instead, she looked up. Our eyes met, and I got that weird feeling again, like she was…amused, somehow. It turnt my stomach right over.

I didn’t notice that Niamh had grabbed my arm until later, when I saw the bruises, because I was so focused on that woman. She walked over to us with that little half-smile, the crate still in her arms. She said her name was…I think it was Karen? Karen…something common, I think, but like an old man name. Withers, maybe.

Anyway, she came right up to the both of us and asked if we had known the owner of the house. I don’t remember what we said–if we lied and claimed we did, or what. The answer didn’t really seem to matter. She said the owner had been old and eccentric, and he hadn’t had anyone to leave his belongings to, so they’d been called in. Hope Charities, she said, and pointed at the lorry. There wasn't a name painted on it or anything, but the men doing the loading were wearing white coveralls with B&H on the back. Don't know what the "B" stood for.

She– Karen– showed us the crate. It was open. Inside was a jumble of knick-knacks, exactly the kind of thing you’d expect: a couple of old books with faded dust covers from the 50s or 60s, some miscellaneous silverware, a snowglobe that was nearly opaque from the dissolved snow, a single Skittles pin.

She said it was a box of the things they didn’t think would sell, and offered to let us take anything we’d like. She smiled when she said it, and the smile didn’t match her eyes. Even though it’d been what we were hoping for, I was suddenly uneasy. It didn’t feel like we could say no. I wanted, desperately, to say no. I think I hoped Niamh would do it for me.

Niamh took a book–at random, I think–and I picked up a tarnished chocolate pot. I had half a mind that I could give it to my mum as a birthday gift, with a bit of polish. Karen nodded like I’d made a good choice and gave me one more of those little half-smiles. It reminded me of a crocodile, somehow.

“Enjoy,” she said, and brought the crate back to the lorry to be packed away.

Niamh and I went home after that. There wasn’t much more for us to do, really. We laughed about it, about how we thought we’d been in trouble. Niamh said I must have charmed her with my wicked good looks–but Niamh was always the charmer, and she didn’t seem to realise I didn’t have her way with people.

She showed me her book. It looked like it’d been a library book at some point, and the dust cover was a bit torn. It had one of those generic, oil-painted landscapes as the cover art, of a circle of grey-green mountains with a blue-grey sky behind. It was called A Very Windy Day, and I didn’t know what possessed Niamh to choose that over everything else in the crate. When I asked her, she shrugged and said it reminded her of something.

In the end, I was rather proud of my chocolate pot, and I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to shine it up with some of my mum’s old Wright’s jewellery cleaner. Niamh settled down with her book–I don’t know if she was actually that interested in it, but after my teasing she made a point of reading it in front of me. She even read a bit out loud–something about big spaces and the ever-expanding entropy of the universe. It was way more dry than I expected, and it made me feel sort of funny and small, so I told her to read to herself.

The chocolate pot shined up nicely, though it took a good deal of time. By the time I looked around to ask Niamh something, she had left with her book–probably to get away from the smell of the cleaner. I was a little miffed that she hadn’t said anything to me; but then again, I had been rather focused.

I cleaned the inside of the pot, and noticed that it was in good shape but had some strange scratches on the inside, like someone had gone in with a wire scrubber at some point in the past. The scratches weren’t deep enough that I was concerned it would be unsafe to drink from, and I resolved to make some tea in it, just to try it out.

I steeped a few bags of breakfast tea directly in the pot itself–after all, if the thing was to be used for brewing chocolate, it shouldn’t have any sort of flavour itself, and there was no point in putting hot water from the kettle into the pot and then pouring it over bags from there. But when I poured the tea into my cup, it was almost black, and thick as mud. It had a strong, earthy aroma that wasn’t unpleasant– a bit like a very strong, very unsweetened cocoa.

This was rather off-putting, but I figured to myself that perhaps I hadn’t cleaned the inside of the pot as much as I’d thought, and the hot water had now cleared it out. The vaguely-chocolate-like scent could be from years of accumulated grime, for all I knew. I poured out the rest, washed out the remainder, and tried again.

The second steeping, the stuff was a little thinner, and the aroma thick but sweeter. Perhaps, I thought, the boiling water was doing its job to scrape out the inside of the pot. I poured it out again and resteeped it a third time. This time, the liquid was a warm, golden brown, like a well-sweetened and milky cocoa mixed with cinnamon or turmeric. It smelled mouthwatering.

I realised, belatedly, that I hadn’t added the teabags at all, and couldn’t help but wonder if that had been the reason for the odd black sludge the first time. Whatever the reason, the fact was now that this chocolate pot was a more exciting find than I could have ever hoped for in my attempted grown-up adventure-seeking. I allowed myself a bit of childish delight, that I had something truly special.

Of course, I wasn’t a fool– I wasn’t about to start serving this mysteriously appearing chocolate to my family without some more research. I did some internet research and found very little in the way of magical chocolate pots or cursed items. There was absolutely no record of regular chocolate pots creating chocolate from hot water, although there was plenty about cast iron and other sorts of well-seasoned kitchenware, and some tales of Chinese clay teapots being used for so long that one only had to pour in hot water to get tea.

This seemed unlikely for my silver pot, but I clung to the idea that there was at least some reasonable explanation. I would have even taken a reasonable supernatural explanation–anything that meant I wasn’t simply going mad. And, just in case I was somehow hallucinating the sight and smell of the chocolate, I figured a few other senses were necessary.

For some reason, it was very important to me that I was alone. The childish feeling was stronger; that I had something special, something precious, like a stuffed animal worn to an inch of its life. I wanted to test the chocolate pot in privacy, in a little tent of my own making, someplace dim and close and warm. I imagined sharing chocolate with Niamh like we had as children in a fort made of cushions and blankets, our small hands wrapped around second-best china, in a small, dark world of our own. Safe. Intimate.

I locked myself in the bathroom and climbed in the tub, pulling the curtain around me in as much of an approximation of a fort as I'd allow myself. I poured myself a new cup of chocolate and dipped my finger into the liquid. It was pleasantly warm, not boiling, and thick and silky smooth. I rubbed it between my fingers, marvelling at it, and then without thinking I licked it from my fingers.

It was delicious, just as rich and sweet and full as it smelled. Emboldened, I took a sip directly from the cup. Flavour exploded over my tongue, rich and complex and very clearly chocolate. I finished the cup within minutes and poured another. I was starting to rethink my idea to gift the chocolate pot to my mother, when I could just as easily share its contents with her but keep the pot to myself.

I refilled the pot only once with more water–which I got straight from the bath tap– and looking back, that should have been an alarming sign. At the time, I was simply amazed at how the flavours seemed to change with every cup, perfectly setting off the previous so that each was distinct. It was impossible to tire of, and it seemed to spread through my stomach and then my whole torso and limbs like a good scotch.

I was feeling pleasantly warm and buzzing when Niamh returned. Again, I didn’t hear her come in through the door, but she was suddenly there, in front of me, asking what I was doing. I hesitated, wondering if she would want a cup. Dare I share my magic? Of course, I decided, with a warm, happy surge of devotion. How wonderful, to share in the chocolate pot! How lovely, to be embraced together in such a remarkable creation! It occurred to me that everyone was deserving of such a gift. Perhaps I could sell it. Even better, I could give it away. I could open my home to any and all and share this incredible, magical drink that tasted like the very essence of comfort!

But first, I wanted to share it with Niamh. I wanted to capture a bit of that childhood we'd been so fierce in pushing away. I invited her into the tub with me, my sanctum, my fortress.

It was then that I noticed how distant Niamh's eyes were–as if she were in the room with me, but not. I felt as if she were looking at me from the other end of a very long tunnel, like a mineshaft. She stood in a square of light, while I crouched safe and warm and hidden in the dark. It pressed around me. It was deep, fathomless, but the pressure was comforting. It was the darkness of the womb, of a mother's arms who would never grow too frail, would never turn away. There was no need to fear growing old, there. It was a place where we could huddle in the dark and drink chocolate and always be children.

By this point, it felt as if the chocolate was in my very blood. Its thickness coated the inside of my oesophagus, my mouth. In a slurring, muffled voice, I offered my cousin a cup of the magical liquor. She refused, her eyes still empty.

I felt a surge of despair that she should be so far from me, when all I longed for was closeness. I took Niamh's hand, and when she tried to pull away with a cry of anger, I simply wrapped my arms around her instead.

For a moment, it felt as if I were holding a thousand stars in my embrace–or a million dandelion seeds, about to be blown away by a breath of wind. Niamh wiggled in my embrace and then, all of a sudden, slumped against me. As I hadn’t anticipated this, I could only lower her as slowly as I possibly could to the ground, where she lay curled and sobbing. Her face was a mask of fear and anguish. She draped over the tub, spilling the pot over. Dark liquid poured from it, thick and endless, clogging in the drain and slowly rising.

I righted the pot and handed her a cup of chocolate. This batch was dark as a moonless night and it smelled bitter and woody, but it was still obviously chocolate. When Niamh trembled so much that she would spill it, I helped tip it into her mouth.

At once she became still and quiet. Her eyes were wide and very dark, and she stared at me as if she had seen unknowable horrors.

I drank the rest of the cup, as she seemed uninclined to finish it, and felt the bitterness prick through me like deadly nightshade. My head swam. For a moment, I was drowning. My mouth was filled with thick nectar, and it ran down my front in muddy rivers. My eyesight blurred.

For some reason, my only thought was that I had something in my throat, and that the solution was clearly to wash it out with more chocolate. I poured another cup with shaking hands and slipping gaze, and when I spilled it I simply raised the chocolate pot and poured the sweet liquid directly into my mouth.

There was no end to the flowing chocolate, and for a moment I had a vision of the chocolate continuing to pour, and pour, until it flooded the room and down the street. I imagined the faces of the village as they saw the approaching wave, surprised and then delighted. I pictured them licking their hands like I had, or scooping up teacups full of the stuff to fill their own, hollow bodies. Like a children's story, a fairytale. All was innocent and sweet again, simple. I could save the world with my chocolate pot. All I had to do was keep pouring.

I could imagine how it would sit in us like ballast, thick and choking and so full that no one would ever have to feel loneliness again. To be embraced, inside and out, in thick, sweet nourishment. It was horrible. I had never imagined anything better, or worse. If I’d had any air left in my lungs, if the chocolate wasn’t already pouring from my mouth in an endless fountain, I would have screamed and not stopped. I sobbed, for the fear that I might never reach the beautiful image in my head, the promise of an endless, close embrace.

I felt arms around me, and then Niamh was trying to force the stuff from my stomach, my lungs. I coughed and choked and only managed to let more of the chocolate fill in the last bits of air I had. I was drowning in it. No, that's not right–it was swallowing me. I lay back in the tub that was slowly filling with chocolate and knew it would be my tomb.

I saw, rather than felt, Niamh’s hands pound against my chest. The tub could be our tomb, if only Niamh would join me. I tried to grasp her hand, to pull her into the warmth with me, but the chocolate coating my hands was too slick and she pulled away.

I wailed for her. My consciousness slipped. I was sinking into a deep, black pit of primordial warmth, and I knew I would never escape.

Except…well, I did, didn’t I? I’m still not completely sure how. I think Niamh did it, somehow.

I woke in my bed, with a horrible pressure headache, and Niamh at my side. I could have sworn, in the moments before I woke, that I heard her reading aloud to me–though I can’t recall the story, I do have a vague memory of her setting aside that little hardcover book she’d taken from the crate when I woke.

She explained that I had fallen asleep in the bath, of all places, and nearly drowned. I asked about the chocolate pot, and she seemed confused for a moment. I reminded her about the house, and the crate, and her eyes lit up. She brought to me a small, silver teapot and claimed that this was the thing I had chosen.

I was so tired that I hadn’t the energy to argue with her, and simply decided to ask about it more when I woke again. By the time I did, I could hardly recall what the original chocolate pot had looked like, and I couldn’t truly confirm whether or not the teapot she showed me was the one I had taken from the crate.

Niamh left at the end of that summer, and besides a few emails, we’ve mostly lost touch. It’s too bad, because we were very close once and I have a strange feeling that something that happened that summer contributed to her distance. She moved to Switzerland, I think, to be a ski instructor.

I gifted the silver teapot to my mum after all. She adores it, and it makes very good tea. But sometimes, whenever I’m drinking something, I get a thick, sweet taste on the back of my tongue like the finest of chocolate.

Statement ends.

ARCHIVIST (CONT.)

If I’d read this a year ago, I’d have dismissed it out of hand. It's exactly the kind of urban legend I'd expect would flood the shelves. But perhaps The Magnus Institute is a far less interesting or gratifying audience for such creators of tall tales than the usual, hungry internet forums.

(sigh) Nevertheless, there are a few details of note.

[Paper flips]

ARCHIVIST (CONT.)

(clears throat) Hm, excuse me, it seems that–Cora Garrett has not suffered any long term effects from her experience.

(to self) Note to self, re-record the intro of the statement using the correct name and pronouns.

(aloud) From the preliminary follow-up, it seems like Cora spent a few days in the hospital to get rid of what appeared to be a sudden case of pneumonia. No police report was ever filed, and we've had difficulty tracking down any relations to the original owners of 15 Elvendon Lane, assuming that number 15 was, indeed, the correct house. It was certainly the only house on auction around the correct time. It seems to have been renovated by the new owners, and there are no pictures online of the original house to try and match to Cora's description.

Karen Withers, or Smithers, or whatever her name might be-- the auction agent-- does not seem to exist–either in the Reading area or beyond. I am exceedingly curious to know who and what she is, or if she even exists. For all we know, she could be an invention of Cora and her cousin to explain away an adolescent break-in, or a hallucination like that of a (heavy sigh, dry) overflowing chocolate pot.

The most interesting piece of this statement, to me, is of course the reference to A Very Windy Day. The details are vague, but it could very well be a Leitner, and if that's the case I–

[Door opens]

ARCHIVIST (CONT.)

Ah. Martin.

[sushigirlali]

Bad Idea Right? - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III (Complete!)

Summary: Rey Niima realizes she may not be over Ben Solo when Hux’s social media posts show her ex-boyfriend is moving on at Poe’s Halloween party. Donning a matching costume purchased before their breakup, Rey decides to stop running and confront him. Horny Halloween hijinks ensue!

Pairings: Rey/Ben, Rose/Hux, Finn/Poe

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: I wrote the outline for this on my phone with speech to text while stuck in traffic and listening to Olivia Rodrigo 😂 Happy spooky season, rats! I was definitely inspired by some reylo/hellcheer Halloween art I’ve seen recently as well 😛

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

Bad Idea Right? - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

Boston, MA

Friday, October 24

——————

Hey

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months

But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone

And I'm sensin' some undertone

——————

Rey Niima had a problem. Was it a problem of her own making? Perhaps. But it was a problem nonetheless. 

After swearing off men and dating and love for the last two months, she was lonely and bored and horny. More specifically, she was horny for her ex-boyfriend Ben Solo. It had been exactly 62 days since their breakup (yes, she had been counting), and every night without him was worse than the last. 

The urge to text him was almost overwhelming at times, but she tried to see it as an exercise in control. It made her feel a little better, to have a goal. Even if the goal was to ruin her own life.

Rey blew out an irritated breath, moving her unwashed brown hair away from her face. She really should shower and change after a long day’s work, but she just didn’t care. Flopping down on her bed in an oversized blazer and yoga pants, she wondered whether Ben was thinking about her just then as well. It was hard to focus on things like hygiene and personal needs (beyond what was strictly necessary on a mandatory zoom call) when there wasn’t anyone around to judge you. 

“Or praise you,” she thought wistfully, because Ben used to praise her for the tiniest, sweetest things…

Rolling over onto her stomach, crushing the front of her semi-professional blazer, Rey pressed her face into her battered, space-themed comforter and screamed.

——————

And I'm right here with all my friends

But you're sendin' me your new address

And I know we're done, I know we're through

But, God, when I look at you

My brain goes, "Ah"

——————

The breakup had been stupid, really. Or, she was stupid. 

Near the end of August, on the date of their four year anniversary, Ben had planned an elaborate scavenger hunt for her through the city. And at the end of the trek, there had been a box and a question. 

She could still remember the pain in his dark eyes when she refused him, the slump in his broad shoulders as he balanced on one knee, the quiver of his lips…

Rey pushed her guilt aside and focused on the other ways his lips had made her feel over the years. They were full and plush, with a tendency to hike up on one side when he grinned. And when he kissed her, sometimes she forgot her own name. And when he didn’t stop kissing her until she begged for more, slipping his lips hotly down her cheek, her throat, her breasts, her stomach… Well, she liked those memories most of all.

Stripping out of her house clothes, she tossed them onto an existing pile of dirty clothes by the foot of the bed. Ben would be horrified that they didn’t immediately go into the hamper, but again, he wasn’t around and she just didn’t care. At any rate, it wasn’t like one pile of junk was going to ruin the ambiance of her small, dingy apartment. 

Which honestly just felt like another fitting punishment for breaking Ben Solo’s heart. “Not that I could afford anything better on my own,” she lamented, thinking about the mountain of student loan debt she owed.

Shaking her head to clear it, she went back to disrobing, removing her favorite lace bralette and matching panties and tossing them aside as well. She didn’t even know why she’d bothered to keep the very expensive, yet impractical cream ensemble besides years of childhood poverty making her thrifty. It definitely wasn’t because they were a gift from Ben and he loved peeling them off her.

“Don’t think about… actually, no. That works.”

Rey stretched to retrieve her cell phone from the bedside table and navigated through her contacts to the entry entitled “Ben Solo.” Her finger hovered over the call button for a second, the thought of hearing his deep voice again tempting, but she chickened out. 

“I really should have deleted his number by now, or blocked him at the very least.” But he hadn’t texted or called in 62 days, and she hated how hopeful it made her that he still could.

Closing her contacts, she opened the files app instead and unlocked a folder titled “Gardening Tips 🍆💦” with an extremely long and complicated password. Biting her lip as sultry images flashed before her eyes, Rey leaned back against her second-hand cotton bedspread, which had been washed so many times that the thin fabric felt like silk against her bare skin. 

The first few photos were of Ben’s hands, his long, tapered fingers and calloused palms. Despite his family’s wealth, Ben liked to work with his hands at his firm’s tech lab. He was an engineer, like her, so she understood the need to tinker.

Rey imagined those hands on her body again, running one of her own across her taut stomach to cup one of her small breasts. The pads of her fingers weren’t nearly as rough as his, she usually worked on sketching designs instead of with hard materials, but a picture was worth a thousand words as they say.

“Ben,” she whimpered, flicking through a few more photos before finding some of his face and chest.

He was smiling in a lot of them, something he rarely did around anyone but her, his expression intimate and open. Or, at least, that had been the case when they were…

Zooming in on his chest, she traced the curve of his muscles, the shape of his trim waist, the blush of his nipples, touching herself in each of those locations in turn. But it wasn’t enough.

Backing out into the folder, she skipped down to pictures of his ass, his cock, of them together. “Fuck.” She flushed with arousal at one particular set from the night before they broke up.

Ben was deep inside her, his pubic hairs meshing with hers, his thumb on her clitoris, her body contorted. Every frame showed a different angle of his penetration, from her point of view. 

Lifting her knees, she bent her legs toward her chest, trying to mimic the position, before flipping open the camera app and snapping a few new photos. She wanted to recreate the scene, but it was too difficult to hold the filthy position and touch herself at the same time without Ben pressing down on her hips.

Annoyed, she hit the share button and sent off one of the new full frontal nudes to her man before thinking better of it. 

Then, “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck!” Scrambling upright, Rey stared at her phone in horror. Ben wasn’t her man anymore and she had no right to send him unsolicited sexts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—FUCK!”

Rey jumped as her screen lit up: Ben was calling her.

——————

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

——————

Rey was frozen solid for the first three rings, but on the fourth, she impulsively hit the talk button. Hitting that button meant she’d hear his voice again, it meant he hadn’t blocked her either, it meant… 

“Rey?” he said hesitantly, her name from his lips immediately heightening her arousal. 

Her jaw worked up and down, but no sound came out. She wanted to respond, to keep him talking, but what could she say? Sorry I haven't called? Sorry I’m such a mess? Sorry I ruined our lives? 

“Rey, why did you send me that picture?” 

“I–I’m..”

“Are you still naked?” His tone was neutral, but the question still brought heat to her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Did you just take that pic? Is that what your pussy looks like right now?” His voice became gruffer.

“Yes.”

“Are you keeping your curls tidy for any particular reason?” He was stern now, or was it jealous? Maybe a bit of both.

“No,” she said, because, “I’ve ignored every other aspect of my hygiene except a biweekly bikini wax in case you ever wanted to eat me out again,” was insane.

“Good girl,” he said warmly.

Praise. Ben was praising her. “Fuck.”

Rey propped herself up on several pillows, put the phone on speaker, and set it on her chest with the microphone facing her mouth. Using one hand to pull her right leg up and back, the other slid between her legs. “Ben, I’m so wet.”

He blew out a breath. “Fuck, Rey. Do you need my help, baby?”

She nodded but then realized he couldn't see her. Clearing her throat, she said, “Yes, please,” very politely.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled. Then, with more heat, “Are you touching yourself already?”

“Yes.”

“Where? How are you positioned?”

She told him and he groaned. “I’m so turned on, Ben, but it just isn’t the same without…” She cleared her throat. “What should I do?”

“I want you to run your index and middle fingers over your slit,” he commanded.

She did as he said and sighed into the receiver. 

“That’s it, baby. Do that until you’re so slick my thick cock could slip in without a hitch.”

She pictured him over her, touching her, fucking her. “Oh, god, I am!” 

“You’re doing so good,” he praised. “Now slowly spread your lips and slip your fingers inside.”

“Okay,” she panted, swirling her fingers around her opening before sinking them knuckle deep in her pussy. “They–they're in.”

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Good. Really good. But I wish it was your fingers, Ben, they’re so thick.” Shit. She shouldn’t have said that.

He choked out his next demand, clearly affected by her statement. “Drop your leg, baby, and use your free hand to massage your clit. If I were there with you, I’d keep you open so wide, but you need to use both hands for me.”

“Okay,” she said, the image of him pinning her down with his big body flashing through her mind.

“Now close your eyes,” he murmured. “Are they closed?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Picture me while you pump your fingers inside your cunt and rub your clit with your other thumb.”

“Ohhhh!” she moaned, doing his bidding. Her sheath clenched around her fingers as he continued to whisper into her ear, telling her how sexy she was, how much he loved this, how good he wanted to make her feel. 

“Are your nipples hard?”

“So hard!” She didn’t even know what she was saying anymore, she just wanted to please him.

“Is your pussy dripping all over your sheets?”

“Yes!” she screamed, rubbing, straining, curling and twisting her fingers until a flood erupted between her splayed thighs.

Ben talked her through the blinding orgasm, her first since they had parted, until she calmed several minutes–hours?–later. 

“Rey?”

“Hmm?” Rey was breathless, her body tingling and satiated.

“I have to go now.”

Her euphoria shifted into confusion and hurt, which was rich considering he had just helped her get off and asked nothing in return. “Oh, okay. Uh–thank you.” Then, her deep-seeded fear of rejection taking control, she quickly disconnected the call before he could say anything more.

——————

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine

——————

Rey pulled her comforter tighter around naked body, trying to smother out the light streaming through her window. During the excitement last night she had forgotten to pull the blackout curtains closed. 

“Ugh,” she grumbled when her phone buzzed a few times in quick succession.

Sticking her hand out of the warm cocoon, she blindly felt around for the device before pulling it back under the covers. Switching the light setting to dim, she read:

Ben: Good morning, sweetheart ❤️‍

Ben: Rey, are we really doing this again? 

Ben: I know what it meant to me, but what did last night mean to you? 

She sighed her favorite word in lieu of doing anything productive. “Fuck.”

Fiddling with the phone, she started texting him back several times, writing and rewriting a positive message, a negative one, something neutral, but in the end she turned it off without sending anything. 

She knew she should respond, that he’d take her silence to mean last night meant nothing, but she was scared. Last night was incredible, he was incredible, and he hadn’t even touched her. Just his voice had reduced her to a quivering mess, bringing back all her memories of them together. Sexual and otherwise.

Rey swore again, frustrated that she hadn’t gotten him out of her system. “It was just one call, idiot. It’s not like you fucked him again.”

But that couldn’t happen. Her dumb heart wouldn’t be able to stand letting him go twice.

——————

Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

"I only see him as a friend, " the biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed

——————

A/N: I intended for this fic to be a one-shot, but whoops it’s >10K words of feelings and smut. Part II coming tomorrow! Happy All Hallows’ Eve Eve!!

[littlewalken]

feb 27

Realizations that have been realized-

My back figured out we're 'done moving' so it can hurt, swell, and remind me it's raining a bit.

There might not be any boxes in the house that will efficiently fit them boots, aside from the occupied Doc Martens box, because they are stiff and do not fold. If one is not found in today's adventures I will see if they fit in a Priority box and that will be it. Not a problem as I know the relative price of what I'm trading for and I got these boots so long ago in a junk store I don't even know what I paid for them but I can assure you it wouldn't have been very much.

I can so work on my wizard quilt, as I call it, or any other project when ever I want now. The only thing stopping me is my desire to have my environment a bit more organized so I have everything at hand. It's been since September of last year to March of 2021 since I've had access to most of my projects and I don't know where all to start.

I think they changed the recipe for Panda Express mushroom chicken, or it's the location we were at yesterday, because it didn't taste the same. Being close to the big mall I can have theirs later and compare.

We need a critter in this place and setting up the fish tank will be the easiest way as we aren't exactly ready for a mammal yet but getting closer and closer.

Anyone concerned where Bluefish 2.0 (or some other color betta) is going to come from welcome to bring me one instead. (That is a plastic tube from the junk drawer, he loved it so much he would push it around)

something something I don't have time for 'boycott this' and 'boycott that' unless it's something like Anheuser Busch that uses someone with a large childhood following to sell beer or any other company that replaces a woman with a trans woman when they can have both something something get off your privileged high horse and really see how people with less means have to live something something My take home pay is less than some people spend on a night out something something

Pete Townshend telling the story that inspired Won't Get Fooled Again should be mandatory watching. It's like If You Give A Mouse A Cookie that ends with 'give us your baby'.

Now to see where today goes.

*Update- A box has been found so that will be part of today's doings which are a continuance of the ones we could not finish yesterday. And that fat quarter I thought I was doubling for the wizard quilt is because I already had one in the Halloween fabric.

[fresh-widow]

Lost XMas

Post dysfunctional childhood, any family gatherings and holidays induced PTSD - I’d stop breathing randomly. go outside, wheeze and gasp for air for 10 eternal minutes or so, like I did yesterday. I had a weird day musing on my codependency issues, which are always so much easier to manage when you’re codependent with your best- friend-partne- in-life, rather than an audience of post-your-best friend’s-death new acquaintances. As for my childhood nightmares holidays they poke up like a mushroom here and there, and it’s probably not worth getting into that now. My relationship with Ben really healed my Xmases. We shared a dark sense of humor, and he loved my ideas-- often crafting cool things that spun off of our sense of humor, imagination, and shared cynicism.

I have a tiny crawlspace in my house and I swear every time I go in there things shapeshift and there is a different time capsule there that I didn’t see. The last time I looked there time there was only a bag that held Ben’s Satan Claws costume in there. The black fur pants which I altered for our nephew  a couple of years ago when he wanted to be a centaur for Halloween.

Yesterday morning, I went up there and there was several boxes and bags of Christmas stuff along with a giant candelabra. I opened a bag to discover this designed-out-of-egg-cartons anti-materialist junk Xmas tree. The idea came through my brother who didn’t feel up to doing the capitalist commercial Xmas for his baby at the time and Ben loved doing up the dark side of Xmas. We made light of the darkest moments. A lot of Ben’s collection of Xmas stuff is from the street- picture leaky snowball scenes and antique crumbling plastic Santas with peeling paint and cracked heads. Ben made some excellent silly ornaments too. I peeled off the top layer of stuff in the boxes and then couldn’t handle any more. I took a two hour nap, went to lunch with a friend had a beer, which I never do, then I went to went home and took another 2 hour nap in the driveway in the back of my SUV with the door open to the sunshine then took my dog for a long walk then slept for 12 hours.

Just received a Santa emoji from my brother’s wife and a 4 word Merry Xmas Love ___ email from my brother who has been mad at me for months.  I called them, thanked them for their warm heartfelt emoji and told them about the memories I pulled out of the attic yesterday. I felt him warm up. Sometimes guilt is a necessary trip.

[nysocboy]

Happiest Season: Christmas romcom with a lesbian couple, pansexual Patrick, and Jake's junk

Happiest Season, on Hulu, is advertised as "A Holiday romcom about being true to yourself and trying not to ruin Christmas."  The icon shows three heterosexual couples, an unattached woman, and what looks like a lesbian couple, but ten to one they're bickering sisters.  

But the husband on the left is Dan Levy, Patrick on Schitt's Creek, and the hunky Jake McDorman, top photo, is at the top of the cast list, so I'll give it a try.

Opening:  They're a lesbian couple!  The opening consists of watercolor-type pictures of two women, a blond and a brunette, meeting, falling in love, going to a family Christmas, celebrating Halloween and Thanksgiving, exchanging gifts, and moving in together.  They kiss twice, so it's unlikely that viewers will identify them as "just close friends."

Scene 1: A residential neighborhood decked out for Christmas, called Candy Cane Lane.  A tour guide gives its history: it was started by Herb Flack, with his nephew Otis playing Santa Claus "until he was arrested for child endangerment."  A pedophilia joke?   The ladies are taking the tour. 

The rich brunette is named Abby, and the poor blonde is Harper.  Somebody goofed --  Harper absolutely has to be the rich one.  It's impossible to keep their names straight, so I'll call them Rich Brunette and Blondie. 

Uh-oh, Blondie doesn't like Christmas, a major crime in these movies, and in real life during the month of December. Rush her to a re-education center, stat!  Brunette argues that it's impossible to not love Christmas -- I've heard that argument a lot -- but Blondie stands firm.

Next Brunette drags Blondie to a house that's not on the tour and up to the roof, so they can look down on the lights.  "Now you love it, right?"  Sure, trespassing makes any holiday more festive.

They complain about being separated for the holidays, kiss and...uh-oh, the homeowner hears them.  They slide off the roof, destroying an inflatable snowman, and run away.  The homeowner is a Santa Claus dominatrix and her reindeer-costume sub, har har.

Brunette has an idea: why not come to her parents' house for the holidays?  Wait -- the water-color intro already showed them with the parents at Christmas.  Blondie agrees.  They kiss for like five minutes. 

Scene 2:  The ladies' elegant brick house in downtown Pittsburgh.  Blondie works as a pet sitter?  Girlfriend must be an heiress. An old-fashioned phonograph playing a new song, "Jingle Bells" by Bayli, as Blondie says "We need to talk."  Uh-oh.

It's nothing bad.  She just wanted to say that she got a substitute pet-sitter, John, so she can go.  Um...the first rule of fiction, even in frothy gay-positive fiction: there has to be conflict.

Cut to a coffee shop, where Blondie is giving John (Dan Levy) pet-sitting instructions.  Wait -- in the intro, he's celebrating Christmas  with the ladies and the parents.  I thought he was the Brunette's brother-in-law, married to the scary-looking sister.   

John is distracted because he left last night's hookup alone in the apartment, so he has to keep tracking him to make sure he leaves.  

Takeaway: he tracks all of his friends.  This will become important later.

In other news, Blondie is planning to ask Brunette to marry her.  John is against it: they're a perfect couple right now, so why spoil things with an archaic assimilationist ritual, trapping her girlfriend in "the iron box of heteronormativity"?

Also: she wants to ask Brunette's dad for his blessing first. You've been reading too many Jane Austen novels, girlfriend.

Scene 3:  Establishing shots of their trek out of the city into the deep, dark wilderness.  You know Pittsburgh is just an hour's drive from West Virginia, right?

Big reveal: When Brunette said that she was out to her parents, she was lying.  They think she is straight, and Blondie is her "roommate."  So, you're about 30, you haven't mentioned a guy in 15 years, and you're  living with a woman. Girl, they know.

And they can't come out now, because Dad is running for mayor, and he's trying to impress this important, homophobic doner.  Sounds like the plot of La Cage aux Folles.

Besides, he has made it very clear over the years that he will only love his children if they are perfect, and being gay is by definition imperfect, so she has a fake boyfriend played by Jake McDorman (butt left).

When they arrive, it turns out that there are three sisters and a scheming ex-girlfriend, all with long black hair, so I can't tell them apart.  But apparently they all have imperfections that they're keeping secret so Dad won't stop loving them:

Eldest sister and her husband are separated and divorcing, but pretending to be together.  The husband is played by Burl Mosely, seen here on Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, where he sings "Don't Be a Lawyer."

Brunette is an imperfect lesbian.

Youngest daughter is writing a Harry Potter-like young adult fantasy novel in secret. 

 Pop Quiz: What happens next?

1. T/F: Brunette dumps Blondie for her ex-boyfriend.

2. T/F: John agrees with Brunette's decision to stay in the closet.

3. T/F: John gets a romantic partner

4. T/F: There are several other LGBT characters.

5.T/F: When Brunette comes out, her parents are fine with it.

Answers with the full review on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

[gojrsdumpsterrental]

How to Reclaim Your Garage with a Residential Dumpster Rental

 If you have a garage, wouldn’t it be nice to park your car in there over the winter months? For too many homeowners, the garage becomes a dumping ground/workshop, leaving no room to park the car. It can seem an overwhelming task to clear it out and organize it so that you can use it for its intended purpose.

But if you follow these tips for reclaiming your garage (with the help of a residential dumpster rental) you’ll be amazed at how big your garage really is! And November is a great time to tackle this project. Your garage isn’t an oven, and you’re doing the work before truly cold and snowy weather arrives.

So, let’s dive in.

Tip #1: Set a Schedule

Set a schedule and stick to it for the great garage purge. This is especially important if you have more than a decade’s worth of stuff piled up in your garage. With that much junk, you will probably benefit from scheduling a residential dumpster rental. If you start on a Friday, you can potentially finish in a weekend, as long as you don’t have anything else planned.

Tip #2: Start Sorting

There are 4 main categories for sorting the mountain of stuff in your garage:

·       Sell

·       Donate

·       Toss

·       Keep

Take stock of what you have, and be brutal. There is no “Maybe” pile. It might help to stock up on bins to place smaller items in. Another tactic is to move everything out of your garage into separate areas on your driveway.

Sell

You can try to sell items that you have two of or that are in great shape but you haven’t used them in two years or more. Try places like Facebook Marketplace, NextDoor, and Craigslist. Be prepared for no-shows and scammers. If something doesn’t sell within a week or two, consider donating it. Ideally, you try to start selling stuff before the time of the big cleanout.

Donate

Donate gently used items that someone else could actually use. You can donate furniture, sporting goods, home improvement items, tools, and more. You might even want to find a charity that will come pick up your donations.

Toss

This is where renting a residential dumpster comes in really handy. If you’re like most people, a lot of the stuff you’ve accumulated in your garage never made it into the house because there was something wrong with it. Get rid of broken or damaged items. If you haven’t fixed it by now, you’re not going to. And don’t forget the attic. Chances are good you put stuff up there when you moved into your house, and haven’t thought about it since.

Clear off shelves and clear out drawers. Got a User’s Manual for a lawnmower from a decade ago? Toss it. Have rusted beach chairs or lawn chairs covered in cobwebs? Toss them. You get the idea. Just remember to be aware that most dumpster rental companies have a list of restricted items you shouldn’t toss in the dumpster. They may be able to help you get rid of those items for an additional fee.

Keep

Ideally, you only keep what you really need and use regularly. If anything in the garage should really be stored somewhere else, such as the kitchen or basement, take it to the appropriate room.

If you don’t already have shelving, install some, or buy free-standing units. Think about vertical storage, such as hooks to hang bikes, pegboards to hold tools, etc. For items that are seasonal, such as Halloween and Christmas decorations, store them in well-marked boxes and bins and place them in a back corner.

Once everything has a home, it will be easier to keep your garage organized. And you’ll be able to park your car in the garage and protect it from the elements again!

Call Now to Schedule a Residential Dumpster Rental

To easily rent a residential dumpster, call or text us at 443-286-3284. In most cases, we can deliver your roll-off dumpster the next day, but we recommend calling 1-2 days before you need it. You can keep the dumpster for up to 10 days, and you simply call us when you’re ready for us to pick it up.  We can leave you an empty roll-off dumpster if you need another for a larger project. We offer delivery and pickup Monday through Saturday.

If you’re not sure what size dumpster you need, if you tell us a bit about your project, we can make recommendations. We offer competitive residential dumpster rental prices to homeowners in Harford County and parts of Baltimore County.Share

[marzipanandminutiae]

I just want to emphasize even more strongly the fact that allowing these things in moderation helps your kids learn how to moderate themselves as adults

my parents weren't big junk food advocates, to say the least. I got a box of Lucky Charms for Christmas one year, as a stocking stuffer, and my mother rationed it out for months. but I was allowed the occasional Little Debbie strawberry snack cake (oh god I miss those; they were so good) or small bag of Cheetos to take with me for morning break at school. I went trick-or-treating, and while there was an Only One Treat On Halloween Night rule, the rest went into a candy box in the pantry that I could pull from thereafter. it wasn't frequent, but it wasn't forbidden fruit either

and as a teen, I voluntarily took grapes and clementine oranges to school as snacks. because I knew I could have chips or candy another time, and I actually liked the fruit

on the flip side, soda WAS forbidden until I was 11 and caffeinated soda until I was 13, and I was completely out of control around the vending machine at my church for years as a result. later, I realized that I don't even like soda that much- I hardly ever drink it now. but it was the New Exciting Thing that I'd never been allowed before, so I drank it to the point of physical discomfort

if you present these foods as tantalizing, forbidden treats to be hoarded and binged (because they'll be taken away if anyone finds them), that's how your kids will treat them when they grow up. instead of just...normal foods you can eat when you want, and stop eating when you want

This is a controversial take that everyone will hate but it's one thing to feed your kid better, more wholesome food than twinkies and hot pockets daily, it's another thing to force them to adhere to a crunchy granola beige colored diet where they cant share the snacks their peers are eating or have a normal childhood or have fun. None of you were raised like that and if you were you know what im talking about.

[dav-book]

Chapter #2 The party

Finally her mother pulled to the house. It seemed awfully quiet for a party and awfully quiet for Jake's house. She could feel that something was wrong but there was no going back now. She looked at her mother before getting out of the car. Her face wasn't as composed as it usually was. She could tell it too after all this wasn't the first time they had been to Jake's house enough to know that that was not normal although they both pretended not to notice.

“Well have a good time Kate,” her mother said with a wight face, never breaking eye contact with the house.

“I will” says kate even though deep down inside there was a voice whispering to her DON'T KNOCK, DON'T KNOCK

Her heart is pounding as she walks up the two steps to the door. Her breathing heaves and her steps become slow but no matter how slow she goes her feet don't stop she keeps walking. And walking … and walking till there it was the door. She could still see the bits of pumpkin from last year's halloween prank. Her mind races thinking of anything she might have done to upset Jake in the past few days. As she did so she summoned all of her strength to lift her hand to knock her hand shaking with fear of what was in store for her for she now knew the mental game that was one of his cruel jokes. She knocked the door swung open wide and there stood Jake with a smile, a warm smile paired with warm loving eyes. She now let out a breath she didn't realize she was even holding. She knew Jake better than anyone and she could tell she was now safe. She turned around and gave her mom a thumbs up. Her mom sighed with relief, smiled and then drove off.

“Why so quiet” asked kate now more curious than nervous

“I just had you get here early, I knew your mother would freak out if she saw it was a party,” Jake responded, sitting down on the couch and motioning for Kate to take a seat.

“How did you know I didn't tell her it was a party?”

“Oh come on kate give me some credit youd think id know my girlfriend”

“Ok fair point”

“So do you want a drink real quick before conner comes rushing in loud as last year's Christmas band or…?

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. came a knock at the door.

“Too late.” jake sighed as he got up and walked toward the door

“You know where the drinks are right?” Jake asked Kate. Kate nodded.

“Good” said jake opening the door and letting in letting in a tall longer haired and (compared to the walking skeleton that was jake) large man with arms full of boxes of junk that was connor, connor was jake's best friend in the hole world but he was kind of loud but that's what made him good at parties he was the life of them and knew exactly what to do. Mainly because he was constantly going to the most popular parties in highschool. He had even helped to plan this one which was part of the reason he was dragging so much stuff behind him the other reason was because jake said he would only let him help if he either, got to pull as many pranks as he wanted or, do a seance so he could scare everybody half to death. Of course Connor couldn't have Jake ruining his party with all of his pranks so he agreed to the seance and brought all of the stuff he could find on the subject. Conner set the boxes down on the floor

“What's this?” Jake questioned picking up a small clear bottle of liquid.

“Holy water…” connor winced as he said this

Jake burst out laughing a genuine and mockingly and just as he was stopping he spotted the cross pulled it out and started laughing all over again 

“you know that seances aren't real right, and even if they where why would any of this stuff help”

“Hey you know you can never be careful with this kind of stuff” 

“Yeah, yeah just take it upstairs and stuff it under a pillow. I don't want anybody thinking you're a pansy. I'll take up the ouija board and that stuff even though it's just as fake.”

Jake picked up the box with seance supplies as Connor rushed up the stairs.

“hun if you want you can take that box over there and start spicing the place up”

  “Ok” said Kate, digging through the box.

Connor really had thought of everything he had brought: lights, his own punch, cups, and bowl, twister, head band, a movie player and a projector,  some sound equipment, CDs,and all sorts of other things. She got started setting up and was just finishing up when Jake came down in some type of fake demon suit.

“What do you think” jake mumbled from underneath the demonic mask

“Looks good, but what kinda of prank are you planning to pull with that” kate said raising an eyebrow

“Where planning on setting of a smoke bomb in the middle of the ritual then dropping me down in the middle of it and scare everyone half to death”

“Oh jeez jake”

“What it's just having a little fun”

“Yeah until someone has an aneurysm”

Jake just laughed while Kate gave him a sarcastic grin.jake then replied

“Ok I get your point but trust me i have everything under control everything is going to be just fine, trust me.”

“Ok i'm trusting you don't mess it up.”

“When have you known me to mess up”

Kate sighed knowing he was getting cocky again. Jake then interrupts this thought by complimenting her with a…

“You really gave this place a makeover didn't you”

“You should thank Connor. He was the one that thought of all this stuff. I was just the one that set it all up.”

And just as Jake was about to say something the doorbell rang and Jake ran up stairs yelling for Connor to answer the door meanwhile Kate calmly walked over to let the new guests into the house. The party had officially begun  

The party was going pretty well. Kate didn't know very many people there but the people she did know she enjoyed talking to and she even got to catch up with a few friends that she hadn't seen in a long time, but she was starting to miss jake. Yes she could go up and see him anytime she wanted, but the fear of what was going to happen was utterly paralyzing and she couldn't quite bring herself to go up there and see the horrors that were lurking upstairs. Even though no one had come out screaming yet she was sure they would. After all, when Jake does a prank he truly goes all out.

“Is that you kate?” a familiar voice said from behind her she turned around to see a face that gave her a kind of deja vu

“Umm hi?” she replied in a confused voice

“You don't remember me do you” said the mysterious person

“No sorry” kate said in an ashamed voice, never before had she not remembered a person

“Well good our first encounter wasn't exactly a good one to be reminded of, anyway im samantha” said this new girl stitching out her hand in expectancy of a hand shake

“Well good to meet you, again.” Kate said grabbing her hand “where did we meet before any way.”

“The hospital” samantha replied shily

“Ooooh” kate said in recognition “your the girl that shared a room with me when I broke my arm”

“Yeah that’s me” as she said this she looked down at the ground in embarrassment

“Wow you really healed up nicely no offense”

“None taken, how did you break your arm anyway?”

“Well you see I was playing a game of basketball with one of my friends and…” as she said this, she was brutally interrupted by the first of the expected screams along with a crash followed by more screams. Everyone jumped, even Kate and the whole room came to a standstill. The music cut out and everyone stopped talking all at once. All eyes were facing the upstairs bedroom. A sudden rush of people came flying down the stairs running out of the house screaming, all except for Conner and Jake. Everyone waited patiently hoping that they would come down. The house was deadly silent. So much so, that you could hear a pin drop and all felt their heart beat in their chest as they hoped to see the two. Then came a low rumble from the stairs and the whole party crowded around the stairwell. Staring up into the darkness, a huge mass of fur came bolting down the stairs lunging at the closest person. They fell down, a bloody claw mark scrapping its way across their chest. The whole crowd ran screaming and crying. Bodies climbed over one another. Kate ran. Not daring to look behind at the beast, in her haste tripped over her own feet. Her head landed on the ground with a sudden thud the whole world blurred together in a swirl and misty haze as a ringing entered her ears she couldn't tell which way was up or which way was down much less where the door was all she could see was the mass of people running. Figuring this is where the exit might be she tried standing up in hopes of escaping with the others her knees were wobbly and weak and she could hardly stay upright but she needed to in order to have any chance of escaping she walked forward. with each step it felt like a weight was added onto her. She knew she would only be able to get so far before she collapsed, then as if in sudden recognition of this thought she fell in a heap on the floor. The remaining people had now escaped all that was left in the room was broken furniture, her and the beast. She would have to regain her senses before she could attempt to escape. She pushed herself onto her back staring at the ceiling, willing it into a clear picture trying to focus her mind. In  a flash the beast was on top of her; it had some type of wolf-like appearance to it yet its face was far to deformed in order to be one. This new image was much sharper in her adrenalin pumped state from this huge mass pressing it paws? No hands, or something in between either way the weight was enough to create a sense of danger. Even as she stared into its face she could see something was not right, that it was no wolf but some other type of creature from the beastly large snarl to its large pointed ears, but most of all was its strangely human-like eyes that seemed to recognise her. She recognised them and was surprised to see humanity and a fear in its eyes. Then in a flash as quick as it was on her it was off and out the door and down the street cries could be heard as people witnessed the beast. 

“What just happened” kate whispered to herself “what was that thing”

Jake himself was wondering that same question. All was going well with the prank. The light was dark and the room was filled with smoke from the smoke machine so that no one could see him as he was stuck to the ceiling with some belts and a pulley system. Luckily no one could see him otherwise the whole thing would be ruined. They had a large pentagram on the floor and several candles laid down with an old book in the middle they got from an old pawn shop. The book they reasoned used to belong to a halloween store and was the reason for the spell-like form of the words on the page and the pentagram on the front. However this was not the case you see this book belongs to a wicken colt which meant that it used to be used to summon “demons” the very thing that they were pretending to do. As people filed into the room they looked around in wonder at the room as conner greeted them taking every bit in for they also did not believe in such things as ghosts and demons. Conner directed them in a circle around the pentagram then sat himself in front of the book and took a deep breath. They had practiced this over a hundred times beforehand and they were now ready. He began reciting from the book.

Homai, Entae, Lentoo, Lantae, Oncramore.

Treenorm, Herartam, Ental, Rencartam, Entae.

Amores, Noctar, Dreedlam.

Westroe, Ental, Lentoo, Contrak, Oncramore, Melmor, Entae.

Amores, Noctar, Ubleh, Bristam, Ilkolm, Slokong.

Oncramore, Ubleh, Rencartam.

Gasta, Oncramore, Dreedlam.

At the sound of the last word the pentagram began to glow and all looked stunned at the middle. “Oh cool conner must have placed some LED lights” thought Jake, and conner thought the same thing. At that glow they kicked on the fans and the smoke began to swirl towards the middle. It was show time. Conner reached into his pocket and flicked the switch to the pulley system holding Jake to the ceiling slowly lowering him down into the middle. Jake curled into a ball trying to make himself as invisible as possible to the crowd. Then he reached the bottom there it was so smokey he could hardly see himself then he turned on the LEDs on the suit allowing himself to start to be seen then they kicked off the fans to let the smoke disperse so all the room could see his suit.

“Mwahahahaha im free” Jake laughed through a voice synthesizer which was then blasted through the surround sound system they had hooked up earlier. Jake loomed in the circle looking from person to person studying them intensely as if their entire species was new to him.

“Careful don't break the circle or he’ll escape and then we’ll all be doomed”

At this Jake clawed at one of them but was careful not to cross the line and spoil the illusion that he was a real demon.

“Now it is time to send him back” conner said

Westroe, Ental.

Oncramore, Frazk, Framore, Entae, Rencartam.

Noctar, Oncramore, Westroe.

Treenorm, Homai, Ilkolm, Slokong.

Slokong, Amores, Contrak, Rencartam, Ilkolm, Frask, Ilkolm, Contrak, Ental.

At the end of this verse Jake's stomach began to turn. He felt an extreme ake and a cramp started to swell up inside him, his head started to hurt, his heart pumped faster and he became hot. Everyone stared at him in wonder and conner started to enjoy the theatrics until jake looked up at him with desperation in his eyes conners smile faded as he saw jake mouth his name. A sudden surge of unbearable pain went through his body as his arms back and other muscles contracted and went off in uncontrollable spasms preventing him from ever screaming. All he could do was stare at the ceiling in hopes that this soon would be over. As he stared upward he knew that something was inside him and it felt as if it was tearing him apart from the inside out. tears rolled down his eyes as his vision blurred and the thought entered his eyes 

“This is it, this is how I die” then the room faded to darkness as he felt his skin start to rip apart. Then he slowly woke up with a type of yellowness to his vision and he was staring straight into the eyes of Kate. Then he felt the thing coming back trying to take control of him once more he knew he had to get away he didn't know what he might do to her with it in control. He ran. He ran faster than he had ever ran in all of his life. It didn't matter where to, he just knew he had to get as far away as he could. He ran down the street not daring to look back, people screamed as he went past but he didn't blame them after all he was not himself he was instead something else and that something else was taking control again as Jake felt himself gently fall away. The next time he would wake he would once more be human but he would be in the middle of Sutro forest asking himself “what just happened.”

[sweetbriermouse]

Today is a fail. I am ok with that though. I ate only like a third of my dinner so yay! I did however snack on a couple pieces of candy, a cookie, and a banana. Went over my calories, didn't do a workout, and am now laying in bed (on top of the blankets, sweaty and exhausted because I found not one but TWO MASSIVE ASS WOLF SPIDERS INSIDE MY SHOES 😭😭😭😭 i dead ass just spent the last hour (it was over an hour) checking and cleaning every single shoe i own, spraying down my shoe cubbies with a water and vinegar mix, and killing spiders ☠️☠️☠️ i also took out like 3 boxes and some walmart sacks of shit that i said fuck going through them to deal with spiders into the dumpster ya goooooo

Brightside, my office at home is now a LOT cleaner than it was before. Downside, I'm scared to leave my shoes in the cubby, it smells strongly of vinegar, I feel like it is disgusting out there when it wasn't even that bad to begin with. Like I think my house is a mess of junk half the time but only because I'm a minimalist with a boyfriend a kid and a roommate. That's a lot of stuff to own even as a minimalist. So sloppy for me is lived in but tidy for most lmao but yeah fuck that. Today is a fail that I am allowing and accepting because I am on my period, killed a few spiders, scrubbed a room, and still feel unnerved. The cobwebs were halloween decor level thick ☠️😭☠️

[flirting-with-psychology]

Survey by Robotease

Do you like zombie movies?

Not really

What’s the grossest/worst thing you’ve ever seen in a public restroom?

Probably vomit

What’s the most wasteful thing you regularly do?

Throw away recyclables because my apartment doesn't have recycling

What’s the most difficult apology you’ve ever had to give?

Not sure, probably apologizing for breaking something as a kid or teen

What’s the worst relationship advice you’ve ever seen?

That asking out someone I like is desperate but looking for a hookup at a club isn't

Have you ever volunteered in a hospital? If not, would you ever want to?

No and no

What was your worst Halloween costume?

Probably just re-wearing one because I couldn't think of something new

Who has/had the worst reputation in your graduating class?

I probably don't know them, I hung out with the nerds

When was the first time you can remember feeling mature?

Never

Have you ever had a disappointing Christmas, or any disappointing holiday if you don’t celebrate Christmas?

Yeah, when I was trying to get over someone

Do you have any character bandaids in your house right now, or just plain ones?

Just plain ones

Have you ever had to give a pet away?

No, but there was a dog we almost adopted, brought her home for a trial period, but had to bring her back because she didn't get along with our cat

What’s the junkiest junk food you’ve ever eaten?

Idk probably like funnel cake or something

Did you play pretend a lot as a child? Were there any recurring plots or themes?

Yes, lots of animals and princesses

How do you feel about runny egg yolks?

Yum

Has a teacher ever tried to teach you something that was undeniably wrong?

Yeah

If for some reason you had to give up one of your hobbies, which would you choose?

Maybe wood burning, I'm kinda getting tired of it anyway. Or being on my phone all the time lol

Have you ever hidden a relationship from your family?

No

How much do you know about first aid?

Not much

Which of your relatives do you know the least about?

The ones on my mom's side

Have you ever meditated? If so, did it do anything for you?

Tried a little but I didn't like it, it's too hard to clear my brain and then I just get bored

Have you ever given advice to someone who was much older than you?

Yeah sometimes to my parents

Have you ever used a view-master?

I don’t know what that is

Do you ever listen to talk radio or podcasts? If you do, what are some of your favorite shows?

Occasionally. I like Every Single Album: Taylor Swift

When was the last time you got ice cream from a truck?

Last summer

Are any of your favorite bands broken up or on hiatus right now?

Not that I know of

Do you know any sex workers? If so, how do they feel about their job?

I know a former stipper, she was positive about it

What’s the biggest art project you’ve ever attempted? How did it go?

My Detroit: Become Human costume. Went pretty well but it took forever

What kind of wild animals do you see most frequently where you live?

Squirrels and birds

Have you ever cooked anything other than s’mores over a fire?

Maybe?

Are there any items in your house that you use for something other than its intended purpose?

We have an instant pot still in its box that we use as a coffee table

What do you hope the afterlife is like?

I don't believe in the afterlife, I would like to believe in reincarnation or the afterlife from The Good Place (at the end) but neither are probably true

What’s the worst behavior you’ve ever seen from a child?

Bullying

Have you ever planned an act of revenge?

A little but never went through with it

Do you and your parents share any of the same hobbies?

My mom and I like going antique shopping together

Do you think it’s more exciting or scary to get older?

Scary

How was the reception of the last wedding you attended?

Kinda lame tbh, there was no dancing or booze so we all just went to the hotel bar

Do you have any physical photo albums?

Yes, old ones

Would you feel comfortable working at a sex shop?

No

Who was the worst friend you ever had?

A girl who cut me off randomly

What’s the biggest sacrifice you’ve ever made?

Not sure, I'm pretty selfish

Have you ever campaigned for a political candidate, or otherwise played an active role in an election?

No

What’s the coolest hand-me-down you’ve ever gotten? What about the best one you’ve ever given?

Gotten, probably some dresses from my friend's grandma. I haven't really given any hand-me-downs other than my baby crib but that was really my parents giving it away

Do your parents and grandparents get along with each other?

They did