#spooky and prickly

[pixelator74]

"Pumpkin and Cactus"

[pricklypaws]

Halloween calico custom for RhodoliteRae 🦇🐱👻🌙✨

[ellenfoxart]

Cactus condor

Any animals you’d want to see with plants?

Patreon 🌿 art instagram

[kyonkyon69]

DRAMIONE FANFICS

[AO3/FANFICTION.NET/TUMBLR]

[BIG 3]

[1]Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love

[2]His Little Bird Series by TheWanderersWanderingDaughter

[3]MANACLED by Senlinyu

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>TheWanderersWanderingDaughter AO3 fics

>Senlinyu AO3 fics

>On the Nature of Daylight by ikorous

>& Obey, Till Death Do Us Part by LongtimeLurker1111

>A Good Prisoner by greenflowerpot

>Edge by phantonym

>Dramione fics [GOOGLE DRIVE]

>Dramione fics [GOOGLE DRIVE] Part.2

>The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy Series by speechwriter

> Rights and Wrongs Series by LovesBitca8

>The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon

>Clean Series by olivieblake

>The Fallout by everythursday

>Isolation by Bex-chan

>The Commoner's Guide to Bedding a Royal Series by olivieblake

>Silencio Series by AkashaTheKitty

>Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing... Rat? by Maya Mistful

>Confessions Series by SaintDionysus

>Enemies with Benefits by DrusillaMaxima

>Wait and Hope Series by mightbewriting

>Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes

>We Learned the Sea by floorcoaster

>How to Win Friends and Influence People by olivieblake

>Chronos Historia by In Dreams

>The Oblivious Ones by diamonddaydream

>Love in the Time of Death Eaters by gnrkrystle

>Presque Toujours Pur by ShayaLonnie

>The Brightest Black by: Enigmaticrose4

>What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham

>The Boy in the Hammock by galfoy

>Heavy Lies the Crown by: floorcoaster

>It's All Uncharted by: redhead414

>A Second Look Series by RiverWriter

>Simply Irresistible Series by Bookworm1993

>The Dragon's Bride by rizzlewrites

>What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham

>The Green Girl by Colubrina

>Architecture of Life Series by EscapingArtist

>Breath Mints / Battle Scars by Onyx_and_Elm

>Remain Nameless by HeyJude19

>Love and Other Historical Accidents by PacificRimbaud

>Apple Pies and Other Amends Universe by ToEatAPeach

>A Gentleman's Guide to Incandescence by olivieblake

>Lionheart by greenTeacup

>Scarlett Dragon by cleotheo

>Phoenix Potion Universe by FedonCiadale

>How Fair the Vine by thebrightcity

>Amateur Cartography by worksofstone

>Every Day, a Little Death by LovesBitca8

>Tea with Mrs. Granger by Guardian_Kysra

>Finding Granger Series by aCanadianMuggle

>The Politician's Wife by pir8fancier

>The Alkahest by shadukiam

>Love In A Time Of The Zombie Apocalypse Universe Series by rizzlewrites

>Crumple Series by MissiAmphetamine (Kaleidoscope)

>Osculum Annuum by MyDelphi

>These Selfish Vows by HeavenlyDew

>Some Bright and Last Thing by bionically

>Late Night Wandering by Snowblind12

>Never Odd or Even Series by ambpersand

>The Temptation of Miss Potter by Rumaan

>Tear The Moon by Maria81

>Sex and Occlumency by Graendoll

>Somewhere in Time Series by madrose_writing

>Wedding Bells by cleotheo

>The Phoenix Potion by FedonCiadale

>Green Light by SereneMusafir

>The Risk'verse Series by MissiAmphetamine (Kaleidoscope)

>Secrets and Masks by Emerald_Slytherin

>Bring Him to His Knees Series by Musyc

>Soft As It Began by rubber_soul02

>The Watergaw by ectoheart, smokybaltic

>The Token by mezy

>Truly Madly Deeply Fest [sequel--->

Truly Madly Deeply Spooky Flash Fest 2023]

>A Game of High Stakes by In_Dreams

>Hunted by Bex-chan

>The World of Wait and Hope Series by mightbewriting

>The Bracelet by AkashaTheKitty

>Lena Phoria FF fics

>Once Upon A Thyme by zensho

>Cruel And Beautiful World by Lena Phoria

>The Fires of Beltane by Arionrhod

>Don't Look Back by Onyx_and_Elm

>Here We Go Round The Prickly Pear Series by Hystaracal

>Measure Of A Man by inadaze22

ONESHOTS

>Draco Malfoy Runs a Marathon by PurpleSugarQuills

[0bticeo]

j. sims, e. bouchard| love is an open wound still raw.

part one out of four. (part 2.) (part 3.) (part 4.)

summary.

“one of your wounds has reopened.”

slowly, you glance down to your hand. there’s a small puncture wound on your palm, surrounded by the imprints left by your nails. it bleeds, red seeping out of the flesh in neat droplets of crimson. your fist tightens.

drip, drip. 

“it’ll heal.”

“it might get infected.”

“oh, and what are you going to be able to do about it?”

“i have a first aid kit.”

wc. 2.6

tw. worms, jon patching up reader's wounds, heavily implied that elias is having the time of his life watching them go at it, fluff (in this economy?? written by obticeo??? shocking), handjob, blowjob, overstimulation (so um. non sex averse jon.)

work at the magnus institute, they said. it’s a good idea, they said. you thrive on knowing things and burying yourself in niche research topics for days on end for hyper specific information. why not give the esoteric and supernatural a try?

you blame the decent paycheck for signing the contract so quickly. 

(there is, really, nothing to blame but your own, insatiable curiosity. an institute studying supernatural happenings. how is the damn thing even funded?) 

oh, it wasn’t that bad. not at first, despite your instinct screaming not to trust the devilishly handsome head of the institute and to run away. the archives were a mess, courtesy of gertrude robinson’s piss poor organization. you did not want to know what layed in the artifact storage department. you dutifully ignored the sharp, pinprick pain at your nape, the weight settling over your skin like an accusatory finger. you’re being watched.

again, it wasn’t that bad.

then there were worms.

your fingers clench, dig in your palms. even now, weeks after the flesh-hive broke into the institute, you can feel it. smell it. 

the scent of decay, flesh rotting away, peeling bit by bit from brittle bone, and maggots. so many of them, worms everywhere, stark white fleshy mass wriggling, crawling towards you, biting you until they burrow in your flesh.

you should’ve seen it coming, really, what’s with martin being forced to reside in the archives until further notice and the occasional worm managing to crawl its way in.

you hadn’t. 

(drip, drip. 

blink, and you’re bleeding in a safe room, jon’s palm pressing down your thigh as he wrenches away the worms digging in your flesh with a corkscrew. your leg aches. your wrist is a bloody mess. all you can do is try to bite back a scream and fail, miserably. 

blink, and you’re safe, three months later. on bad days you can still feel them crawl, burrowing deeper and deeper in you, hungry, so terribly hungry.)

today, the archives are silent. the others are still quarantined, so the only noise filling the room is that of your breathing and the click, click, click of your pen. 

no martin to bring you a cup of coffee with a sheepish smile, debating over the merits of tea over coffee. no tim to prank you with the false statement of joe spooky and his encounters with the horrorsTM, holding back his laughter as you squint at him suspiciously. no sasha to gossip with, to laugh, delighted, voice lowering in a conspiratorial whisper as she tells you the latest tidbit of info she found out about jon - your prickly boss! in a band!

normally, the usual hustle and bustle of the archives (and its rowdy archival assistants), is almost enough for you to forget the permanent, oppressing feeling that you’re being watched. it’s always there, at the back of your mind, pinprick pressure at the edge of your neck. eyes, thousands and thousands of them watching you, knowing you, how you wake up screaming, nails digging bloody trails on your skin to get them out- 

breathe. 

you’re in the archives. you’re at your desk, tightly clenched hands resting on a manila folder. before you is the portrait of the founder of the institute. jonah magnus, green-grey eyes boring down upon you. you look back, tired eyes dead and unblinking. 

the watch on your wrist tells you it’s five and a half in the afternoon, give or take. the sun is declining. you’ve kept the lights off. penumbra settles over you like a blanket and you lean back in your chair. you’ve been there for three hours and haven’t moved an inch. 

you should probably go home. you should probably quit, actually. go up to elias’ office and politely tell him that you did not sign up to have your life threatened by worms, supernatural or not. 

you don’t.

the manila file in front of you contains a statement regarding robert montourke, given by one of his jailers. you should probably find a tape recorder. maybe there’s a spare in jon’s office. 

so you get up and set about getting that tape recorder. a beat. you think you catch the contours of one of these wretched worms, fat larvae half crushed by a bow full of statements. blink and it’s gone.

you all but slam open the door, only to reveal the head archivist in the flesh. he startles, almost dropping the pile of statements he’s been neatly stocking away in a cardboard box.

“what- how long have you been there?”

you stare at him, blankly, hand still resting against the doorknob.

“i- three hours- sorry, i should’ve knocked-”

“yes, yes you should have!”

your shoulders tense. he’s glaring at you with barely concealed suspicion, and all you can do is fight back the creeping panic that settles over you, because you can remember being in this very office, half leaning over jon’s desk, laughing with him, before the wall broke and the worms-

“what are you doing here?”

you take in a sharp inhale.

“i was looking for a tape recorder.”

jon lets out an aggravated sigh.

“here, in the archives.”

“i-”

“you should still be at the hospital, resting-”

“i’ve been discharged three days ago.”

he scoffs, running a hand through his tousled hair. it’s grown, you realize. a few inches, now long enough to brush the sharp edge of his jaw. there and there, creeping up his neck, his fingers, his wrists, you can see the scarring tissue of his flesh, puncture wounds like many cigarette burns. worms.

you swallow.

you don’t realize he’s in front of you until he calls your name, tone sharper than his wit.

“i’m going to talk to elias. this is ridiculous, having you work while you’re barely healed-”

“like you’re one to talk.”

he glares down at you, a scowl twisting his features. you meet his stare, lone sailor in the eye of the storm. his gaze trails over your features, takes in the scars crawling up your forearms, the skin left bare by the rolled up sleeves of your shirt. his frown deepens.

“one of your wounds has reopened.”

slowly, you glance down to your hand. there’s a small puncture wound on your palm, surrounded by the imprints left by your nails. it bleeds, red seeping out of the flesh in neat droplets of crimson. your fist tightens.

drip, drip. 

“it’ll heal.”

“it might get infected.”

“oh, and what are you going to be able to do about it?”

“i have a first aid kit.”

with that, he moves behind his desk and opens a drawer with an aggravated sigh. he rummages through it, discarding stationary and a paperback of poe’s selected tales. he’s got taste, you muse, drawing closer, footsteps silent on the carpet. at last, jon pulls out a red box and motions for you to sit down on the edge of his desk. 

“give me your hand,” he mutters.

you extend your hand, slowly, holding it up by his desk lamp. his fingers come to cradle your wrist, brushing your pulse, pressing against the faint outline of the bone. your breath hitches. slowly, he gets to work, critical gaze assessing the wound. it doesn’t need stitches. small blessings. 

he pulls out a sterile compress and pours disinfectant on it.

“it’ll sting.”

he’s gentle, jon, the compress held firmly against your palm, but not harshly, no. you let out a low hiss, pain like an inferno setting your nerve ablaze. you think you see his frown deepening at the pained sound that manages to fly past your gritted teeth.

the compress comes out stained. finally, he discards it and grabs the gauze, carefully wrapping it around your palm. 

in the dim lighting of the room, you make out the sunken cheeks, the five o’clock shadow adorning his jaw, the exhaustion creeping in the deep green of his eyes. they meet yours. your heart skips a beat, then another. silence stretches, stretches.

he’s been watching you, you realize. 

“you didn’t have to do this, you know.” 

he scoffs, throwing away the stained compress.

“somebody has to take care of you, if you don’t do it yourself.”

you let out a dry chuckle.

“hypocrite.”

“i am not-”

“no? when was the last time you ate? have you slept in the past three days?”

with each question, you get closer and closer to him, until you’re a breath away from him, tired gaze boring into his. there’s defensiveness in his eyes, protests piling up in scathing retort on the tip of his tongue.

“why don’t you take care of yourself, jon?”

you see his shoulders tense under the white cotton of his shirt, fingers flexing, gaze flickering, looking anywhere but you. something like resignation settles over his features, clouding the blazing green of his gaze.

“it’s rotten work.”

“not to me.”

your hand finds the sharp edge of his jaw, palm like a balm against his cheeks. you feel him relax, leaning into your touch, lips brushing against your pulse. you drink in the sight of him, worn to the bone, scars etched in his skin, reaching for his soul. he’s soft, in the sunset, all ragged edges tiredly melting away as you take one step closer to him.

“please, jon. let me take care of you.”

a beat. he chuckles, the sound low and rich, vibration reverberating in your bones.

“i can’t stop you, can i?”

“no, you can’t.” 

you fall into his orbit, in the magnetic pull of him. your lips brush against his, brushing hesitantly against the chapped skin. you hear a startled little sound of a gasp, surprise dying on his tongue, melting as you press yourself against him, bandaged hand splayed over his chest. do not still, beating heart. it stutters under your touch, hummingbird yearning for escape. you’d cradle it in your hands and swallow it whole, his heart, keeping it safe.

as it is, you cannot turn bones and spread the open wings of his ribcage apart, so you settle for Knowing him, mapping out each prickly edge of him. 

your lips grow firmer in their relentless pursuit of his own. he nips at you, wounded animal desperate for respite, so you cradle him against you, kissing him over and over, until his mouth parts for you, until, finally, you share the same breath.

you melt a little against him, fingers digging in his shoulders for support. the world narrows down, optical adjustment until it’s only you and the warmth of his fingers on your waist, comet tail blazing a path of desire over your clothed skin. your knees go weak.

you pull apart for air, and it feels like losing a part of yourself.

jon looks at you, green eyes dark and heavy, lips kiss-swollen and red and so very inviting. 

more…

you don’t know which of you broke the silence. doesn’t matter when jon grabs the front of your shirt and yanks you forward until you stumble in his chest. doesn’t matter when he sits back on his chair, when he lets you straddle him, slender fingers coaxing you out of your clothes. 

he kisses you against, and he’s hungry for it, like he’s longed for this, longed for you, you with your mouth like an offering, so warm and safe against him. his hand finds the back of your nape, thumb pressing down, and you dissolve in a sweet puddle of need. he tastes like nicotine and tea, bittersweet in all the right ways, and it feels like a revelation.

your hands set about knowing him, wandering the paths made up by the dips of his ribs, the valley of his chest, going further and further south until your hands press against the buckle of his belt.

“yes- ah!”

you’re gentle about it, really. palming him, tracing the outline of him through his slacks, relishing at the deep, shuddering exhale of your name. his hand wraps around yours, dwarfing yours. your mind goes deliciously blank, his long, slender fingers pulling down his slacks just enough to free his length.

need burns in your mind. 

jon chuckles, low and teasing, something like mirthful amusement in his eyes.

“it’s not going to bite, you know.”

“i might.”

with that, you wrap your hand around his cock. jon hisses, hips bucking in your grip. pink dusts his cheeks like dawn rising as he watches you, like he’s committing you to memory.

(he is. he wishes you could see yourself, stark silhouette burned in his retina, clothes unkempt, shirt half-opened to reveal the tantalizing edge of your bra, lips kiss-swollen, eyes wide and dark, hands slowly pumping his length.)

he groans, head lolling back, his hand tightening on your hip.

“you’re a tease.”

“and you’re pretty.”

he gasps at that. you laugh, and press your lips to his, speeding up your rhythm until you feel him tense and writhe, hips jerking against you. beds of wetness drip down on your fingers. you bring them to your mouth and hum, tongue darting out, licking them clean. jon’s breath catches at the sight.

you want to taste him, you realize. know each and every part of him, so you slide off his lap and get on your knees, skirt riding up your thighs. your hands run up his shin, fingers dancing over his knee as they tread the path to his core.

your tongue flicks out against the flushed head, lapping at his pre. he shudders at that, a low groan leaving his lips. you feel him twitch in your grip and speed up, pressing fleeting, fluttering kisses against the soft, heated skin. when your mouth closes on his length and you taste and know him, static buzzes in your mind. 

a hand, broad and big and warm, settles on your head and pushes you closer, fingers threading through your hair. you whine. he’s big and heavy, filling up your mouth until all you know is him. your nails rake his thighs and he moans at that. you can’t help but look up through your lashes.

he’s the picture of sin, jonathan sims. his pristine shirt is crumpled, haphazardly unbuttoned to reveal the knife-edge of his collarbone. his fingers tighten on the armrest, deliciously firm in their desperate attempt to find purchase as you bring him closer and closer to his release. and gods, the slow, sublime arch of his neck, the way his head lolls back in rapture as he comes again with a startled gasp-

you hum, delighted, swallowing every last drop.

ah, but you’re not done yet. you’re not done learning about all the sweet moans you can coax out of him, about what makes him tick and come in blissful rapture. so, you make him come. 

again, and again, and again, worshiping every precious inch of him as you go, sucking  bruises in the tender skin of his neck. mine. his moans fill the room, startled little gasp and desperate pleas for more, for you to stop because it’s too much, to please, please-

when you pull back, your breath catches in your throat. he’s a masterpiece of debauchery, glasses askew, tears of overstimulation trailing down his flushed cheeks, lips parted in harsh, ragged pants. 

you nuzzle against him with a coo, one hand slipping under his shirt, settling over his chest, over the thundering beat of his heart.

his hand settles on your thigh, his forehead pressing against yours as he desperately tries to catch his breath.

“w-wait… you didn’t get to… let me…”

“shh…” you peck his lips, the kiss sweet and chaste. “this is about you. for once in your life, let yourself be cared for.”

he nods, reluctantly, fingers tightening over your thigh in a promise.

“fine. but i’m treating you to dinner. that is non-negotiable.”

you laugh a little, smiling fondly up at him.

“boss’ orders.”

[brittle-doughie]

Spooky Cookie Tales: Prikaza

When a simple investigation turns into a spooky experience

So Black Garlic decided to invite you on this next spooky venture of hers, an abandoned school from her younger years to be precise. She was excited to have you come along that she gave you a spare camera, in hopes that you’d catch something especially spooky!

Well, you did catch something spooky alright. But was it worth it coming here? With a particular spirit roaming the halls of this school, eager to keep you trapped in here with her…forever.

Black Garlic was as pale as she could be when you found her, looking scared out of her mind as she stuttered and babbled nonstop. All that you can make out of her speech was her seeing a ghost as she could barely hold together her camera, you took it from her to see what had gotten her like this. Until you saw it, you freeze frame the video..

A cookie in a black school, prickly hair adorned with flowers that obscured part of her face which was cracked and stained in black, leaving only her intense red eyes staring right back at you…the sight already unnerved you as you quickly move the camera away from you and turned back to the shivering Black Garlic Cookie.

She recognized this cookie, a friend from many years ago. Not anymore, years of waiting has turned her soul bitter and lonely. A face once friendly now only holds resentment towards a cookie that she believed had forsaken her.

But you’ve seen her, she’s now curious with you. You’re…different. Someone new. She’s always keen on making new friends…

Do not panic. You keep a quiet pace, holding Black Garlic in your arms. You hear noises throughout the building, a book falling down from a shelf or perhaps even a bang on a window next to you. That’s just the spirit, she’s trying to make you slip up and make a sound, that’s when she’ll start homing in on your location. A chill in the air will be your only warning for her arrival.

Reflections are your friend. You may notice that a lot of reflective surfaces are broken. Windows, mirrors, any form of glass, anything that can reveal herself to you. She doesn’t want you to see her coming, she wants to get the drop on you. You do have one manner of reflection, your camera lens. Use it if you felt like it’s been too quiet for too long without anything happening, because the last thing you’d want to see in the reflection is the ghost’s red eyes peering from right behind your shoulder…

Keep her safe. Black Garlic will be at her wit’s end and too shaken up in your journey out of the building. Two pairs of eyes are better then one, right? Reassure her that everything will be okay, regardless if it’s true or not, you’ll need her calm if you both want out of this place. Never take any gambles with this ghost pursuing you two if you want Black Garlic to see the sun rise in the morning. The spirit will show her no mercy for leaving her all those years ago, her soul will make a nice flower in her spiky hair…

You didn’t look back as you hurried out of the school with a reeling Black Garlic in your arms. You didn’t want to give the building another glance as you kept running.

Black Garlic rested in your bed as you sat in your living room, taking a moment to try and process everything that has happened…until you hear a book fall off your shelf on its own.

Silly you, did you really think it would be that easy to escape a persistent spirit? You’ve led her right back to your home and you’re now stuck with her for as long as your dough remains crispy…

[ravenwraithe]

celia please-

there are literally the tma crew

i love you all already please stop tempting teh genre

(irrelevant but this is who is who is my mind, loosely ofc:

sam - sasha [politely curious, has history with the spooky]

celia - martin [desparate and suitable, helloo??!!?]

alice - tim [an i know everyone agrees, old employee, def has experience with the spooky]

gwen - jon [obsessed with perfect categorisation, and prickly as hell, definitly involved with the spooky in teh past])

[project-daydream]

So! For the spooky season, we have a spooky podcast for you!

Project: Daydream is a new weird queer fiction podcast! Featuring an all queer writing team and voice cast.

Follow the adventures of agents 0626 as she joins the mysterious and clandestine government organisation Project: Daydream, partnered with the intriguing but prickly senior agent 4815...

But is all what it seems? In an organisation that deals with secrets and lies, who can you trust?

Be ready agents...

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

What if, at the end of Ozzie, Blitz accepted to Stolas's propose to stay with him at the palace and spend some time together non sexually?

I'm....not actually sure on this one! My best guess would be that they'd both get a bit tipsy, Blitz would make some sexual attempt....and Stolas would probably turn him down because that's genuinely not what he wants. They'd watch a movie. They'd cuddle. They'd get along really well because ultimately they do. They fit together very nicely when they aren't struggling with communication or trying to put on an act they think the other would like. Blitz would be having a quiet meltdown. I think it would, eventually, come to a head- Blitz demanding to know why Stolas isn't pushing for sex, calling him out on what he thinks was hiding behind his menu in shame, and probably a much needed discussion would be had- if at least half in argument form. I see a lot of tears, a lot of kisses, and probably Stolas realizing a lot of where he's gone wrong. I don't think we'd seen Full Moon levels of blow-up but I do think Blitz would probably be spooky and prickly if Stolas admitted that he was starting to want to get to know Blitz better or be closer to him. I see falling asleep on the couch together until Loona called- at which point I'm not sure we'd get quite the same situation as we get in Queen Bee- though probably similar, with Blitz now having more of a freak out over the realization that Stolas is Getting Attached and that he....doesn't mind at all.

[ipatrichor]

dead boy detectives episode seven thoughts

hey what if i cried. what if I lay down on the floor and curled up in a ball and wept and wailed my little heart out?? what then???

ohhh my god. oh my god. i've said like twice now that this show keeps giving me everything i've ever wanted but it just keeps being true!!! i'm going to sob how does every episode just keep getting better How do the writers know exactly what i want and then do it better than i thought of are they in my head??? oh my godddd this episode was devastating

hey i'm gonna cry. what do you mean edwin died scared and alone so he made sure charles didn't. that's devastating actually!!! he died in the dark and he was scared and he had no one, so he brings charles a lamp and answers his questions about ghosts and reads him a detective story with silly voices. what the hell that's so. i do not have words for this it hits so deeply!!! edwin is so deeply kind in a way that doesn't always come across because he's also a prickly bitch, and i love him so much holy shit

hell was genuinely so unsettling what the fuck. the spider MADE OF DOLL HEADS(??!!!?!?!?!?!) was bad enough, but it was such an incredibly good choice to have it appear empty on the way in and only be able to see all the suffering on the way out. it really upped the creep factor in the first part, and then really made the escape feel frenzied. very well done!! the imagery was insane, i really Believed that this was Actual Hell

actually on that point. there was one detail that meant so so much to me, in a way i'm not quite sure how to explain but will give my best effort. after edwin's conversation with simon, after they reach some kind of closure, the blue light implying that simon is able to move on in some way and maybe leave hell... if someone wasn't raised christian & subsequently deconverted idk if that stands out to anyone else, but. okay basically there's a conversation about how hell, by definition, cannot be just because it's infinite punishment for a finite crime. and that wasn't necessarily the point of the scene, but as someone who's been doing a lot of unpacking stuff around this recently it just. it hit hard man. in a good way! that scene actually means so much to me... god this whole episode is fantastic

crystal confronting daniel!!! my god i am so proud of our girl!!! yess take your agency back and regain control of your life!!!!! also jenny frequently being annoyed by crystal but still following her to a spooky abandoned area with a knife just so she won't have to face her abusive ex alone... god i love jenny. like yeah she's abrasive and kinda a dick but also she truly cannot stop herself from providing support to these two weird as hell teenagers living above her shop.

AND NIKO!!!! god niko was absolutely brilliant this episode... absolutely the mvp of the entire show goddamn, she really read the rules and made that the night nurse's problem <3 i love that for her so much. however i will say something has been worrying me. that magic 8 ball that's supposed to tell you when you're going to die has apparently been consistently saying 'outlook not good' and it's been mentioned twice now. and given that this show doesn't establish things like that and let them go to waste... i am Concerned. not to mention, the scene where it was her and the night nurse talking about zombies?? like idk it could be nothing!!! but also that is classic foreshadowing so i am simply concerned!!!

alright i got most of the immediate thoughts CONFESSION SCENE. HOLY SHIT. okay so i know i'm not super into confessions and i tend to nitpick when fictional characters behave certain ways pertaining to romance depending on whether the narrative promotes it or not (yes, i have a complicated relationship with romance, it came free with the demiromanticism. but also my partner is amazing so if written characters aren't that's just kinda a skill issue? lol). ANYWAY. this scene though was amazing. edwin tells charles how he feels, putting no pressure on charles to respond or feel the same. and charles clearly isn't sure how he feels- it doesn't seem like he's ever thought of edwin in that way before, and he's awkward about it but still assures edwin that even if he doesn't know if he can return those feelings, edwin is still incredibly important to him and nothing's gonna change that.

god it's just. such a good way to handle that scene!! literally everything i hoped for ^^ even if charles doesn't feel the same (which i didn't think he would given they've been hinting at romance with crystal and not building romantic feelings towards edwin the same way they've been building edwin's feelings for him but as always who knows) he still reaffirms how much he cares about edwin, because like i've been saying they're the most important person to each other and it truly does not matter if it's platonic or romantic!!!

i also love how well this lined up with established characterization haha. like, of course charles made a deal with the night nurse and leaped into hell headfirst and alone to rescue edwin, he's impulsive even when he isn't emotionally compromised and he'd never abandon his best mate. of course niko tries to connect with the people around her and ends up being incredibly helpful with a unique insight, that's what she's been doing this whole time! of course crystal runs off to find her own way to hell after being stopped from accompanying charles, she hates feeling useless and consistently endangers herself for the sake of her friends. of course edwin tries to convince simon to escape hell with him, he's heartbreakingly good and has spent the whole show trying to help people no one else can. it's all so... god, they are who they are and i love them so much

anyway i will leave u all with a funny thought i had. i haven't engaged with the fandom outside of my pal noble sorry if this is a joke everyone is already making

the cat king: i'll be here waiting when he escapes hell again, god i'm such a romantic meanwhile, charles breaking into hell:

[another-lost-mc]

candy prompts: belphegor + spooky

belphegor had no reason to think tonight's hunt would go so wrong, but an encounter with a strange human shakes him to his core.

pairing: octo-mer!belphegor x gn!reader (pre-relationship)

content: nsfw. mermaid!au. dark content and angst. mentions of canonical character death and violence, (unsuccessful) use of mind control magic. descriptions of nightmares and fatal injuries.

word count: 900

a/n: this is part of a horror-themed belphegor longfic I've been working on since earlier this year. I love mermaid au's!

Belphegor lurks in the hidden depths not too far from the shoreline. His inky black tentacles are latched to a boulder beneath him so he’s not jostled too much by the blustery wind rocking the waves above him. His magic allows the ocean to be his eyes, and he recognizes the beach and human coastal town beyond. It’s a full moon tonight and everything is bathed in an ethereal glow that might look beautiful to anyone else, but to Belphegor, it’s hard to concentrate on anything but the hunger gnawing in his belly and the remnants of a nightmare flashing occasionally in his mind.

Movement above water catches his attention, and he senses the familiar thrum of a human heartbeat nearby. A solitary soul walks down the stairs leading to the beach, and he can almost hear the wisps of sand as they kick their feet lazily, taking long strides as they walk nowhere in particular. Hunting this time of night often means Belphegor comes across pairs of amorous lovers in the sand or sleepless loners who think the shallow waves will soothe their troubled minds; he’s grateful that he only has to deal with one pesky human tonight.

Belphegor briefly contemplates which song to lure the human with. Some humans respond better to certain melodies more than others which can be troublesome. He doesn’t want to deal with the nuisance of having to go onto shore and drag a comatose human off the beach and into the sea, not when lack of sleep makes him feel particularly lazy. 

He starts humming a lullaby, one that he doesn’t often rely on but stirs something in his sad, angry soul. He recalls memories of shared hunts under starry nights, bright eyes that look at him in admiration as he coaxes their prey to the water’s edge, sibling banter as bloody water splashes around them. But happy memories give way to traces of nightmare still clinging to him like a second skin—

...familiar lifeless, half-lidded eyes that stare unblinking upwards towards the sky; eerily pale skin discoloured from blood loss, flayed and torn in a bid for freedom; tentacles similar to his own tangled in a discarded fishing net; his brothers’ enraged cries around him while he cradles her cold body, singing as if his magic could stir her to life once more...

Belphegor shakes his head violently to dispel the disjointed memories haunting him tonight and begins to sing again. It sounds off-key and shrill to him, but his magic will temper it for human ears. He’s bobbing underneath the water’s surface when his wavering voice fades into silence. He waits for the familiar sound of human feet dragging through the sand towards the water, their body following the waves until the current brings him his feast.

Belphegor presses his palms against his eyes, trying uselessly to alleviate the burning sensation of too much emotion longing to slip free. He realizes belatedly that something is wrong; the human on the shore hasn’t moved at all. He raises his head just above water and he glares at his prey, sitting defiantly on the beach and unaware of their impending demise.

Had he been in a better mood, Belphegor might’ve given up on tonight’s hunt and crept back to his cave deep beneath the tide. His raw, prickly emotions have left him off-centre and in an instant his mood shifts from impassive to enraged. His tentacles propel him forward and he’s almost salivating at the thought of dragging the human into the depths with him, his superior strength forcing them to drink the ocean into their lungs. He thinks he might show them his sharp teeth and rip out their throat before they lose consciousness.

Belphegor is nearly at the beach but the human makes a noise that has him flailing in the water to stop his momentum forward. Luckily, they haven’t seen him yet. He listens for another moment, and then he hears it: a soft sigh, and then an even softer voice that whispers, “what a beautiful song.”

Belphegor feels paralyzed as he watches the human rise and brush the sand off their clothes. They slowly turn and head back the way they came, taking a moment to glance over their shoulder at the sea one final time before disappearing into the darkness beyond his line of sight.

It’s a long, slow swim back to his cave and Belphegor’s empty stomach rumbles. He ignores his hunger, curling up in his favorite bed of sea moss as he recalls the human on the shore that escaped him. Why didn’t his song work? It’s never failed him so spectacularly before. 

“That’s my favourite song, Belphie!” Lilith says excitedly as she watches their prey fall into a deep trance and walk through the water towards them. “Sing it again, won’t you?”

“I don’t need to, it already worked,” he complains, exaggerating his eye roll which makes her giggle.

“But it’s so beautiful! Please?”

Belphegor groans with frustration and tosses and turns, and eventually he slips into restless slumber. His beloved sister’s voice taunts him into the dream world, but when he expects to see her dead eyes staring at him, he sees the human’s face instead.

“It’s beautiful,” the stranger’s voice whispers to him. “It’s so beautiful.”

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

[dokidokitsuna]

Battle of the Bands

Finally designed all the members of those holiday Splatbands I came up with before~

M4R1N3SN.0 Cyan (Octoling): Lead singer, songwriter, and sole stage performer, with seemingly limitless energy. Functioning alcoholic, which makes her a bit emotionally unstable. As the face of the group, she is often simply called ‘Marine Snow’ by casual fans who don’t know her name. Alice (Birdbeak dogfish): Cyan’s manager, who also helps with backup vocals and songwriting occasionally. Feels motherly towards Cyan, always trying to make sure she eats and shows up for rehearsals. Sky (Sea urchin): Composer, hired by Alice. Very professional and emotionally detached from the other two; basically just here for the money. She considers Cyan her ‘muse’, however, and believes her work for M4R1N3SN.0 is her best yet.

whaleFall OSEDAX (Halloween lobster): Vocalist, bassist, and lead composer. Soft-spoken yet very blunt, to the point of garnering a reputation for cruelty. In reality, he’s simply emotionally honest, and can be genuinely sweet under the right circumstances. Absentminded, and gets lost easily. Eunice (Ping-pong tree sponge): Guitarist, with a vicious personality. Extremely protective of her friends, ‘cursing’ anyone who slights them with some unknown form of witchcraft. Often gets into fights with Alvin (and Cyan, when she’s around). The Late Atdabanian Fossil Known from the Lagerstätte (Salmonid): Drummer. Tried and failed to join a traditional band with other Salmonids back home, and reluctantly turned to inkfish society for a chance to follow their dreams. Hides in Mudmouth form so none of their friends or family will recognize them. Simply called ‘Fossil’ by the other members. Alvin (Horseshoe crab): Keyboard/synth and assistant composer. Prickly and rude to everyone except OSEDAX (who he only insults under his breath) and his beloved wife and children. Very passionate about the band’s spooky aesthetic. Alitta (Super Sea Snail): Vocalist, recruited on the spot when OSEDAX heard her shrieking in fear of being eaten, and decided to rescue her. Since then, she’s been deeply in love with ‘her prince’, although it’s not something she will readily admit to. A hard worker who enjoys being part of the band, and is well-liked by the other members.

[bakertoons]

New Member Spotlight - Normality and Paranormality

Normal is relative. Enjoy these comics that explore what happens when a touch of the silly, surreal, or supernatural bleeds into the lives of normal people.

The Bright Side - Emily is a prickly and reclusive teenage girl. After a couple of random tragedies, she befriends Death - who turns out to be naive, neurotic, and completely endearing. Despite being eternal, "Dee" has at least as much growing up to do as Emily does.

Monsters & Myriads - A midwestern exploration into the spooky fantastic that haunts closed arcades, moon-frosted cornfields, and shadowed school hallways. Highschoolers band together to uncover a gothic conspiracy that threatens to unravel their school, town, and world.

Prophet of the Sun - A story about a selfish loser who would rather lie to themselves and everyone around them than face discomfort. This would be ok if they weren't also the unstable vessel of the Sun, a strange new god intent on destorying the world.

Lauren Ipsum - Lauren Ipsum is a professional librarian, part-time writer, and an intellectual culture enthusiast (nerd). Join this looney rabbit and her friends running the esteemed St. Paws Library!

The City Under Saturn - A group of mobsters slowly begin to uncover that the man they're are working for may not be entirely human and that those contracts they signed may be more than legally binding.

The Organization of Ghost Hunters - After an encounter with a mysterious stranger, Ian Cooper discovers he's able to see ghosts. The friendly dog spirit that follows him around isn't so bad, but when dangerous spirits start to show up, he may need a little help.

[ellenfoxart]

Prickly pear condor

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Capriciously_Terminal! @capriciouslyterminal has 106 fics on ao3 in the Stranger Things fandom and 105 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@mustardyellowlilac recommends the following works by Capriciously_Terminal:

Where the Sun Can't Reach

Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been

It's the Ritual of the Thing

Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)

It's as if she writes memories, rather than stories, and that makes them tangible and devastating -- @mustardyellowlilac

Below the cut, @capriciouslyterminal answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I started writing Steddie because the characters of Steve and Eddie have such specific and human voices that I literally couldn’t get them out of my head after watching the first drop of S4. (Also I’d just gotten a new puppy who didn’t love sleeping through the night so I had plenty of time to think). The more I wrote for them the deeper I found myself in their voices and thinking about what they could do and I had to keep going until I ran out of steam.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good “Steddie interwoven into previous seasons’ canon events” story. Especially if an author makes it SO specific. I want Steve and Eddie in Starcourt. I want Eddie Munson popping up at the pumpkin patch. I want Eddie Munson in the background at Starcourt drooling. I want him to spend this whole time watching Steve’s character growth and finding it impossibly hot before getting twisted up in the horror.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I definitely love adding Eddie Munson to canon (thinking about him and life-guard Steve Harrington is where this all began, afterall). However I think that I, as a person, am just as obsessed with The Horrors. As such adding monstrosity/new flavors of spooky to this show was my favorite thing to do.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I can narrow it down to two! My favorite piece of Steddie fic that changed my brain chemistry has got to be fastcardotmp3’s “that’s just wasteland, baby!” (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42351597) because the scene in the lake? The genuine wonderful take on in media res apocalypse living? Dot’s talent for characterization/love? I’ll never live it down. Actually, go read everything by fastcardotmp3. Do yourself a favor. The other has to be “every mistake was made purposefully” by birthdaycandles (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41795838/chapters/104862381). It turns out I’m a sucker for excellent narration and watching Steddie/plot shenanigans from Tommy Hagan’s prickly point of view. It gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I always wanted to write a When Harry Met Sally AU about Steve and Eddie meeting throughout their lives/development. I don’t know if I’ll ever pick it up again but it’s still there knocking at the back of my mind. I’ve also got like fifteen of the drabbles in i love you you dope with bits of continuation in my head too.

What is your writing process like?

In general, my writing is a very all or nothing process. It’s either going to go all day, through meals, and not stop until the idea is finished OR I’m going to be stalled completely. Generally, though, if I’m in my crazy inspired phase I’ll have an idea (specifically the beginning of something) and if that idea sticks in my head for more than a single day then I probably can’t leave it until it’s done. However, this did change with my writing i love you you dope. I decided to answer p0ck3tf0x's "100 Ways to Say I Love You" list one prompt at a time. Once a day. RIP. This led to a writing process which was more of a sit down after work and immediately write the first thing you could think of until it’s done kind of affair. I can’t recommend that style lol. It led to some pretty intense burnout by the end but I am proud of how many ideas came because of it. It showed that, through tenacity, most ideas could be something worth pursuing.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I can’t help but put first and second person pronouns in descriptions as if speaking to the reader and I’m a frequent and blatant tense shifter. It’s all over the place at times lol. I also LOVE a good stream of consciousness description, flitting from one image to another, which probably lead to these grammatical quirks and a shit ton of run-on sentences.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Before I started writing i love you you dope I very much preferred finishing my writing before I posted it. It took ages but nothing felt worse than having to leave something unfinished because I’d lost the plot (which has happened several times).  However, part of the draw of i love you you dope was that (as a challenge) I had to write and post daily. While I learned I can write on such a grueling schedule, I can safely say after finishing it that I prefer having the time to ensure something’s to my standards. Or, at least, until I’m tired of looking at it and just want other people to see it.

Which fic are you most proud of?

If we branch outside of my Steddie work it’s a fic for a little show called Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency that I think I’ll never top. A Road Song in Quartet that Smells like a Trio is basically my novel/brain-child about my favorite rowdy vampire boys and I have to shout it out everywhere I go. However, to stick to the Steddie, I had such a great time with characterization in writing It’s the Ritual of the Thing. Some of those descriptions are still some of my best work. Or, I’d have to say, Can We Both Be Lonely If We’re Both Looking at Each Other? It’s an AU modeled after the world of The Magnus Archives Podcast and not only was I proud of the way I was able to layer monstrosity on both Eddie and Steve but I just loved the world. I actually planned out a whole main plot for the world that never saw the light of day.

How did you get the idea for Baby I'm Your Man (Don't Fear the Reaper)?

I can’t remember which came first, the title or the idea of Eddie meeting Death as played by Steve Harrington, but the song title by Blue Öyster Cult had definitely been sitting in my head for a while. The idea initially started as a Seventh Seal reference with Eddie having to challenge Death with Steve Harrington’s face to a game of basketball but that scene wasn’t working so instead we got a trip through various S4 locales and a fun Death with good hair.

When writing Spit Me out, You Don't Know Where I've Been, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t know if anyone would vibe with the language/story. For a fic that focused a lot on unease, offal, and how hard it would be to picture a future in a small town I was waiting for people to not touch this one with a ten foot pole. So to hear that it actually channeled people’s feelings or that it was something that people enjoyed (as opposed to just me shouting stressful things at the sky) was a big expectation dodge.

What inspired It's the Ritual of the Thing?

When I was in high school I had a friend who asked me out once, the first person to ever do so, and my first instinctual response was to genuinely ask him why he was really calling me after school. He insisted that he really did want to ask me out and for some reason that made my blood run cold. The date did not go well, obviously, but I remembered the gut punch to think someone wouldn’t want you/the desire to say no just because it frightened you for years afterwards. It felt like such an Eddie thing to feel, especially if Steve Harrington was the one to ask him out. Honestly…I poured a lot of my own worldview into Eddie Munson as I wrote him and that’s where a lot of this came from.

What was your favorite part to write from Ritual of the Thing?

I’d have to say it’s a toss up between two parts. Firstly, I’ll never get over the descriptive imagery in the beginning (I’ll never forget lines like “Suddenly it’s like he’s a Jack-O-Lantern with his mouth carved open. A candle sits on his tongue and its light is shining out of his eyes”). It was the kind of sentence I was thrilled to read after I wrote it. Secondly, I was really proud of Eddie and Robin’s conversation after Steve told her about his asking Eddie out. I loved both of their voices in that moment and the thought of Robin trying to explain how much Steve could love you even after you’d had to let him down…and her little fake nightmare discussion.

How do/did you feel writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

On one hand it felt like I was exorcizing something because I show my class The Sandlot once a year and that means for one day I watch the scene where the kid fakes drowning to make-out with the lifeguard four times. That’s too many times. I had to process that. But I do remember that feeling of loneliness that could come with summer. That could come with wishing for a room somewhere with someone you loved when it felt impossible. I remember when the smallest of things could mean the world when you had nothing else…so in a way maybe I was exorcizing that too.

What was the most difficult part of writing Where the Sun Can't Reach?

Besides the jokey answer of reliving the aforementioned scene from The Sandlot on purpose, I’d have to say trying to accurately consider the physics/feelings of Eddie’s trip into the water. The feelings/actual consequences of hitting his head. I’m not too sure I got the details right but I remember working on it so many times that I eventually threw in the towel and went with what I had.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think…it’s gotta go to my lone vampire Steddie fic I Go Hungry Every Night. The whole thing’s one big treatise to Upside Down skinned vampires and food/service as a love language? And also the fact that I love vampires/monstrosity. I just went way too hard with the line: “If you asked Steve what the opposite of tracing constellations in someone’s freckles in the afterglow would be he’d say this, making shapes in the pieces of the wound they’ve given you. The one that weeps red slowly.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

While I wish I did, and I’m always thinking about various unfinished fics in the strangest moments of my life, I think I’m pretty knocked from my Steddie writing mojo. I love you you dope was an incredible process and I am so proud of it…but I think it cauterized my writing brain for Steddie. I’d love for people to poke around the fics I wrote and I will say that other people’s intrigue sometimes pulls my attention back to old ideas…but I do believe I’m a bit out to pasture here lol.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Writing Steddie was something that kept me sane during a really stressful transition from college to adulthood. These characters and all the people I got to meet/talk with in this fandom have been one of the greatest joys in my life. I’m so honored, like honestly floored, that anyone would nominate me for something like this. The thing about writing fic is that oftentimes when you start it can feel like you can’t possibly amount to what other people do. Like you’re just a little voice that doesn’t have anything special about it even when you tried so hard. But I stand as someone who felt that way and still found that people did enjoy what I wrote and if I can do it, honestly, anyone can. <3

Thank you to our author, @capriciouslyterminal, and our nominator, @mustardyellowlilac! See more of Capriciously_Terminal's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[raevenlywrites]

Time for more The Magnus Archives! Todays listen starts with episode 21: Free Fall through 22: Colony 23: Schwarrzwhatever skipped bc historical shit bores me, 24: Strange Music 25: Growing Dark, 26: A Distortion, 27: A sturdy lock and finally 28: Skintight

(prev episodes here)

Free Fall

Martin! I almosr skipped this one bc one of my fears is "im in a situation i cant walk/climb/swim away from", but my hands were full so i just let it go. and we get an interruption! i love those

Colony

Okay. So I love Martin right off the bat for unfair meta reasons and for pretty legit diagetic reasons. One, I have a fondness for Alex's voice from listening to Rusty Quill Gaming. I always hear him playing this one shot himbo paladin of Apollo, and it always makes me grin. So im just flat predisposed to feel favorably to anyone voiced by Alex.

But two, so far Jon has been presented as kind of prickly. He sounds unpleasant to give statements to, wretched for work for, and particularly hard on Martin. Maybe its justified, maybe not, we havent had a chance to know. So now we get Martin "on camera" and he is immediately cast as pathetic and aligned with the reader: creeped out by all this spooky shit. He goes on to be a very good boy, doing scary shit bc he knows he needs to do a better job for his boss.

And then, brilliantly, Jon subverts this dick boss vibe thats been building by offering a room to Martin. He takes Martin's concerns very seriously, because he takes legitimate archives concerns very seriously. Weve seen hints of this with his reactions to things like the Lightner books, but this is the first time hes reacted with a sense of urgency. its a ramping up of the tension, now that weve established the tone of the work and some truths about the world. its really interesting that this shit isnt in response to dreamer, a direct threat to his predecessor, but rather a direct threat to one of his subordinates. It says some interesting things about Jon's character, and shifts my expectations on how he might react to future incidents.

ugh. im remembering the other reason why listening to this at work was a no go. The sound mixing on this is so bad that even with my headphones cranked all the way up, i can't hear shit :/

Schwartzwhatever skipped due to disinterest in historicals, let me know if im missing any vital clues or fun interruption scenes

Strange Music

Not much to say about this one, although it was fun to listen to Sasha and Jon lampshade the problems of audio media and regional pronounciations of Calliope. Has anyone ever actually heard it pronounced Callie ope (like cantaloupe)?

Growing Dark

So, i happened to go back and listen to 9: A fathers love, while trying to calibrate my headphones, and what a happy accident that I did! Hello, The Peoples Church of The Divine Host! Also, connection to Gertrude's "death" (still not 100 that she's dead, just gone)

Flag: TPCotDH, episodes 9: A fathers love and 25: Growing Dark

A distortion

Sasha! This is another one where my experiences with Rusty Quill gaming make me predisposed to like and trust Sasha. But since Jon also seems to trust her, that makes me more inclined to believe their opinion of Martin as a bit of a klutz, the one you trip when youre running from a bear, most likely to be the first casuality

Very curious about Michael, cant help but wonder if theyre going to lean into angelic mythology or not. Tuck that in my folder of "things to wait and see about"

A Sturdy Lock

By all rights this one SHOULD get to me. I dont remember if it did on my first listen, but this time around all I really care about is wondering from a writer perspective if all these "other statements" that get mentioned every now and again are already written/planned, or just mechanism to add to the sense of a larger world. And from a reader figuring shit out perspective, I'm starting to wonder if the archive is such a mess maybe on purpose. Like, was Gertrude a baddy (/IS a baddy????). Or maybe Martin is not as inept as he seems and is secretly moving things about 🧐

Skintight

I LOVE that this one isnt actually about a grey lady. its really fun how they like to set up common tropes and then sideswipe them XD. Plus its a real treat to hear two actors play off of each other. That works so much better for me than suspending my disbelief that grumpy old Jarchivist is recording these statements with such emotion XD