#like even Monster Mash my beloved

[cormancatacombs]

To compete with Christmas we need more Halloween songs WITH LYRICS that are in the public domain.

Kinda hard to sing along to Night On Bald Mountain or Toccata & Fugue in D Minor…

[jolalibrary]

the angel + the devil

javier peña x f!reader | halloween fic for late night texts

summary: “You may be dressed like that,” he says, dropping his voice “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

chapter warnings: bonus chapter to late night texts, although you can still enjoy without reading. fluff. halloween costumes. reader does wear a dress and heels. javi flirting. office party vibes. sexy talk, alluding to smut, but no actual smut or anything (similar to most of the chapters in the series) romcom vibes ofc ✨ wordcount: 2.4k

an: i still cant believe how beloved this little series is. i hope you like this little hallow-shot of my fave pairing.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

Don’t forget tonight is my works halloween party, if you’re still coming.

i haven’t forgotten baby

You say that but you forgot to bring milk the other day.

you told me you was wearing my shirt, naked

Thought high-pressured situations were your bag.

well you do always know the way to bring me to my knees

Pocketing his wallet and keys, Javi stares up at your work building.

He’s picked you up from work plenty of times, but he’s never been inside. Not like this, anyway.

Over breakfast, dinners and more since the two of you have been dating—and then living together—he’s managed to collect snippets of information.

Been able to make collages from the pieces you hand him—a picture board with ribbons and string connecting things, concocting an image of what things must look like. From the place the copier is to what your desk looks like.

Tonight, he’ll get to see it himself. He’ll have the chance to see the photo strip from Houston there, a little cactus plant you’d named Randy and a set of trays (all filled with paperwork) that he’d helped you find in town.

The rest though, was blank. All fuzzy in his mind.

A puzzle, one needing to be solved.

It’s why his finger and thumb brush against themselves as he steps through the doors, the instructions you’d given him illuminated on his phone. It’s easy enough, especially with the decorations up the stairs, hearing himself being called to by the distinct sound of the Monster Mash that is floating to his ears, guiding him to you.

Maybe, he should have texted to say he was here.

You’d be waiting for him then. Likely hovering at the doorway, looking somewhat lost and nervous—it brings back memories of scribbled-out signs and bubbling apprehension at the airport.

But, if anything, that’s why he doesn't text—doesn’t announce or tell you he’s parked up and climbing the staircase two at a time to see you.

Because Javi wants to see you, capture a sight of you across the room, and give you another romantic moment to add to the ones that make the both of you so “movie-like”.

Except, as soon as he steps through the last doorway, and his eyes land on you, he realises the moment isn’t for you, but rather for him.

His stomach flutters, fingers halting in their previous nervousness, stretching out as his head tilts. He takes you in—trails his eyes from the heel of your white shoes to the nervous finger-tapping you’re doing on the red cup, before he reaches your face—flecks of glitter, painted lips.

And fuck are you pretty.

You’re more than an angel. You’re something else entirely.

Ethereal, captivating, irresistible.

The mere sight of you making his throat dry and his heart quicken all over again, just like it had done outside that airport. Just like you had done from the first text to the see you later you left him with this morning.

He pinches his thigh, just lightly—because again, he’s left with the thought, the realisation: you chose him.

A reminder that is forever there. One he normally buries in gratitude against your lips, or clutches your hand—

You tiring from an ex-DEA agent yet, cariño?

Not even a little bit, handsome.

You’d chosen him because of text messages, fallen for him because of phone calls, and fell further in a hotel room miles away. Him doing the same, re-falling each day all over again due to moments he never thought he’d get to enjoy.

Simple things, like you sewing a jacket on his Pop’s coat to the way you listened when he finally told you everything that happened in Colombia. Your face not shifting, not until the end, not until you ended up in his lap telling him how proud you were of him.

Something he believed.

Somehow, though, a small part of him still expects this to be a dream. A cruel joke from life, because you’re way too good to be true. You’re nothing but kind, generous. Doing everything to remind him continuously how much he deserves you. That he’s good, worthy, amazing.

He’s about to clear his throat, announce his arrival, when your laugh dies at something one of your colleagues says. Then, he watches in slowed time how your eyes sweep—a thing he suspects you’ve been doing since way before he arrived—before landing right on him.

It forces his heart to skip.

A smile, different than the one you’d given to your colleague, spreads and flowers across your face—the fairy and ceiling lights not holding a candle to the way it brightens up the room.

He finds himself mirroring it, letting it unfold, grow, spread, sliding up into his cheeks as he watches you excuse yourself, placing your cup down on a desk before you rush over to him.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Look at you, angel.”

His fingers slide across his jaw, half-tempted to ask you to twirl—witness how the white dress skims your knees, trailing his eyes up and down, drinking you in all over again.

If you mind, you say nothing, although he imagines your cheeks will be warm if he touches them. Your eyes dropping, fingers moving, sliding to adjust the straps of your feathered wings, before touching up the headband with your halo attached—the one he’d watched you glue the other night, tongue out, teeth perched near the tip.

“I’m glad you came.”

“You asked, cariño. Por supuesto que vendría por ti.”

Shrugging, you smile, shifting on your feet. “I know, but you still came, dressed as… wait—what are you dressed as?”

Putting his palms up at the side of him, he grins. His head dips, eyes following your path over his dark jeans and red shirt, as his fingers slide to his back pocket—pulling out a headband with little horns on, placing it on top of his head.

“A devil.”

“Of course,” you say, sliding your arms around his neck. “Very fitting.”

Smirking, he traces his teeth with his tongue, letting you stare at him in the same way he had been you, until you move closer, sliding your arms around his neck. Basking in the way you kiss him, so softly—almost innocently—but with a hidden agenda underneath you can’t display too much of in the centre of your workplace.

But, he still feels the tip of your tongue sweep over his bottom lip—even if to others it’s just a chaste kiss. He knows that in the back of your throat, there had been a little hum growing—the one he pulls from you when he greets you at home, when the decision to eat or “nap” first arises.

“You may be dressed like that,” he whispers, dropping his voice, mouth to your ear as he hugs you. “But I know how dirty your halo is.”

Stepping back, he watches as his words force your lips to part. You battle a smirk, toying with it, chewing it, before displaying an eye roll.

Then, Javi feels you slide your hand into his, bodies so close to being flush, your breath doing a dance over his jaw and neck.

“I think we can make it dirtier. Can’t we?”

Pausing, he tilts his head, brow arching—watching you just smirk, far more devilish than angelic.

And, Javi suddenly wishes his jeans weren’t as tight as they are.

where have you gone, one of your colleagues is eyeing me up

Well, maybe you should try being less good looking.

funny

I’ll be one second, got caught coming out the bathroom by someone from finance.

do you need rescuing

You gonna throw me over your shoulder?

if i do that i’ll be carrying you home

This is why you’re the devil and I’m the angel, my thoughts are pure.

if I put my fingers between your thighs i bet your body says otherwise

Javi!

Handing him a cup, you tap yours against his, shooting a wink.

He doesn’t miss the way you eye him—not at all in a way different to the one he’d been getting from your colleague earlier.

“¿Te estás divirtiendo?"

Sliding closer to him, you press a kiss on his cheek. Angling yourself, the front of your dress moving, shifting, forcing his eyes to drop to where some of the glitter has fallen across your collarbone and cleavage.

“Such a bad girl.”

Smirking, you take a sip. “Angels don’t just fall from heaven for anything, or anyone, Javi.”

There’s a retort brewing—readying on the tip of his tongue—but someone approaches. A snort escapes you before they call your name.

He’d met so many of the people he’s heard things about—having been able to stitch faces to names, to hear their actual voice, and not the one you adopt when you’re telling him stories about your day. But this person's name doesn’t come to him with ease, nodding, agreeing it was lovely to meet them too.

Javi listens to you wish them a good weekend, hugging them, your wings brushing against his side as you do.

Then, the two of you are alone once again.

The whole night, between speaking to people, the two of you have traded in whispered angel and devil jokes—deviousness coming to him with ease, your eyes sparkling, somewhat twinkling as you hear each of them. Sometimes, your retorts silence him, rendering him useless—forcing you to slide more in front of him, his fingers digging into your hip.

Fuck, he wants you on his lap now.

More so, as the punch thins out and the party dwindles—some excusing themselves for home, for better offers or fraternisation with other departments—and the two of you are left him to a corner.

We can go soon. If you want?

Your eyes meet his, hands stroking up and down his arm—soothing, calming, genuinely wanting him to choose.

We can go whenever you want.

The two of you standing, his hip flush with yours, the scent of your perfume doing a swirl in his nose, watching as you smirk against your cup.

It’s hard not to feel that familiar surge inside him as he watches your lips. Because he never tires of you, is never bored of just admiring and observing.

“What you thinking about, cariño?”

The look you shoot him is one of pretend innocence. He can tell. He’s become an expert in you—both in the subtle shifts in your expressions and the way your body talks to him.

“Just thinking, that if I’d thought about it more, you could have come as a pencil and I could be your crossword,” you smile. “Y’could have spent the evening filling me in then.”

He’s mid-drinking when it hits him, making him choke, and splutter.

Your smirk rises as you bring the cup to your lips. “Two can play that game, Peña.”

“Touché, baby.”

For a moment, he lets you be smug.

Let it grace across your features, teeth peering out, eyes twinkling under the unflattering fluorescent light—that you still manage to look stunning under.

“Or, I could have come as a vampire,” you continue, eyes averting, a smirk desperate to grow, “I am really good at sucking.”

He almost crunches the cup, his head tilting, eyes burning into you as his brain fills with thoughts—ones that almost ravage him. Smother over the purer ones he keeps forcing himself to manifest, innocent things he’s yanked up so he doesn’t get a hard-on in the middle of your work office party.

Because you’re dressed as a fucking angel.

“Did you want to see my desk, Javi?”

“Is it far?”

Shaking your head, you drain your cup, placing the empty in a nearby trash bin as you offer your hand. Leading, guiding him, pointing out little things that offer some clarification to stories he’s listened attentively to when the two of you have eaten.

“It’s just in here,” you announce, pointing to a closed door before the two of you enter.

As soon as the door clicks shut, his palm is against the wall—caging you in, his body close. Your laugh light, airy, brushing over his face as your fingers slide up his cheeks.

The two of you are flush, but not so harshly against the wall to crush your wings. He wants them intact, needs them to be there later.

“You like my costume, baby?”

He groans, tightening his grip on your waist. The light from the hallway splays across your face—illuminating your eyes as you stare up at him. Noticing the usual flecks of lust and need that swirl whenever the two of you are like this.

“You thinking innocent thoughts, cariño?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Your fingers tangling into his hair, his hips light in their efforts to press you against the wall. The air tightening, anticipation building, and building. It all layering, more so as his fingers drop, tracing under the hem of your dress.

His lips curl, the tip of his tongue dragging across his lower lip. “I like your office.”

“Bring back memories for you?”

Snorting, he grins. “No. I didn’t… I didn’t do that.”

“You want to?”

He considers it. More so when your lips slant back across his, when you whimper lightly when the kiss deepens.

Javi traces his finger over your thigh, half-tempted to slide it further up, skate it over whatever fabric you’ve chosen to wear between your thighs.

But he stops himself, halts.

Instead, he slides his fingers back under your chin, tilting it up. “Rather take you home. To our home.”

He watches as your smile curls up, lips pursing, eyes flicking down before meeting his. “Take me home then.”

Your fingers lightly flutter along his cheek, the top of your nails scraping gently against his skin, into the hair above his ears.

“Not to be a devils advocate, but we don’t have to wait until we get home, do he?”

Smirking, he lets a soft laugh exit under his breath.

“Seven letters,” you whisper, teasing his hair in your fingers, “Highest point.”

He kisses you. Pressing his smirk against your lips, feeling yours emerge as he does.

“You’re a real fallen angel, aren’t you?”

Snorting, you slant your mouth over his, likely wanting one more before the sea of goodbyes and see you in a week have to be said.

“Fallen straight into you, though. No regrets from me,” you add.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, Javi mumbles, “Not from me either.” Hands sliding around your waist, stealing another moment. “Need you to keep the halo on.”

Tilting your head, you pull from his lips. Breaths dancing, shared between the two of you.

“Wanna see how long it takes until I can fuck it off your head, cariño.”

Grinning, your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. The slightest of head shakes. “Think you knocked the real one off my head ages ago—when you made me moan your name down the phone.”

an: if you have any ideas of what our pairing can get up to, let me know. i can't promise I'll always write them, but you never know.

[bright-and-burning]

thank you for the tag @albonoooo <333

star sign: leo (attention whore signs 4 the win)

favourite holiday: my neighborhood does neighbor day every year and that’s a solid percentage of my favorite childhood memories. my neighborhood is very very close (very much so an “it takes a village” mentality) so i grew up with essentially twenty aunts and uncles. and also like ten dogs and thirteen vaguely cousin-esque figures on my block. anyways it’s like a massive potluck barbecue thing, it goes from like noon to whenever the last person heads in (which can be quite late). think like. potluck barbecue to casual day drinking to big bonfire w smores as the day goes by. as a kid i spent the whole day roaming the neighborhood and coming back every so often to grab food from the tables before heading off again. as an adult i got to get drunk on seltzers with a bunch of 50 somethings and it was incredible

last meal: omg it was my last ohio meal… i got it from this really special like local version of sonic’s (like a drive up food place). they make their burgers w a little bit of brown sugar and mashed banana (they’re the best burgers i’ve ever had). so i had a double hamburger w fries and a mint shake w brownie spindled in. if you’re ever driving through ohio PLEASE hit me up to get this place’s name it’s GLORIOUS. 1980s pricing (admittedly 80s portions too lol). neon signs everywhere. what i will miss the most

current favourite musician: i tend to just hit play on my liked songs so whatever i liked most recently gets played wayyyy more. a lot of the backseat lovers rn

last music listened to: mama’s gun by glass animals (BANGER OF A SONG!!!)

last movie watched: the muppet christmas carol i think . yeah according to letterboxd that lmfao

last tv show watched: i just binged monarch: legacy of monsters w my parents (amazing godzilla tv show but godzilla’s only in it for like. 10 minutes total lol. gay people <3) and then we started lockwood & co tonight on a whim

last book/fic finished: the invisible library by genevieve cogman !!! so good. librarian spy thieves…

last book/fic abandoned: oh gosh. i am such a completionist that i don’t think i ever leave books unfinished. technically i won’t be able to finish the masked city (the sequel to the invisible library) bc it belongs to the library and i am moving. but i will be picking it back up as soon as i have a library card in my new area so? does that even count? yeah i don’t really dnf things

currently reading: the masked city by genevieve cogman technically. lol. i’m trying to read at least a page a day in january. some days that means literally reading a page other days it’s reading 300. since i started the masked city like four days ago ive only made it through 30 pages bc moving is a nightmare so.

last thing researched for writing/art/hyperfixation: hm. technically for the last thing i like posted that would be the drug testing guidelines for f1 (tldr fun fact party drugs are fine out of competition). i read like. 60 pages of legalese. and a bunch of medical stuff and then several wikipedia pages and guides for athletes. the last wikipedia article i opened was for NATO and i have no idea why LOL

favourite online fandom memory: i have the memory of a goldfish… i’m also pretty sure f1 is the first time i’ve been involved w a fandom like. as it’s happening. i’m usually a latecomer . i did enjoy whatever the fuck went down w supernatural and putin that was fun second hand (literally thru a groupchat bc i was in my significantly less terminally online era aka i was in college)

favourite old fandom you wish would drag you back in/have a resurgence: newsies (1992) my beloved… i plotted out a fic that would stretch over like. 40 years. i went INSANE on historical accuracy research. and then i got depressed… someday my magnum opus (slice of life polyamory through turn of the century nyc) will come to fruition

favourite thing you enjoy that never had an active or big fandom, but you wish it did: i feel like there’s been a million times i’ve walked out of a movie (or finished a book, or a tv show) and gone to ao3 and then it has like. 4 works. the rivers of london series by ben aaronovitch only has like . 1k fics on ao3. and not a lot of ppl posting on tumblr. so maybe that?

tempting project you're trying to rein in/don't have time for: all of them tbh… runners au really (it’s spawned into like three different fics of plot lines Plus an epistolary type companion…). i literally constantly come up w ideas (usually hyper specific aus) all the time ask dees it’s a PROBLEM for me. bc i have no time for any of them…

no pressure tags if u wld like <3 @userkritaaay @leclercenjoyer @drivestraight @oscarpiastriwdc @eyes-likepilotlights (i have not paid a ton of attention to who has done this/been tagged sorry)

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Reverse Prompt Week Roundup

Vore prompts, fgo focused is preferred but go wild

Oryou voring Izou

Spare some Perseus and/or Andromeda prompts, please?

Perseus arriving at Chaldea and awkwardness ensuing as he and Andromeda go through polyamory negotiations post his status as a reverse harem member in Prototype (of which two other members he got something with at least once are Also in Chaldea)

Perseus with robot/doll joints due to the greek machine gods and Andromeda tracing them/feeling them up

Meltryllis prompts? She deserves love. Whether it's CCC or FGO specific I'm fine either way!

For the one who asked for Meltryllis prompts, I would love to see something with her and Gudako if that is okay. Maybe some hurt/confort? Would be interesting to see Melt (probably not the most qualified person at conforting others) trying to make Ritsuka feel better after a mental breakdown, or something of the sort. Both ficfills and artfills are welcome, of course.

Voyager prompts

smut, loli, Voyager x a male master. A simple sleepover turns into some sexy times.

Voyager prompt: if you're familiar with the original work, go full ham on the Little Prince allusions. Was Voyager secretly the Prince? Or maybe the Pilot? Does he love gardening and lovingly care for a rose? Or does he in a crossover help the actual Prince get back to his Beloved Rose? What's his relationship to foxes and snakes or sheep? However you want to make it look, just go all the way with it. It's a dear book to me, and realising Voyager pays tribute to it made me even softer towards him than I already was inclined.

Voyager crowdsurfing! :3

body horror prompts?

in Angel Notes, V/V is a giant eldritch monster that turned into a cute girl… but nobody said this change was permanent or non-reversible.

Yu prompts please! Doesn’t have to include Xiang Yu, but please no romantic prompts involving just Xu Fu and Yu

Yu Meiren meeting some other servant during her long life. Did she see Camelot in its full glory? Did she learn to shoot guns alongside Billy the Kid? Did she find kinship in Fran’s make-up body?

Please send Mori prompts! Especially cute ones ❤️

no prompt yet

Avicebron prompts

Avicebron teaching Mash a jewish tradition/holiday of your choice in memory of Roman?

Avicebron giving mecha Liz a tune-up since he’s the closest to a mecha specialist we’ve got

Avicebron and Enkidu get acquainted thanks to Nursery Rhyme and get to know each other. whatever direction it goes is up to the filler but i’d appreciate some smut

gilgudako obegudako or edgudako prompts!! (or, if you’re REALLY feeling feisty, toss a cuchulainn/robin hood prompt to your witcher I MEAN writer)

Gilgudako person, I toss ye the prompt that you could make something with these two that is just teeth rottingly cute!! Something like Gil realising his feelings for them. Bonus if there is tsundere sprinkled in. As for something NSFW, maybe something like they're bored, it's Summer, someone put something weird in the air and now they feel very eager to connect their bodies too :))

Siegfried prompts?

Siegfried recognizing Goredolf as “someone who looks like a Master I had once”

Siegfried giving Sieg The Talk regarding the workings of the dragon parts of their body. How right or wrong, how SFW or not, up to you

Can I humbly request all your ideas and prompts for the KohaAce or Type Redline servants? Give me all of it! Izou is my blorbo and I have been itching to write something about him and Oryu and her hubby. If it’s kinky and I like it, drop them too! My thirst is endless to fill ;3;

Oryou voring Izou

for the izou + ryoryou prompt requester , how about izou crashing their anniversary date and immediately becoming part of it ?

In dire need of Ryougi prompts that aren’t gore or angst

Another one for the “Ryougi prompts that aren’t gore or angst” prompt request: Touko notices that 90% of the KNK antagonists have a crush on Mikiya and decides to settle the situation non-violently by making every character with a crush on Mikiya share. Her Mikiya is now OUR Mikiya. Can Shiki withstand this new system of harem communism? Or will she snap and cut through the Iron Curtain of romance to regain exclusive rights?

For the Ryougi prompts: how about her figuring out she’s pregnant with Mana. How does she find out? Have she and Mikiya been trying for some time? Is it a total surprise? How does she tell him? Pure, unadulterated fluff.

For the “Ryougi prompts that aren’t gore or angst” prompt request: Shiki absolutely sucks at driving. Like, Spongebob levels of vehicular comedic carnage.

Ryougi Shiki picks up the GameBoy Touko always carries around. Ryougi Gaming.

And yet another one for the “Ryougi prompts that aren’t gore or angst” prompt request: there's this odd lore bit that Shiki was born vegetable, but the Ryougi clan did stuff to force-awaken her Origin which resulted in Void Shiki. But then she made Shiki and SHIKI so she could stay dormant or something. What if she hadn't done that and stayed awake as the sole personality? How would this "just Void" Shiki be like in terms of character, appearance, abilities, etc.?

Give me any prompts with Kirie Fujou and/or Kaie Karyou, I crave the making of content for these two underappreciated crippled humanoid-shaped bags of mental health issues.

no prompt yet

Ereshkigal prompts 🥺

Ereshkigal cuddling an antelope.

unsanitary, Ereshkigal pisses herself. Non-sexual, played for embarrassment

I know there's the joke about Ereshkigal joining Chaldea just to be kicked out the next day, but I'd like someone to write or draw about the actual emotional impact that would have on her, please!

Spare Phantom prompts? Phantom of the Opera prompts pls?

Phantom and Liz singing a duet

I accidentally read “spare Phantom” as “Space Phantom,” so consider: Servantverse Phantom

Someone saying Eric in reference to Eric Bloodaxe accidentally gets Phantom to break out of his Mental Corruption for briefly enough that he also responds to the name Eric

smut, Phantom getting comfortable with topping for the first time

Gudao deepthroating Phantom’s fingers

Can we get more Morgan prompts so I can be sooooooo normal about her?

Castoria and Morgan decide to take advantage of their Servant bodies and the various medical experts around Chaldea to tear into each other. No magic, just biting, punching, fighting out all their mutual stress and trauma with each other while the others look on. Sex optional if you want but mostly I just think they should go feral.

Morgan being summoned in part 1 and meeting romani

Soulmate AU where Mash and Guda are soulmates. However, when Castoria steals Mash’s name, she inadvertently steals the fated connection with it. And in the eyes of the universe, Castoria and Morgan are essentially the same entity. Soulmate au where Guda, Castoria, Morgan and Mash are tangled together fucking every law of the universe, essentially. (Soulmate doesn’t have to mean romantic btw)

Morgan having Opinions on Castoria. Or Castoria having Opinions on Morgan. (As in “whoa girl your life fucking sucks” not “oh I wish I were the one fucking master” I don’t care about that.)

I needs all Shirou prompts…

HF ending shirou keeps forgetting to use his left arm. The arm works perfectly well with a perfect sense of touch and all, but for some reason he just… keep forgetting it exists. It’s like it’s in a dead spot for him.

gore, Shirou Emiya filled with swords poking out of his body. Hedgehog style. The more fucked up he looks the better.

send Fate Zero prompts please

fate zero roleswap!! swap servants and masters around and show me the end result!

send Berserker Lancelot prompts please!

A prompt of Berserker Lancelot and Arturia as a Team in a Grail War

Berserker Lancelot getting summoned in Singularity F and following the group around like a curious dog all the way back to Chaldea

Berserker Lancelot in a magical girl-style dress. Bonus points if he still keeps his helmet and that smoke that seems to follow him in some of his ascensions

Someone trying to take a picture of berselot, but the picture comes out super blurry and fucked up every time for some reason

berselot and mash hanging out

I wanna see my boy Rama prompts please

Rama is confidently sure no woman shall ever reach his heart the way Sita did. Cut to exact wording coming back to haunt him as Chaldea makes him all too aware of his own bisexuality

Rama realizes they’re not cis. Bonus points of picking out a new name for themself lets Sita be summoned to Chaldea since they’re not “Rama” anymore

gore, Rama figured out a loophole in his curse!! If he’s not allowed to “see” his wife ever again, then surely tearing out his own eyes would do the trick, right?

Rama and Sita as the art in that Ten Sho Sho Ten Sho song/video

Mephistopheles prompts pwetty pwease? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

All that Valentine’s chocolate starts going to Gudao’s waistline… and Mephistopheles starts researching why the sight brings butterflies into their stomach. (Bonus points for neopronouns!Mephistopheles)

give me some arcueid and/or ciel prompts please, kind nasuversekinkmeme followers 🫡 sfw or nsfw!

Ciel hanging in lesbian spaces in the 90s. She doesn’t have to be a lesbian herself mind you but I do think she’d be balling in butch spaces regardless.

Id love something regarding Arcueid learning of the modern world. Going shopping, trying new foods, meeting animals. Just being alive, you know?

Ciel getting her tattoos removed for tsukire

Ciel getting her tattoos

dare i ask for achilles prompts?

Achilles having a lengthy conversation with that one horse he owns who can speak but who has the shittiest personality known to man

Achilles ankleplay? As in, someone kissing or massaging his ankle. Something something baring your most vulnerable spot to a loved one.

Achilles on a surfboard!

I’ll take non-shippy Guda prompts.

Fujimaru Ritsuka the Servant, we know. Last Master of Humanity, summoned as a Servant, that’s all well and good. What about Fujimaru Ritsuka Alter? What sort of Servant, what sort of person, are they? (I have a few ways to guideline the prompt if a filler needs assistance but I’ll leave it open ended in case they don’t.)

Castoria prompts? Castoria prompts for the soul?

castoria weight gain? this girl’s life sucks so bad… let her eat good food to her heart’s content… let her get a beer belly and round cheeks cuz she’s in a much healthier situation in chaldea and not starving in survival mode 24/7…

Castoria and Morgan decide to take advantage of their Servant bodies and the various medical experts around Chaldea to tear into each other. No magic, just biting, punching, fighting out all their mutual stress and trauma with each other while the others look on. Sex optional if you want but mostly I just think they should go feral.

Soulmate AU where Mash and Guda are soulmates. However, when Castoria steals Mash’s name, she inadvertently steals the fated connection with it. And in the eyes of the universe, Castoria and Morgan are essentially the same entity. Soulmate au where Guda, Castoria, Morgan and Mash are tangled together fucking every law of the universe, essentially. (Soulmate doesn’t have to mean romantic btw)

Morgan having Opinions on Castoria. Or Castoria having Opinions on Morgan. (As in “whoa girl your life fucking sucks” not “oh I wish I were the one fucking master” I don’t care about that.)

For the Castoria prompts: how about something involving her getting stuck? Feel free to interpret however you want (literally, metaphorically, physically, mentally, or whatever you find most interesting)

Castoria trying to pry open the bug shell on Oberon's arm like she's trying to eat crab. It's enrichment.

mozart and/or salieri prompts pretty please?

Salieri gets his Innocent Monster and Avenger skills temporarily nullified. While Chaldea staff is trying to figure out how to fix this, Guda takes the opportunity to let Salieri have a nice day.

Kiyohime prompts please

Anchin is summoned to Chaldea and Kiyohime drops her crush on Guda like last month’s lunch. Anchin turns out to be so eccentric (in a non-sexual way) that he makes Kiyohime look tame.

[gainprincess]

Idea: The vorny food pyramid post except it's an actual pyramid filled top to bottom with an enormous variety of prey for Kama and Kiyohime to 'defeat' to join back up with the rest of the farming party.

This Singularity is a bizarre one but I have faith they can make it.

"Oh dear, Kiyohi...It looks like we've been trapped in this Singularity...All these bloated, waddling, heavy meals, and some monster snacks to cleanse our palettes with...Whatever shall we do to free ourselves of them?"

She has no idea who even sent them here to begin with; She suspects either Kiara or BB, but the latter seems...occupied, so she'll go with Kiara. This seems like her gimmick.

"Oh my...you're quite right, my love...What can we do here...?"

A hand goes to her swollen, soft gut, hanging down past her knees as a result of all the food she's been stuffed with (in addition to...other substances, of course). She kneads it with the plush palm, licking her lips as she stares out at the feast laid before them.

She's not nearly as experienced as her dear Kama-sama when it comes to the act of vore; Maybe that's why every meal here looks so different, even though Kama just categorized them all as 'food' in a single statement.

Something about that makes her loins drip.

There's Servant Shadows, of their comrades and friends...just Shadows, though. There's random civilians from all manner of Singularities and Lostbelts. There's soldiers, female one and all, but varied nevertheless. Many different sizes, shapes, and delectable points to them...

Kiyohime can feel herself drool.

"Well, sweet beloved, my one and only, my most cherished and loved companion in this second life and all ones beyond..."

Kama's bloated ball of a gut jiggles and sloshes as she HURRRPPPs into her fist, the gassy goddess's smile as pure as driven snow as she gazes upon her lover. Kama really does adore Kiyohime. At first, it'd just been an amusement, a whim to pass the time, when she started spending out with such a love-flooded individual.

Now, a world without Kiyohime...is a world that Kama would burn to cinders.

"I think we have our afternoon snack. We can figure out where to go when these meals are nothing but bulges squirming desperately in our stomachs, yes? After our greedy, hungry stomachs are sated~?"

Her heavy, sweaty, singular monolith of a gut gurgles bassily.

Her sagging, triple-rolled, utterly unrepentant fat-churner of a belly churns hungrily.

No more words are said as they press their tubby faces together for a kiss, chins mashing up against each other.

Their hunt begins~.

-

GWWWWWWULLLPPPP!

"Whrrrp...ugh, what lame meals. At least be enough to bloat my half-ton tummy. Even a hundred of you basic snacks can barely manage to make me hard.~"

Indeed, her painfully large girlshaft is rising up under her gut, hefting it up slightly as the massive tool throbs lazily. She went for the smallest prey first, but discovered soon that eating someone that was only 200 pounds did nothing for her immense hunger, nor her lust. At most, her balls are churning and gurgling a bit with need, ready to blow a load all over Kiyohime's backside when the time comes.

She moves on to the larger meals once the shortstacks are completed, smacking her gut to inspire yet more desperate thrashing as drool leaks from her lips.

"More."

She lunges.

-

"How...BBBBBUUUURRRRRRPPPPP...disappointing."

Kiyohime continues her own rampage, plucking up soldiers and civilians alike with her flabby hands as they practically fall into her mouth. Compared to Kama's organized manner of eating, Kiyohime is haphazard and indiscriminate in her meal choice. She just cares about staying in her half, and the rest is fair game. However, she seems a bit disappointed with the quality of meals, given her frown, perhaps considering them inadequate despite their heft.

"Meals. Need. More..."

"MEALS!~"

And so it is.~

[horrorsequel]

Tag 9 people you'd like to get to know better.

i was tagged by @bluhahae my beloved double mutual (TWO social medias!!!)

Last song

Uh genuinely I think it was Trogdor by Strong Bad which is crazy cos i've never even seen that shit

Currently Reading

I'm sad cos i REALLY wanna be reading my chuck palahniuk books but i'm in a dumb book club with a bunch of cishet women so i'm reading Evelyn Hugo BUT like it's kinda cool for a book a bunch of cishet ladies picked out. I'll allow it. ALSO: a bunch of books about crochet!!!

Currently Watching

a lot. too many. rewatching the real ghostbusters. just started ugly betty. MASH. Beavis and Butthead. new season of WWDITs. Only Murders In The Building. Rewatching childhood fav Are You Being Served? and finally getting the jokes. REALLY wanna watch metalocolypse but there's so much shit in my little mental list. a LOT of good movies in there that i don't know when i will finally get around to.

Current Obsession

CROCHETING. among other things. really into monster high and other fashion dolls. adult cartoons esp beavis and butthead. 2000s TV. ghostbusters again.

hi hiiii @b0ytron @oblivioustoast @gothmods @princessmo @holoprisms @mouthshape no pressure obvs but have fun if u want. also if u see this and u wanna do it. well then i tagged u.

also i'm glad we r doing shit like this on tumblr again i missed it

[oldestenemy]

the deathless, the undying, and the unwilling divine - part 2

Part 1

“What is this thing—if it’s not Malistaire.”

The wizard lets out a low sigh at Duncan’s question, grip tightening on their new staff. “It is Malistaire—but he’s not back, he’s not alive, and he’s not in his right mind.” Not that he had ever been in the time the wizard had known him, unless of course they could count those few hours while helping the Professor. “Morganthe learned how to summon his spirit back while she was on Khrysalis, a Priestess of the Black Sun taught her—she’d used it on the king of the birds on Azteca and I didn’t think anything of it until—” Until they were showing Cyrus. Until they went back to Azteca and carved their way brutal and bloodied to the great statue that would carry them to Xiabalba. Until they realized too late how much was at stake—and how much was already lost.

“��It doesn’t matter.” They continue, “I should have told you—I didn’t want to believe it was him—and then I didn’t want to believe he was still lingering after I killed Morganthe. I wanted it to be done, I wanted to shut the book, I wanted to believe I could take a moment and rest before my own mistakes caught up again.” The words are hollow and flat. They’re trying to answer without letting the rage leftover bubble up again. It’s barely contained beneath the facade of dissociation. “I’m sorry.”

They arrive back in Nightside, the wizard opens the portal behind Mortis, and step through into Dworgyn’s homeworld.

The night is chill, and darkness presses in around you.

Darkmoor smells of damp dirt and rotting foliage. That serves a little to ease the wizard’s coiling nerves. It smells almost like the forests of Grizzleheim. Old and earthy, even similarly and unfortunately tinged by the sharp sourness of wet fur.

A hunched over frog greets them all, introducing himself as Renfield. He explains that the grounds on which they stand are the home of Lord Shane Von Shane.

Sure.

That’s a name.

Why not.

Evidently it’s one the wizard should know, because Marla immediately pushes forward looking wide eyed with delight. “Von Shane as in, the vampire—the original? The monster that the vampire spell—and monster mash for that matter—pulls from—” She asks Renfield, one hand already digging towards her bag for a notebook. “—this is his castle, does that mean there are still remnants of his family and legend here?”

Renfield smiles wide and toothless, his mismatched eyes blinking off time. “More than legends, Seeker. Lord Von Shane himself still resides within these halls, ever cursed to walk eternity with his beloved out of reach.” Renfield points to the castle doors, “I expect you will discover much about him and those he has twisted on your journey through this place. I shall accompany you, once you make it to the far end of the observatory.”

“Wow, wow—” Marla looks back at the others, “—I know it’s not why we’re here but this could be incredible to learn about.”

Penny matches her with a smaller smile, “It sounds like we’ve got a side quest.”

“On the contrary!” Renfield’s voice cuts over her, “Lord Von Shane guards the upper halls himself, and will likely attempt to deny you entry into the deeper parts of the castle.”

“Thank you,” The wizard tells Renfield, “We’ll meet you on the other side of the observatory.”

They’re left, five students alone outside the castle doors.

“How exactly are you going to get us all in?” Malorn asks as they stand just at the edge of the entry sigil. “We don’t—we can’t have you exploding into that, beast, thing, again.”

The wizard grimaces a little, but pulls the Shadow Point from their bag. “This is embedded with shadow magic.” There is no response to those words, understandably. Shadow magic is forbidden knowledge, hidden away on Khrysalis. Even Ambrose had been concerned about the necessity of its use. “Shadow is—” they pause, holding the blade across their palm, “—it’s like astral magic, like the dark spaces between worlds, it’s made to bend the rules of reality until they break, to twist things and empower spells. But all of it comes with a price. I used too much without paying while we were in Nidavellir—the creature you saw, the magic that threw me into the wall, that was backlash, damage and payment for what I did. I’m hoping if I can channel it through this—” The tap the flat of the blade into their hand, “—I can avoid burning myself up with it.”

“Hoping,” Malorn echoes “as in you have no idea if it’s going to work.”

The wizard shrugs, “I don’t usually have any idea if anything is going to work before I do it.”

It’s the truth.

They spend so much time pushing forward and through things that they rarely have time to think and plan any of it out.

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I make sure to summon something during combat that will deal backlash before the duel ends.” They’re pretty sure that will work. It’s going to hurt, but it should at least keep them away from a repeat performance of what happened with Archmagus Lorcan.

They kneel in the damp earth, pulling the point of the blade through and carving out the shape of another entry circle just behind the four main ones. Once the shape looks correct, the wizard presses their fingers to the edge, willing magic to the surface, feeling the chill well up in their eyes as the fifth circle alights and connects to the other four, bleeding purple against the white.

“Ready?” they ask, pushing back up and wiping starlight away from their eyes.

Four nods.

Five pairs of boots stepping into the entry sigils.

The soft tone of the countdown, and then momentary darkness.

The wizard and their companions find themselves on the other side of the castle doors.

“Young Wizard,” Malistaire’s voice greets them as their vision refocuses. He stands at the far end of the stairs, skeletal, green tinged, and dark winged. “I did not expect you to have the courage nor strength of character to come this far—clearly you did not have it to come here on your own.”

The wizard feels their throat constrict, any thought of reply vanishing as soon as it had come.

“Such words will serve a fitting epitaph, for every one of you whose ego climbed so high as to think you could face me here. There are always things in the dark, larger and more formidable than we first believe.” Can a skeleton sneer? He almost seems to. “Let us see how long your light lasts.”

Malistaire vanishes in a cascade of green and black sparks.

Nobody moves.

The wizard can’t even hear any of them breathing.

“Right,” It’s Marla who speaks first, “that was awful, but we can’t just stand in the entry hall all night.” She takes a few slow steps forward, the wizard just behind her, when another figure appears at the top of the stairs.

“I am Lord Shane Von Shane—”

Yes yes, the wizard wants to say, we know, we aren’t here for you. But they suppose if they are allowed companions, it stands to reason Malistaire would place barriers at every step forward. This proves even more correct when Von Shane steps aside to allow a werewolf to come bolting down the stairs past him.

“—Howling Cheney, rip the Wizard’s lungs out.”

And there is not much time to think on anything else.

The duel is waiting.

The challenge has begun.

Read the rest whole series here <3

[tuiyla]

Ranking Once More, With Feeling songs

Eyyyy let’s go. Separating songs that were part of a medley, for the most part. Going out to @rachelberryy​​!

Not part of the ranking:

The Mustard: wouldn’t feel fair or necessary to include it in the list. Still, as well executed as the rest of them and a fun La La Land feel wayyyy before La La Land actually happened.

Bunnies: I find Anya to be ridiculously delightful, including the bunny running gag and this was a shocking but funny and appreciated interruption in the middle of I’ve Got a Theory. The rock opera was a fun genre to bring in and yeah, Anya’s just cool.

The Parking Ticket: again not necessary to include in the actual ranking but a fun background (foreground) moment. Man it really reminded me that basically all of these songs have a CXG “equivalent”.

Dawn’s Ballet: fully instrumental so excluded for that reason. But eyyy, Zach Woodlee! Even if we don’t see his face. Again proving that playing around with genres and committing fully to the musical episode is fun.

14. Dawn’s Lament

Despite technically ranking last I actually really like this short song. The fact that it’s so short is the only reason it’s so low but even in just two lines of lyrics I think it sums up Dawn’s angst and, well, lament really well and makes me wish she got a full feature. It’s my understanding that Michelle Trachtenberg asked not to sing too much so that’s understandable. But yeah, I think it’s good that she had this much, especially because, as I understand, despite Dawn’s behaviour being understandable she gets a lot of shit from the fandom.

13. What You Feel (+reprise)

Nothing against Hinton Battle who of course does an amazing job but the real strength of this episode is revelations about our beloved characters, not the monster of the week song. Not that this number isn’t as fun as the rest of the episode but it simply can’t compare to main cast’s solos, duets, and group numbers. The reprise shouting out the episode title is extra fun, though.

Best part: ironically in many ways, Dawn’s parts. Particularly “see, my sister’s the Slayer”

12. Something to Sing About

I feel like a lot would consider ranking this so low criminal. And in a way I do wish it could be higher but musically, I just don’t much vibe with it. I understand and appreciate the sentiment behind it, it’s a powerful scene and includes the big revelation about Buffy having been in heaven. The backup bit is amusing and Alyson Hannigan acts her butt off in the background as the reveal is going on but I simply can’t put it higher when I know this won’t be the song I listen to the most. I much, much prefer Buffy’s other solo. It’s also just, a bit long oops.

Best part: Musically, the beginning, but thematically probably Spike’s ending verse.

11. Where Do We Go From Here

I’m not sure how to justify ranking this above the previous one. I guess I’m just a sucker for group numbers and I think it has the appropriate balance of drama and levity. It feels a bit funky that Sweet leaves and yet they sing this afterward but whatever.

Best part: Giles’ solo line: The battle's done and we kind of won

10. Coda

As you’ll see further down this list I love a good reprise and this mash-up of Buffy and Spike songs only to culminate in the first step towards their relationship, it’s really chef’s kiss. Very very brief and closes by going back to the previous song but still, a good coda.

9. I’ll Never Tell

This is pure fun for Anya and Xander and a great performance. Harsher in hindsight, now that I’ve seen Xander leave Anya at the altar. But I keep being a sucker for Anya shenanigans in particular and this was very fun as that. I don’t care for all the lines but I appreciate all the effort that went into this number in particular.

Best part: His eyes are beady!

8. If We’re Together

It’s heartfelt and maybe a bit cheesy but hey, I love cheese and the power of love, found family and all that. It fits BtVS to have something like this, it simultaneously makes fun of the show and also emphasizes that yeah, this is the strength of the Scoobies. I also enjoy the double meaning behind Buffy’s what does it matter lines. We support our girl in her depression era.

Best part: Hey, I’ve died twice

7. I’ve Got a Theory

This is just that quintessential first group number with the lighter tone and everyone involved. It feels different enough to separate from If We’re Together and slightly ranking above it for the fun factor, including Xander’s ramble about witches. Points for being the song with the most Willow in it

Best part: Honestly, Xander’s ramble.

6. Under Your Spell

I kinda wish I could rank this higher. And it is good! It begins a new tier on our list and there’s much to appreciate. Amber Benson’s voice (even though I would prefer more chest voice but shhh okay okay) and the fairy tale vibes, and just the fact that the big love song went to the lesbian couple. The sentiment is lovely even with the darker undertone of Willow’s literal spell from the previous episode, but more on that in a bit. It feels apt to give Tara, usually a quiet and reserved ch a solo in the musical episode to express her feelings fully. I’m in awe that this was on television in 2001 and was quite shocked that they went there at the end lol. What do you know, they sure had the cojones and I appreciate that.

Best part: as cheesy as it is, the willow tree line

5. Rest in Peace

I debated putting this below Under Your Spell but I gotta appreciate the rock vibes, the angst, and the sheer over the top poetry of it. It’s really the perfect song for Spike and as much as I think the metaphors and puns are over the top, again it just fits him. Plus, I have to admit, it’s just more fun to listen to than Tara’s solo (still with love to her of course). God Spike would make such a dramatic lesbian.

Best part: If my heart could beat it would break my chest

4. Standing

Anthony Stewart Head really went for it and this song was perfect for both his voice and Giles’ character. I do think the sentiment felt a bit, hmm, off, but that’s a convo for another day. Giles’ fatherly love for Buffy is the very DNA of this series and him realizing that he has to let Buffy go, just after getting her back, hits all the right emotional places. If we had to let go of ASH, as a main cast member at least, this was as good a sendoff as we could get. Also curious that this is the only song that seems to be in just once of the characters’ head? Whatever, it’s musical logic.

Best part: the way he delivers Wish I could slay your demons

3. Under Your Spell/Standing Reprise

Ohh okay, so yeah I love an apt reprise and this mashup was incredibly powerful. Under Your Spell gains its darker meaning as Tara realizes what the audience had known and to parallel her sense of betrayal and, though it will take her another episode to truly admit, realization with Giles’ is so cool. To parallel a young woman’s queer love for her girlfriend with a middle aged man’s for his daughter figure. For both to realize, albeit for vastly different reasons, that they can’t be the ones helping their loved ones anymore. For Giles, it’s to help Buffy grow. For Tara, it’s the realization that she can’t, even inadvertently, continue enabling Willow. It’s such a cool thematic concept and executed beautifully musically, and cinematically as we see the shot of Buffy and Willow talking, ignorant the difficult decisions their loved ones are making. Well done, show.

Best part: Wish I could stay (but they can’t. and doesn’t that just break your heart?)

2. Walk Through the Fire

Here we go, the best group number of the bunch even though the other ones all have their strengths. It combines so many excellent parts. Buffy’s depression, even Going Through the Motions making a brief return. The Scoobies’ realization that yeah, they should help. Spike’s own realization that he’ll always come back to Buffy’s aid. The ‘villain’ parts. ASH once again delivering his solo bits very well, particularly the Dawn line. Beady-eyes is right, we’re needed! It combines funny and deep and heartfelt and really, that sums up the show well. Plus yeah, the small reprises.

Best part: I think this line's mostly filler. Pls, that’s too funny.

1. Going Through the Motions

Okay listen at first I was like, can I? Can I actually rank this first? But why not. What an excellent song to start us off with. A few minutes into the episode and this already had me so hyped. The composition, the flow, how fun the demons are in this, Buffy’s attitude, SMG’s voice to be honest. The fact that this is her I want song! The very first song! This is just such a fun and yet meaningful song. It’s funny how SMG turns inexplicably British in it (heaRt has an R, surely) but I don’t care, she does a great job and this song really embodies my love for season 6 Buffy. So good!

Best part: How can I repay...? Whatever. This was SO funny. The rhymes throughout the episode can be a little too simple but when they work they just work.

So that would be the list, hope I didn’t shock and upset anybody. I knew going into this that people heralded Buffy’s musical episode as not only an OG but one of the, if not the ultimate best and you know what, yeah. And if anything it really proved to me that jukebox musicals are not where it’s at - if you’re gonna do a musical, put your whole pussy into it. Write those original songs! Make them relate to the characters and reveal interesting things about them. That’s the whole point and it’s why, though the villain song was fun, others were far superior. Not that I didn’t love this series before but Once More, With Feeling well and truly cemented my love for BtVS.

[dreameasel]

for headcanon purposes, how's the addamsverse through your morbid and very much twisted vision? this includes any and all characters you want to talk about. what are they driven by? how far are they willing to go? what's socially moral and right for the addamsverse that doesn't clash with what's socially moral and right in ours? gimmie the spicy, the grotesque, gimmie ur worst, train my beloved.

based off of this post

[rubs my awful little hands together] okay good yes this has some questions in it that are exactly the kinda thing i've been brooding on.

I've been brooding on morality and legality and all that kind of shit in the Addamsverse for a while now. I try to keep things fairly grounded in reality if only for my own ease but I've violently love things being extreme, unhinged and horrifying. The idea of Faulkners having like, one gruesome death a year at minimum that everyone seems to just shrug off a la Sunnydale High is genuinely delightful to me. But then it does come with a certain amount of questions of like, well how does that square with how normal the rest of the world still is.

So far how I'm handling it is similar to how it's handled in Buffy The Vampire Slayer. The supernatural and the horrifying are all there and only hidden beneath a piece of cardboard, if it's hidden at all, but people ignore it as much as they can because once you start down that track you find out things you really wish you hadn't. There's parts of Elioud culture and in the world of the supernatural/occult that even the Elioud themselves get antsy or scared about. And what are people most likely to do when they know there's something uncomfortable? They ignore it.

It's easier to not look too deeply into things, it's less scary to think of the Elioud as just freaky goth monster mash people then dig too deeply into how any of it works or what they really do. Werewolves transform but don't think too much about what that does to the human body etc. Also in a world where curses and magic are real there's a serious incentive to stay in your fucking lane. I imagine things like the Satanic Panic of the 80s went VERY different in the addamsverse since there's like, Actual Real Satanists in the kinda way hollywood loves to do it and a not unsizeable community of openly supernatural people who would push back.

While the Elioud are generally just Normal Ass People But Weird there is also generally an undercurrent of darkness and savagery. They're all inherently dangerous in their own ways and the vast majority have a serious dark streak to some extent. It's both just like, inherent to their natures (it's impossible to think of a werewolf or vampire that lacks a prey drive) but also come from so many of the smaller communities under that umbrella dealing with bigotry, disporas, violence, cleansings etc. There's an inherent sense of insularity, distrust, secrecy and willingness to commit violence to protect the Whole. There's also a a sense of like "well, tough shit", so much bad shit has happened to them and the Horrors/Supernatural are so normal to them that a tragic death here or there, even of youths, is kinda partially expected.

The Elioud are in a lot of ways best thought of as an ethnic group and a rather large one at that given how board of a catch-all term it is. There is an overarching connective culture outside of them all just being freaky Halloween people but it's much looser than say, vampire culture/community. So there's kind of two social structures in the same way you'd think of with any other ethnic group — the overarching culture/social mores of the country they're in and the historical culture/social mores of the ethnic group — it's just in this case it's that the ethnic group is Fucking Terrifying.

The Elioud generally are far more comfortable with murder in like, Most Contexts and various taboos like cannibalism or being super hands on with the dead in ALL stages aren't really a thing for them. Their concepts of death are very different and it's much more present in their lives on the whole. They're also more comfortable with grudges and revenge and things like that. Their ideas of justice are convoluted and intense. It's not too far off from something like the Fae at times tho it all various from group to group. Vampires and Witches tend to be more bonkers about shit than say, Werewolves or Gorgons.

Society in this world works via anxiety and ignorance. You might want to do good by stopping the secret Elioud society from preforming ritual human sacrifices but by sticking your nose in you've actually made things worse. Going beyond the mundane surface of the Elioud means running the risk of seeing something you can never unsee and there is a quiet fear and tension that exists under the surface of society that keeps the masses from penetrating too deep.

Where Elioud and Normies tend to agree are on things like "don't hurt kids" values, general property laws, human rights kinda stuff etc. They also tend to be very warm and extremely loyal. There's a while community energy and they're very fond of things like community watches. Both groups also tend to debate about which category people like Harlow, Xavier's mom, fits into. She's not an Elioud, her powers come from a Death Experience (can you call it a Near Death Experience if they did in fact die but recovered?) and those powers now put her in the same category as Vincent, Xavier, Wednesday etc. But all of them are Eliouds born with these powers. They knew they were likely coming and have a whole culture/tradition around them. The Thorpes are literally known for their psychic powers. People like Harlow who are Not Eliouds but Have Abilities get their Normie Card revoked but aren't necessarily accepted by Eliouds.

Okay I could literally say more but I'm getting more disorganized and a lil tired. There's just so much I could say lol. But the basic idea of this post in particular is that Elioud like the Addams are more than comfy committing Atrocities and everyone's too scared to look into it because if you stare into the void the void stares back at you and No Thanks.

[dammarchy211]

Reblogging for in depth music taste headcanons bc I was talking about it earlier on discord 🫶

Breaking it up into “canon” as in music that would be allowed in the fallout discography, and “non canon” as in music that surpasses the (at this point very vague) cut off for music, but I think they would theoretically like anyway.

Dala-

Canon: First and formost, she likes lounge music, i think this transcends time period restrictions or not. 60's matini lounge music her ABSOLUTE beloved. She prefers music without words imo, but it’s not like a hard preference, she likes having music on when she works.

Non canon: obviously this just extends to lounge music created past 1963 ish. But I also think she would like disco too. I know this girl has been to the club. she probably likes the bee gees and earth, wind & fire. Not like a super fan but I think she’d enjoy it.

0-

Canon: geez idk about 0 tbh. In terms of fallout era music, I think he's a kind of "likes whatever's on" in canon fallout person. Imo he'd like the song The Great Pretender by The Platters a lot though. I also think (and I’ll let it slide as canon since a song from this album was in 76) he Really likes the Pet Sounds album by The Beach Boys. I don’t think he’d like their surf music as much. Fake fan.

Non Canon: outside of the time constrants i was extremely tempted to say he'd like prog rock because of the venture bros reference. but thinking about it YEAH he'd like prog rock. I think canon 0 wouldnt be much of a musichead but if he heard prog rock it would change him. He still also likes Pet Sounds.

Borous-

Canon: Borous loooooves frank sinatra. regardless of time constraints he loooooves frank sinatra. He also likes elvis and probably Dean Martin too. The only Beach Boys song he knows and likes is Kokomo

Non Canon: even with access to modern music I think his taste would still be the exact same as above. Maybe with the inclusion of Jimmy Buffet.

Klein-

Canon: He says he doesn't like music or just listens to classical while he works, but in the scope of canonically available music him LOVING stuff by Lesley Gore and The Andrew Sisters and the Chordettes and alike would be really amusing to me. He'd never admit it but you can rip It's My Party and Pink Shoe Laces from his cold, dead hands

Non Canon: same taste probably, though I could see it transferring over to equivalent more modern pop songs. Or like 2010 girl pop. Rest in piece Klein you would’ve loved l love it by icona pop featuring Charlie xcx

8-

Canon: big instrumental jazz-head imo, also maybe he’d like opera bc that’s an audio option for the sonic emitter? Idk

Non canon: i really think 8 would love kraftwerk. He'd love any synthesizer forward music. He loves the Moog Cookbook, Wendy Carlos, and Jean-Jacques Perry. he would have sex with a moog synthesizer if he could

Mobius-

Canon: He absolutely listens to the monster mash year round. He knows the Bobby “Boris” Pickett discography outside of the Monster Mash. the monster mash is his favorite song. He likes The Beach Boys but he actually Does like the surf music. I could maaybe see him liking doo wop? He just likes music that’s fun he likes to have fun

Non Canon: REST IN PEACE MOBIUS YOU WOULD HAVE LOVED ROCKY HORROR SHOW. not even that he'd be into musicals, just rocky horror specifically. I think he'd just like a conglomeration of music that reminds him of or coinsides with his interests. Like Leonard Nimoy's music (i.e. Leonard Nimoy Presents Mr. Spock's Music from Outer Space)

The Think Tank Random Headcanon List

Two people asked for this so that means it happening 👍 your welcome, most if not all of these r prewar/brain tank

-this one’s pretty supported in canon but think Dala likes fashion and dressing up🫶. I love giving her a fun little outfit

Yay

-0 had back pains pre brain tank. Also a lot of fatigue. The certified professional sleeper. When he’s working on projects in his home he tends to do it lying on the floor.

-this one’s basically canon but 8 has arithmomania. I say basically canon bc things in his house in Higgs often come in sets of 8, as well as his house being the 8th house despite there not BEING 8 houses. I think this would also extend to counting to 8 on his fingers when he’s nervous and such.

-tied in I also believe 8 has ocd. Borous has bpd.

-Dala was pretty reserved growing up, as she grew up/especially in the looped personality she became for lack of better terms “bolder and more flirty” as compensation for having been so withdrawn previously.

-I am wishy washy with a lot of gender headcanons for characters, my brain kinda just goes well idk if they’re trans but they’re not Not trans. However I do feel quite definitively that Dala is nb transfem, and Mobius and 0 are trans men.

-I think all of their names have some tie to the names they had pre recursion loop. Canonically both Klein’s name and his prewar last name start with K. I think the other’s names have similar ties.

-on that note, I think Borous’s old name (/just his family in general) has Painfully Russian origins. It makes his McCarthyism thing so hilariously ironic

-I think 8 is Canadian, but he only lived there pre annexation of Canada, he was working at big MT and living at Higgs once it happened.

-0’s old last name used to be “O’something” and people still used to call him Dr. O then and he still hated it. Doomed fate

-re: Mobius being trans, i think his first name was Edward. He named himself after Dr. Morbius from the movie The Forbidden Planet

-Klein is a big wine guy, like obvious there’s wine bottles strewn about his house, but I mean like. He’s the kind of guy to just know things about every kind of wine.

-Klein is probably the best dressed after Dala, I think he just tries to be professional for the most part. 0 thinks he’s fashionable but he isn’t. Already mentioned but Mobius dresses like an old lighthouse keeper. Cableknit sweater and the works. I think he’d also like antique pipes

I’m probably gonna alter the Klein outfit but yeah you get the idea. Doodles

-I feel SO STRONGLY ABOUT THIS. But 0 and Borous went to high school together. 0’s one line mentioning Borous in high school was just way too telling.

-Klein and Mobius need reading glasses. Dala used to need glasses, didn’t wear them throughout her childhood until like college, and then switched to contacts after college

-The think tank are all very close and got along much better prewar than they do at the time of the game. They kinda Jean-Paul Sartre No Exit’d themselves and their personalities are stuck in an endless loop. To say the least they started getting on each other’s nerves after 200 years. But this is to say they didn’t still bicker or anything prewar

-8 never really liked talking much. Possibly having selective mutism. This was mostly fine for him because pre brain tank you have facial expressions and hands and hand gestures that kinda make up for not talking at times. After the brain tanks he was kind just. Forced to talk to relay information. His speech was extremely awkward and stilted, which combined with the above head canon is why Dala made that comment about how they light him better now that his voice modulator is broken.

-they all have autism of some flavor tbh. To me. In my autistic mind.

-dead animal ment.// but I feel like Borous was that kid who like poked at dead squirrels and shit as a kid. It frames the Gabe and cyberdog thing well lol

-I’m an 8/0 head so I think they worked together a lot. Even if it’s not on the same project they would just do thinks at the same time together.

-the mentats on Klein’s bedside table are Mobius’s

-0 used to be a super big fan of House and RobCo when he was in high school. Obviously that is no longer true

-0 excels at making robots that are smaller. He doesn’t want to acknowledge this though. Muggy and his walking eyes (w/ wild wasteland) are both pretty small but they work well. The larger scale securitrons he’s tried to make obviously. Do not.

-I think the lounge music theme for the radio was a collective choice, but I feel like Dala especially likes music like that.

-Klein and Mobius used to play games like chess or checkers or card games “outside” in Higgs old person style.

-post brain tank one (woah) Klein has fleeting feelings of missing someone or something he can’t recognize. Any memories tying it to an image of a person he doesn’t quite remember. His brain just doesn’t connect that it’s Mobius and he usually just pushes the feeling down whenever it happens lol

If I think of more I’ll add them.

[space-invading-pigeon]

Monsters AU, anyone????

If you haven't already guessed it, Steve Harrington is my comfort character and almost everything I write lately has to do with him. But I love myths and monsters, so I mashed them up.

Steve is a werewolf; not always, but an incident when he was four changed him. His mother blames herself for his accident and tends to stay away from him, too overcome with guilt to even look at her son. Unfortunately, of all things, he was changed into a pack animal, and the loss of his mother's comfort has a negative effect. He's withdrawn, aggressive, unable to get comfortable in his own skin, all before even starting kindergarten- his only relief is when his mother hires an old friend to watch him. Her friend is from the supernatural world: the oldest son of a family of vampires that have lived in the United States since they stowed away on the Mayflower.

Steve and his new babysitter are instantly bonded: Steve goes back to being a sweet, albeit clingy, little angel, and his sitter is always more than happy to indulge him and shower him in love. Life is really looking up for Steve, to the point that he secretly refers to himself as "Stevie Munson," and dreams up a world where Wayne is his pa, instead of his actual father. But life is rarely kind to Steve, and soon his beloved Wayne has to leave town for an undetermined amount of time because of a "family emergency." Steve is heartbroken that he isn't allowed to go with him.

As if losing his sitter isn't enough, Steve's mother dies in a robbery-gone-wrong on Steve's ninth birthday, five years to the day after the attack that changed him. Richard Harrington can't be assed to take care of his son in her stead, and hires another sitter. Claudia Henderson (human, through and through) decides on her first day that Steve is as much her son as Dustin, and that only solidifies when she discovers that the poor baby her late husband attacked years ago was actually Steve. Dustin (a born werewolf as opposed to Steve, a changed werewolf) decides that Steve is his brother immediately, and it's like two puppies have found each other. Steve is protective, loving, and maybe a little bit possessive of his new brother, but Dustin has love to spare. As he grows from toddler to kid to preteen, he acquires more and more friends: first, Will Byers, from a family of light elves, who is shy and artistic and never cuts off one of Dustin's excited rants, even though they're both seven and Dustin's grasp of engineering is on par with a college undergrad. With Will comes Mike Wheeler and his older sister, Nancy, both of whom are descendants of the great Valkyrie. Nancy is a little more.... ethereal than Mike, because their Valkyrie blood is more prominent in women, but they're both stubborn and snarky and have a weird obsession with the Byers boys, but Dustin swears that they're both very nice. Lucas Sinclair comes around soon after, and he's really the only friend of Dustin's that Steve has actually met. He's a soft-spoken kid until he's comfortable, and then he's quick witted and so loyal that Steve actually thinks that maybe he's a werewolf, instead of a chimera.

Steve refuses to meet anyone else in Dustin's friend group; he says it's because he's too big to be around Dustin's friends, but it's actually because he doesn't think that he can be around them without lashing out for taking his baby brother away from him.

When Dustin is eleven and Steve is seventeen, Chief Hopper- the only Berserker in Hawkins- adopts a little witch named Jane, although she answers more to El than she does Jane. Soon after, Max Mayfield moves to town, and Dustin's little group of friends adds the banshee to their ranks.

Finally, Steve agrees to meet his friends, lovingly dubbed "the Party" by every member of it. They're wary of Steve at first- Richard Harrington is the most outspoken anti-supernatural in town, and they didn't know that Dustin's Big Brother Steve the Werewolf was actually Steve Harrington, so almost all of them are sure that they'll be harassed in their safe space. Steve is quiet for a while, yes, but Will and El take to him immediately, and Steve is weak for people who look at him like he's worth something (it's why he's such a pushover for Dustin and Claudia; they love him unconditionally and he will do anything to make himself feel worthy of that) so he adopts Will and El into his little family almost immediately.

Will and El adore Steve: El insists that he's a big, fluffy puppy, and her descriptions have never been wrong, so it makes the entire Party warm up to him. Will is painfully shy, and the speed with which he warms up to Steve is unheard of; but Will quite literally glows when Steve shows up, and even once he's calmed down the air around him glitters with his excitement. Steve takes to them both; at first, Dustin is over the moon at this.

Next to warm up to Steve is Lucas, a few weeks after Steve joins the Party. He's frosty toward Steve at first, but at a group movie night he watches Steve jump out of a dead sleep to jump out of a window and slam into a tree, face first (apparently, he'd been having a dream about a cheese monster trying to eat his toes). Then, Jonathan and Nancy, who both watch Steve with the kids and decide that, yes, they do have a crush on the sweet, dumb dog that's joined their ranks. Nancy asks him out first, though, and Steve is flustered enough that he agrees (and is almost instantly smitten with her). Mike refuses to warm up to Steve; the guy can't even breathe right, as far as Mike is concerned.

The longer that Steve and Nancy date, the angrier Dustin gets. He feels like he's being left behind. Steve spends more and more time with Nancy, at her behest. Neither of them realize how unhealthy their relationship is growing to be, just how the relationship between Nancy's parents are. Nancy demands that everything be held to a certain standard, and Steve does everything he possibly can to meet that standard. It isn't until Nancy dumps him- a very nasty affair that has Steve avoiding everyone except Dustin- that they actually grow as people and become something healthier to each other. (Just like in the show, they get into a fight at a party, and when they revisit it while sober, they fight again; Steve is hurt and wants to know if she really thinks he's bullshit, and Nancy won't give him a straight answer. He's upset and he can feel himself losing control of himself, so he walks away. Nancy leaves town on an overnight trip to get some info with Jonathan, and when she comes back, she spits vitriol at a panicked, concussed Steve. She does a lot of growing up after that, but she never actually apologizes for hurting Steve, although he frequently tries to "make up" for his own mistakes.

Max joins the group soon after that, and gets along with Steve almost immediately. She's a young banshee, and a part of her lore explains that she screams; she can't control when, how long, or even how loudly she screams, and as a result her step-brother (a human named Billy) is incredibly abusive. He belittles her for her Screams, and isn't afraid to shove her around (never where their parents can see: if Susan caught wind of it, his father Neil would hear, and Neil was not a man to cross). When Max meets Steve, and watches how he picks on the Party using their own species(he calls Lucas "little lion man," Will is Sunshine, Mike is Paladin Shithead, and Dustin has always been pup) while still encouraging them (Steve encourages the kids as they grow and develop these new abilities, never belittling them for their struggles, but showing them that it's okay to mess up. She doesn't know that it's because Steve had no one to do that for him until his mother died and the Hendersons were brought into his life). She's afraid to open up to the guy, right up until, in the middle of a crisis situation where Max is forced to use her powers on purpose for the first time, Steve throws himself in the line of fire to protect the Lucas- and by extension, the whole Party- more than once.

Steve protects her from Billy when he tries to "pick her up" (read: drag her home by the hair without regard for her safety), allows Billy to beat his ass because the alternative at the time was to chase him away until no one was around to protect Lucas, and then, with a whole concussion, does a full shift and defends the children from these strange alternate hellbeasts that were summoned by some crazies at the Hawkins Laboratory for Scientific Witchcraft. The guy even praised her for Screaming on purpose, calling her a hero. Max is soon just as attached to Steve as any other.

In the summer after breaking up with Nancy, Steve gets a job at the mall. He meets Robin, who seems for all intents and purposes a simple human being. She's quirky and goofy and she smells like the ocean after a storm; Steve loves her very quickly, but something in him keeps him from actually developing a crush. Robin is his beloved other half, his soulmate, the yin to his yang, whatever else means that she completes him. She calls him Dingus exclusively, and Steve knows that if he ever heard it while he was shifted fully, he would be rolling around like a delighted puppy. He learns later, after they've fought for their lives and suffered and survived, that Robin was born a normal human, but after the most traumatic experience of her life, she was transformed into a siren.

After the mall, Robin is inducted into the group. She keeps an eye on the kids while they're at school, partially for her own sanity, but also for Steve, who is beside himself at the prospect of his babies being out of sight for so long (he gets like this after every Upside-Down interaction, he loves those kids and he can't stand the idea of losing the family he's built for himself). By the end of the first month, Steve is desperate to meet this guy his kids keep ranting about, Eddie Munson, and it's just because he's worried about them, not because he's afraid of losing his spot as their Big Brother or because the name Munson struck a chord in the back of his mind(for whatever reason).

Without the kids knowing- except Max, because she saw him going up to the Munson trailer. She would never bring it up to the Party unless Steve did first- Steve goes to meet this Eddie Munson and maybe scope out the competition a little. Instead, he meets a pasty boy with unfairly attractive hands and full lips and the warmest chocolate eyes and-

His mooning over this pretty boy is cut short when a man with a painfully familiar face peers in from the kitchen, meeting Steve's eyes with a surprised, "Stevie?" The greeting is enough to make Steve tear up, and he starts freaking out because why is he so happy that this guy knows him, and he's ushered into their little home and onto an old, well-loved couch. Eddie is gushing about finally meeting the Stevie Harrington, he's been told all about him from Wayne through the years. Eddie asks him why he's never seen him at school, and Steve mumbles about being home-schooled ("I won't let people see my mistakes so easily," Richard Harrington drilled into his head from the moment Steve was old enough to go to school). Wayne is flustered and standoffish for all of three minutes before Steve is smothered in more paternal affection than he's received since he was seven; it clicks in his brain when Wayne calls him Stevie again, that he used to wish and beg the stars to change him into Stevie Munson, not Harrington, and that Wayne was his best friend for three years.

Eddie is smitten with this strong, pretty, downright fluffy boy that showed up on his doorstep, even more so when Wayne Munson (easily most comfortable when left alone in quiet) spends almost an hour fussing over and showering him in praise. Steve becomes a regular fixture in the Munson household, after that. Wayne spends weeks explaining the different types of supernatural creatures that have made their homes in Hawkins and the surrounding area, explaining Munson family history, and Steve finally has someone to walk him through everything about werewolves (Claudia tried, but she was really only parroting things she'd picked up as she raised Dustin, not any formal education. Steve never knew that it was a special thing to achieve a full shift; that particular afternoon had Eddie calling him a sweet little pup for a month).

********

I'm too lazy to spend another two days puzzling out how I want the rest of the show's plot to align with this au. I have it in my wips folder but this is already suuuuper long. My bad, pals

[crymeariveronceagain]

KOTLC Characters' Halloween costumes: 2022 edition!!!

Holy crap, I've been on tumblr for over a year now!! Let's get some Halloween costumes going, because nobody wears the same outfit two years in a row, right? *kicks my own beloved witch costume out of sight*

Sophie Foster: 1920's gangster. She's always been one for suits and ties, and she looks stunning with the fedora on her head and her fake cigar in her teeth. She drinks her lushberry juice out of a wine glass and talks in a Brooklyn accent the whole night. No one knows what her accent's about, but no one can get her to stop. She has bright red lipstick on her teeth, halfway through the night, and her brown eyes sparkle. Her suspenders are super cute, though.

Keefe Sencen: Cereal Killer. You know exactly what I'm talking about, because that is not a typo. There is a cereal box, and there is red dye involved, and a fake knife. Keefe is loving it.

Fitz Vacker: Alexander The Great. He's got his hair messed up and his eyes look a little wild, but the historical accuracy is there, from the Macedonian armor to the spear he made himself. There are feathers tucked into the helmet he spent hours making, and his shield is carefully crafted to have a golden star right at the center. He's wearing gold and red and he looks every inch like a warrior king.

Biana Vacker: Cinderella. Her skirts are shimmery and blue and she's got her hair in long loose waves, butterfly clips in her hair, and she's smiling brightly, and she looks lovely. Oh, her slippers are made of crystals. She commissioned them and paid money for the trolls to carve her her shoes. They cost quite a chunk of change.

Tam Song: Prince Charming. He looks put together and like the prince he is. He and Biana went to the party together, and if you see Cinderella and Her prince dancing the night away to "Monster Mash" you're correct. That's what they're doing, tonight.

Linh Song: Sheet Ghost. With glasses over the top. It's really cute, and she giggles and her whole costume looks like it's shaking. She's just floating around, and it's really really sweet.

Marella Redek: Katara, from Avatar, The Last Airbender. It's about the IRONY, and the hair loopies that she spent three hours researching and braiding her hair so it's accurate. She put so much effort into this costume, and worked on this for weeks. She's put her heart and soul into this costume, and it looks like it. It's just a brilliant cosplay of the character, and you can tell that Marella had so much fun putting it together.

Dex Dizznee: Pirate. He's got an eye patch and a fantastic outfit that looks perfectly like he walked out of a book on pirates. He even burned the sleeves with gun powder, and dusted his cheek bones with red so it looks like he's got a sunburn. Good thing he's got so many freckles, it looks like he's been in the sun for months.

Stina Heks: Goth Witch. She's got her makeup dark and her dress jagged at the bottom. She's got spiderwebs embroidered across her sleeves, and her hat is pointed and embellished with flowers and a skull(sustainably sourced). She's got her lipstick dark and her hair curly and scattered and messy. She's grinning, brightly, and she looks like a creature of the night. It's lovely.

Maruca Chebota: An angler fish. She's got her dress done up in shimmery scales, attaches huge teeth to her face with makeup glue, and she fastens a glowing sort of shield in place at the end of her headpiece, and she looks amazing.

Wylie Endal: A lighthouse. All of his college friends screech in laughter when he walks in and there's a light moving around him like he's a real actual walking talking lighthouse who just walked in the room.

Glimmer Alenefar: Fintan Pyren. There was so much laughter. She even went on a dramatic speech in Fintan's voice!!!! Sophie is losing her mind over this, and Keefe has been laughing so hard he's now crying, especially when Glimmer says something along the lines of "I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE" or something like that. No one is ssafe from Glimmer Fintan. Not a single one of these kids is mentally healthy. But stars, if they aren't having a good time.

[lilydalexf]

👽 X-Files Fic Recs: Novels, Part 5

Here are lots of very good novel-length X-Files fics to read! Need even more? Check out my earlier lists of novel recs. Enjoy! Part 1 ** Part 2 ** Part 3 ** Part 4 Abandoned and Apart by ML It's time to go. / I knew this day would come. I've known it for a long time. Achilles' Heel by FranTheWonderHorse Mulder is drawn into a group that claims to want to cast light on alien abductions An Alluring Indiscretion by Beduini and M. Taylor Harrison Um, Things you WON'T get in this story include; Slash,Scully/Skinner, Scully/Krycek, Death of one or more of our beloved heroes, Babyfic, Marriedfic, Rape, Alternate universe/Alternate Dimensions or anything like it. Unless, of course, you consider MSR Alternate Universe. You shouldn't be here if you do. Contact by @h0ldthiscat Unsure of the nature of their relationship, Mulder and Scully must work together when they receive an email from someone they thought was gone from their lives forever. Equilibrium by VivWiley How do you direct a manhunt for a man you know is no longer anywhere on the planet? Skinner and Scully hunt for Mulder post-Requiem. Failure to Die by Kel An undercover assignment lands Agent Jerry Luskin and his colleagues in a "cursed" hospital. Can Dr. Scully handle an emergency without calling for the paramedics? Just watch. The Fifth Column by Kemystre After the events of Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati, Mulder and Scully come to a crossroad in their relationship. The decision that Mulder makes will forever change their path together and quite possibly cost Scully her life. Gemma and Ancient Dreams by Kellie Matthews Mulder does some investigating while Scully is on vacation, and finds something other than psychic serial killers and little gray men. The woman he ends up with is a “finder” who attempts to help him locate a kidnapped child. // Scully goes to Ireland on a vacation, and discovers someone who challenges her skepticism, and provides some answers to who and what the Kindred are. Jack by Exley_61 At the age of innocence, a child witnessed the brutal murder of his mother at the hands of a monster. Ten years later, can Mulder and Scully prevent such brutality from happening again, risking more than their lives, but their hearts as well. . . . A Neurotic Need for Validation by Kel Perception is reality, for we do not interact directly with the world around us or even with ourselves. Nights of Shining Armor by Gina Rain A tale of shared dreams, fractured fairy tales and great expectations gone awry. In short, Mulder and Scully investigate a serial kidnapping case. Queen's Gambit by Suzanne Schramm Queen's Gambit: A chess strategy in which a player sacrifices key pieces in order to win. Sacrificing the Truth by DKSculder (@dksculder) After some time apart, Mulder makes a life-altering discovery that could change the course of his and Scully's lives forever. Will he make the right choice? She's Beauty, She's Grace by @sunflowerseedsandscience I was asked to write a Miss Congeniality/The X-Files mash-up… so here goes nothing. So Shall You Reap by Stephanie Davies Mulder is sent to the UK to investigate paranormal occurrences, and an old 'friend' returns The Way by KMNAHILL and MD1016 Scully becomes mysteriously ill. Mulder, Melissa, and Tao help to heal her. / On assignment in Chicago, Scully's illness progresses. / An assignment in Oregon turns out to be more than first expected. Humorous antics from the Lone Gunmen. / Samantha returns and isn't what Mulder had expected. With or Without You by Invisigoth421 What if Scully had not been returned in "One Breath"? Even 10 years later Mulder feels as though he can't live without her. But what would it do to his life if she returned 10 years later? Up the Ladder by RivkaT (@rivkat) Marita comes through for Mulder, giving him what he wants most. But twenty-five years haven't brought as many changes as he might have thought, and her gift might be more dangerous than anything he's faced to date. And what's up with those bees? A potpourri of Conspiracy elements with many old favorites present.

[eoieopda]

me because it’s my favorite holiday: HALIWEEN

sorry i got so unhinged about this — i couldn’t help it, much like you couldn’t help but turn my DRABBLE REQUEST into a 20k masterpiece for my horror-loving heart.

anyways, here is every single thought i had in the order they occurred to me:

the description of vernon in sunlight has me foaming at the mouth, and I just got here?

OCCULT STUDIES MAJOR YESSIR 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ GETTIN’ A DEGREE IN GHOSTS 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

chan is down to be pegged. it’s CANON. i KNEW IT!!!!!

emotional oranges = us when tanned

favorites and least favorites — oh, i’m already a simp.

oh to be a drunk woman, getting fucking crazy in grecian woods

monster mash DOES fuck. mingyu is right and he should say it.

hot goth x 5 sent me every time

hoshi with an ass tattoo is proof that this is For Me

ALICE IN BORDERLAND MY BELOVED!!!! imagine if she figured out the plot twist a few episodes in 👁️👄👁️

poor sidney both fucked around and found out. rip in peace, diva.

kwon fire has entered the chat, and i am overjoyed, dude.

i repeat: SUB CHAN IS CANON!!!!!!

reader deciding to go on a solo nighttime walk while there’s murder afoot is so asdfghjkl DIVA HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN EVEN ONE (1) MOVIE

oh i just got to “In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.” glad we’re all on the same page!! lmfao

idk if this is intentional but us talking about heathers the other day and seeing “you’re going to fight for me?” just made me so happy

N O S A L T

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 take what you need love 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 what if i kms? what then?

“Come on, darling.” OH HEY THOMAS

okay the smut is smutting and my brain is making internet dial-up noises

in my head, the song he’s listening to while cooking bacon is melanie’s “brand new key” because it makes this visual so fucking funny despite the everything going on

SALT LINE!!!!!!! THAT’S MY FINAL GIRL!!!!!!!!

like, the ending my brain has arrived at is that he manages to kill her somehow, and i love that, but i also think she’s smart enough to keep herself safe, if not to save vernon. i’m so glad you left it where you did so i can marinate on these thoughts for the next 2-5 business days 😏

ilysm, shrimpie. thank you for this gift of murder and ghosts. i will cherish it forever 🥹

TRICK OR TREAT!!!

fuck, i love this concept.

sour skittles + ghostface + the craft, pls 🤲🏻

(smut is always welcome, although i know that is highly dependent on whatever it is i just chose, lmao)

❀ Pairing: Vernon x afab reader

❀ Summary: Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you. 

❀ Word Count: 21,558

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Friends to Lovers, Thriller

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, recreational drinking and smoking, crude humor, some of the members of SVT are a bit of an asshole in this - it is not a reflection of how I think of them, mentions of occult practices, a NOT ACCURATE spirit summoning/ritual, mentions of a murder suicide case/event, mentions of murders, light mentions of blood, mentions of infidelity, catching someone in a sexual act (not the main couple), Vernon is a bit of an asshole at times, mentions of insecurities/confused feelings, I owe Chan and Mingyu an apology for how I wrote them, sexual tension, some angst, sexually explicit content including thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, a lot of biting and scratching, choking/breath play, vaginal fingering, a lot of spit and cum mentioned, unprotected sex, references to sub space, Vernon takes a dom role but it is not explicitly established, Vernon gets a little bit possessive, calls reader a slut a total of one time, some light finger sucking, reader is at several points annoyed with the women in this fic which can come off a lil bitchy, general creepy scenes in woods and in some dark spooky places. 

❀ Additional Content Warning: It is implied by the end of this fic that Vernon is possessed to some degree by a spirit in this. I make zero distinction as to whether it’s Vernon or the spirit calling the shots or if there is even a difference/distinction between the two, which poses the fair question of consent in parts of this that I do not address or provide nuance to. The lack of clarification is due to the POV of this fic being entirely from reader’s perspective and she doesn’t have a clue what’s going on until the very end, and thus we are unable to unpack to what degree this character is or is not himself. If that lack of nuance bothers you, that is valid but this is not the fic for you. 

❀ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. This was supposed to be a drabble. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Anyways, Jade my beloved you got Vernon + Friends to Lovers + Slasher and honestly it’s less slasher and more supernatural so I actually totally apologize but I leaned too far the other way I’m so sorry soifsdiofjdfiogj I love you love all the specific easer eggs for you and also show you to Jade because they specifically helped me write the Mingyu ‘graveyard smash’ line thanks bye

❀ A/N 2: Alternative summary for this fic is Hali repeatedly drags Chan because she loves him so much 

❀ Reader Notes: This reader is never explicitly gendered as girl/she/her etc. so I have listed them as an afab reader. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween

Cool wind lifts the pages of your book, threatening to flip them over. You press your fingers flat to the page, fighting to keep them from flitting over and losing your place in the story. There’s not much daylight left in the sky as the afternoon dies to make way for the evening, but you’re eager to finish the chapter, craving to unravel the mystery you’ve been working your way through the past week. 

Atmospheric sounds play in your headphones as you read. Your legs are crossed, book in your lap as you sit on the concrete wall separating the quad from one of the sidewalks on campus. Now that there’s a chill in the air, you crave being outside, finding the opportunity to sit wherever you can on campus to crack open a book before the sunlight finally fades. 

Flipping the page, you only get a split second warning of the shout you hear through your headphones before something hits you in the back of the head. You yelp, dropping the book to the ground as your headphones clatter from your head to the grass from the impact. 

Scowling, you swivel around to see Mingyu jogging over, his hand over his mouth as apologies start pouring out of him. A flush creeps up your neck as he approaches, his friends and fellow fraternity brothers watching from afar. Some of them are bent over cackling, the others have their hands on their head, visibly stressed from hitting you with their football.

Again. 

“I am so sorry,” he pleads, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Seungcheol threw wide.” 

“Maybe play on a rec field, then?” You snap, sliding from the wall, picking up your headphones and book. You kick the football toward him, irritated. “There’s literally so many other places you can play. Don’t you have a yard at your little frat house?” 

“It’s being used for float building for the Halloween parade.”

“Convenient.” 

For the most part, Mingyu isn’t so bad. He’s a little loud and obnoxious, but he’s always nice and he does seem to mean it when he picks up the football and apologizes again. It’s more than a lot of his fraternity brothers would do, though it’s not much now that they’ve managed to hit you twice with the same ball. 

Someone like Mingyu wouldn’t even pay attention to you if it weren’t for Vernon, though. As Mingyu retreats, the reason you’re even friends with Mingyu appears on the sidewalk, coming toward you with his hands in his pockets, hood pulled up on his head and headphones on. He lifts his chin in greeting to Mingyu, but Vernon’s brown eyes focus on you, his true destination. 

Vernon pulls his hood and headphones down when he’s within a few feet, jerking his thumb at Mingyu. “What did he want?” 

“He was apologizing for hitting me with the football. Again.”

“Again?” 

“Yeah. They hit me earlier.”

Vernon hums, displeased. He doesn’t say much, instead turning to lean against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets again.

The last embers of sunlight hit his side profile, stunning you to momentarily silence. In a halo of fiery light, Vernon looks like a god. His light brown eyes turn burnished gold, reflecting the dying sun. His hair is spun copper, strands dancing in the breeze as he watches the world around him. 

Not for the first time, you think that you understand why Helen of Troy inspired a thousand ships to come after her. Vernon’s face is the kind of thing you’ve read about in all of your mythologies and folktales for your Occult Studies major, so beautiful that it can’t be real.  

If Vernon notices you staring, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes watch the other members of his fraternity play football, one of them crashing into someone on a lawn chair. He shakes his head and mutters under his breath, wearing his second-hand embarrassment silently as he watches them apologize for the millionth time. 

Vernon is nothing like the rest of his fraternity. You’re still unsure why he even joined. It was something he had done his freshman year going into school, wanting to put himself out there and make friends. 

He certainly looks the part - he’s handsome and in shape from playing soccer in highschool, and he’s got good fashion sense for a college student. But he’s quiet and a little awkward, unsure how to navigate conversations with most people who aren’t in his immediate circle of friends and shy to an almost crippling point. 

It had taken Vernon seven weeks of being your lab partner before he finally spoke more than three sentences to you. For the longest time, you’d assumed it was because he thought you were beneath him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. Greek life on campus tended to stick with their own. 

Now, you know it was because he didn’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. You’d only managed to get him to talk to you when he noticed a song by Frank Ocean bleeding from your headphones, piquing his interest. 

Four years later, talking to Vernon is easy. Well, maybe not easy. You’ve got years of friendship between you now and you know what makes Vernon tick, but the butterflies you get when you’re around him and the way your heart swells when he does something so simple makes it a little harder. 

Like now, as day fades to evening and the world is awash in purple and gold, and he’s looking at the watercolor sky like it's the most fascinating thing in the world, completely unaware that while he’s in awe of the sky, you’re in awe of him. 

Vernon jerks forward, making you flinch. You have no idea what he’s doing until his hand is in front of you, smacking down the football that has been sent your direction again. You huff in frustration, watching as this time it’s Chan who jogs over to get it. 

“Are you all fucking serious?” You demand. He slows his approach, eyes darting to Vernon as though looking for help from his friend. Vernon says nothing, bending over to pick up the football and toss it to Chan. “I should shove that football up your ass.” 

“Maybe not the football,” Chan quips, catching it. He looks you up and down, head cocking to the side a little. His mouth lifts at the corner and there’s a glint in his dark eyes that makes you even angrier. “I’m open to other things, though?” 

“You’re so gross.”

“What? You’re hot when you’re mad.” 

“Go away, Chan!” You shriek, flustered and angry as you spin around to grab your things and storm off. You only get a few feet before realizing Vernon is still leaning on the wall. “Are you coming or not?”

He scrambles after you, nearly tripping over his own feet to catch up. Chan is snickering as he runs back toward where the others wait for him, yelling a trilling bye toward you and Vernon as you charge north toward the main campus parking lot. 

“He’s so annoying,” you gripe, shoving your book in your bag. Vernon hums, noncommittal. You glance at him. “Nothing more to add?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “It’s cause they think you’re hot, Lovecraft.”

You smile at the nickname, fondness sweeping through you. He’d started calling you Lovecraft your freshman year after learning about your major, deciding that it just fit. You like it - at least coming from Vernon, who understood Occult Studies was more than just spooky and magic and the metaphysical. 

“They think anything with a set of tits and a hole to stick their dick in is hot. I’m sure a blowup doll would blow their fucking mind.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches at that. “You’d hate Chan’s room.”

“Don’t give me that visual!” 

His laugh is warm. He bumps shoulders with yours, grinning at you as the two of you walk. You feel the telltale sign of your traitorous heart beating extra hard at his closeness, your gaze shooting to the floor as you try to hide any evidence of your feelings that might lurk on the surface of your expression. 

Thankfully, Vernon never seems to notice. You’re glad that he doesn’t. You don’t think you’re very good at hiding how you feel, but he is equally bad at picking up on it, totally oblivious to the long stares and the way you fumble over your words when he gets too close. 

Vernon has that effect on a lot of people. His proximity to being attractive has always outweighed his inability to make small talk among the female population on campus. The amount of times you’ve watched girls openly flirt with him and whisper about what it would take to get him to crack was insurmountable. 

Autumn wind kicks up leaves at your feet. Neither one of you says anything as you walk, simply content to be together. It’s one of your favorite things about him, never feeling pressure to perform or to have conversation. Being with Vernon is just… easy. Natural, even. 

The parking lot is slowly emptying as the rest of the late afternoon classes end. A few unlucky evening class students pull in, slamming their car doors and rushing off to their auditoriums. Vernon’s car is easy to find and you let yourself in, sliding into the passenger seat like it’s yours - it kind of is. 

“Pizza?” he asks, engine humming to life. 

“Please.” His lips twitch in a soft smile as he nods, flipping on the radio. You hum, leaning forward and turning up the volume. “I love this song.” 

Vernon’s smile increases as you lean back, the sounds of Emotional Oranges filling the car. He rolls the windows down once he’s on the road proper, cool wind kissing your skin. You pull your feet up onto the seat, leaning toward the window as the fading twilight brushes past you. 

Outside the car, the world smells like pine. You take a deep breath in, loving the way the October air feels just right. Fall is always your favorite time of year, and with the music playing in the background, wind in your hair and Vernon drumming on the wheel, you don’t think there could be anything better in the world. 

Sal’s Pizzeria glows against the dark, a beacon of hunger and hope against the night. The giant pizza slice on the roof blinks rapidly, the neon a little bit broken. Gold light glows through the windows as you climb out the car, gravel crunching beneath your feet. 

A bell chimes as the door opens and a group of students pour out, laughing and carrying boxes. Vernon catches the lip of the door and holds it open for you, gesturing you to enter first. The smell of bread and warm air hits you in the face, your lips curving as you tell the girl at the host stand two.

College students and local residents fill the restaurant. The hostess leads you to a booth in the corner, the vinyl seats creaking under you as you hop-slide your way in. She hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Vernon as she does, lips twitching when she asks if there’s anything else you need. When he doesn’t answer, you shake your head, shooting her a thin-lipped smile. 

She’s hesitant to leave but she does, casting one last look over her shoulder as she heads back to the stand. You look at Vernon too, studying him. He’s none the wiser, brown eyes scanning the menu even though you know he’s going to order the same thing. 

When the server comes, Vernon does as expected: orders a diablo pizza with a side of fries. You shake your head a little, asking for the white feta pizza, handing over the sticky menus. When the server is gone, Vernon leans back in the seat, sipping his coke as he drinks you in, wordless. 

You kick your feet up on his side of the booth next to him and he lets you, patting your ankle fondly when he sets his drink down. He has no idea how torturous that alone is, the simple comfort of his familiar touch enough to send your eyes averting across the room, trying to control your breathing. 

“What are the favorites and least favorites this week?” he asks, balling up the paper his straw came in. 

Favorites and least favorites is a game you like to play with him. It’s not so much of a game as it is a routine where you tell him your favorite piece of material from your classes and your least favorite. Most people dismiss your major as too peculiar for interest. No one knows what you’re supposed to do with Occult Studies but it fascinates you.

And Vernon, who has always had a keen interest in the goings on in your classes and homework. 

“We’re in the psychology of the occult module.” He nods, eyes fixed on you. “Mostly covering the psychology of community as it relates to the occult. We have sections on covens, clans, actual cults, sects and more modern mass followings.” 

“Hmm. So like… Twitter stans.”

You smile a bit. “Something like that. We covered the maenads in class today. Ever heard of them?” He shakes his head and you lean forward, elbows on the table. “They were women in Ancient Greece devoted to the god Dionysus and they were believed to be possessed by the god. They were said to have wild parties in the woods with one another where they’d do all manner of sordid things, all while under the influence.” 

“A Friday night for Chan.”

“Exactly. A lot of historians call them crazy and speculate they were raving mad, but if I was a woman under the thumb of men in Ancient Greece…”

“Shit, I’d get fucking crazy in the woods with my friends too.”

“Exactly. It was more about reveling in female companionship and being unfettered from the male-dominated societal norms.” 

The arrival of your dinner interrupts the conversation. Both of you lean backward, making room for the hot plates and Vernon’s basket of fries. You slide your feet down from his side of the booth, leaning to grab the red pepper flakes from the corner of the table. He grabs salt, immediately dusting his fries.

“Ugh, you could have at least let me have some first.” He looks up at you through his lashes, brows raised. “They’re already salted, Vernon.”

“Not enough.”

“You know, if you were haunted or possessed you’d never want the salt.” He gives a questioning hum. “Salt is used in purification rituals. It’s believed spirits hate it because it’s used in banishing spells and rituals. It’s why a line of salt keeps them out.”

“Good thing I’m hungry, not haunted.” 

You snort, taking a piece of your pizza from the tray. “Speaking of haunted, are we going to your Halloween party this weekend?”

“My halloween party?”

“You are in the fraternity, Vernon. Yes, yours.” 

He makes a face and tears into his pizza. You shake your head as he lets out a sound, huffing and tilting his head backward as he tries to deal with the too-hot food in his mouth burning him. “Ya,” he says around the slice. “I guess so.” 

“What are you going to wear?” He raises a brow at you, swallowing down the hot bite. You pout, sagging in your seat. “Dude, you have to dress up. You can’t just go in a black shirt and a baseball hat.” 

“Why not?” You kick him under the table and he winces, ducking down to rub at his shin. “Shit, fine. Okay, what do I go as?”

You grin, picking up your appropriately cooled pizza. “Leave it to me.” 

-

“This makeup itches,” Vernon mutters, looking up at you through long lashes. You hush him, putting the finishing touches on the black line down his mouth. “Couldn’t I have gone as something easier?”

“What is easier than black jeans and a jacket you already own, huh? Stop talking, I’m gonna fuck up this line and this makeup is perfect so far.” 

It’s true. You’ve outdone yourself on turning Vernon’s face into a skull, taking inspiration from American Horror Story for the costume. Vernon is a low effort kind of person, so getting him into costume is a lot easier when all it requires are clothes he already owns and makeup that you have to do anyway. 

Stepping away from him, you admire your handy work. His eyes are painted black, hollowed out for the skull. His dark hair is slicked back, the perfect skeleton. He looks… good. Painfully good, which makes you nervous and turn away quickly, heart flipping. You’re not sure what it says about you that Vernon staring at you while painted as a deadly skeleton makes your heart race but… it does. 

“How do I look?”

“Terrifying,” you admit, turning back to him. “But good.” 

He grins and if it were anyone else but Vernon, you’d be terrified. Maybe you did a little too good of a job. 

“What are you again?”

“One of the witches from American Horror Story Coven. Close your eyes, I’m going to use setting spray.” 

Darkness blankets the sky by the time you’re both scrambling down the steps and into an Uber. The driver does a double take when they see Vernon, eyes watching nervously in the rearview as you give him the address. 

“That’s at a closed down gas station.”

“Yep,” you agree, leaning back into the seat.

The driver mutters something about fucking college kids and fucking holiday but otherwise says nothing about the questionable location. He doesn’t need to know that a mile from the abandoned gas station is also an abandoned farmhouse notorious for unsanctioned parties and being distinctly haunted. 

Haunted isn’t your favorite thing in the world. You didn’t like to mess with ghosts, despite your area of study. You were infinitely more interested in the intersectionality of occult studies and modern culture and society and less enthused about the idea of drinking stale beer from a foamy tap in the middle of a murder house. 

If the driver thinks there’s anything weird about other people being dropped off at the gas station - you’re sure he does - he says nothing, ignoring the two of you as you get out of the car and dive into the night air. Vernon is close behind as you take a few steps away from the car, eyeing the old gas station.

The windows have long since been broken and cracked, foggy with time. The stations are stripped of their labels and stickers, just white residue left behind and no pumps. A few people lounge around the building smoking, dressed in a variety of halloween costumes. 

Nervous, you look up at Vernon. His smile is small and he juts his chin toward the dirt road that leads through the woods. Nodding, you both fall into step, sand and gravel crunching beneath your feet as you go. Vernon recognizes a few people associated with his fraternity and others, throwing a casual wave or a nod as you pass by people.

Music echoes down the road. It’s a little less foreboding in the dark trees when you can hear Michael Jackson’s thriller coming down the way and the dull roar of voices. The bend in the road straightens out, the line of trees giving way to flat land. 

The farmhouse is pretty, even in old age. It’s two stories, glowing from within from all of the battery lanterns and lights being used to light the party. A generator roars somewhere behind the house, light flooding the yard where people mingle and crowd the kegs. 

A chill slithers down your spine as you enter the yard, the broken gate doing a poor job at keeping trespassers out. Even with the lighting, shadows dance as you navigate through people, the strange anxiety crawling up your throat worsening as you near the house. 

Vernon pulls the sleeve of your dress so that you’re closer to him, his fingers steady and calm as he leads you up the steps where you can clearly hear Mingyu’s howling laughter inside. 

Bright light fills the house. As do a crush of people and beer pong tables, the abandoned home turned into a raucous display of drinking and debauchery. If you weren’t so distracted by the wave of people pushing you into Vernon’s arm, you might be impressed at how much you could forget the farm home was abandoned because someone had been murdered here. 

“I need a drink,” Vernon announces, continuing to pull your arm after him as he plunges toward what used to be the kitchen.

It’s where you find Mingyu dressed as a lifeguard - and loudly yelling directions. He blows his whistle shrilly when he sees you and Vernon, pointing at the two of you and spitting the whistle out of his mouth to scream, “NOT WET ENOUGH!”

“What a weird way to offer drinks,” you mutter. Chan, who seems to be on lifeguard assistant duty - while dressed in a horrid felt dinosaur costume - scrambles to get you drinks, spilling rum as he tips it over into a cup. “No ice?” 

“There’s not a fridge,” he pouts, shoving the cup in your hand. His eyes drink you in. “Are you a hot goth or?” 

Instead of answering him, you roll your eyes and turn to Mingyu, who blows the whistle again. Both you and Vernon wince, the latter throwing back his drink to chug it all before thrusting the cup back at Chan. “That’s gonna get real tiring.” 

Mingyu comes around the corner of the old island countertop, pumping his fists in the air to the music rattling through the house. “Vernon you look fucking sick!” He and Vernon do the little hand-clap-to-half-hug men do. Mingyu turns to look at you, eyes dark. “Are you like, a hot goth?” 

Your smile is plastic as the whistle around Mingyu’s neck. “Sure.” 

Mingyu, dancing and moving toward the living room, reaches out to you. “Come dance with me! This song fucks.”

“Decidedly not!” 

“Go ahead, Lovecraft!” Vernon urges, pushing you toward the obnoxious lifeguard with a shit-eating grin as he imitates Mingyu’s voice. “This song fucks.” 

Before you can chastise him for egging his fraternity brother on, Mingyu has you sucked into the dancing crowd, throwing his hands in the air as he swivels his way through the crowd. You try to knock back as much of the lukewarm drink as you can, cringing at the burn of cheap rum and not-iced coke. 

Bodies pressed in. Mingyu is close to you, a hand going to your waist. You frown and look over your shoulder, eyes scanning for Vernon. You know he’s probably lingering on the edge of the crowd, watching you with a smirk over the rim of his cup as he watches Mingyu roll his hips toward you.

“Mingyu,” you snap, turning back to him when you don’t find Vernon. “It’s the Monster Mash, it doesn’t require grinding.” 

“I mean, if you wanna graveyard smash…”

“You’re all insufferable! All of you!”

Still, you sway back and forth, trying to stomach finishing the rest of your horrid drink. It takes an effort, but shaking your head at Mingyu and judging him silently gets you most of the way through it until Soonyoung - dressed in the same tiger costume from last year - crashes through the crowd into the pair of you, thrilled when he realizes who it is he has slammed into. 

“Hot goth!” he screams, pointing at your outfit. “Where is your other half?” 

You don’t have to ask what Soonyoung means and both the drink and the accusation have you flushing. You shrug a shoulder, eyes surveying the party. Before either of you can find Vernon, Joshua appears at Soonyoung’s side, leaning to his ear to murmur something. Soongyoung’s face lights up and he grins at you, grabbing you by the wrist to yank you through the crowd. 

“Hello?” you demand, pulling your wrist from his grip. “Have you heard of asking?”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“The last time I heard that was promptly followed by you showing me that stupid peach tattoo on your ass.”

“First of all, that tattoo is amazing.” He heads to the stairs, which you eye warily. “Second, Vernon is already upstairs, come on. You like weird ghost shit, you’ll like this.”

Without waiting for a reply, Soonyoung thunders up the stairs. You cringe, waiting for a foot to go through a dry plank and send him falling. It doesn’t happen, though. Tentatively, you creep up the stairs after him, eyes glued to each of the steps as you go. 

It’s colder upstairs, the windows in the rooms open to the elements. You shiver, looking down the hall to Soonyoung heading into a bedroom. You tentatively follow him, stopping at the threshold of the doorway to survey the people inside.

Vernon is one of them, back pressed to the wall near the window, his eyes focused on his boots in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets. A girl next to him dressed as Red Riding Hood is leaning close, speaking to him rapidly. Nothing on his face indicates he’s listening. Then again, his expression is hard to read while painted as a skull, mystifying and dark as you follow Soonyoung down the hall. 

Soonyoung goes straight toward a pile of things on the floor next to Seungcheol’s feet in the corner of the room. The president of Vernon’s fraternity pays Soonyoung no mind, eyes totally focused on the pretty fox in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

Suddenly, the room feels too intimate for you, like everyone is a couple tucked away. You have half a mind to go back downstairs when Vernon looks up at you, dark eyes zeroing in. His face is ten times more intense with the skull paint, pinning you to the spot. 

Everything dulls to the background for a second. You don’t dare breathe, too afraid to shatter the moment as he stares at you, unblinking. His eyes glitter in the darkness of the room, two amber pools reflecting the moonlight. 

Joshua enters the room behind you, shattering the spell as you step out of his way. You turn back to Vernon, clearing your throat. He pulls a hand from his pocket, beckoning you over. Mouth dry, you obey, skittering over toward him quickly as you observe the materials that Soonyoung is sifting through in the corner. Candles. Matches. Salt. A bell. 

“Soonyoung,” you say sharply, slowing your step. “Why do you have ritual materials?”

He looks up at you, his grin wide. “Told you that you’d like this.” 

“What is this?” You turn back to Vernon, who shrugs one shoulder. 

Hesitantly, you take the unoccupied space next to him, casting the girl at his side a cursory glance. She observes your costume. “Are you a hot goth?” 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, head thunking against the wall as you watch Soonyoung stand, materials in hand. Vernon coughs next to you, trying to cover his laugh. You glare at him sidelong and he says nothing, but his skeleton mouth is screwed up in a smirk. “What is he doing?”

“No clue.”

Soonyoung walks over to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway before shutting it. You fight a shiver, disliking how quiet the room becomes, cut off from the rest of the world. The window near you is the only source of light, and the only one shut on the second level of the abandoned home. 

“What time is it?” Soonyoung asks Joshua.

“11:45.” 

“Perfect.” Soonyoung spins, eyes falling on you. “Want to talk to a ghost?” 

All eyes turn to you in the room. You open and close your mouth, confused. “What?” 

“Do you want to talk to a ghost? Like someone who died?” 

Your eyes drift to the candle, bell and matches in Soonyoung’s hand. A tingle spreads over your skin and your spine stiffens. “Soonyoung that better not be to invite a spirit in.” 

His grin grows. “Come on, you are the ghost major or whatever. You should be thrilled to do this.”

“Occult Studies. And that doesn’t mean I fuck with the unknown or make a mockery of the dead. We’ve been over this.” 

“It’s basically the same thing, come on. You learn it all in class.” 

“No.” 

He pouts. “You’d be best at it, though. Rumor has it that when the veil is thinnest, you can talk to the spirit that haunts this house.” 

“The murderer? Or the murdered?” Soonyoung shrugs. “I doubt either would be very happy a bunch of drunk college kids are trying to bother them. My answer is no.” 

“Ugh. I was kind of counting on you doing it.” 

“Do it yourself.”

“I don’t study ghost shit!”

“Occult! Studies!”

“Ghost shit,” Soonyoung assures the room confidently.

“I’ll do it,” Vernon sighs, pushing off the wall. “Leave her alone.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes are alight as Vernon steps toward him. You reach out to grab his wrist, pulling him back. “Don’t.” 

“It’s fine.”

“Vernon.”

His eyes are soft when he looks at you. As soft as the terrifying makeup allows, anyway. “It’s fine, Lovecraft. Let me. He’ll stop asking.”

“I’m right here.”

“We know,” you and Vernon say in unison. You feel warm, chewing the inside of your cheek before nodding. You drop his wrist and turn to Soonyoung, eyes hard. “Give me that, you’ll do it wrong. Tell me what the mythos is.”

“What math? You need math?”

“The story, Soonyoung. What is the fucking story of this house?”

“Right. Apparently some dude murdered his girlfriend in here and then hung himself in that closet.” He points to a door you didn’t see when you walked in, dark and far away from the window. “Legend says at midnight, ring the bell three times and step into the closet with a candle. If the candle blows out, the spirit is with you. If it doesn’t, it didn’t work.” 

Grabbing the items from Soonyoung’s hand, you look at Vernon. “When you’re done, ring the bell three times again and say: Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.” 

“Thank you,” Vernon repeats gently, taking the bell from your hand. “I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Everyone else take candles,” you direct, voice rough with irritation. You glare at Soonyoung and Seungcheol in particular as you shove candles in their hands. “Stand in the four corners of the room. Did you bring sage, Soonyoung?”

“Bring what?”

“Of course not, why would you?” Everyone starts moving to the corner of the room, using matches to light their candles. The room feels unnaturally cold now, despite your long sleeves. Turning back to Vernon, you say, “It’s probably a stupid rumor.”

“Probably.”

“If your candle goes out, just ring the bell, say the words, and dismiss it.” 

“Right.” 

“You don’t have to do it, Vernon.”

His mouth kicks up at the corner. “I’m not worried, Lovecraft. You are.” 

Letting out a breath, you give a laugh that’s only half-there. You are nervous. You don’t like the idea of inviting a spirit into Vernon’s space, and though Soonyoung’s little ritual doesn’t really sound right, you’re not going to correct him. 

Still, you feel unsettled as you light your own candle and then Vernon’s. He cradles it in his hands as you escort him to the door. Tucked under your arm is the canister of salt. Crouching down, you pour the salt in a thick white light in front of the door, careful to ensure that there are no breaks and that it covers the entire entryway from corner to corner.

“Be careful when you step over it and when you open the door,” you instruct, standing up. The candle in your hand flickers unsteadily. “Don’t break the line. The idea is that if Soonyoung’s stupid summoning works, the spirit can’t get through the salt.”

“Banishing and all that,” Vernon recalls with a smile. Your heart flips. “I remember.” 

“Come on, you only have a minute!” Soonyoung calls eagerly. 

Shooting him a glare that silences him, you turn back to Vernon. “Ring the bell three times. Thank you, I dismiss thee. Go in peace.”

“Got it.” 

Unsettled you shuffle back from the door a little bit. You don’t go to a corner of the room like you’ve asked everyone else, unwilling to totally leave him by himself. Heart hammering, you hold your candle in front of you, cradling the warmth like a second heart. 

Vernon is unbothered. You can see it in the loose set of his shoulders and the way he sighs, already tired of Soonyoung’s antics. The party downstairs feels a million miles away as you watch Vernon stand in front of the closed closet door, looking up at it, unimpressed.

“It’s midnight,” Joshua whispers from the corner. 

Vernon doesn’t make any sound that he’s heard Joshua, but he lifts the little bell in his hand. It’s a hand bell, the wood grip worn and cracked. You wonder where Soonyoung got it from, having half a mind to ask him when the first clear ring of the bell disrupts your thoughts. 

The note sings through the air, your blood turning to ice in your veins. It feels like your pulse is throbbing in your neck as Vernon rings the bell hard a second time, the sound chasing the echo of the first. The third ring feels like a tremor in the air, warbling as Vernon quickly sets the bell on the floor, careful not to extinguish his candle flame. 

You hold your breath when he sets his hand on the doorknob. No one makes a sound as he twists it open. He pulls on the door and it comes away with a silent swing. The darkness on the other side is gaping, like there’s no back to the closet, just a wide hole of nothing. 

Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. He steps over the line of salt carefully until he’s in the middle of the closet, pivoting to face you. The orange flicker of his candle casts a haunting glow over his skull face. You swallow down a brief moment of fear before he winks and leans forward to pull the door shut.

For a long moment, there’s nothing. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, the thudthudthud so loud you swear everyone else in the room can hear it. No one moves, everyone fixated on the door. The silence is so piercing that your ears start to ring, the sound of the party completely unreachable over your mounting anxiety. 

“Well?” Soonyoung whispers somewhere behind you. “I guess it didn’t work.” 

Vernon begins pounding on the door. Someone screams behind you followed by a bunch of curses. You leap forward, heart in your throat as Vernon screams something unintelligible on the other side. You drop your candle, completely throwing caution to the wind as you grab the doorknob and twist. 

It doesn’t move.

“Vernon?” you ask, voice spiking with fear. “Let go of the doorknob, let me turn it. Vernon!”

The pounding doesn’t stop. He is screaming in a way you’ve never heard before, his fists rattling the door against the frame. You shriek his name back, yanking at the door frantically, your panic mounting as he screams and- 

When the door opens, you nearly fall backward with the force of it, stumbling over your feet. Soonyoung steadies you, to your surprise. You hadn’t realized he had left his corner of the room to help, his hand warm and firm. 

Vernon stands on the other side of the door, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

“You fucking asshole,” Soonyoung swears, throwing his unlit candle at Vernon. Vernon laughs, dodging it. “You fucking suck.”

“Yeah, well don’t ask me to do stupid shit.” Vernon steps out of the closet, eyes dropping to you. His mirth is edged with something sharp, a glint in his eyes that is wholly unfamiliar. “I was kidding.”

“You fucking asshole!” You screech at him, slamming your hands into his chest and knocking him back a little. He smirks and says nothing, letting you hit him a few times. “Why would you do that to me? What is wrong with you?” 

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you sound really fucking sorry.” Anger sours your mouth. Turns your words to poison. Your throat tightens up and you feel the telltale sign of tears, equal parts livid, embarrassed and offended that Vernon would do such a thing. “Fuck you, Vernon.”

Someone laughs awkwardly as you storm off. Vernon calls your name but you ignore him, bolting down the hall and down the stairs. The wood creaks uncertainty under your feet but you don’t care. You want to be anywhere but here, the hot lick of embarrassment burning your heels as you go. 

You blow past Chan on your way out, his bleary eyes following you. “Nooo,” he whines. “Hot goth, come back to me!”

“Shut up, Chan!” You scream, slamming down the steps as you go.

People nearly dive out of your way, swiveling to watch the wake of your wrath as you leave the party. You ignore them, not wanting anyone to see the hot tears that spill over as you hit the dirt road, boots crunching. 

It’s hard to tell what’s worse. The fact that Vernon had played a joke on you he knew you wouldn’t like, or the way you had panicked and lost all resolve to be the one in charge. Both feel awful, but the sting of Vernon’s joke is the sharper of the two, cutting you to the quick.

Vernon has never dared to do something like that in your entire friendship. You have no idea why he did it now. Was it because he had an audience? Was he drunk? Was he actually like the members of his fraternity he associated with? 

You had no idea, which only made things worse. Above anyone else, you thought you knew Vernon best. But perhaps, you didn’t know Vernon at all, which was far worse than any sort of haunted spirit you could imagine. 

-

The next morning, you don’t hear from Vernon. It makes your blood boil, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of your stomach as you put your phone on Do Not Disturb. You put on a big set of headphones, blaring music to keep you sane as you set about cleaning your apartment furiously. 

It’s an okay distraction. The lull of clinical cleaning is nice and the music soothes the sting that nips at your heels like an incessant hound. When you run out of things to clean, though, you’re forced to face the fact that it’s nearly evening and Vernon still hasn’t said anything to you.

You don’t want to text him first. Your pride is wounded from the night before and you’re shocked he hasn’t apologized - he should apologize. The silence only makes you angrier, and with nothing left to clean in your apartment, you decide to think of all the things you’re going to say to him when he does finally reach out to you. Because you’re not saying anything first. 

Vernon’s radio silence makes it nearly impossible to sleep. You toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable, checking your phone and social media. It’s difficult to remember the last time you went over twenty four hours without hearing from Vernon, and the realization forms a pit in your stomach.

Maybe the silence was good. Maybe you were too reliant on his friendship, the one constant that you had grown far too fond of. Maybe he was into that girl last night, making a show of you because he wanted to make her laugh or maybe he was just putting you in your place.

The insecurity wars with your logic that Vernon wouldn’t do that. He’s never had a history of that kind of behavior before, and though he might tease you on occasion, you have never been the butt of his jokes or the target of his humor. 

Jokes like that aren’t even Vernon’s style. He doesn’t like cruelty, and that’s what pretending to be screaming for help was. It was cruel, and strange and it hurt. 

What hurts more is the silence continuing into a second day. By the late afternoon, though, the hurt has morphed into something else. You sit on your couch, staring at the phone on your coffee table. Your pride was begging you not to text him, but your worry was starting to chip away at you. 

Heaving a sigh, you pick up the phone. The tap of your nails against the glass screen is loud in your quiet apartment, the final rays of sun melting through the blinds while a candle burns on the counter. 

[You 5:14 PM]: So are we not talking? 

Setting the phone down, you immediately start making dinner. It doesn’t matter that you’re too early. You’re nervous waiting for his text back, which makes you feel ridiculous. Then you feel ridiculous for feeling ridiculous, validating yourself that it is totally okay to have feelings and be nervous.

“God,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m exhausting.” 

By the time you’ve had dinner and watched a full episode of Alice in Borderland, Vernon has said nothing. Worry eats away at the lining of your stomach. You pause the show and pick up the phone again, dialing his number.

On the other side of the line, the phone rings. And rings. And rings. 

You hang up when you get the automated voicemail, frowning. It’s all strange, and a nagging feeling tugs at your nervous system but you can’t put your finger on it.

Just as you set the dishes in the sink, your phone starts to ping. You’re grateful no one can see you in your apartment as you lurch to the phone, picking it up and unlocking it to see if it’s Vernon. It isn’t, but your heart starts to thud when your group chats with other friends and classmates in projects flood with the same rumor over and over.

A dead body had been found on campus. 

Vernon doesn’t live on campus, but it doesn’t stop you from calling him again. And again. And again. When the voicemail turns on a fourth time, you seethe into the phone, fingers gripping it so hard it feels like it’ll break. “Call me back you fucking asshole! Someone died on campus and you’re not answering and I just need to know it’s not you. Fuck!” 

Time passes and you get so desperate you do the one thing you didn’t want to do unless it was dire circumstances. You hit dial and bring your phone up to your ear, pinching the bridge of your nose to prepare yourself for when Mingyu answers the phone. 

“Am I dreaming?” he says by way of greeting. “It was the life guard costume, right?” 

“Mingyu, it wasn’t a costume. You were shirtless with board shorts.” 

“But it worked, right?”

“Have you heard from Vernon?” 

“Nah, why?” 

“Like you haven’t seen him at all since the party?” 

“Mmm. I don’t think so.” There’s a muffled sound on the phone like he’s trying to cover it when he yells, “Chan, have you seen that fuck head Vernon?” You wait impatiently, holding the phone further from your ear as Minguy yells. “Chan hasn’t seen him either.” 

“Isn’t that weird? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.”

“Nah, I mean we never really see him. Usually he’s with you.”

“Right. And he isn’t with me, I haven’t seen him since the party.” 

“Well have you checked his apartment?” You hesitate. “Helloooo?”

“No.”

“Well. Do that. He’s probably sleeping or some shit, who knows.” 

“Great. You were so helpful,” you deadpan.

Mingyu sounds genuinely happy when he says, “I’m so glad!”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything else. 

Chewing your nail, you stare at the wall, mind racing.  Mingyu has a point that it’s normal for them to never see Vernon. He is usually with you, or he’s solitary. There is little in between. He also has a point that most of the time if you were looking for Vernon, you’d just swing by his apartment. 

The thought of seeing him again makes you want to curl in on yourself, but your concern weighs out. You get dressed and grab your keys, trying not to let your fear of what you might find there keep you from leaving. 

Opening the door to your apartment, you get one foot out the door and then slam directly into Vernon. You reel backward, eyebrows shooting up as he steadies you by the elbow, equally surprised to see you as though he wasn’t at your doorstep. 

“Easy there,” he greets, a half smile on his face.

Vernon looks totally normal. He definitely doesn’t look like he was murdered, and he’s dressed in his usual jeans, plain black shirt, and a backwards hat. For a second, you just stare at him, totally shocked and utterly relieved he isn’t dead.

Then, the anger comes. 

You slam a hand into his chest, cursing at him. “Where?” Slap. “Have?” Slap. “You?” Slap. “Been?” 

He takes the blows in stride. His chest is firm beneath your palm, heart beating steadily. Alive. And now that you’ve established he’s not dead, you feel so much anger ripple through you that you don’t let him answer before you’re pivoting on your foot and storming back into your apartment.

The sound of the door closing behind you followed by his shuffling as he takes his shoes off tells you he hasn’t left. A small part of you curls in satisfaction with the domesticity of his arrival, but it is blotted out by the hurt and rage at the surface of your emotions.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You demand. It isn’t as eloquent as your practiced rant, but it’s something. “You better explain yourself. And quickly.”

Vernon’s dark eyes connect with yours, simmering. You feel your heart lurch as he slinks over to the kitchen, never taking his gaze off you. The back of your neck tingles. Vernon never keeps this much eye contact and it’s both thrilling and unnerving. 

“I want to apologize,” he murmurs, pitching his voice low. You watch with trepidation as he reaches out to gather your hand in his. He folds your fingers under his, pulling your hand to his chest. Your breath quickens, pulse throbbing as he cradles your fist to his chest, his heartbeat steady. “I fucked up. I wanted to fuck with Soonyoung but I did it at the expense of you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.”

Warmth spreads from his hand to yours. You don’t know what to make of the apology - it’s so unlike him. Vernon has no problem apologizing when he’s wrong, but he’s usually not so confident, so well spoken. You stare and stare, that pitless gaze of his pinned on you. 

“I just…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You really hurt my feelings, Vernon.” His hands tighten around yours and he tugs a little, pulling you closer. It’s harder to think when you’re this close, fingers wrapped in his. “You really scared me and then you vanished for nearly three days. Why did you do that?” 

“I wasn’t feeling well and I slept most of the days away. Honestly.”

“You weren’t feeling well?”

He gives you a look. “I see the skepticism. I’m serious, I just… wasn’t myself. I tried to rest and I didn’t hear my phone and I’m sorry. Really.”

Vernon’s apology settles around you like a weight. You watch him, contemplating what to do next. He doesn’t look ill, his gold skin as flawless as ever, his rosy lips tucked under his teeth as he watches you, waiting. His heart thuds under your palm, his thumb absently brushing back and forth over the top of your hand.

Breathing becomes difficult. Vernon isn’t overly affectionate, but the way he presses your hand to his chest now sends you down a dangerous path. The desire for him bubbles just below your surface and you’re terrified it’ll boil over, exposing everything you’ve ever thought about him.

“Alright,” you say softly, pulling your hand from his. He lets you. “Don’t ever do something like that to me again. It was scary and I felt stupid. And I thought you were dead.”

“Why?” 

Gesturing to the couch, the two of you plop down, seemingly back to normal. You’re still a little off kilter, but you report back to Vernon what your classmates had been saying. He grabs your remote and turns on the news, settling close enough to you that your thighs brush against one another. You shoot him a questioning look but he’s fixated on the TV, leaning forward to press his elbows into his knees.

The reporter on the news confirms the body of one of your fellow students had indeed been found on campus. Names and details were not yet available, but they were interviewing students about whether or not they felt safe on campus. By the second interview, Vernon was turning off the TV and leaning back.

“Freaky,” you murmur, tapping the arm of the couch. “Weird timing, right?”

“How so?”

“We just had a Halloween party in a weird murder house.”

Vernon goes silent. You turn to look at him, eyes searching. He stares at you, again the eye contact unsettling. Even though it feels like your Vernon sitting next to you, there is an edge to him that’s new. You don’t know what to do with it, shifting in your seat a little.

“Forget the murder house,” he says eventually, flicking his fingers in dismissal. “That party sucked and I’d rather forget it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyeing him as he looks out the window. You swear he’s agitated, but you can’t pinpoint why. “Me too.”

-

Someone sitting down roughly next to you draws your attention away from your essay, barely audibly over the sound of Current Blue playing through your headphones. You raise a brow as Vernon slings his belongings on the table unceremoniously, uncaring how loud he is in the library.

You glance around, seeing that he’s attracted the attention of a few people at nearby tables, some scowling, others blushing. When you turn your gaze back to him, you see his mouth moving as he divests his bag of its contents, but you can’t hear him. 

Pulling your headphones from your head, you ask, “What?” 

“Can you help me with my organic chem assignment?” 

“I hate chemistry.” 

His mouth twitches as he opens his laptop. “Right, but you’re good at it. You’re the smartest person in school.”

Again, something nags at your instincts. You can’t pinpoint it, examining Vernon more closely. He looks totally normal, dressed in black jeans, a black shirt, and a jean jacket pulled over it. He’s without a hat today, his hair falling in messy strands over his brow as he sets up his area to study.

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “What?” 

“You seem different.”

“Different how?” He types on his computer to start bringing up his chemistry homework. “Different as in going to fail organic chem without your help?” 

“Oh shut up. I’m obviously going to help you.” 

His mouth is wicked when he grins. “Good.” 

When Vernon looks up at you, the world stops a little. His gaze today is fathomless, dark eyes smooth like the surface of a lake with no end. You tip into that gaze, letting yourself drown in it for a moment. Normally, Vernon would break eye contact by now, easily distracted or unrealizing that he’s got you stuck on him. 

Now, he doesn’t do that. He looks right back at you. Heat crawls up your neck and your breaths quicken. For the first time since you’ve known him, Vernon looks at you like he knows everything inside your locked-tight heart. 

You lick your lips and his gaze dips to your mouth. Inside your chest, your hummingbird heart hammers, threatening to break free. The corner of Vernon’s mouth tilts upward as his eyes meet yours again, and you watch, completely frozen, as he leans toward you. 

Vernon is so close you can smell the spicy cologne on his skin. It’s heady and makes you dizzy, and you watch, totally lost as he wraps his hand around the leg of your chair and tugs hard. You yelp, startling a few people around you as he yanks your chair next to his, your thighs pressed together. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper harshly at him, throwing an apologetic look at the people you’ve disturbed for a second time. 

“How are you going to help me from over there?”

“You could have asked me to move my chair.” 

The problem isn’t that he moved your chair. Not really. The problem is how close he is, leg pressed against yours and elbows touching as he shrugs and turns his computer screen toward you. The problem is how at ease he is with you nearly on top of him, his lazy smile making your thoughts tangle and your breath quicken. 

This Vernon is still the one you’re used to but there’s something about him that keeps you on edge. Keeps you looking at him when his hand brushes against yours to grab a pen, or when he leans back and puts his arm across the back of your chair, idly playing with the hood of your jacket.

It’s almost like he’s flirting, and you spend half the time stumbling through his homework, barely able to assist him in a meaningful way because you’re busy decoding the subtle touches and the light teasing. You feel yourself blush more and look the other way to collect yourself more in the hour you help him than you have your entire friendship, unsure what’s happening or how to handle it. 

Homework completed, Vernon stares off into the distance, his finger twisting in the string of your hoodie absently as you try to write the rest of your paper. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate like this, the intimacy more than you’re used to. 

“You’re very distracting today,” you comment as you reference a text to the right of your screen. “Are you aware of that?” 

He hums. “This is hardly a distraction. I could try harder, though.”

You cut a glance at him. He seems utterly serious, any sort of mirth nonexistent in his expression. There’s just that shadowed gaze, that spark of something right where you can’t reach it. You abruptly stand, surprising him as you knock his arm away from you and clear your throat. 

“I need a different text. It’s downstairs, though.” 

“I’ll come with you.” You raise your brows and he shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else to do.” 

“Sure.” 

Without another word, you pivot on your heel and nearly run for the far set of stairs that lead to the subterranean level of the library where all the old texts and books exist. Vernon follows you at a casual pace, still totally at ease despite the fact that you’re obviously unraveling.

You have no idea what his sudden interest in you is and it’s making you unspool, thoughts wild and racing as you reach the stairwell that leads down. 

Damp air greets you as you start down the steps and it smells like wet carpet. You cringe, hating every time you have to come here. It’s always poorly lit and damp, not at all what one would expect from a library trying to keep books from molding. But no one really comes down here anyway, only the history majors and people like you, who require weird books long retired from the main shelves.

It’s eerie in the old stacks. There are lamps above head casting a burnt orange glow over the green, shag carpet but otherwise it’s nearly impossible to see in the shadowy parts of the room. You certainly could never read a book down here. 

Vernon is silent behind you but you can feel him, his gaze burning into your back as you navigate toward the last set of rows. As you approach, you hear a sound, stopping you dead in your tracks. Vernon crashes into you, nearly knocking you over but his hands grab you, steadying you and holding you close to his chest. 

For the first time today, you’re able to ignore his nearness in favor of straining your ears for the sound you heard, a small whimper, perhaps. You hear it again, distinctly human. Your heart starts to pound as you remember that just the day before there was a body found on campus, mind racing with thoughts as you stand rooted to the spot, Vernon pressed against you.

Craning your head, you look up at him. His expression is unreadable as he looks at you through long lashes, face shadowed. There’s a soft bang, like someone knocking something over. He looks over your head and back at you, shrugging his shoulder as if to say your choice. 

Slowly, you move forward. Vernon keeps close, his heat radiating behind you like a furnace as you creep through the last few rows of shelving. As you near the third one, you stop and peer around the corner, eyes trying to adjust in the shitty lighting. 

What you see has you snapping back around the stack, mouth dropping open. Vernon, curious, leans around you to peer around the stack. He raises his brows and steps backward, mouth pressed in a firm line to conceal his laugh. 

In the next row over is a girl you vaguely recognize, naked from the waist down while someone who is very much not her boyfriend, pumps their fingers between her legs. Slapping Vernon’s chest you point toward the door, silently screaming at him to turn around and hightail it out of there. 

Vernon, for a second, bites his lower lip and wags his eyebrows at you, suggestive. You glare and shove his chest. He goes easily, grinning at you playfully as he turns on his heel and heads back up to the main floor. 

When you reach your table, you drop down in the chair, totally shocked. Vernon drops down next to you, laughing. “Listen, when the urge hits, I guess.”

“I guess,” you agree sharply, shaking your head. “That was not her boyfriend, though.”

“No shit?” 

“Yeah. She’s dating some dude in Sigma whatever.” 

Vernon’s gaze turns sharp and his eyes trail back toward the far side of the library, resting on the stairs. “Interesting.” 

“Not really. That seems to happen a lot among you Greek lifers.” 

“I would never do that.” The severity of his declaration has you looking up from your notebook. Vernon’s expression is cutting, his jaw flexing. “I would never participate in infidelity. Ever.” 

“I didn’t mean you, Vernon.” 

“I’m not like that.” 

You soften a little, guilt tugging at you. So often you remember that Vernon isn’t like a lot of the people around him and grouping him in is unfair and insensitive. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He nods once, turning from you to pack up his stuff. Somehow, you can’t help but feel like you’ve said the wrong thing. 

-

“Oh shit,” Vernon mutters. You look up from where you’re flipping a grilled cheese in the pan. He holds his phone out to you from where he leans against his kitchen counter. “They found another body. Same MO or whatever as the first.” 

“No way?” 

Putting down the spatula, you grab his phone from him where he has the article pulled up. Sure enough, there’s been another murder on campus. Your eyes drink in the details, similar as before: student victim, stab wounds, message written on the wall. 

“What is the Hello Darling Murder?” you ask, more to yourself than Vernon. “It’s linked here as a reference to these being copycat murders.” He says nothing. You read out loud, “The Hello Darling Murder is a case of a murder suicide that happened in the same town in 1979. It was the town’s first violent domestic crime in years, and drew national media attention for the gruesome crime scene in which a message had been written on the wall in blood.” 

Vernon makes an amused sound. You look up at him sharply, staring. He has his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor with a mildly bemused expression. You kick him and he looks up at you. “What?”

“Why are you laughing? That’s not funny.”

“The way people sensationalize murder is weird.” 

“I mean, I agree. But what is funny?”

“It’s not funny as in funny ha ha,” he clarifies. “It’s funny stupid. The media is going to sensationalize this and turn it into an entire thing.” 

“Yeah, well. That’s their job.” 

Off put by his dark mirth, you turn back to the article, reading further. You skip over the old murder, more interested in the details of the two new ones. Your heart seizes in your chest when you see the name and picture of the second victim, stomach roiling. 

He sees your expression, pushing off the counter toward you, hands shooting your arms. “What? What’s wrong?” 

In any other scenario, you’d be overwhelmed by the sudden care and affection. Now, you just turn the phone toward him, showing him the photo. “It’s that girl from the library. Her name was Sidney. She’s the one I told you was cheating on her boyfriend.” 

Nothing registers in his face when he looks at the phone, his hands still resting on your arms lightly. He looks away from the screen and at you instead, a sharpness to his gaze that’s there so often you’re starting to grow used to it.

“You’re burning the grilled cheese, Lovecraft.” 

-

Mosquitos nip at your skin as you walk down the narrow path between trees. You slap your hand against your neck again, muttering under your breath. Vernon chuckles next to you, keeping his pace even as you struggle to step over a fallen tree branch. 

You hate the woods at night. It’s not your first time going to a bonfire deep in the woods off campus, but you don’t know why you keep coming back. Tripping over another branch, Vernon catches you by the arm and steadies you, stopping to make sure you’re okay before he lets go.

Scratch that. You do know why you keep coming back. For as long as you’ve been friends, you’ve been Vernon’s permanent plus one to all of his parties, formals and events, even if both of you hate going. It’s become a weird obligation to show up at things like this as a pair. 

They aren’t always terrible, you have to admit. When Mingyu isn’t absolutely hammered, he’s mostly tolerable to be around. Soonyoung isn’t bad either, though you’re still pissed off at him for the Halloween party incident, unwilling to talk to him. 

But nights like this where you have to trek out into the middle of the woods using your phone’s flashlight to navigate, you sort of loathe your unspoken oath to attend with Vernon. 

Instead of focusing on the distaste and the inherent anxiety the shadows of the trees give you, you let Vernon help you slide down a ditch and climb up the other side. His fingers are firm on your wrist, not quite holding your hand but keeping you connected. 

Your skin is warm and tingles when he lets go, deeming it safe enough to let you walk yourself. It’s easier to see now, too, the orange light of the massive bonfire casting a circle of orange glow that only grows as you near the party. 

Party is perhaps too strong of a word for it. There can’t be more than twenty people in the small clearing surrounding the roaring fire the Soonyoung tends to, foldable chairs and coolers arranged in a circle. Chan is trying to roast a marshmallow and failing, the white snack immediately catching fire and singing in the heat of the fire. 

Mingyu whistles when he sees you, catching your attention to wave you over to a pair of seats by him and Chan. You make your way there, navigating through groups of people clutching plastic cups and stepping over various sizes of coolers. 

The heat from Soonyoung’s inferno is nearly unbearable, making you cringe back as he adds something that cracks and pops, sending bits of orange ash floating toward the sky. 

“Jesus Christ, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol complains from his seat where a girl sits on his knee. “Enough, it’s fucking hot!” 

“Sorry,” Soonyoung answers, sheepish. 

Backing your chair away from the fire a little, you sit down and curl into the folding chair, accepting the drink Vernon hands you before moving his chair closer to yours and sitting down. A shiver ripples through you at the cool can in your hands. You crack the top and take a sip, trying to cool down from the blast of heat you’d taken while passing the fire.

Mingyu turns to you and Vernon as Chan pops a burned marshmallow in his mouth, the two of them immediately launching into discussions of the murders. You shift uncomfortably in your chair, listening as they recount the details in the news mixed with the rumors on campus. 

So far, two bodies have been discovered and linked together. The authorities don’t want to call it a serial killer, attempting to avoid a media craze and inspiring the killer to go on a spree, but denying the murders are connected is impossible.

You’re unsure what the victims have in common. The first had been a male senior who was in the business track, discovered by the dorms near the lake on campus. The second had been the girl you’d seen in the library in her apartment off campus, and Sidney had been in the education track and a junior. 

Neither of them were friends. You don’t go to a large university, but there are enough students that it’s normal to have a ton of people that you don’t know. From what anyone can tell, there was nothing the two victims had in common.

Except that they’d been murdered by someone who had left a bloody Hello Darling written at the crime scene.

A chill sweeps over you as Mingyu mentions the Hello Darling Murderer. It was the same story as before - a man had murdered his girlfriend in the 70s, a shocking and violent domestic crime that had unsettled the citizens and local university. He’d promptly killed himself after that, leaving only a bloody Hello Darling on the walls.

Authorities didn’t even know who the blood had belonged to - it took them so long to realize the couple was missing before they did a wellness check that by the time they investigated, they’d been dead a week. 

Vernon snorts at that and mutters something about the ineptitude of law enforcement. You cut your eyes at him. Though you agree, Vernon is usually the last person to make degrading comments - or comment at all really. 

Not for the first time in the last two weeks, you can’t help but sense that honed edge to him he has now. You’ve attributed it to him moving with more confidence, talking to people directly and making actual eye contact. You don’t know where the sudden swell in self-conviction has come from, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t look good on him.

Still, it’s got you a little uneasy, trying to adjust to this version of him. 

The topic shifts to football and you find yourself tuning everyone out, sipping your cider and staring at the fire as it warms your feet. More people arrive and drag chairs up. Someone hauls a few kegs into the firelight, cheers going around the fire.

Vernon stands and holds his hand up for your empty can. You give it to him wordlessly and he heads to get you a refresh, tossing the trash into one of the trash bins.

Turning to Mingyu as he goes, you ask quietly, “Has he seemed different to you lately?” 

“Who?”

“Steve Jobs,” you deadpan. “Vernon, obviously.”

“I don’t think so? He’s around a lot more lately and actually talks to us.” Mingyu pauses, thinking as he cocks his head to the side. “I mean, I guess that is kind of weird for him. He also actually goes to places with us now.” 

“Exactly what I mean.”

“Hey! We are friends, you know?” 

You hum uncertainty, your attention trailing back to Vernon. You observe him, noticing all the little details that are different. He stands a little bit straighter, inserts himself in conversations where he didn’t before.

Now, he stands near the keg, nodding along to something the girl next to him is saying. They’re standing close - you realize it’s the same girl from the Halloween party that had been talking to him, except this time, he’s talking back. 

Vernon leans in close to her and says something, making her laugh. He bites his lower lip a little, watching her with half-lidded eyes. Your stomach turns a little, eyes glued as he brushes her arm when he reaches for the cup that Joshua hands him. 

Turning away from them, you tune yourself into Chan’s conversation, needing a distraction. You try not to count the minutes until Vernon returns. When he does, the girl is with him. He drags a chair over so she can sit on the other side of him. 

It’s close, their knees touching when he sits and hands her the drink he was holding for her. He turns and holds out your drink to you, which sloshes a little when you snatch the cup from his hand. He arches his brows but you say nothing, taking a large gulp and turning your back on him to ask Chan about football instead. 

“You watch football?” Chan asks cryptically. 

“Sure. Go Green Bay Ravens.” 

He stares. “Packers. Green Bay Packers.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing with you. In fact, if you want to tell me what’s what more often-”

You scoff. “Shut up, Chan!”

Stuck between Vernon flirting with the girl next to him and Chan and Mingyu being - Chan and Mingyu - sours your mood. You try to lose yourself in your cup, going mute as you stare at the fire. Vernon hardly notices the shift in your mood, leaning in to the girl as they chat. 

You can’t help but notice everything about them. It’s impossible not to see the way she leans into him, bumping shoulders when she laughs. He lets her, watching her with a gaze you can only describe as hungry. The grip on your cup tightens as he knocks their knees together when he shifts in his chair, leaving it pressed against hers. 

It reminds you of the way he’d behaved in the library with you, brushing against you on purpose, making his words come out in a playful pur instead of what you’re used to, and seeing him do it with her now makes you snap. 

You stand abruptly, drawing the attention of Chan and Mingyu but not who you want. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Need company?” Chan offers. It seems genuine, but you give him a sharp no before you’re walking away, sticks snapping underneath your boots as you go. 

Chill air licks your face as you get further from the fire. There are plenty of people dispersed throughout the general area, some people pulled far away for intimate conversations, others pulled away to pass a joint in a circle, the pungent smell chasing you as you pass them. 

Away from the smoke and the noise, you feel like you can breathe a little more. You find a fallen tree, thick enough to sit on. You test your weight on it first before deciding it’s safe, swinging your leg to straddle it and look off into the dark trees.

There’s just enough light from the silver moon above your head and from the distant fire to feel safe. Wrapping your arms around your middle, you hug yourself and close your eyes, breathing in deep. The fire smoke isn’t strong here, the air clean and crisp.

Opening your eyes, you look at the sky. This far out in the country, you can see the stars. Out of habit, you start mapping out all the constellations you know, eyes tracing Orion the Hunter. You skip over to Andromeda, counting each star before moving to the east to spot Cassiopeia. 

It reminds you of the time you taught Vernon all the different constellations. He’d been a silent and attentive listener, watching as you’d pointed them all out while sitting on a bench at the park. You’ve caught him drawing them more than once in his chemistry notebooks, little dots of perfect constellations memorized. 

An ache you’re familiar with fills your chest. It’s the same ache you had when you realized you had feelings for him but didn’t want to tell him. The same ache you had when he’d hurt your feelings on Halloween. The same ache as when you’d seen him actually look back at someone who's interested in him, for once. 

Crying seems silly, but suddenly you have the urge to, throat twisting as you stare at the sky and try to puzzle out the direction your friendship has gone since that night. As you sit on the tree, a prickling sense of awareness creeps up your spine, tugging at you. 

Looking around, you see nothing. You can generally see in a good circumference, but the sudden instinct that something or someone is watching you drives you to get off the branch, hitting the ground with both feet to stride back toward the fire. 

As you go, your foot gets stuck in a tangle of tree roots again, making you stumble. You curse, bending down through squinted eyes to untangle your foot. Your fingers are a little cold and shaking, anxiety creeping up slowly as you pull the weeds and roots away from your shoe. 

Something snaps behind you. Your fingers freeze, head whipping around to look for the source of the noise. Again, you see nothing but your heart is hammering. You don’t dare to breathe, holding your breath as you strain your ears to hear anything else. There’s only crickets and an owl in the distance, no more snapping branches.

In that moment, it occurs to you that you’ve decided to wander out in the woods at night and alone after two recent murders. The stupidity of your actions land like a blow.

Turning back around, you wrench your shoe free and stand up, nearly colliding with Vernon who leans backward to avoid smacking into you as you shriek in surprise, stepping backward. Vernon’s hand darts out to grab you, catching you and tugging you forward into him before you can lose your balance fully.

Heart hammering, your fingers dig into his biceps, keeping yourself standing as you hiss, “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing? You’re wandering out in the middle of the woods while there is an active serial killer in town.” 

“Oh please, like you noticed.”

He frowns. You drop your hands and try to step away from him, eager to put some distance between you. Vernon’s grip on you tightens though, keeping you where you’re standing. “I’m here, I obviously noticed.” You snort derisively and his grip tightens a little. “Is there something you want to say?”

You open and close your mouth, scowling at him. He’s never so direct you’re unsure how to approach the question. So you try for a little bit of honesty. “I wasn’t having fun.” 

“Okay, so let’s leave.”

“You look like you were having fun.” 

Silence hangs in the air. Vernon’s face is indecipherable. Then, “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your response is so fast that it even sounds practiced and hollow to you. It’s hard not to wince, hoping that as always, he doesn’t see through your cellophane defense. Vernon’s touch drops from your biceps to your wrist, delicate. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead staring at the buttons on his jean jacket. 

“I noticed you were gone.” His voice is gentle, a low purr. You dart a quick glance at him to see the intensity of his gaze. It makes you squirm, unsure how to respond. “I always notice when you’re gone.”

“Alright. Well.” 

“I notice everything about you.” 

The way he says it is a soft whisper. A promise, a suggestion. Again, it feels like Vernon has discovered your loose thread, tugging lightly on it. If he tugs again, you think you might unspool all the way, showing him everything you don’t want him to see. 

It feels like he wants to, and that’s what scares you more. That suddenly he’s looking at you like he wants to see past the veneer of your words, like he’s ready to look inside. You hear the double meaning. It’s so terrifying that you look away from him, ready to hide. 

“Don’t tease me,” you whisper. 

“I’m not. If you’re not having fun, let’s go home. I came here with you.” He tugs your wrist. “Come on. You can’t be walking around out here alone with a killer on the loose, Lovecraft. I’ll be forced to fight them off.” 

The tension fades. You let out a breath and laugh, looking at him skeptically. “Yeah? You’re going to fight for me?” 

His grip on your wrist tightens. You wonder if he can feel the speed of your pulse under his thumb, the way it hammers when he smirks. “Yeah, I am.” 

-

Sal’s Pizzeria isn’t your favorite place to do school work. It’s too loud and bright, the promise of food is way too distracting for you to focus for much longer than a few minutes at a time, and usually your fingers are too slippery with pizza grease to type properly. 

You only have a narrow window to finish writing your paper before going to the bar for Jihoon’s birthday. You barely know him, but he’s someone Vernon is decently close enough too that you feel obligated to attend. More importantly, you’re finally almost done with your paper you’ve been working on for two weeks, eager to celebrate hitting submit. 

“You know that dude who was killed first was a rotten cheater?” 

The girls sitting behind you catch your attention. Your brows knit together and you turn your head a fraction to eavesdrop, eyes unfocusing on the words on your screen. There are four of them behind you that you don’t recognize but assume go to the same school as you, based on the attire and the backpacks. 

“Yeah! Sam told me about that. Apparently he was sleeping around with a bunch of freshmen. Maybe his girlfriend found out and went all psycho killer on him?” 

“Ew, how scummy. But what’s with the hello darling message shit? Can you say weird?” 

“I know, right?” 

Their words give you pause. The first victim had been someone known for his infidelity too? Turning back to your screen, you pull up your web browser and type in Hello Darling Murderer to the search. The original murder from the 70s hadn’t given you much thought beyond assuming someone was being a copycat, but now you feel something nagging at you. Something you’re missing. 

All of the top stories are of the recent murders. You amend your search to the 70s and get older articles and links to podcasts covering the initial incident. Clicking on a story from a reputable journal, you start reading in detail about the first murder and his victim, skin prickling as you go.

As an Occult Studies major, a lot of people think you’re into murder mysteries. In truth, you’re not. They have little to do with what you study, and you’ve spent countless times telling people that occult and people obsessed with true crime are two totally different things. You have no idea why they’re lumped together so often, but on more than one occasion you’ve had to explain you’re not interested in serial killers or their stories.

Except now. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you unwind the story of Thomas Ellswater, who had apparently murdered his girlfriend at the time before promptly killing himself. The initial investigation hadn’t dug up much, assuming that it was a case of domestic violence gone as bad as it could. 

But the journalist who had written the story had other details. Accounts from family friends that detailed Elsswater’s girlfriend, Maya, unhappy with their relationship. One even insinuated that she had been cheating on him for a long time, though with who, they were unsure. 

Further down in the article, you stop. Read the paragraph again. Look at the picture of the house. A sickly chill coats your skin as you lean forward, taking in the details of the house. You’ve seen it before, though your memory of it at night surrounded by floodlights and full of drunk college students makes it almost unrecognizable when you see it on the screen. 

Thomas Ellswater lived in the same house that you’d partied in on Halloween night, where Vernon had played that horrible prank in the closet. Thomas or Maya had been the haunting spirit Soonyoung had been attempting to summon.

And now someone was killing in the same exact style.. 

The server bringing you two trays of pizzas and a basket of fries breaks you from your trance. You close the article, a sick feeling in your stomach as you try to piece together the puzzle. Was it just a spurned lover who was paying homage to someone who related? Or was it a serial killer poking fun at the MO?

Vernon crashing into the seat across from you startles you. He gives you a grin, eyeing the pizza in front of him and rubbing his hands together. Rolling your eyes, you grab the red pepper flakes and salt, passing the latter over to him. 

“So I learned something weird today,” you venture, pulling a slice of pizza from the tray. 

“Tell me,” he answers over a mouthful of pizza, once again burning himself. You roll your eyes, shaking your red pepper onto your slice. “What is going on in the world of occult today?”

“Actually, not occult.” He gives you an appraising look, popping some fries into his mouth. “What, no salt today?”

He pauses, looking at the basket of fries. “Nah, I need to cut back on the sodium.”

“Good idea. Anyway, it’s about the murders.” 

“Do tell.”

“The girls behind me said the first victim was known for cheating.” 

“It’s college. Apparently there is a lot of that.” 

“But remember that day we saw Sidney in the library? She was cheating too.” 

“Right.” He rips into his pizza, gaze sharp as he looks at you. “So this town is full of a bunch of lowlife fucking cheaters.”

You flinch at his vehemence, leaning back in your seat. Vernon drops his gaze, tearing into his slice in silence. “Sorry,” he says after swallowing. “I’m hungry.”

“Right. As I was saying, I looked up that Hello Darling Murder.” 

He pauses, gaze flicking to you. “And?”

“And it was ruled as a case of domestic violence gone wrong, but there were some people who think the Maya Caravalo was cheating on Thomas Ellswater, who killed her.” 

“I’m sure cheating is the leading cause of crimes of passion.”

“In the house that we were in on Halloween.” 

Vernon frowns. “Ah. Weird.” 

He doesn’t elaborate. You watch him as he chews on more pizza, shoving fries into his mouth on occasion too. He seems totally at ease - and more normal than he’s been in weeks. You watch, mildly disgusted at the way college men eat. 

“That’s all you have to say?” You ask. “Weird.”

“It is weird.” 

“Kind of an insane coincidence.” 

He becomes still, only his eyes moving as he settles his inky gaze on you. For a second, you can’t help but think he looks a bit like the cat who ate the canary, eyes glittering. “So tell me what theory is in that pretty head of yours, Lovecraft.” 

Ignoring the way your heart leaps at him calling you pretty, you sigh, picking at the wooden table with a thumb nail. “I don’t really have one. I just think someone came across the original murder and thought I could write that at my crime scenes. I don’t study criminology, I can’t figure out motivation.”

“You’re the smartest person in school, Lovecraft. Try.” 

“I guess… I don’t know. The new killer was probably cheated on recently, came across what happened in the 70s, and has been taking out their rage on other adulterers because they feel some sort of kinship with Thomas. Maybe like finishing his work or ridding the world of a common enemy.” 

Vernon hums. “Maybe so. Do you think they deserve it?” You look at him sharply, mouth downturning. “The victims. Do you think they deserve to be killed for their infidelity?” 

“I don’t know that anyone is deserving of murder.” You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Vernon’s face for any sign of what he’s thinking. He’s totally closed off, a blank canvas. “This is why I’m in Occult Studies and not law, Vernon.” 

He gives a wolfish grin. “Touche. Come on, eat your pizza. We have a bar to go get drunk at.” 

-

The bar in question is teeming with people. You’re immediately overwhelmed, squeezing your way between chairs, tables and people as you navigate to your group of friends. Vernon keeps you close, his arm encircling your waist as pulling you to him as you go. 

He either ignores or doesn’t notice the sharp look you give him. Instead, he’s focused on keeping the two of you attached, shouldering his way through the crowd, the press of his fingers on your hip dizzying and steadying at the same time. 

At the far back of the bar, an entire section of people associated with Vernon’s fraternity crowd from wall to wall. Vernon manages to get you onto a stool at the bar top, shouldering one of the pledges off the seat with a narrow-eyed look. You raise your brows at him and he winks, leaning his elbow on the bar top to order you both drinks.

Spinning to face him in the stool, you give him a quick once over. You’d been so engrossed in your murdery mystery findings at the pizzeria that you haven't really looked at him until now. He looks good, dressed simply in dark jeans and a dark, long sleeve shirt that shows how broad he is. Has he always been that broad? 

Vernon catches you staring. “What are you looking at?” 

“Nothing.” 

He grins, accepting drinks from the bartender and sliding one over to you. You burn under the full weight of his attention as he pops his straw into his mouth. “Tell me.” 

“You look nice tonight.”

“You look nice every night.”

“Oh shut up.” 

“What?” he laughs. “I mean it.” 

“Whatever.”

Spinning in the chair again, you place your back to the bar, facing the crowd to watch people. Vernon is content to stand next to you in silence, both of you sipping your drinks as you observe the people around you. Someone jostles him a little closer, his arm shifting to lay across the bartop along your back. 

Heat creeps into your cheeks and you try to remain breathing normally. Vernon leaves his arm there, pressed against you but not exactly wrapped around you. There is a distinct difference, but this is still new. Still confusing. 

People who recognize you both come up and say hi. You keep the conversation polite and short, especially when you see the girl who has lingered at the last two parties slink toward you, her eyes only for Vernon. 

“Hi,” she yells over the crowd, totally ignoring you. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

“Why wouldn’t you? I’m friends with Jihoon.”

The girl opens and closes her mouth, lips pursed at that. You sense the serrated edged to Vernon’s words, casting a glance his direction. He’s not looking at her, eyes instead scanning the crowd. Uninterested. Even you know she didn’t literally mean she wasn’t expecting to see him - it was just a conversation starter. 

Using the opportunity to sip from your straw to hide your laughter, you have to admit you’re a little relieved to see Vernon missing social cues again. It’s more him, a Vernon that you're used to. Maybe a little meaner than usual, but this is closer. 

“Right,” the girl says. Her eyes flicker to you for the first time. “It’s his birthday, right?” 

“According to the giant sign in the corner and all the balloons, yes.” 

Okay, maybe it’s not entirely normal Vernon. Usually he isn’t so callous. In this case, you don’t mind, watching as she tries to puzzle out how to keep the conversation going. Vernon decides for you, turning from her to press his mouth close to your ear. 

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, breath hot against you. “I’m gonna greet Jihoon really quickly.” 

All you can manage is a breathy, “Alright.” 

Vernon finishes his drink and pushes off the bar, fingers dragging against you as he goes. He ignores the girl standing and watching, her eyes darting from you to him until he vanishes in the sea of bodies. Without Vernon there, she has nothing to do. She tilts her chin up, sucking up her pride and turns on her heel to walk a direction distinctly not the same way as Vernon.

Alone at the bar, you swivel in your seat to order you both another drink. You assume Vernon is drinking a whiskey coke, hoping that’s right as you flag down the bartender. While you wait, someone slips into the spot next to you. You turn, thinking Vernon’s already back only to find someone you definitely don’t know. 

“Sorry,” he shouts over the loud voices and music. “Did not mean to get in your personal space, this spot was way smaller than I thought it was.” 

“That’s okay! Getting a spot kind of sucks.”

“No kidding.” He grins at you, turning his attention back to trying to get anyone to take his drink order. “How long do you think it’ll take for them to notice me?” 

“About seven years.”

“Yikes. I’m Seokmin, by the way.” You give him your name and he grins. “What brings you to this shit hole ass bar?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday. You?”

“A friend of a friend's birthday indeed.”

A bartender finally comes over to take Seokmin’s order. He leans forward to shout over the crowd, his shoulder knocking into yours. You don’t mind - he’s nice. He looks over at you, a question on his face. “You like tequila?”

“No!”

“Let me rephrase - want a shot of tequila?” 

“She doesn’t.”

Vernon slides behind you, his palm pressed flat to your back. You startle, looking up at him in surprise. He isn’t looking at you, his eyes zeroed in on Seokmin. You slide Vernon’s drink toward him, eager to dispel the sudden tension thrumming through him.

“Whiskey and coke?”

He looks down, eyes rounding out a little as he softens. “Mhmm. Thank you.”

Drink in hand, Seokmin turns to you both and waves. “Y’all have a good night!”

When he’s gone, Vernon leans against the counter again, his tone flat as he says, “He was nice.”

“He was, but what do you sound bothered by it?”

“Maybe I am.” 

“Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. Instead of answering you, he picks up the lime in his drink and squeezes it, stirring it with his straw before taking a long pull straight from the rim of the glass. 

You nudge him. “I’m going to say this again: you’ve been different, lately.” 

“Different how.” 

“I don’t know. You talk more. You’re a lot more engaging. You’re a little…” 

“A little what?”

“Cockier?” He hums, eyes dropping down to your mouth. “Like that,” you point out, voice a little weaker. “You do that now, and you didn’t used to.”

“I always did. I’m just a little more obvious about it now.”

Tension crackles between the two of you. Your mouth feels dry as you watch him, reading the minute expressions of his face. Finally, when you can’t unpuzzle him, you say, “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell if you’re coming onto me or if it’s some sort of game to you.” That makes him frown as he sips his drink again. Your fear and frustration clash, wrestling for dominance. “It makes things confusing.”

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m happy to clear things up.” 

You grip your glass, trying to keep your fingers from quaking. This moment feels like it’s all or nothing. Vernon puts it out on the table so easily, leaving the option to you. Either you can ask for clarity, or keep playing this new game of cat and mouse. But you have to decide. 

“I would appreciate it if you did,” you say eventually. 

Vernon nods and finishes the rest of the drink. He sets the glass down before he leans forward, hand going to the underside of your chin to lightly tip your face upward with his knuckle so he can press the world’s most gentle kiss to your mouth. 

You freeze. When he doesn’t pull away, lips soft and warm, you sigh into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut. He feels you relax, mouth curling in a smile against yours. He steps into your space without breaking the kiss, finding the space between your legs as his lips press firmer to yours. 

Vernon smells like his cologne and something distinctly him. It makes you dizzy, and the way he tastes like whiskey and lime makes the room spin. When he pulls away from him, you feel like you’re going to fall from the stool, leaning toward him. 

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing generously as he leans in and drags his mouth to your ear. “Does that clear things up?” 

“Actually, no?” 

His groan is throaty, turning into laughter as he buries his face in your neck. Your hands tentatively settle on his waist, a little hesitant. “I always said you were the smartest person at school, but maybe not.”

“Hey!” 

“Come home with me.” He feels your delay, laughing. “Come home with me because I like you. Is that clearer? Because I want you to come home with me, and I don’t want anyone else here.” 

Your heart goes bolting like a rabbit, running in circles. Vernon pulls away from you to study your face. You watch him for any sign that he’s kidding, that he doesn’t mean it. You find none. In its place, you only see honesty. Hunger. Fiery desire burning at the surface. 

“Really?” Your question is small. Vulnerable. “Do you mean that?”

“I do.” He tugs on your thighs. “I’m not playing games with you. Come home with me - I’ll prove I’m serious about you. You are what I want. I just had to be sure.” 

Lightheaded and heart slamming, you let Vernon pull you from the seat and lead you out of the bar. 

-

Vernon’s apartment on the north side of town is a place you’ve been a million times. You recognize all the cars in the parking lot, and you know exactly what building and floor belongs to him. You even recognize his neighbors come in mat that you’ve always hated. 

He catches you staring at it with distaste now, laughing as he shakes his head and inserts his keys. “You and that mat.”

One hand works the keys into the door while the other is stretched behind him, fingers linked with yours. Your hand is warm and your heart is still racing as he gets the door open, pulling you inside the dark of his home. 

“They could be inviting anything in,” you assert, a little breathless as he pulls you to his chest. He kicks the door shut, the frame rattling as it slams. “You should never have a doormat that just welcomes whatever shows up at your door inside. You could end up with a vampire in your home.”

“A vampire, huh?” Vernon ducks his head towards your neck, lips skimming your throat. Your fingers twist in the hem of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed as his teeth scrape against your pulse point. “Sounds scary.” 

“It is. There’s nothing to disprove that vampires exist.” 

Vernon bites down and you whine, melting into him. His laugh vibrates through his chest as his tongue presses to the bite mark, soothing the pain. His mouth closes over the spot and he sucks gently, sending a shiver through your body. 

“I promise the only thing biting you will be me.”

The full weight of his words hit you between the legs. You feel like putty in his hand as he navigates you to the island counter in his kitchen. He presses your back into it, careful not to jam you too harshly against the marble. 

Heat licks through your stomach as Vernon steals your lips in a kiss. It’s different from the gentle one he gave you at the bar. This one drinks you in, pries you open and lets you spill out into him, all the feelings and bottled thoughts you have free for the taking.

You get lost in him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him close, fingers sliding through his hair. He moans and you respond, curling your fingers to scrape your nails against his scalp. His hips twitch forward, pinning you between him in the counter as he sucks your bottom lip harshly. 

“Be careful,” he warns, a hand drifting from your chin to your neck. He doesn’t wrap his fingers around your throat, but his hand rests there, heavy and wanting. “I’m trying to be gentle.” 

You steal a kiss, nipping his bottom lip sharply. “Don’t be.”

His resounding groan makes you dizzy. His kisses become rough and heated, using his tongue as much as his teeth. He presses you hard into the countertop now, the marble digging into your back as he nearly folds you in half with the weight of his body. 

It feels like the air has left the room. Vernon is the only thing you need to breathe in, fueled by the way his tongue licks into you, the gentle squeeze of his hand at the base of your throat. His fingers press against your pulse, not enough to cut off any airflow but enough to send a bolt of pleasure and thrill through you. 

“You have no idea,” Vernon pants, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your jawline. “How long I’ve waited to do this. I could have had you this entire fucking time, but I held myself back.” 

His thumb presses under your jaw, angling your head to the side. With more access to your throat, he peppers you in bites and kisses, tongue soothing each sting. “I have wasted so much time,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “Being a fucking coward.”

“Don’t say that,” you gasp as his other hand presses between your legs. The ache in your cunt is already throbbing, and he does nothing but make it worse by adding pressure but doing nothing more. “Please don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” He pulls away from you. Before you can complain, he gives you a quick kiss, tugging you toward his room. “I shouldn’t have waited until I had a little… encouragement to do this. I’m going to give you everything you want, love.”

A quiver slithers down your spine at the shortened version of your nickname. The new endearment hits home when you see the way he looks at you, the want and desire more unrestrained than anything else you’ve ever seen on his expression. 

Hand in yours, he pulls you into the bedroom, spinning you to sit you down on the edge of his bed. You look up at him through your lashes, admiring the shape of his face and the way you can just barely see his freckles in the soft glow from the nightlight in his bathroom as he slots himself between your knees. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Vernon whispers, voice like velvet. He slides a finger under your chin, tilting your gaze even higher as he watches you, eyes blown. “I’m entirely devoted to you and you only. You know that, right?” 

Vernon’s thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You open your mouth on instinct and he growls low in his throat. He pushes his thumb past your swollen lips, pressing down on your tongue. You taste the lime from earlier and the hint of salt on his skin, closing your mouth as you suck gently. 

“Fuck,” he swears, thumb pressing harder. “You really have been a little slut for me this entire time, huh?” 

Hearing Vernon say it in that deep, whispered voice of his does something to you. There’s a note in his voice you’re unfamiliar with, a dangerous edge that you want to lean into and cut yourself on. So you nod, lashes fluttering as you bat them up at him. 

“Yeah, thought so.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging it spit-slicked down your chin. “Lay back on the bed for me, love.” 

You do so immediately, shuffling backward so that you can lean back. The sheets smell like him and you tilt your head to the side, nuzzling his comforter a little. You try to ground yourself, feeling a little staticky as he kneels on the bed, mattress dipping. 

Vernon plants a knee between your legs, leaning forward to cage you in with a hand on either side of your head. His kiss is all consuming, any sense of delicacy gone. You let him devour you, your hands pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer.

He’s not close enough, never close enough. 

Having him like this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. He’s familiar, the scent of him and the warmth of his skin and the little sounds he makes but he’s also entirely new. He is rougher than you imagined, sharper than you thought. He drags his blunt nails over your collarbone as he pulls your shirt away from your neck, giving his mouth access to litter your skin with kisses. 

Your hands slip under his shirt, curious as you press the pads of your fingers into his stomach. You feel the muscles flex and he hums low in his throat, enjoying your exploration as you slide your hands around the perfect taper of his waist to the small of his back. 

Vernon slides his knee higher, pressing it directly to your clothed cunt. You twitch against him, a questioning sound leaving your lips as you breathe in sharply. 

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, one pulling sharply at your shirt. You hear the seams rip and you don’t even care. “Take what you need, love.” 

The rawness of his words fucks you up. You do as he says, rolling your hips against his thigh for any sort of pressure and friction. It helps relieve the tension a little, but not nearly enough. Your breathing turns ragged as he harshly bites and kisses his way to your bra. 

Yanking hard, he rips the rest of your shirt. You let out a throaty laugh and he looks up at you, eyes like burning coals. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

“I did not expect you to be able to rip my shirt.” 

“Oh?”

The dangerous note in his voice makes your hips stutter and stop. He runs the tip of his tongue around the soft curve of your chest, watching you all the while and fuck. If you’d realized that this was the type of Vernon you’d get, maybe you’d have been braver sooner. Because this Vernon is something else, confident and cocky and ravenous. 

“Want me to rip this too?” He teases, teeth pulling at the cup of your bra. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, a little overwhelmed. “Say the word.”

“Maybe salvage some of my clothing, Vernon.”

“Fine. I will not salvage you, though.”

You believe him. Nothing about the way Vernon peels your bra off of you is gentle. Nothing about the way his hand cups your breast, squeezing before he lowers his mouth to give a generous suck to your nipple feels like he has your survival in mind. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let Vernon have his way. It feels like he’s peeling you open layer by layer, plucking every string connected to your pleasure that he can find.

His mouth is a weapon, tongue lazily circling your pert nipple until you’re whining and squirming under him. He laughs and drags his tongue to the other side of your chest, licking his way to your peak to tease you further. 

“Shit,” you whisper, one hand leaving his back to tangle in his hair. You don’t know if you’re pulling him away or pushing him closer - maybe both. “Vernon.”

His teeth scrape your nipple and you whine. He shuts you up by closing his mouth around you, sucking sharply. When he pulls away with a loud pop, you let out a shaky breath. 

“You can barely keep it together,” he observes. He placed closed mouth kisses on your stomach as he descends, pulling his knee from between your thighs. “What are you gonna do when I eat you out, huh?”

Flushed and embarrassed, you cover your face as his tongue licks the skin above your jeans. “Cat got your tongue, love?” 

“You - you’re - ugh!”

He chuckles, popping the button of your jeans. “I’m ugh?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Vernon tugs on your jeans. You try to lift your hips to help him, but your thighs are like jelly already, turning you useless. He coos at you, pressing a kiss to your hip gently. “I got you.” 

Unsure if he means about your inability to get out your fucking pants or he understand what you mean, you let him peel them down the rest of the way. His hands skate up your calves, squeezing and firm as he sinks to his knees on the floor. 

Bracing yourself, you brave a look between your legs where he presses your thighs open gently with his palms. Veronon’s eyes are on the apex of your thighs, entirely focused on where your underwear stick to your folds. He licks his lips, hand brushing up and down your thighs. 

His gaze flickers to you. For a moment, the two of you just stare at one another. You feel overly exposed, naked from the waist up, cool air pebbling your spit-slicked chest. The weight of his gaze presses you down like a physical thing, but it’s comforting. Warm. Reassuring. 

The air is charged between you as he keeps watching you while he drags a hand up and between your legs. He presses a thumb between your folds and you whimper, feeling the way he prods at your aching entrance, only the thin fabric keeping him out.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asks, thumb slowly dragging up the damp patch to your clit. He digs in sharply, pressing firm enough that your pleasure spikes and your hips pop off the bed. He hisses at you and smacks your thigh, making you lower your ass to the bed again. “Everytime we were together, did you get like this?” 

It takes effort to rasp, “Sometimes.”

Vernon hooks his thumb in the side of your pants, pulling. The fabric peels back achingly slow, cool air hitting your cunt and making you whine. He hums thoughtfully, placing the fabric to the side.

“Like what times?” he questions, blowing cool air against you. You thrash and he laughs, pinning you down by the hips. “I’m curious. Elaborate for me.” 

“Umm.” 

It’s the only word you can get out before he renders you speechless, the flat of his tongue sliding slowly up your pussy. You go boneless, breath stuck in your chest as his tongue lazily circles around your clit and drags back down. He repeats the motion, the slow-soft brush of his tongue driving you insane instantly. 

“You’re not elaborating,” Vernon notes. He presses a kiss that is far too sweet for the moment to your bundle of nerves. “I wanna know all the times you were with me where you felt like this. Go on.” 

“I don’t,” you breath catches when his tongue curls through your folds. He’s soft and slow as he licks you, a lazy smoothless to it that makes you see stars. “Know how to speak when you’re doing that.” 

“Should I stop?” 

“No.”

“Try,” he murmurs, dipping his tongue in your dripping entrance. “I want to know.” 

Fuck. Trying to pull together any coherent thoughts is like wading through thick water. You’re distracted by the way Vernon’s mouth closes on you, sucking gently. He takes his time, fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he keeps you open, enjoying you fully. 

“I - shit - I guess sometimes when we go out,” you manage. “I like when you wear your hat backwards.” 

He flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit, making you clench, toes curling. His mouth is wet and warm, closing around your throbbing bundle and sucking gently. Your hips lift but his grip is firm, keeping his mouth to you. 

When he pulls away, the suction is audible, a string of spit and arousal connecting his lips to your pussy. “Taste so fucking good,” he whispers. You think it’s more to himself than you, his tongue carving through you again. “Tell me more.” 

“Halloween night. When you were in skull makeup.”

His tongue starts circling your clit again, the indirect stimulation driving you wild. Your hands tangle in the sheets, sweat slicking your skin as Vernon works to firmer motions. You realize he knows exactly how you like it, gentle to start, working you to firmer motions, a little hungrier. 

It makes him all the more lethal, the way he can just figure you out like that. “Yeah?” he asks, sucking harshly against you. “Wanted me to fuck you like that?” 

“God, yeah.”

“You should have asked. I’ll fuck you however you want.” 

“Didn’t think you liked me.” 

Vernon is too busy to answer, increasing the attention of his mouth. Your hands slide down to his, nails digging into the tops of his hands where he holds you. He lets go of your hips in favor of linking your fingers, pressing your clasped hands to the mattress. 

His name drips from your mouth, eyes falling shut as you sink into the pleasure deep in your stomach. He makes little sounds of pleasure, grunting and groaning as his mouth becomes more fervent. You feel yourself toeing the edge of an orgasm, so so so close.

He can tell too. He finds a harsh rhythm, pulling you closer and closer to your high with each sharp suck of his lips. You twist in his grip, fingers squeezing his so hard you think you might break his hands. You don’t, feeling your breath catch and hold as you come hard, thighs squeezing as you writhe on the bed.

You draw in a ragged breath, desperate for air as he kisses your cunt once. Twice. His slick mouth presses against your thighs, teeth dragging against soft flesh as he mouths his way to your knee. He gives you a moment, letting you pant against the sheets. 

Fabric sticks to your skin as you wiggle against the bed. He stands up, crawling up you again to find your mouth. You lean forward, catching him in an open-mouth kiss that is more tongue than anything, your taste heady in the heat of his mouth. 

“Turn over on your stomach for me,” he groans. His hands squeeze your side as he gives you room to follow his direction. You do, but not without his help, your orgasm making you a little clumsy. “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Maybe?”

“I’ll help you in a second.”

Instead of moving, you lay slumped on the bed, fully intending to let him do the work. You turn your head to watch him pull his shirt off, revealing firm, tan skin. Vernon is beautiful, the sleek lines of his body reminding you of a painting. He kicks off his jeans before shuffling back on the bed behind you, looking down and snorting.

“Didn’t want to move like I asked?” You shake your head. He pats your ass lightly. “Come on, darling. Help me get these panties off or I will rip them off.” 

Huffing, you do as he says. He does lend you his strength hauling you up by the arm as you lean up on your knees. The room is cold, making you shiver but he presses your back to his chest, mouth dusting kisses over your shoulders. 

Vernon’s fingers dance along your sides until he’s pulling your underwear the rest of the way down your thighs, helping you kick out of them. When he’s got you full naked, he presses your back to him, crowding your space as he angles your head to kiss you slowly. Fully. 

Behind you, his cock presses firmly into your ass. You push back against him, putting pressure against his shaft. He hisses, biting your shoulder harshly. 

“Careful,” he growls, teeth at your neck. “Or I won’t be very nice.” 

“Want you, though.”

“You’ll have me when I say you can.” 

One of his hands slides up to your neck, gripping your throat lightly. He pauses, leaning to catch your gaze. His eyes are round and soft. Honest. Open. “This okay?” He questions gently. He gives a little squeeze to indicate what he means. You nod eagerly, reaching a hand to close around his, making him press harder. “Fuck you’re perfect.” 

You lean your head back against his chest as he holds you by the throat, one of your hands dropping to his elbow, the other reaching behind you to sink your fingers in his hair and tug. The sound he makes is feral, the hand he has placed on your waist dropping between your legs, fingers pressing between them. 

“Oh,” you squeak, feeling his deft tough on your clit. His movements are aided by your earlier release, fingers circling smoothly as he squeezes your throat, thumb pressed perfectly, to make it just a little harder to breathe. “Shit.” 

“Can you tell me a safe word? Not gonna go hard, just wanna know if it becomes too much.” 

“Maenad.” He snorts and you huff. “I just wrote an essay on them, don’t start.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Alright. Just please use it if it’s too much - any of it. If you can’t talk, pat my arm, alright? Just wanna do this right.” 

You nod, so in love with him it takes all of you to stop yourself from blurting it. 

Vernon shuffles behind you, letting you tilt forward a little. The hand between your legs leaves and he instead brings it behind you, prodding at your pussy with his fingers from behind. You let out a loud sound and you can almost feel his grin as he presses a finger into your heat. 

He’s slow at first, the same way he was with his mouth. He explores what you like, testing the way his fingers drag against your walls combined with different grip strengths on your throat. You feel light headed. The room spins as he finds a rhythm that draws the most noises from you, that makes you clench down on his finger the most. 

All of your weight is against the hand around your neck, barely able to hold yourself up as he presses another finger in. This time, his fingers prod right against that soft spot inside of you, making you see stars. He must realize he’s found it, because he starts finger fucking you in earnest. 

The grip on your throat loosens a little, careful not to keep you short of breath for too long as he works your cunt with his hand. His lips find your shoulder, peppering you with light kisses that are delicate and butterfly soft in comparison to the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“Vernon,” you whisper, only able to think of his name. “Vernon vernon vernon.”

“Doing so good, darling,” he whispers against your skin. He kisses his way to your ear, sucking the sensitive spot on your neck. “So fucking good for me.” 

His words hit below the belt. You shudder in his hold, letting him drive you toward another release. You never imagined Vernon to be talkative in bed, but he is, his voice like velvet. Just like that. Perfect for me. There you go, come on. 

Everything about him is perfect, driving you to mania. His grip on your throat tightens suddenly, sensing how close you are to your second peak. Your breath quickens until you can’t breathe, going mute against him as his fingers press hardly into that spot over and over and over.

A high-pitched ring winds in your ears. You hold and hold and hold and when Vernon lets go of your throat, a gust of air flooding your lungs, you shatter around his hand. You collapse backward against him, head knocking into his. You don’t even care, twitching and gasping against him as his hand stills. 

For a few moments, you just lean against him like that, sweaty and lost and in a dream. Slowly, you become aware of his pounding heart against your back and the slick between your thighs. Vernon’s mouth is pressed to your shoulder, waiting patiently as you blink a few times, the room swimming into view.

“Hi,” he murmurs, watching you with shadowy eyes.

“Hi,” you croak, voice rough.

“Good?”

“Very.” 

“Want to stop?”

“No. Unless you want to.”

His gaze darkens. “I don’t.” 

“I want more. I can take more.” 

He lifts his head and presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect for me. Do you know that?” 

Reverent hands help you lay back against the pillows. Vernon touches you like you’re something delicate - not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because you’re something important to him. Valuable. You see it in the way he looks down at you, taking a moment to drink you in. 

There’s something else there too. Something edged with a knife, a little wild. Covetous. There is something in the way Vernon grips your leg briefly, a language he’s trying to communicate to you with touch. 

Mine, it says. Mine and no one else's.

With hooded eyes, you watch him peel his briefs off. Your eyes shoot to where his cock hangs heavy, beads of precum dripping at his tip. You reach a hand up toward him but he shakes his head, careful as he shuffles toward you.

“Later,” he promises. “I like touching you.” 

“I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Seeing you unravel makes me feel good. I like seeing how much you enjoy me touching you.”

You can tell he means it. His lips are swollen and soft when he kisses you. You open your legs open for him, letting him settle between the softness of your thighs. Vernon runs the head of his cock through your messy fluids, earning a whine for you.

“Sensitive?” he asks against your lips, nose nudging yours. You nod and you feel him smile. “Sorry.”

“Feels good,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Want more.” 

“Greedy thing.” 

“I’m Your greedy thing.”

Your words have the desired effect. You feel a shiver ripple through him, Vernon’s grip on your leg turning to iron as he opens you up wider. He presses his cock into your entrance slowly, pausing just as the tip pops in. You throb around him, whispering his name - begging him to keep going. 

Vernon’s grin is sharp as he sinks in further, the slide tortuous and wonderful and so much as he finally finds home, hips pressed as far as he can go. He stays like that, tangling your tongue in a messy kiss as he sits there, fully seated in your heat. Your pussy spasms around him, pressed open to the max. 

“Feels so good,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.”

“So do it.” You wrap a leg around his waist, your hips tilting upward. Both of you moan at the angle change, so close to breaking. “I wanna see it.” 

Instead of answering, he nods. He drags his hips backward slowly before slamming back in. He punches the breath out of your lungs with each slide home, the stroke slow but deep. Your head falls to the side, breaths rasping as he sets a steady, slow pace. 

It feels good, your legs curling around him to keep you close, hands tangle in his hair to keep him tethered to you. His hair is damp with sweat, your fingers curled in the strands, tugging a little. He seems to like it, making a needy sound in his throat that has you grinning. 

“Mine,” Vernon whispers to you, words muffled by your neck. “You are only mine, darling. You will only ever be mine. You were made for me. No one else.”

“No one else,” you agree. 

His hips move faster, a little messier. You egg him on, legs squeeze, cunt spasming around him. He lets out a feral sound, driving himself further to his orgasm. He drags you with him, another swell reaching you. Vernon can tell, chasing it like a predator, pinning you down and slamming his cock into you until you’re melting around him again, vision blotted out. 

Vernon comes to the sound of his name on your lips. His movements become sloppy until he can’t go anymore, holding himself above you, trembling. Carefully, he drops next to you, pulling his cock free. You feel your joint fluids run down your leg, but you’re too tired to care. 

Reaching for him, your hand finds his chest. He wraps his fingers around yours, holding your palm to him, his heart thudding wildly under your touch.

“For you,” he mutters. “Only for you, darling.” 

You fall asleep like that, hand pressed to his chest.

-

Waking up in Vernon’s bed is not new to you. You’ve fallen asleep numerous times at his apartment or stayed the night after going out, but you’ve always had the bed to yourself, Vernon opting to take the couch. 

The bed is empty now, but still warm. You stretch as you roll over in his sheets, groaning as you feel the soreness between your legs and mostly everywhere else. Pressing your hand to your chest and shoulders, you feel all the tender places Vernon mapped his affection with tongue and teeth. It makes you smile fondly as you lay in bed alone for a minute, breathing in the scent of his room.

Slowly, you peel yourself from his bed. With an awkward waddle, you make it to the bathroom, flicking on the light. You shield your eyes at first, going about your morning routine and washing your face to try and feel human again. 

On your way out, something catches your eye. You frown, walking back toward his laundry hamper where you see brass glinting in the light. You reach for it, pulling the bell from the tangle of his clothes. It has an old wooden handle with cracks, a little hand bell used for-

Well. Used the night of halloween. You have no idea why Vernon still has it, the memory of that night like poison in your mouth. You toss it back into the hamper on top of another shirt that catches your eye. It’s one of his dark green t-shirts, but the collar is stained dark brown.

Curious, you pull it out, shaking the shirt out in front of you. It’s mostly unmarked, save for the spatter of something dark brown and dried. You run your finger around the edge of it, puzzled. It looks like dried blood, but you can’t recall any injuries he’s suffered recently. 

You take the shirt with you into his room, tossing it on his bed as you get dressed, stealing sweatpants and a hoodie. Grabbing the shirt again, you trail out toward the kitchen where Vernon is making breakfast, the smell of bacon crackling in the pan.

You grin, leaning against the doorframe for a second to watch him. He looks so at ease, flipping pieces of bacon while he sings to some seventies song you don’t know the name of. 

Pushing off the wall, you head toward him. He catches you in his peripheral, turning his head and smiling at you. “Hello, Darling.” 

The nickname gives you pause. You slow as you come around the corner of the counter, stopping completely as the endearment pricks you sharply on the back of your neck. Vernon goes back to flipping bacon, singing along a song you vaguely know, but don’t know why Vernon does. He’s never liked music from the 1970s, and-

Your ears start to ring. Several things occur to you at once. 

The memory of Vernon screaming and banging his fists against the door, begging for help. You’d been so afraid that you ripped the door open, crashing through the line of salt. 

Vernon, sharp and confident, the new edge to him as he interacts with people, a little harsher. A little darker.

Nah need to cut back on the sodium had said when you asked about the lack of salt on his fries.

The way he’d called you darling the night before, whispering it against your skin. 

70s music that Vernon has never listened to since you’ve known him.  

The bell sitting in the hamper used to call a spirit on Halloween. 

In the house that belonged to the Hello Darling Murderer.

Brown stains - like blood - on his shirt. 

Carefully, you learn toward the middle of the counter, watching Vernon like a prey skirts a predator. With trembling hands, you gently grab the salt from where it sits next to the pepper. You hold your breath, trying not to draw his attention as you unscrew the top of it, placing the metal lid on the shirt to keep it quiet. 

With as silent steps as you can manage, you cross to the other side of the kitchen where you’re out of his line of sight. Tipping the salt over, you pour it across the tile from counter to fridge, eyes darting between the barrier of white and the man standing in the kitchen humming. 

Your heart hammers. 

Your hands shake. 

Salt shaker empty, you set it on the counter and take a few steps back. It’s an unbroken line of salt, and though it doesn’t trap him in the kitchen, at least it’s there. 

Vernon turns around with the pan of bacon. He sees you and his humming stops, cocking his head to the side. He notices the empty salt shaker. Frowns. Looks at you. Looks at the ground where you’ve drawn a line of salt. 

For a second, he just stares at it. His eyes flick back up to you, warm and brown but narrowed. 

“Why is there salt all over my floor?” 

“Cross it.” 

“Huh?”

“Step over the line of salt.” 

Silence stretches between you. He remains standing in the kitchen, pan in hand, music playing in the background.

When Vernon doesn’t move, you can see everything so clearly. 

Vernon hadn’t been joking when he slammed his hands on the door begging for help on Halloween. A sick feeling roils in your stomach as you remember the panicked screams, the way his fists hammered the door. 

Your next words come out as a hiss. “Cross the line of salt, Vernon.”

He looks at the salt and purses his lips before sighing and setting the pan down on the stove. He tosses the rag from his shoulder and shakes his head, striding over to the white line you made against his tile. He stops in front of it, looking at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say really?

“Well, do it.”

Vernon looks down at the salt. Looks back up to you. Down at the salt. 

And then he laughs. 

“Fuck, you really are the smartest person in school.” He sighs heavily, a gaze darker than anything you’ve ever seen on his face as he stares at you. “You know I can’t cross that line of salt, darling.” 

-

TAG LIST:

Tag list has not been used for this fic - there weren't enough character blocks left over for it because Tumblr sucks.

[moonlitmeeks]

celebrating halloween with chris noel !

type; headcanons

warnings; brief food mentions, swearing

request; hey could you write headcanons for celebrating halloween with chris noel (gn reader) - anon

a/n; hi,, id love to!! i adore this concept omg - im so sorry about how long this took, but i hope you like them!!

chris loves halloween with her whole heart, so please be prepared to go all out with her in celebrations

she has a full out plan for activities for you both to do on the day, and in the run up

decorating for halloween is one of the most important things in her mind

a few days (or weeks) before hand, she'll invite you over to her place

as soon as you enter, there's bags and boxes of decorations everywhere, your girlfriend in the middle of them all grinning at you

"so, where should we start?" "babe, how did you even find this much stuff?"

depending on who's tallest, they boost the other in order to be able to hang up the fake spider webs and orange and black garlands

skeletons and bats are hung from any space you can find

you both keep getting tangled in the cobwebs

its terrifying until you realise they're fake

and she has an abundance of candles to light to give off a cosy feel

there's at least four pumpkins you carved the other day displayed outside

it's a lot of work

but the look on your girlfriend's face would make you do it ten times over if she'd ask

the day of actual halloween, chris is bouncing off of the walls

even if you weren't going to a party, chris would insist you both dress up, as what's halloween without a costume?

she would love to do couples costumes

maybe an angel and a devil

because come on, chris would make a perfect angel. have you seen her when she opens the door in her first scene?

she'd have a ton of horror movies lined up for you to choose from, ranging from mildly fear inducing to all out terrifying

although she's not too easily scared, she takes the chance to hold onto you and bury her face into your shoulder, even if it isn't all that scary

"chris, literally nothing is happening." "oh, so you're gonna tell me to let go of you? wow..." "no!"

and if you're easily scared too?

god you'll be clinging to each other for the rest of the night

"what the fuck was that?!" "i don't know, my eyes are closed!"

you only break apart to answer the door to any trick or treaters

chris was so eager once she slipped on her socks and fell down the hallway

you answered the door with tears of laughter streaming down your face, chris crumpled in a heap behind you

but candy isn't only reserved for the kids, no

chris sets out at least three bowls of different sweets for you both to pick at

once you've recovered from your horror movie marathon, a dance party is a must

she'll put on her halloween playlist, with songs like thriller, somebody's watching me, the monster mash, etc

all of the classics

and you'll dance until your feet hurt

it's an undeniably amazing night

but if you prefer to go out, chris always knows someone who's throwing a party

and you know you will both be the best dressed there by miles

is more than happy to serve you punch in the gaudy skeleton cups someone bought, not without absolutely horrific puns

she doesn't want to leave your side the whole night

its perfect

"happy halloween, babe" "happy halloween gorgeous"

i forgot how much i adore writing headcanons omg- hope you like these just as much as i liked writing them!!

taglist; @thesilverskull @pretentious-strikes @aesthetixxluv @lilgayn00dle @tall-my-beloved @caffeineconstellations @star-dust-2317 @bazpitchs-violin @transias @adoreachilles @wlfstxr @lxncelot @renmeissance @matte-moony @yer-erster

dead poets society masterlist !

[dzmoot]

EASTERWEEN

BY DERRICK ZURN

It can truly be said that each holiday is unique. Christmas has it's trees and lights, Valentines' has it's hearts, St. Patrick's Day has it's gold coins and rainbows, Thanksgiving has it's turkeys and afternoon naps. Easter is no exception to the rules. The mere thought of the holiday brings on images of pastel colored eggs, chocolate bunnies, flowers of all sorts and multi-colored beans. And all these trademarks are generated from a world far from our own turf. It's a world where all these Eastery things exist indefinitely, all 365 days of the year. The name of this world: Easterealm, what else!

Rabbits are the most prominent species in Easterealm as are the chicks which never seem to grow into full on chickens! The jellybeans, marshmallow critters and even the chocolate bunnies aren't manufactured but grown from the sugary grass, harvested around the clock to ensure plenty for each Easter basket on Earth. The chicks eat a steady diet of these sweet treats to ensure each egg they produce has a different color and one of a kind design. Like snowflakes, no two eggs are exactly alike! The mayor of Easterealm was a lengthy lagomorph named Robbie Rabbiton, a jolly fellow who loved Easter so much, he had a secret vault in his house full of jellybeans which he dived into and swam in, giving him a fresh fruity scent every time there was a town meeting. He was very much liked by his people and never missed an opportunity to bolster his favorite holiday and all it's greatness.

There is no greater holiday than Easter. Every day, we write sonnets about Easter bonnets and revel in it's wholesomeness with our mouths full of mashed marshmallow rabbits. All the other holidays pale in comparison to our beloved Easter and one thing is certainly clear. Throughout every realm of existence, throughout every town and village and isthmus and archipelago, everybody knows our glorious Easter has the best candy, certainly much better than the candy of that retched, rancid neighboring town right next to us that SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS! Why, the very mention of that holiday makes every one of my blue hairs stand up!

Now what other holiday do you suppose he is referring to? What other holiday is known for it's sweet treats and it's overall horrifying nature. It began with a Hallow and ended with a ween and it indeed existed right next to Easterealm in the stream of holiday themed worlds. The town's name, Hallow End.

There is no prominent species in Hallow End although one could argue that a great number of pumpkin headed lurkers lurk there and everyday, several tiny critters wearing revolting masks went door to door collecting chocolate eyeballs, jelly filled worms, marshmallow ghosts and sour suckers.

Everyone in Hallow End was dressed in a different costume, for like snowflakes, no two monsters are exactly alike! The mayor of Hallow End was a lengthy fellow with the head of an orange named Saul Wen, an odd fellow who loved Halloween so much he had a pet octopus with a candy corn head he brought with him to every town meeting. He was liked by his people for the most part and never missed an opportunity to bolster his favorite holiday and all it's horrifying greatness.

Halloween is the greatest holiday of all holidays. There is nothing quite like a good scare or boogie in the graveyard or a spooking in a haunted house! All the other holidays are inferior to our beloved All Hallows' Eve and one thing is certainly set in the tombstone. Our horrible, retched, spooky and cooky Halloween has the best teeth rotting sweets, certainly much better than the candy of that goody good, prim and proper, cutesy wutesy rabbit infested world they called Easterealm! The thought of those brightly colored peeps makes my brain want to explode!

Yes, to say that the worlds of Easter and Halloween didn't see eye to eye would be an understatement and it was all over the age old debate over who had the better candy. Were peeps truly superior to candy corn or vice versa, it was all a matter of personal preference of course but in the worlds of Easter and Halloween, one holiday had to come out on top and one had to plummet to the very bottom. That was why the holiday overlords from high above decided that the time was right for this candy feud to be put to rest. They decided that on one single fateful day, the worlds of Easter and Halloween would in fact, combine to form one, single hybrid world. On one fateful day, a once in a lifetime holiday would be born, Easterween!

Both Robbie Rabbiton and Saul Wen were out for their morning jogs when a strange phenomenon occurred. The invisible barrier between Easterealm and Hallow End broke apart and the two worlds crashed together like a bunch of paints on a canvas. All the haunted trees started sprouting jellybeans, the chocolate bunnies had jack o lantern faces and both Robbie and Saul found their bodies transforming. Saul's orange skin was pink as a strawberry and Robbie, he didn't have any skin at all!

They weren't the only ones going through a strange metamorphosis. All over the town of Easterween, once haunted creatures found themselves "Easterfied". The eggs were covered in black and orange and morbid shades of purple. Even Saul's pet octopus found himself a bright shade of pink and baby blue. Even the candies of both worlds came together to form something truly exotic. And in the Easter baskets, eggy spiders crawled around in search of flies!

Yep, it was madness and it all started over a stupid candy debate. Both Robbie and Saul didn't know what to make of their makeovers but as time went on and the day progressed, the two came to realize something. Maybe Easter and Halloween are good in their own unique ways. Maybe Easter and Halloween stand out in their own right. Maybe, one holiday doesn't need to be better than another and their respective candies don't need to be better either. Maybe, just maybe, each holiday can coexist together in harmony, bringing delight and cheer to all. And Robbie and Saul shook hands as their worlds separated. Easterealm was back to being just Easter oriented and Hallow End, well, you get the picture. All was set right, but the concept of Easterween still deeply intrigued both Robbie and Saul. So, it was decided that on one special day of the year, the combination of Easter and Halloween would be celebrated, bringing both worlds together.

EASTERWEEN FOREVER!

Happy Easter from DZ's Moon of Toons!