#my house isn't really cluttered at the moment but i know for a fact i keep certain things bc i'm like 'well maybe i'll need it'

[solemntitty]

since i moved out and now am living on my own i constantly am like 'well i'll keep this just in case' and it's like. about cardboard boxes or other things that i've never even used. nipping that hoarding in the bud before that becomes a huge problem

[larcenywrites]

Pregnancy Headcanons

Tony Stark x Reader

Iron Man is a family man now! And his toughest battle yet is navigating parenthood while also juggling, like, the rest of the world. 

Warnings: Some swearing, explicit sexual reference right at the beginning but that's it, typical pregnancy references

Family Man Series: 1  2  3

💠This story probably starts after those three months he was missing in Afghanistan. After the shock of... everything wore off, and he was finally home and back in your arms...

💠you two fucked like rabbits. And with no regard as to when or where he was cumming.  

💠So it really wasn't a surprise when you woke up one morning throwing up into the toilet.

💠And you were a little mad that he wasn't there

💠Instead he was downstairs. Like he always was now. 

💠Oh, by the way: your Tony was now flying around calling himself Iron Man and making holes in the roof. And all he did was work on those damned suits and come home with a new bruise or two. 

💠You two have been fighting about it a little if it wasn't obvious. 

💠Anyway. You had that gut feeling, so after sneaking away to the store, and doing that whole process... you probably aren't sure what to feel when it's positive. You two have never talked about kids. Tony has never brought it up. He isn't really sociable with kids, and he never had any younger family members either

💠And now, with this whole Iron Man thing, the house was even less of a safe environment; he was always busy, always getting hurt. The list could go on...

💠You brace yourself as you head downstairs. Not just because you have no clue what his reaction may be but because you also have no idea what you're about to walk in on. Hell, he may not even be here at all!

💠He's right where you left him last night, in fact

💠And yes, you can see the hole in the wall.

💠"Tony, can we talk?" That certain tone in your voice has him whipping his head towards you, eyes wide. His already cluttered thoughts are racing now, and it doesn't help that you two have been fighting recently. Probably thinks you're about to leave him. As you're talking, he's busy preparing a speech. But then his brain starts catching up and processes a word you said like three sentences ago. 

💠"Wait," he interrupts you. "You're pregnant?" He looks at you so taken aback. Has he even been listening? "Like," he continues before you can, "with a baby?" It's your turn to stare at him, also taken aback. 

💠"I hope so?" you say slowly, sarcasm lacing your tone. 

💠His eyes search yours for a moment before something finally clicks behind them, and a big, dorky grin graces his cheeks. It's contagious. You finally allow yourself to feel happy about it, copying him in relief. He pulls you in with hands on your hips, suddenly all smug when he looks you up and down. 

💠"Well how did that happen?" 

💠Oh, he knows exactly how it happened. 🙄Low-key proud of himself.

💠Jokes that you're now obligated to call him daddy. Well... "Jokes"

💠 "How are my babies doing?" is a common greeting

💠Tony is… a little disappointed when he goes with you to get that first ultrasound to make sure you're actually pregnant and all. Doesn't know how fetuses work, so he fr was expecting some semblance of a baby at only seven weeks

💠It's mostly just a blob still 😐

💠But, Tony, it's our blob! 😌

💠When you start showing, he... actually starts to freak out because now this suddenly feels a lot more real and it's happening quick. It's not just lines on a stick or a black-and-white picture anymore; it's there and it's growing. He only has like 5 months to prepare for something he's never put much thought into

💠"What if I'm not good at it?" He asks you one night. At first you think he's joking or is just getting a little worried, but he's looking at you like he's about to cry

💠There are going to be a few nights like this. Just hold him and tell him he's going to be okay. 

💠God, he's so in love with you ❤️

💠Mommy 

💠Even so, the fighting doesn't stop. You need him here--both of you-- and he's still spending the majority of his days downstairs and out there doing... what? Fighting crime? Like Batman? The only reason you were so rude about it was thanks to a grand mix of wild hormones and worry. But it doesn't matter how many times you fight and forgive because nothing ever changes, and he still leaves for days at a time. 

💠You were convinced that baby knew when dad was and wasn't home, and sometimes it definitely felt like your little Stark was throwing a tantrum over it when Tony was gone (but so were you, so maybe they just picked up on it). 

💠Sorry if you wanted it to be a surprise, but Tony is deadset on finding out the gender and you know he won't be able to keep it a secret. 

💠No, it doesn't matter, but for the most part, every father wants a son, ya know? So he's pretty excited when it's a boy

💠Which means you'll get to deal with two Tonys trying to burn the house down! And Tony has his mini-me to do it with!

💠Every time you hurry to grab Tony's hand to feel the baby kicking, he stops. Or sometimes you can feel it, but he can't. He's pretty sad about it for a while, until one day when he goes to kiss your tummy and gets kicked in the mouth. Didn't hurt, but it did scare the light out of him. 

💠More often than not, your belly gets hugs and kisses first when he gets home. You're pretty sure baby is suddenly kicking his dad because he wants personal space. Maybe you should start doing that too

💠Tony will say some pretty rude things without meaning for them to be rude. Things like, "that can't be healthy for either of you" when you're having weird food cravings. Well, he said it once. Let's just say that now he gets you whatever you want, when you want it. 

💠Sometimes you google things like, when does this organ fully develop? or whatever, just to brag that you're growing a human.

💠"I grew a brain today."

💠"It's about time." 💀

💠Terrified that you're going to go into labor before your due date and Tony won't be here.

💠You're both relieved when you do make it to your due date and are induced at the hospital. He spent so much time worrying about it, and now he's just so relaxed. Until he's reminded within the next few hours that this is not at all over, and now you're really starting to hurt his hand.

💠He's never been more relived to hear a baby crying at the top of their lungs. And suddenly he's cutting the umbilical cord, and then suddenly his baby has bounced between like three different people and now you have him

💠He's almost afraid to hold his son, but you're falling asleep and looking at him so expectantly, so he doesn't really have much choice but to take him off your hands

💠Can't stop smiling. This is the same tiny human that was kicking him in the face last week! And now he's here in his arms! 

💠This was his love and his legacy, and he has... 

💠No idea how to raise a kid. Oh god, oh fuck. 

💠Has to remind himself that you're going to be with him every step of the way. But now you're asleep, and the baby is about to cry, and now he's panicking! Guess you weren't going to be here for this step. 

💠Sits down and gets comfortable because the night still isn't over and he's already struggling

💠Suddenly realizes that he's exhausted. Wait, when was the last time he slept? He should've went ahead and caught back up on that, huh?

💠This was already off to a rocky start, but, hey, it was his rocky start :)

Family Man Series: 1  2  3

Alternate pregnancy plot if you’re interested

[dreamspeaks22]

Just saying, it's a dream post. Dw.

911 House (yes that was the house number, not some gross joke.)

TW: mentions of animal abuse, dead animals and dying animals. No graphic descriptions. Mentions of alcoholism. Mentions of feces. I don't go into heavy detail on anything so don't worry. But I am sorry if I should've added something else, please lmk if I need to. These are all dreams btw. Some of it is based in fact and I'm happy to clarify, but everything I write about is just dreams. Oh and I repeat words a lot. Sorry I'm really tired and trying to drill this out. Struggling with synonyms.

-Grandma's house;

I say 'grandma's house,' but it's usually more Tim's(my grandpa, we have bad past, i refer to him as Tim). Its rare grandma actually makes an appearance. When she does, she's usually sickly in some way, and not prevalent in the dream.

'Their' dream house is typically the 911 Highland house. It's usually close to reality. Sometimes their dogs are present, their cats often are not. Their dogs are very often wanting to go outside. Sometimes feces litters the ground near the door.

For most of these dreams, I am in my room. It's infrequent that I see the rest of the house, and when I do, it's typically infringed upon by a drunk Tim. Often if I see any other parts of the house (usually kitchen or bathroom) the floors are smeared with feces, and old food/dirty dishes clutter the kitchen. My room is, surprisingly, empty most of the time. Almost as if I'm just moving in. In fact, a lot of these dreams, I know I'm moving in. I'm in the process of setting up my room. But my furniture is different and when I'm planning for animals, it's typical for it to be rats, a snake, and a lizard. Or rats in a big cage and some sort of tanked animal. The tank is usually amazingly well set up, but the animal in poor shape. (Underfed, water empty, dead prey inside, etc.) However in the dreams I'm setting up my room, I don't usually get to go into detail with the animals. So these dreams are somewhat separate and together.

The basement is basically a whole other place. It's obviously grandma and Tim's 911 Highland house basement, but so wrong. Like most basements in my dreams. I guess I just really don't like basements. Anyways, the basement is usually cluttered, dark, dirty, and scary in an unknown threat kinda way. It usually focuses on my failures as a pet parent in my younger years. Dozens of cages filled with neglected rodents. Ranging from rats and mice, all the way to guinea pigs -which I've never had. I think its mainly just meant to focus on my fuckups. Doesn't matter if it's accurate. I'll see the corpses of rodents, or them struggling to survive, skinny and looking like they're on deaths door. Their bedding is always gross, as is everything in their cage and around them. Sometimes live animals are doing their normal thing among the corpses of their cagemates. It never ever got that bad, but like I said, accuracy isn't always the strong point here.

In the past I'd have dreams of grandma and Tim's house and animal neglect. Those were considerably worse. They were usually me looking into a cage to find horrendously decayed corpses. In the wet, goopy, maggots crawling everywhere kinda horrendous. A lot of times I'd be holding the animal (and it's alive) only for it to turn around and reveal a gaping rotten wound.

Lately though, I'm trying to clean cages and feed the animals in these dreams. They're not as often dead, and never horribly rotten. The cage states are better.

I don't have really really bad dreams about Tim anymore. I still have bad ones, but they don't make me wake up in a panic anymore. Now he's more of a nuisance than anything. More willing to fuck off when asked, spends more time in his room, doesn't usually bother me in mine. I do still have moments where he'll walk past and I'll freeze up. My heart stops, chest freezing mid breath, eyes locked, unblinking, and waiting. But he rarely comes in.

Occasionally I find myself in the backyard or sneaking around the house to slip into an open window. There's not much to those parts of the dreams. They feel just like the real version of sneaking into the house with a drunk Tim inside.

[themysteriousauthor18]

So I saw this post, and I thought the idea was really cool. Truth be told I am a wee bit uncomfortable with seeing Alastor being sexual, but that's just because I'm somewhere on the asexual spectrum. But that's just my personal opinion, but I do like the idea of regular Angel dropping into an AU were Alastor is a pimp.

I think it be cute and funny to see Angel’s reaction to this version of Alastor.

So being somewhat of a writer I couldn't help myself but try to write a one-shot of this. Hope you'll enjoy it. I don't really know anything else of how Angel got there or what the rest of the word is like in terms of the hotel or anything so, I'm just relying on my own head cannons for that and going off the artwork.

Artist of work above:

@staticapplesin​​ 

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Normally waking up, for Angel Dust, would always involve something that was the cause of disturbing his sleep in the first place. In the past, it had been his regular johns that left or the pain they inflicted on the night prior. But recently it was either Vaggie yelling in the lobby or the princess of hell herself knocking on his door. And sometimes if he was unlucky, it would be Valentino calling.

Those were the wost.

But this morning, when Angel awoke, he heard something he thought he'd never hear.

Silence.

It had taken him a few moments to register that it was in fact quiet in his room. And he assumed that perhaps he'd woken up in the night again and that was the reasoning. But the small bit of hells light peaking through his blinds and into his room suggested otherwise. It was always a little brighter out when it was daylight out in Hell.

His room was still a little dark though because of the blinds. And as Angel sat up he couldn't help but notice another thing.

It smelled weird.

Not weird in the sense that the room was old, hadn't been tended two in who knows how long. Or even that mild odor that always lingered. That would always make Angel's nose scrunch up.

No, it smelled....sweet? Almost like strawberries.

Unable to lay there a minute longer Angel pushed himself up in his bed. Finding that it was more comfortable than usual. Something didn't feel right..something felt, off.

He pressed the ball of his palm to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. Realizing his head did hurt just enough to call it a headache. Was he hungover? A fever dream maybe?

Angel pushed the thought aside, he was too tired for this shit. He needed food at the very least. And if the hotel was quiet? Well, it just meant he could ease this headache away until Vaggie woke up trying to chew his head off.

Pushing off the bed, Angel's feet stepped over anything that could be cluttering the floors per usual. Although nothing did. As he opened the door to his bedroom, allowing the hallway light to fill his room he briefly caught his pig sleeping in his bed in front of his own.

When had he'd bought nuggets that?

Another stray thought to be pushed aside.

With his head hurting too much and his eyes heavy with the aftermath of sleep, he failed to notice the decor and layout of the building he was in. Heading down the hall to the left, he did not come to stairs but just into a decently sized living room.

As he rubbed his eyes, taking in the room he realized this wasn't the hotel.

"Musta ended up at someone's house.." He reasoned himself with. But that didn't explain fat nuggets being in that room. Or the lack therefor of a random john.

He didn't care right now. At the very least he needed coffee. His feet managed to carry him over to the kitchen separated only by the counters. Something that actually looked better than it sounded.

Tired mismatched eyes looked around for the coffee machine. As they landed on the pink and white-colored machine there was a small sticky note attached to the front of it. He leaned in, his squinting at the note to read it.

'Hey, Angie I know you'll be a little tired after last night. Shit was wild! I gotta head out because some of us have boring jobs. But I prepped the coffee just press the button. See you later, have fun. Good luck ;) '

Angel knit his brows at the note. So he was at Cherri's house? That explained things a little better. But he didn't see how her job was boring. The headache was probably due to last night. Whatever had happened.

He looked over the six buttons on the top of the coffee machine. Finally, pressing the 'begin brewing' button, he sighed in relief.

As he leaned against the opposite counter of the coffee machine he crossed his arms. He glanced down at himself briefly, noting he was still in his usual suit. One of which was a little torn in some places. None of them looked to be claw marks though, rather...burn marks.

The spider settled for holding off any questions until he got his caffeine. He closed his eyes once again, ignoring the mild pounding of his head. So much so that he was practically deaf to the footsteps coming near him.

And with the beeping of the coffee machine Angel's eyes jolted open once again. But as his gaze wandered, in the corner of his eye something caught his attention. He turned his head in that direction and immediately stumbled back, falling into the floor.

Out of everything that could ever happen in his afterlife. Seeing the radio demon, standing in front of him in only his boxers was certainly not something he expected.

His face burned with the color red. Okay, this had to be a fever dream now. There was no way Alastor would even come close enough to allowing something like this.

Angel remained on the floor, staring at the redhead. The demon in question only remained leaning his arm on the wall as he looked at Angel as if he were the crazy one.

"I'm surprised to see you up," the demon paused. His eyes tracing up and down Angel's body for a moment. "And fully dressed at that."

His voice...what happened to his voice?! There was no radio filter on it at all. He just sounded, normal. But to Angel, it sounded weird.

A million thoughts raced through Angel's head as he continued to stare at the redhead. The deer demon rolled his eyes pushing off the wall, and as he approached his hand moved prompting Angel to immediately cover his face.

He waited for something, anything. To be punished for whatever he'd done yesterday because dammit he couldn't remember!

But none of that happened.

"Angel darling, what are you doing?" Came Alastor's confused voice. And with the lack of a radio filter, he could actually hear the confusion in it.

Slowly Angel opened an eye, still finding that confused smile. At least he was still smiling, otherwise, he may have lost his sanity entirely. "Come on now, you can’t stay there all day." A laugh escaped him although it hardly sounded like Alastor's laugh. "Unless you'd rather go again?"

Go again? What?

Angel took Alastor's hand, assuming that this was Alastor and Angel hadn't finally gone insane.

With ease, the redhead pulled Angel up. It seemed his physical strength was still there. He watched the redheads eyes scan his body again. When had he ever looked anywhere but his face?

"What are you wearing?" He heard the man ask. Angel wasn't looking at him. He couldn't. "This certainly isn't one of my works. Well, so long as you change once we head to work."

We?

‘My works’?

"I can't have my darling wearing something as hideous as that." Angel huffed, he actually liked his suit. It was one of the first things he'd gotten from Valentino once arriving in hell. Back when the man wasn't using him as a punching bag.

Angel finally chanced a glance at Alastor who was pouring the coffee. The longer Angel stared, the redder his face got. The colors going even as far as the pink on his chest.

He's shirtless. He's pants-less! He's almost fucking naked!

His thoughts ran wild, and when Alastor looked over his shoulder he couldn't help the blood suddenly leaking from his nose. (He has a nose it's just very very tiny and hidden.) He turned away, trying to cover it.

All the while the redhead looked at him, confused but amused all the same.

"You are acting very strange today. I don’t think I’ve seen you that red since our first meeting." He said as he added some milk into Angel's coffee before handing it to the spider.

Still holding his hand over his bleeding nose, Angel took the cup but refused to look anymore at Alastor. He heard the redhead humming in front of him.

"Sorry to leave the bed this morning but you usually take very long to wake up." A low chuckle. "Not that I blame you."

Angel choked on his coffee. His heart was racing in his chest and ears. This wasn't real right? And if it was, what the fuck happened.

"I have to say though--" he heard Alastor beside him suddenly and the soft clank of a coffee cup being placed down. Before he knew it a claw was guiding his chin over to the redheads gaze. The look in his eyes, was that..lust?

"--While waking up to you in clothes is certainly a surprise." He pulled the spiders face closer. "I like you better without them."

Without much of a warning, the deer's lips were pressed hard against his. Angel's eyes grew wide as the gears tried to process it. But when the demon's tongue slipped into his mouth the gears broke.

Angel was stiff against the kiss as Alastor pulled back leaving a red-faced spider. His eyes curiously searched Angel's as he wiped a strain of saliva from Angel's agape mouth.

"Strange, that little trick usually has you back in bed with me for at least another hour." Before Angel could question anything the redhead's hand pulled away, claw lingered there teasingly.

"Well, if you wish to head to work earlier today than that is fine. I do have a few things I need to get done at the studio. Unfortunately, the day after New Year doesn't grant us the day off."

Alastor called, as he walked off towards the room Angel had woken up in. As he nonchalantly disappeared into that room Angel just stared.

He stared as his head pounded in pain at trying to process everything that had just happened.

"What the fuck.."

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I think I'm going to end it there. I honestly don't know what to think when writing pimp Alastor. Also with the morning scene I wasn’t implying that  Angel is dating Alastor but rather (since Alastor is in Valentino’s place) that Alastor fools around with whoever he pleases. This includes Angel Dust. And safe to say it isn't the first time Alastor’s slept with Angel dust in that Au (Again just my personal head cannon.)

There were a few things I had to just guess on, since he's filling in the spot for Valentino I wasn't sure if he had his radio voice anymore. Or his shadows? I knew for a fact that he probably didn't care about walking around in his boxers but I wasn't sure if he had some humility of walking around just newd. Also, I wasn't sure my mild asexual heart could write that and not die with Angel.

Thanks for reading!

[trollhunter94]

This Isn't Most Haunted

Characters: Ghostfacers and Hunter!Reader

Warnings: Flashing Gifs, Swearing, Creepy-ass Ghosts, character injury.

Words: 3k

A/N: Happy Halloween! Let’s get spooky.

Summary: A haunting in Ohio leads the reader to a house that has more than one unwelcome occupant. Can they work together to solve the case?

Cleveland, Ohio.

This was the first time that you’d ventured into this town, but only by recommendation of Garth. The ‘Old Western house’ was famously known for paranormal activity, but had never been proven by professional investigators in the past.

Most recently though, a group of teenagers- most likely looking for a party spot- had been found butchered inside the house. Definitely worthy of an investigation.

Driving the car up to the boarded and rickety old building, the setting sun was casting shades of crimson through the sky and giving an eerie sense of forewarning.

Checking that the coast was clear, you stepped out and headed quietly to the trunk before stocking up on the usual items. Salt and shotgun rounds, EMF reader, Iron rod and Flashlight. Check.

The front door opened with a protruding creak, revealing a rush of cold and uninviting energy from the entrance hall. Ducking under the police tape and switching the torchlight on, you entered cautiously. The house was eerily dark and the smell of dust and rot was thick in the air.

You made your way through the house with the EMF in the other hand, checking the energy of each room. The counter was showing no sign of activity until you passed through the kitchen, where it spiked near a heavy wooden door.

Turning the EMF off, you pulled out the iron rod, gripping it tightly as you slowly turned the handle. Pushing it open in one swift motion, you were immediately blinded by a succession of moving lights. “Oh shit!” you cursed, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes.

The sound of multiple voices became present, shouting in hysteria and confusion. It was clear that these were just civilians, gatecrashing a crime scene. You instinctively switch into authority mode, calling to them. “Police! This is a crime scene. You kids shouldn’t be in here”.

One of the individuals kept their torchlight still and quickly calmed their friends from their panicked frenzy. “Guys, guys. Who does that remind you of?”

“Oh crap” the tallest kid said in distaste, lowering his camera. “You’re not with the police. You’re here with the Winchesters aren’t you?”

A sudden moment of confusion washed over at the mention of the famous hunters. “What the- How do you know about Sam and Dean?” It was obvious to them, from the plaid shirt and boot combo, not to mention the lack of any official uniform or badge.

“Those lumber heads are always bursting in on our cases” the tall and nerdy kid complained. You repeated his words, “your cases?” Were these people really a part of this world? “Who are you guys?”

“We’re the Ghostfacers” the smaller guy chirped proudly. “Professional paranormal investigators, at your service”. You let out a hearty chuckle. “Ah yes. I’ve heard of you guys”.

“You have?” They both looked at each other, pleased that they had reached a partial fame. “I’m Ed, and this is Harry”. You outstretched both hands for a double handshake. “Nice to formally meet you, I’m Y/N”.

“Oh, and that’s Spruce, our cameraman” Harry informed, pointing to the guy behind him. “Hi Spruce”. You gave a small wave, to which he waved back, his face still obscured by the large camera.

“So, Ghostfacers” you addressed them optimistically, hands falling to your hips. “What’s your verdict thus far? What are we dealing with?”

“Well”, Harry spoke up. “It’s a known fact that Old Man Western was a butcher. Legend says that he killed fifteen people, chopped them up and sold it as meat”.

“Okay”... you responded, feeling nauseous at thought of cannibalism. “So, does anyone know the cause of death?”

“There’s various myths” Ed explained. “Some say he died in the cholera epidemic, others say that he was burned alive at the stake for his crimes”.

This seemed a plausible explanation, considering your research. “Well, I’ve just been to the County Records department. There’s no record of him being buried, if there was a body. So, it’s a no-go on the Salt ‘n Burn”.

“His spirit must be tied to an object then”. You looked to Harry, impressed with his knowledge. “Yes, anything with DNA on it. Could be hair, nails, teeth, blood or even saliva”.

“Or sperm”, Spruce joked. Everybody’s eyes squinted in distaste, turning to glare at him before Ed questioned his sensitivity.

“Dude!?”

Shaking it off, you set a quick plan in motion. “We’ll have a better chance of finding it quicker if we split up and cover more ground”.

Ed jumped at the chance of working with a serious Hunter. “Great! I’m with you, Y/N”. He stood closer to you and looked to his co-workers with a smugness. “Harry, you and Spruce check this floor and the basement. We’ll take the upstairs rooms”.

Harry frowned at this decision and raised a hand. “Objection. Why do we have to check the basement? Do you remember what happened to Corbett?”

Ed placed a hand on his chest and took a step backwards, dramatically shocked by Harry’s hurtful reminder of their lost intern. “How dare you. Of course I do... God, Harry. I live with his death on my hands every day”.

“Could you live with mine?” Harry challenged, still unamused by the plan.

Ed’s eyes danced around as he thought about it. Eventually he sighed, knowing this was going to have to be decided the ‘good old-fashioned way’. “Fine” he said, lifting his fist and holding it outwards.

Harry nodded at the universal symbol of ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’, holding his own fist outwards. Three counts were followed by a paper and scissor result.

Ed made a scissoring motion with his hands. “Chirp, chirp” he gloated. Harry turned around and threw his arms in disappointment. “Stupid, stupid game!”.

Eyes rolling at the dramatic performance, you pinched your nose and took a calming breath. The sooner this is done, the sooner you can go home. “Right” you asserted, “before we get started, how are you guys doing for protection? Got any salt, iron?”

“We’ve got Salt and our EMF reader” Ed prompted, feeling the need to prove their credibility.

Harry waded in, pointing to their new equipment. “And some full-spec cameras set up throughout the house. Hopefully we’ll catch some decent orbs or apparitions”.

“No, guys” you dismissed, looking to Harry in disappointment. “This isn’t Most Haunted. Ghosts don’t just throw things about and make weird noises. They can kill you, or worse, wear you as meat-suit”. Silence was the only response from each of them.

“Here, take this”. You reluctantly passed over your favourite shotgun that had killed its fair share of creatures over the years. Harry accepted the weapon with uncertainty, having never fired one before.

“Trust me. If something does show up, that will save your life. Just cock the barrel and pull the trigger. Simple”.

“Simple” he echoed, placing the strap around his shoulder, not believing it himself.

“Alright Ghostfacers” Ed addressed the group. “Let’s hustle up”. Stretching his hand into the middle of the congregation, Harry and Spruce’s were quick to pile on top.

Together they lowered the hand pile, “Ghost-” Lifting up and apart, their hands glided down their faces dramatically, whispering the remaining word “-facer's”.

As Team 1: Harry and Spruce fanned out, you and Ed climbed the stairs. Each plank of wood announced your accent with croaks and squeaks.

The first bedroom was piled high with clutter. Giving the EMF reader to Ed, he scanned the room before wandering off, leaving you to do the heavy lifting. First course of action: start looking through draws and stacks of boxes.

After checking the ground floor, Harry and spruce began to descend the stairs to the basement. The room was dimly lit and smelled of damp, full of large furniture and cobwebs. Harry led the way forward with caution. “Getting a lot of EMF spikes” he said, pivoting on the spot and watching the counter.

Eager to capture some strong evidence, Spruce reached out and started talking. “Hello? Is anyone here with us?... What’s your name?”

It wasn’t long before Spruce felt something pass behind him, causing each hair on the back of his neck to stand on alert. Turning around, he watched the space before him, seeing nothing there but now feeling a static chill within the air.

Something was standing there.

An immediate flush of forfeit spread through him as he lowered the camera and began to walk back upstairs, eager to get to safety. The door slammed shut behind him, instantly alerting Harry. He walked over to the door and pulled strenuously at the handle.

"Spruce? Was that you? Come on. It’s not funny. Open the door”.

Spruce tried to turn the doorknob without any luck. “I can’t. Harry? It wasn’t me. Wait there. I’ll go and get help”. A loud plead of objection came through the door as the EMF counter beeped noisily. “No! Please? Don’t leave me!”

Spruce came back down a step and spoke to him through the wooden separation. “It’s okay. I won’t leave you. I’m right here”. This gave Harry some reassurance, allowing him to reach into the salt bag and start making a circle. He stepped inside before taking the shotgun off his back and balancing it against his shoulder.

No shitty ghosts are taking any more members of this team today!

An eerie silence washed over the room, only Harry’s rugged breaths being audible as he waited anxiously for any change in atmosphere. What happened next was quick and sudden. A full-bodied apparition flickered across the room, stopping just meters away. With the face of an older man, pained and angry, it warned him in a low and threatening tone.

{Get out! Leave!}

The remaining wind from its deep bellow brushed across Harry face, which was now plastered in fear. Pulling the trigger, the kickback made him jolt as the salt round hit the spirit’s torso. A dissipating cloud of fog was followed by a clicking of metal from the door.

Spruce took this opportunity to test the knob again, turning it with ease and revealing a shell-shocked Harry. “Dude” he yelled supportively, “let’s get out of here”.

Scuffling over to the stairs with motivation, Harry dropped the gun and grabbed Spruce’s arm in relief and followed him up the creaking steps. The door-frame quickly came into view, followed by a manifestation of thick, black mass that surrounded it.

A low and ungodly moan vibrated through the wooden fixtures and sent chills through both of their bodies. The only way out was through this black cloud, would they have the courage to face this obstacle.

Apparently not.

That same face, aged and angry, manifested within the dark cloud. Producing a low and ungodly scream, it sent a burst of energy against the duo, forcing them backwards down the stairs.

Frustration was now building as you finished looking in the second bedroom and came out empty-handed. A floorboard creek originating from the corridor drew your attention over to Ed, who was transfixed on the counter as he paced slowly. You approached from behind and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh shit” he jumped at your presence.

”Sorry” you whispered, holding your hands up in defence. “Getting any activity?”

“No” he replied, dropping his arms and looking in both directions down the corridor. “Just a few point 1's and 2's. Did you find anything?”

Heading to the next room, you remained optimistic. “Not yet. There’s still three more rooms to search though”.

“Yeah, sure” he agreed passively, walking alongside you with a sense of intrigue. “So how long have you been doing this? You know, hunting ghosts”. 

“About six years” you recalled. “It’s not just ghosts though. My first case was a Wendigo and yesterday it was a Crossroads Demon”.

“Oh, cool” he mused. “We’ve encountered Angels and what we thought was a Tulpa”.

“Really? An Angel?”

“Yep”.

“You looking to become a Hunter?”

“No. Not really. Ghosts are enough trouble I think”. The conversation seemed dead until the strangest sentence came from his mouth. “You know, I once lit a match off of a shark’s dorsal fin”.

You stopped and looked at him sceptically. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

He seemed to forget that by being here, his team were walking the thin line between life and death. This was no time for charm and distraction. “Can you please focus. We haven’t got a lot of time before this thing shows itself”.

“I know” he admitted. “It’s just that I want you to like me, you know”.

The room at the end of the corridor echoed as a floorboard creaked under the pressure of a heavy foot. You and Ed quickly turned to investigate the spooky sound.

The room appeared to be empty, containing nothing but an old wooden bed and uneven piles of paperwork on the floor. Ed scanned the room before looking over to you. “It’s probably nothing. Let’s go back downstairs”.

As he began to turn away, you extended a blockading arm across his chest as something else came into ear-shot. “Shh. Did you hear that?” Full concentration was given as you both stilled and listened tentatively. 

The faintest of mumbles passed through the corridor, sounding almost child-like. Wide eyes met each other, mouths dropped open with recognition and chilled to the spot.

“I heard that” he gawped quietly, hand running through his hair in astonishment. Rather than talking about it, you and Ed continued to listen.

Suddenly, a gunshot from downstairs stole your attention. Looking to Ed, he shared your concern for a moment before pulling out his walkie and attempting to contact his partners.

"Harry? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

There was no reply. Seconds had passed before a symphony of screams came flowing up the staircase, causing you and Ed to share a worried glance. He began to move towards the sound. “We have to help them”.

You quickly pulled him back and took control of the situation. “No, you stay here and find that object. I can help them”. You pulled the iron rod from your belt and shoved it against his chest. “Take this. You need to find that object and burn it”.

After their interaction, Harry and Spruce had made their way back down the staircase and jumped into the salt circle, standing back-to-back, scanning the room and waiting for it to appear again.

Seconds of anticipated silence passed before the sound of scuffling wood gained their attention. They watched fearfully as large objects were catapulted towards them, the impact cracking the screen of Spruce’s camera.

“Holy shit!” He dropped the device without care, running to hide behind Harry. The final projectile was a wooden stool that slid along the floor, pushing through the grains in the salt circle.

The spirit materialized, vivid facial features that radiated pure hatred as it flickered towards them. With nowhere safe to go, they began to wail in fear as you reached the bottom step and clocked the moving mass.

Picking up the discarded shotgun, you aligned the shot and fired, sending the bullet flying directly through its torso. Tension left the air as it dissipated into a cloud of fog, leaving behind a pair of bewildered spectators.

You approached them with concern. “Is everybody okay?”

Snapping out of their paralysis states, they both replied in unison. “Yeah”.

Now that everybody is alive and safe, it was a good time to get the situation back on track. “Spruce, fix the circle”. Handing the shotgun over, you continued. “Harry, you cover him. If you see it, don’t hesitate. You pull that trigger, got it?”

Harry passed Spruce the salt bag before raising the gun, face now serious and focused. “Got it”.

The room was silent as everybody stood completely still, wondering where the ghost was. Seconds passed before the Western Ghost appeared once more, this time it was pissed.

“It’s back!” Spruce warned, aiming a finger at the other side of the room.

“Shoot it!” you commanded, unintentionally drawing the spirit’s attention. Malicious eyes fell on you. “Oh shit”.

Pulling the trigger, Harry felt the kickback as the bullet travelled through the barrel and into the wall, just inches off target. “Oh shit” he cursed, moving to reload as quickly as he could.

As suspected, you came under attack. With holographic movements, it flew up and hit you with a mighty force, sending you flying across the room. As you hit the ground harshly, Ed came rushing down the staircase.

“I’ve got it” he shouted, looking from Harry and Spruce, across the room to see you climbing back to your feet. The lighter in your pocket was the only obstacle between life and traumatic paranormal death.

As you fumbled to grab the lighter, the Western spirit flickered before you once more. A ghostly hand outstretched to penetrate your body, closing around your heart with a frozen fist.

Harry aimed the reloaded shotgun and studied his view with uncertainty. Growing impatient, Spruce encouraged him. “Shoot it!”

“I can’t!” Harry refused, glancing sternly at his friend. “Y/N’s in the way”.

Chest pain now at severe, it took all your energy to give a flick of the wrist, sending the lighter across the floor. “Burn it” you groaned, hoping someone would save you this time.

Ed scrambled to pick it up and ignited it with one flick. Holding the flame under the blood-stained hat, it was soon spread with a bustling red fire. Old Man Western’s hold on you grew weak, sparkling flames danced along his outline and cackled. With a scream of defiant agony, he dissipated before your eyes.

The silence that held the room was now laced with peace. Ed’s face radiated smugness as he closed the lighter lid and headed towards his friends. Dropping to the floor with your back against the wall in recovery, you praised the Ghostfacers for the successful mission and their bravery. “Yay. Go team”.

Thanks for reading.