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bluestar22x · 1 month ago

Text

Boo!

Summary: You buy a mansion on the cheap having no idea it's haunted by the previous owner's friend

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (mature readers only)

Word Count: 5,900(ish)

Warnings: "Enemies" to lovers vibes (they annoy each other at first), recreational drug use mentioned, medical stuff, subtitle mentions of sex/yearning, ghost Dieter follows you around the house but isn't a total creep about it - he's just really bored and invisible, AU?, foul language, fluff

Author’s Note: This was created for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge by @mermaidgirl30 - I already had the idea of writing ghost Dieter before this challenge, so I thought it was the perfect time to write it up. The theme I chose is "haunted mansion" for obvious reasons. I was slightly inspired by a movie some may or may not know.

xxx

You had bought the mansion on the cheap - hardly a million dollars despite the huge, modern layout.

Just outside of New Orleans, the mansion was only one of three you owned as an unusually successful author. One of the few that had gotten rich off of making a crime novel series that had later become a successful drama show that was still running after five years - a true feat in modern entertainment.

Your other two mansions were in Los Angeles and Denver, the first being your main home when working and the second being a winter holiday escape, a place where you could go and experience what winter was supposed to be like. You had grown up in Maine, and it hadn't taken you long after moving to Los Angeles to miss the changing of the seasons, even if you didn't quite miss the often dreary weather.

This mansion in Louisiana was supposed to be another escape, one close to a city with rich history and lore. Spooky lore, that was. You were thinking about writing a vampire series - what better place to inspire you than New Orleans?

Though you'd moved there specifically for the stories of monsters in the dark, you avoided the creepy mansions listed on the realtor sites like a plague. Just cause you were interested in writing it, didn't mean you wanted to live a horror-themed novel.

Your mansion was boring compared to the centuries old mansions and plantations nearby and far from any swampland. It was also only ten years old - a baby mansion that had little chance of having been able to attract attention from any supernatural beings.

Not that you really believed in them, but you were the type not to press your luck. Every time you had in the past, you'd paid for it.

However, the universe had to have been against you, as it often was, because after only one week in your new vacation home strange things started happening.

It began with misplaced items, something easy to dismiss when you were still unpacking and organizing the place. You'd set down a mug of coffee on the countertop and find it on the bar later on or, to your dismay, the living room end table without a drink coaster underneath it. You'd throw a fresh shirt on the bed and enter the bathroom to take a shower and find the shirt on the floor when you returned. You'd place the manuscripts on your desk in a neat pile and find them disorganized the next morning. Things like that.

Then after a month more concerning things started happening. You'd lock a door and find it unlocked minutes later. You'd hear heavy footsteps on the second floor when you were in the kitchen or living room downstairs and you knew no one else was in the house. You'd see doors creak open on their own when they hadn't done that before.

Suddenly the cream colored modern mansion felt unsafe despite the high tech alarm system being in full working order and having never gone off.

You took to listening to music almost constantly, attempting to block out the feeling of unease you felt when everything was quiet. What you thought was your irrational side screamed at you to leave, to sell the place and go hang out at your Denver mansion or return to your main home, but your stubborn, so called rational side balked at the idea. You didn't want to admit defeat against a haunting you were pretty sure was all in your head or had explanations that were not of the supernatural kind.

Then one morning, the day before Halloween, you wandered downstairs to find a strange man sitting at your bar, dressed in ripped blue jeans, a dark tan oxford shirt, and a pair of tan slip on sneakers. You also had time to note that he had a graying patchy beard, sunglasses, and a single gold loop earring attached to his left ear before the fear set in and you screamed.

There was a complete stranger in your house! An interloper! Whatever his reason for being in your kitchen was, it had to be no good.

"Holy shit, you're loud!" he snapped, jumping in his seat. "Why are you freaking out so early in the morning?"

He turned to face you and his jaw dropped when he realized you were starring directly at him. "Wait, can you fucking see me?"

"Of course I can fucking see you," you spat. "You're in the middle of my kitchen, seated at my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the police!"

The man rubbed at his temple, his head pounding, which was really unfair, he thought, considering his situation. "Lady, if I could, I would, you are the saddest company I've ever kept, but unfortunately I have no say in the matter. I was here before you and I can't leave. Believe me, I've tried."

"Clearly you haven't tried enough," you hissed, pointing an index finger at the front door. "Try again."

He sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, though you couldn't see the latter action behind his shades. "Fine, if you insist."

He pushed himself away from the bar, sliding off the stool he'd been seated on, and headed for the door. He opened it and glanced back at you, finding that you'd trailed him with a glass vase in your hand.

At least you were a resourceful recluse.

He braced himself for the sensation of being catapulted back into the mansion and sure enough, as soon as he stepped through the threshold he felt whatever force that was keeping him inside push him back.

He landed on the tile floor several feet away from the door in the mess of his long limbs. "Oof."

"What the fuck?!" He heard you yelp and he groaned.

"Told you."

"What the hell was that?"

He stood up slowly and massaged his lower back. "That was what's keeping me from leaving, sunshine. Now that you've seen why I can't go, I'll let you guess how this situation began."

"A voodoo priest cursed you to eternity in here?" you guessed, purposely trying to come up with what you thought would be a ridiculous answer. You still were trying to recover from what you'd just witnessed. People didn't just get thrown by invisible forces, yet there was no realistic explanation for what you'd just seen.

"I wish," the man huffed. "But it's not a curse. Not as far as I'm aware. Well, maybe. Maybe some god thought it would be funny. But I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't a person who did this. I don't remember much, but the last thing I do remember before this was partying with a friend, breaking my one year drug sobriety with a dose of some pretty fine cocaine, and then waking up splayed out in the middle of the living room - a very empty living room. By the time I worked through my denial over what had happened to me, you had moved in."

"You overdosed?" you questioned, breath catching because that would mean...

"Yeah, that's what I figured," he replied. "I'm not one hundred percent sure about it. Usually I was always careful about that. But it's not like I hadn't overdosed before." He put his hand out - "Long story." - And sighed heavily. "All I know is I'm dead."

You covered your mouth in shock as you pieced it all together. "You are the one that was moving things, making noises. Did you do that on purpose?"

"What? To scare you?" He looked amused. "I wish I was that clever. Maybe I'd have better company by now. But that was just me trying to keep my sanity. You don't know how maddening it is to wander around a boring mansion all day unable to interact with anything, not even a damn spoon. I'm not good with isolation. Glad the practice paid off."

You walked into the living room and collapsed into your leather couch. "This can't be happening."

He took off his sunglasses as he followed you in and you met his dark but surprising soft eyes for a moment. "What's your name, anyways?"

He placed a hand over his chest and acted shocked, a little stung by your lack of familiarity with him. You could tell he was just being dramatic and didn't really care. "You don't know? Hint: I was an actor who was having a great Hollywood comeback when I died."

Your mind was blank. You didn't know a lot of actors by name, or by face for that matter. You didn't watch a lot of TV and movies, your preferred entertainment being reading. Your office walls were covered by filled bookshelves.

You shrugged at him.

"Dieter Bravo," he told you. "My name is Dieter Bravo. Almost everyone I know calls me Dee though."

"Do I know you now?" you inquired.

"Hardly," he snorted. "But I know you enough, unfortunately, no offense."

You rolled your eyes at him, annoyed. "You can't insult me then claim no offense. I'm gonna take offense. Especially since we've never even talked before now."

"Sorry," Dieter apologized half-heartedly. "I've just been going crazy and all you do is sit at your desk writing or read on the couch. And you seem to prefer it that way."

"Introverts do, yes," you said. "But I can be fun when I want to be. I'm going on a tour of the city tomorrow."

You didn't mention that you were going alone. You hadn't made any friends in the city yet. That always took you a while. Something that most actors probably had little trouble doing. People begged for their friendship or more, didn't they?

"Is it one of those ghost tours?" he asked. "Cause that would be ironic."

You held your tongue and kept your comment about him having used the word ironic wrongly to yourself. You were pretty sure that was something someone boring would point out. You weren't sure why you cared about what a dead addicted actor thought about you, but you did for some stupid reason. Probably because his untamed curly hair looked very tuggable and his jeans were tight in all the right places and you hadn't been laid since your last book tour. Handsome guys were your weakness. You weren't usually into jerks or addicts though. Losers, as far as you were concerned.

Instead, you let your mind wander to all those times you'd heard things moving around while you were undressed or in bed. "Please tell me you haven't been stalking me this entire time."

"Stalking is a strong word," he protested. "We're in the same house for hours on end. We have silently interacted, or rather been in the same room. And I might have been watching you, but only when you were dressed, cross my heart."

"That's comforting," you said sarcastically, but you believed him. No one with so much disdain towards your daily activities would have bothered to peep on you, would they? But he could be the type who didn't care if a girl had personality, as long as she had boobs, right?

You decided it was not worth the trouble thinking about. Not when you had no idea how to get him to move on, or at least get him out of your mansion.

"So, what unfinished business is keeping you here?" you inquired. "Last I heard that's the only way either of us is going to get some peace in the forseeable future."

"Ouch. Fair."

"Do you know?"

Dieter shook his head. "What unfinished business don't I have? My latest movie will never finish filming, my girlfriend broke up with me over the damn phone on my way here, I have no idea if Perry overdosed too or if he's still alive, and my family all hate me."

"Surely not," you said. "They just didn't know how to help you with your addictions anymore."

Dieter blinked at you. "I thought you didn't know anything about me?"

"I don't," you replied. "But I've had a couple relatives, not close ones, but still, they got addicted to painkillers and they wouldn't let the family help them, so my family got angry at them and gave up trying. You can't help those who don't want to be saved is how my mother put it."

"What if they wanted to be saved but didn't know how to accept help?"

The vulnerable question, seemingly uncharacteristic, threw you off. You stared at him and Dieter glanced away. "Just asking," he muttered.

"I don't know," you told him honestly. "Same applies. It can't be one sided. They would've had to find a way to accept it. But they didn't. And they've been buried six feet under for five years now."

Dieter nodded.

"I don't think I could help you with your family issues," you continued on. "But I can tell you Perry is alive, if he is the same Perry who owned this place as I assume. He sold me the mansion three months ago, a month before I moved in."

"That's good," he said, scratching at his neck. "I knew from your calendar and your phone that it has been six months since I died, but I didn't know if he was still alive. I can't remember him ever coming back. Maybe he did and I just wasn't...aware at the moment. Time is different now for me. And I think ghosts actually sleep too. Kinda."

"The realtor showed me this place," you told him. "Perry only showed up to finalize the paperwork at her office. Maybe it was too painful for him to come back?"

Dieter pursed his lips. "Maybe."

"Did that help?" you asked hopefully. "See any doors or light to go into?"

He barked out a laugh. "If only! But there's nothing. Guess we're not getting rid of each other that easily." There was a gleam in his eyes that suggested he wasn't as annoyed about it as he was before. It was actually playful.

"Too bad," you stated, smirking.

He chuckled. "At least we can talk now."

"That we can, so long as you promise not to keep watching me like an invisible creep while I sleep," you said.

"I do not."

"I've felt it," you hissed.

"It's hard to look away," he admitted. "You do know you drool, right?"

"Shut up."

After your first run in with Dieter you didn't see him for a few days, and you wondered if he'd finally moved on, but of course, no such luck.

You choked on dinner when he popped up next to you at the dining room table on the fourth day.

"Sorry, didn't mean to almost kill you," he said humorously, patting your back.

You felt nothing when he did it. Maybe a cold breeze, but nothing really notable.

"Where've you been?" you inquired once you'd recovered.

"No idea," Dieter answered. "I think showing myself to you all afternoon zapped all my 'spirit' energy. What day is it?"

"November three."

"Damn. Oh well."

"You going to use your newfound 'spirit energy' to find a way to move on?"

He pouted. "Said like I wasn't trying to do that before. And jeez, in a rush, are we?"

You huffed. Like he'd given you a reason not to want it fast. It would be way better for you both once he found peace.

"Aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" he shouted before pointing a finger at you. "But I'm not leaving before I give you this advice: don't wear jeans on the night of your death. You may think they're comfy, but they're not. Not after weeks, months in them. I miss my pajamas. My robe."

He sighed wistfully and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. "Alright, advice taken."

He whirled and phased back into invisibility, leaving you alone until the next morning, when he nearly made you choke on your breakfast.

Days turned into weeks like this, with Dieter spending minimal time with you as he made attempts to figure out what he needed to do to be free of the mansion, as he tried to make peace with the things that haunted him in hopes that resolving his unfinished business would open the beyond up to him, but slowly, the more hope he lost, the more time he spent with you.

It started with meals, watching you eat and participating in discourse that became less and less hesitant and hostile over time, turning into shockingly friendly debates and banter.

It turned out Dieter wasn't so bad to be around and he wasn't the loser you'd thought he was, or had been. One search of his wikipedia page and a few youtube videos had settled that for you. He had worked hard to gain his success, spending nearly a decade taking guest star role after guest star role, working in a bar when the roles and his money dried up. And when he did find a major role to catapult his career, he continued to take as many roles as he could.

He was known for partying hard on weekends, but he never showed up for work high.

He enjoyed comfy clothes on his time off, and especially loved wearing his light green robe, sometimes even going to his local coffee shop in it, but he cleaned up well for interviews and other important functions.

Dieter had a good reputation despite his addictions. It seemed like his fellow cast members always had nice things to say about him, even those who worked with him on the disastrous set of Cliff Beasts 6, which was apparently where he'd had his first overdose.

By Thanksgiving you were solid friends, and after you left for the holiday to visit your parents and home in LA, you returned with a souvenir for you both - a fridge magnet with a picture of the city buildings just beyond the Hollywood sign. You'd noticed Dieter seemed homesick and you sometimes felt it too. But you wouldn't leave New Orleans until Dieter figured out how to move on or until you were forced to. The magnet gave you a daily reminder of what it looked like.

As Christmas neared, Dieter began hanging out with you in the living room at night, watching whatever you were watching, which were mostly Christmas movies in December. He did it even when you watched Hallmark, though he'd roll his eyes and make sarcastic comments about the plot throughout those.

"They always fight and break up over an assumption," he rattled on more times than you could count. "Dumb ones at that. His jealous ex flaunts her a ring and says it is from him and the leading lady just bolts without asking him if it's true? And they said I needed therapy."

"You needed therapy."

"Well, not as bad as that bird."

Dieter couldn't leave the house to get you a Christmas gift, and you'd agreed you both would spend Christmas Eve, the night before your parents arrived to celebrate the holiday, just curled up on the couch together as usual, but that hadn't stopped him from giving you something anyway.

He'd thrown a box at you, unwrapped and told you to look inside and you'd found a beautiful charcoal drawing of you writing away at your desk inside. The sight of it made your breath catch.

"You did this yourself?" you questioned, stunned.

"Yeah," he replied. "It took a lot of energy out of me, but I got it done in a few days. I know we said no gifts, but I wanted to give you something anyway. You know, since I can't pay rent."

He'd expected you to laugh at the comment but you were too busy studying the image. He'd gotten every detail, right down to your blemishes. He'd put a lot of care into drawing you. It felt...reverent.

When you tilted your head up to look at him, you did it differently. You saw him in a new light. And though he was in the same jeans and shirt as he always was, you thought he looked particularly handsome in that moment, chocolate eyes hopeful.

"So, do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"I love it," you assured him. "But I...didn't get anything for you."

"It's okay," he said, "Free rent."

"You are the least messy roommate I've ever had," you told him. "But you've got to stop sneaking up on me and making the rooms cold."

"The temperature is out of my hands," Dieter said, shrugging. "Unless you want me to turn up the thermostat. I've mastered turning dials."

You smiled. "I'm good tonight."

You should've known better than to get drunk alone on New Year's Eve, but you did.

No, you weren't alone, alone, but you were the only one drinking since Dieter was not physically able to drink. And he should've been the last person you'd hang out with drunk.

Being drunk made you silly, made you excitable, and it also made you bold.

One minute you and Dieter were laughing loudly, and the next you were leaning towards him. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

You leaned in closer and lowered your voice, "It really sucks you are dead, Dee. It sucks because I really wish we could kiss right now."

Dieter stared at you, dumbfounded, but the shock quickly turned into glee. "We could still, you know."

"You've gotten good at making yourself more solid," you said, "But I can't feel you whenever you touch me, Dee. I don't notice it unless I see you doing it. That's the only way I know. By sight."

"Well, you've never focused on it before, have you?" he inquired. "It always takes me a lot of focus to hold anything, even a pen, for long, but I do."

"It may not seem that way, me being a writer, but I'm terrible at focusing," you admitted.

Dieter brushed your cheek compulsively and you smiled weakly at him.

"Can we try something out?" he asked.

"What'd you have in mind?"

He nodded at the couch. "Turn off the lights and lay down on your back and close your eyes."

You raised your eyebrows questioningly, and he flashed you a reassuring smile. "Trust me."

You did as ordered and Dieter took a moment to take your prone form in, peering through the darkness, and he noticed how your fingers were twitching due to your inability to ever keep perfectly still.

He couldn't believe he was finally going to kiss you. Two months ago he wouldn't have wanted to. He'd had bigger concerns, and you weren't his usual type.

But with time and forced proximity he'd grown to enjoy your company. You were smart, generous, surprisingly witty, and he'd always found you pretty.

He doubted he deserved you, he was certain you were better than him, but you wanted him to kiss you, and lately he'd wanted that too. He couldn't deny you.

He approached the couch and sat down next to you, leaning over you so his face hovered above yours.

"Try to clear your mind."

You nodded and did as told, doing your best to keep all thoughts at bay while your heart thudded in anticipation against your rib cage.

Then you felt his lips on yours. They weren't warm or cold, soft or chapped, and they didn't taste like anything, but you could feel the pressure of them. You could feel when he moved his lips, when he deepened the kiss, when his hand reached out to cradle your face.

You reached up for him automatically, your eyes still shut, and you could feel his strong neck under your hands, could feel the tips of his curls at the base of it.

There was something electric about the moment, and you moaned softly as you let the sensation consume you. The more you got lost in it, the more kissing Dieter felt real.

It was sobering.

You gently pushed him away and opened your eyes to find him gazing back into yours, a confused look on his face. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head as tears flooded your eyes. "I can't, Dee. I can't do this with you. You're dead."

"Pretty sure we just did," he said, wiggling his brows suggestively. "And if we can do that, imagine what else we might be able to do with time."

"I can't," you repeated. "Someday you will move on and I'll be alone again."

"I'll wait to move on only after you die," he declared. "Problem solved."

You shook your head again, harder. "That's unfair for us both and you know it. I don't want to spend my life keeping you a secret, and you don't want to stay cooped up in this house for another four or more decades. You'll go mad."

"Not with you here," he swore, his hand gliding down to squeeze your upper arm.

"I can't take that chance," you said, standing up. "I'm sorry."

You began to walk away, but in the archway to the hall you turned to face him again.

"You should keep looking for your way out," you told him. "Make it your priority again. Cause next week I'm headed back to LA. I've got a book that's going to hit shelves in three weeks and my editor wants to plan some last minute fan meet ups for when it does. I can't stay here while we're doing that."

You tried to avoid looking at Dieter's face but you still got a glimpse of the hurt on it.

He was so upset he didn't say anything to you back, and you told yourself silently that it was easier that way.

You climbed the stairs, quickly curled up in bed under your sheets, and tried to think about anything but him until you fell asleep.

You had no idea that when you woke up in the morning, he'd be gone.

Steady beeping was the first thing Dieter registered when he gained consciousness in the hospital, but it was far from the least pleasant thing about the experience. That had gone to the bright lights briefly, then to the uncomfortable feeling of his feeding tube that was pulled through one of his nostrils.

Dieter would never call waking up from his coma fun. It had been confusing and exhausting (he thought that was ironic) and he’d been sore from not moving for a long time, but at least that discomfort felt short compared to what came after.

He'd been in a coma for nearly a year and that had taken a toll on his body, along with the seizure that had caused him to go into it in the first place, a side effect of his long term use of hard drugs.

He had most of his mind right from the start, but his body was weak and had loss some of the connections he'd made as a child to do simple functions like walking and eating with a fork. Frustratingly, he'd had to learn it all back again.

His only solstice was that his parents were there every step of the way. They'd had him transferred to LA after he woke up and had regularly visited him in the hospital and Dieter kinda wished he'd heard them while he was taking his long sleep. What had they said to him?

Probably what they'd been saying since. His parents rarely missed a chance to tell him they loved him, that they regretted letting his addictions come between them.

"It was my fault," he'd told them, but they'd shaken their heads.

"We didn't go about finding you help like we should've. We gave up too fast."

Dieter didn't care about that though. He was just grateful to have them back in his life. To still have a life at all.

He didn't remember the fateful night that had led to his coma, but he was able to video chat with Perry on his laptop and his friend filled in the blanks.

They'd gotten together and Perry had given him all the cocaine he could ask for. They'd gotten comfortable on the couch and rode out their highs talking about the trouble they used to get into in high school. Then he had began seizing sometime after midnight and Perry had dialed 911.

Even with the fill in, Dieter felt he was missing something. Something important. But any time he tried to recall his night with Perry, he got nothing.

He had dreams though, often several times a week, of him patrolling Perry's mansion alone, of an attractive woman chatting away with him at the dining room table, of him kissing her in the shadows of the night, and those felt like the missing pieces, lost memories, but they couldn't be. He couldn't have been a ghost while he was in the coma, he reasoned.

But all the reasoning in the world wouldn't allow him to shake it off. Eventually he caved and asked Perry, who was visiting him after getting out of rehab, to describe the woman who had bought the mansion from him.

When he gave every detail he could think of, Dieter was flabbergasted.

The woman Perry had detailed sounded exactly like the woman in his dreams...

But it couldn't be, could it?

He decided there was only one way to find out.

As soon as he was back to full strength, he'd fly out to New Orleans and knock on your door.

He'd find out once and for all if any of it had been real.

He didn't mean to go to New Orleans on Halloween, but that's how it ended up - with him on an early flight to one of the spookiest cities in the world on the arguably spookiest day of the year.

He took a taxi to get to your house and hesitantly made his way to the front door.

How should he go about telling you he had dreams about you? To ask if you knew him when he was in his coma and was a ghost? What if it had really all been in his head?

There were several carved orange pumpkins on the front porch - jack o' lanterns - something he didn't remember you having last year, and they immediately sent him into a spiral of deep uncertainty.

She can't be her, he thought. She didn't decorate for Halloween last year.

It was kind of ridiculous to assume that just because you hadn't had Halloween decorations one year you wouldn't have them the next, but that was how much he was doubting himself.

He took a moment to beat down his nerves on your doorstep, shake it off, then knocked, not knowing if you'd hear it or if you were even on the same side of the house. Not knowing if you were home at all.

You were both shocked when you opened the door and found yourselves staring at each other.

How could it be? You'd assumed Dieter had moved on well over half a year ago, and yet there he was before you, looking very much alive and in a fresh pair of black jeans and an olive green button down shirt that was basically his tan shirt's twin.

"Holy shit, I didn't think you were actually real!" Dieter exclaimed.

"Are you?" you inquired. "Last I knew you were dead. What the fuck?"

He guffawed and you marveled at the way the skin around his eyes crinkled, at how they shined with life. His hair was more gray than you remembered, but it only added to how alive he looked.

"It turns out I wasn't actually dead," he explained. "I was in a coma. I woke up in a hospital bed back in January and found out I'd been unconscious for several months. I didn't overdose, but I'd had seizures from the cocaine I took. I had no idea that could be a side effect. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived, let alone had a full recovery."

You stepped outside with him. "And you've stayed clean?"

He huffed. "Of fuckin' course. I'm not a complete idiot. I'm not going through that shit again. Physical therapy was a bigger pain in my ass than any of the cravings could ever be."

You laughed briefly before your expression turned serious again. "That's good."

"I wanted to see you sooner," he told you, scratching at his cheek over the beard he still had, though it was more neatly trimmed than it had been the last time you'd seen him. "But I wanted to be fully recovered before I flew back out here, and for part of that time I didn't remember being here. Not even the night me and Perry hung out in the living room."

You folded your arms, nodded, and pursed your lips. "So how much do you remember now?"

You tried to keep your expectations low but there was a knife stabbing at your heart when you realized that he might not be able to recall much of you at all. Did he even remember your kiss?

Dieter smiled. "I remember us not getting off on the right foot, and maybe scaring you on purpose a few times."

You gaped at him. "I KNEW it!"

He grinned slyly and continued, "I remember how we used to talk a lot, and how that would drain my energy right out, but I'd always linger a little too long, until I had no choice but to slip into the darkness to rest for a while. I remember loving your sarcastic sense of humor and the way you lose your breath when you laugh too hard. And I...remember that night, when we kissed."

That had been something else. Unexpectedly titillating. It was by far the sharpest memory he had of that time he'd spent between worlds.

"I don't know if you remember it, but I regretted every day since that I said what I said that night," you told him, chewing your lip.

He nodded. "I remember. But you weren't wrong. You deserve to be with someone breathing, and I was really getting sick of being stuck in the house."

You chuckled but the sound was cut short when you felt him palm your cheek.

He was sooo warm. Real.

Your stomach fluttered when your eyes met.

"I thought I'd never get to say goodbye," you whispered. "All I wanted after I woke up to an empty house was to get that chance. But this, this is so much better."

"I missed you," Dieter admitted, drawing closer to you.

You beamed at him and he felt his chest warm.

"I missed you too."

He pulled you into a kiss, far more passionate than the first you'd shared, and you gripped onto his elbows tightly, fiercely clinging to him, almost afraid to let go.

When you eventually did, you smirked at him. "You're a day late for our anniversary, you know."

"First meetings do not count," he claimed.

"Oh yes they do," you countered.

"Well, excuse me for fuckin' forgetting to fly out yesterday. Pretty sure I still have some brain damage."

You huffed playfully. "Excuses."

Dieter shook his head at you fondly and kissed you again.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

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Main Masterlist

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#Dieter Bravo #The Bubble #Dieter Bravo Fanfic #Dieter Bravo Fanfic (Mine)#Fanfiction #Mine #X Reader #Jamie’s Halloween Writing Challenge #jamieshalloweenwritingchallenge

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giuseppe-yuki · 9 days ago

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👻 anais' halloween blurbos 👻

summary: it's well known that formula 1 was a cutthroat and and merciless sport. that's why, when murder and other shenanigans are legalized by the fia during race weekends to add a little drama in the paddock, all hell breaks loose. fans going missing, reporters being found dead, team employees writhing in pain for no apparent reason. it seemed like everyone would do most anything to win the sparkling championship trophy. luckily for a few select drivers, they have a little advantage with supernatural powers on their side.

or: supernatural!reader x driver mini oneshots (kind of purge!au (?))

warnings: mentions of death, gore, murder, hurting people, and curse words

total w.c.: 5k

picture credits from pinterest :)

I - fallen angel - yt22

II - vampire - op81

III - ghost - zg24

IV - bat!shapeshifter - pg10

V - witch - gr63

VI - hellhound!shapeshifter - cs55

a/n: a quick little project i meant to put out before halloween but i got a little sidetracked with my other fics... i'm going to pretend that it's still spooky season and totally NOT november :P

ALSO i feel obligated to say i don't condone doing anything in these blurbs irl- hurting people for any reason is NOT okay.

I - fallen angel - yt22

yuki always called you an angel. with your entrancing looks and ability to light up any room that you were in, it was hard not to compare you to an ethereal being. when you walk outside holding yuki's hand, you don't miss the stares of envious women and salicious men when the way the sun seemed to create a halo around your head, and air seemed to shimmer around you. little did he know, you were an angel. well, you used to be, until some petty arguments and pointed fingers resulted in you losing your wings and falling into the mortal world. now, you spent your life dedicated to tempt others to sin.

this worked perfectly, because while yuki focused on dominating on track and getting maximum points, you could use your full power and focus on other aspects- like making sure your boyfriend didn't get fucked over by unfair officials of the sport.

"do good out there, okay?" you say to your boyfriend, giving him a hug and a kiss on his recognizable japanese maple leaf helmet.

he smiles back at you, only visible through his flipped-up visor.

soon enough, it was lights out, and the drivers were sent on their way, throttling around the night track.

you settle in a padded chair that a starstruck engineer pulled up for you while monitoring the multiple tvs that lined the garage. most of them showed the live feeds of the drivers aggressively battling on track, using dirty racing to cut their way to the lead. you took pleasure in seeing yuki gain several positions as he overtook the battling fernando and liam. his engineers burst in rambunctious applause, but it quiets down rather quickly, notifying you that something was amiss.

you turn around to see the engineers crowded around a singular data computer. storming out of your chair, you snatch a nearby engineer's arm, roughly turning him around.

"can you tell me what just happened?" you ask with mock-sweetness, pointing your chin the whispering group of engineers that hid the computer screen from your eyes.

he gulps, knowing that you had the power to hurt him, especially with the fia's rules, and stammers out an answer, even if he knew you wouldn't like it.

"w-w-well," he stutters, "apparently, the stewards gave yuki a penalty for false start and forcing a driver off track. he'll have to- um- serve it when he comes in for a pitstop."

there's no way, you think, angrily. a false start and forcing a driver off track? what a load of bullshit. were they actually even watching the race? someone had to pay for this.

your heels clacked as you strutted through the linoleum floors of the fia building. the walls shook from the sheer forces of the cars on track barreling by, probably halfway through the race. stalking through the stale white hallways and up a flight of stairs, you finally find the room you were looking for- a dark wooden one that proudly held a silver sign that had the words 'stewards' carved into it neatly. you take a deep breath and turn on your full dazzling skills before knocking gently on the door.

an older gentleman, shirt marked with the telltale fia symbol and orange lanyard, opens the door. the perfect victim. he falters a bit when sees you, practically glowing, even in the hallway's dim lighting.

"c-c-can i help you miss?" he asks, face turning a bit red and hand instinctively reaching up to to loosen his collar. you tended to have that affect on people when you wanted to.

"yes," you drawl, purposely batting your long lashes at him. "i have a something to show you."

he shakes his head nervously, eyes glued to something that was definitely not your face. "no, no, no, i have a job to do-"

"oh, come on," you say, pouting, "it's just down the hall!"

you turn and strut down the hall, purposefully showing off your long legs, knowing that there was no doubt he would follow you out of the room. when you turn back around at the end of the hall, the steward, like you predicted, had naively followed you like a dog to a bone.

you don't even make sure that no one was close by before plunging a dagger straight into his heart. he slumps down on the ground, blood flowing out of the fatal wound. you blow him a kiss, before flouncing away back towards yuki's garage. that will teach the stewards a lesson before giving your boyfriend unfair penalties.

II - vampire - op81

when oscar met you, you seemed like a shy little thing with your timid personality and reserved smiles. he swore that you could do nothing wrong. i mean, how could you, when you were scared of such small things like sunburns or funnily enough, garlic bread? the first time he introduced you to the paddock as his girlfriend, he kept a good watch on you. if he didn't, he was so sure that they were going to eat you alive just to gain an advantage on him.

and that's also why, when he heard the news of yet another important paddock member going missing, he was so sure that it was you.

"fuck!" oscar shouts, raking a hand through his sweaty hair. "i leave to do one five minute interview and she disappears!"

ignoring the stares of the reporters and cameramen who turn in surprise to his outburst, he yanks the clip-on mic off of his fireproofs and chucks it at his interviewer's head. if he found his girlfriend dead on the floor, bleeding out, it would be this stupid interviewer's fault.

he stalks off without a word, listing potential places that his girlfriend could possibly be taken in his head.

behind him, lando skips in the shadow of oscar's steps, grinning around the rubber straw of his water bottle that was clenched between his teeth.

"you better hurry, osc!" he trills, "you know what happened to ocon's little girlfriend when she went missing- she was found-"

oscar snaps back, interrupting lando. "yes i know, she was found at the bottom of a goddamn dumpster. you don't have to remind me."

it was a fresh memory in his head. ever since the fia allowed murder, during race weekends, all hell had broke loose. vip guests dropping dead, officials found with broken necks. whoever had murdered poor ocon's girlfriend had did a great deal of damage mentally on esteban, resulting in multiple poor finishes for him during race weekends. oscar never thought it would happen to himself.

frustrated, he roughly shoves lando away from him, pointing in the direction of the red bull garage.

"why don't you go blow up max's tyre like you did in australia or something!" he shouts, clearly annoyed by lando's constant pestering.

oscar doesn't wait for a response from lando before sprinting down to the mclaren motorhome. he checks each individual door to the bathroom, kitchen, and computer rooms when he finally stumbles upon a door with a blood red liquid seeping out the bottom. a muffled thud sounds from within, and he winces automatically.

he closes his eyes, praying that you died a peaceful death, before slowly turning the silver knob of the storage closet.

to his surprise, the the grey, pale, body of otmar szafnauer thumps out into the hallway, head rolling. the side of his neck is a bloody mess, probably the source of the pool of blood now seeping into the carpet and staining the edge of his racing shoes. there, stood primly behind otmar's repulsive body, is you, without a drop of blood on your pretty pink dress. you send oscar a bashful smile, revealing your fangs covered in the cherry-red liquid.

picking up your skirts, you step over the ex-alpine team manager and carefully close the door to the rather stuffy closet you were just in. he'll probably be found by the janitor in the next 24 hours or so.

you peck a quick kiss on oscar's cheek, unknowingly getting a bit of blood on his skin.

"i got rid of otmar for you, baby," you say quietly, fiddling with your fingers. "i hope you don't mind- i heard he gave you a hard time last year."

III - ghost - zg24

you were dead. no, literally. you passed away 5 years ago- beheaded after you fell off of a high building you suppose, going off of how you could pull your head off your neck if you wanted to, and the fact that you always had phantom back pains. it worked out quite beautifully that you were dead already when the fia announced its new rule.

as opposed to the girlfriends of several other select drivers that tended to play a rather active part in gaining the best advantage for their boyfriends on track, you tended to be a little more laid back. however, one thing you could never excuse was when people talked shit about your boyfriend, zhou.

zhou grips your hand tightly in his as you both walked down through the paddock. you loved how his fashionable clothes glittered brightly under the lit lamp posts that lined the walkway. the sun had set, which meant the night race was starting soon. the crowds of fans in the paddock had somehow gotten thicker, and the hired security that zhou had gotten struggled just the tiniest bit holding the horde back.

like you always do when you get nervous, you flicker in-between your solid and ghost form. your boyfriend clocks this right away, especially since that this meant his hand, which was holding firmly holding yours, passed right through you. he stops, looking at you concerningly.

"hey, you alright?" he asks, brows furrowed. "i can-" before he can finish his sentence, an apple flies out of the crowd of fans and bounces off his shoulder, landing at the place where your translucent foot is supposed to be.

the fan that threw it begins to shout obscene remarks directed at both you and zhou, before being dragged away by security.

an anger flares through you. who did she think she was? throwing an apple at your boyfriend's head? that had to count as a murder attempt.

you flicker more rapidly between your states, to which zhou takes your hand.

"hey, it's fine," your boyfriend says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. "forget it- my security will deal with them. let's go to the garage, okay?"

you nod slowly, letting your boyfriend lead the way, but oh, you don't forget.

you wait, in your ghost form, in the metal supports of the grandstand. drifting aimlessly, you pop up here and there to scare the crap out of some random fan, when you finally spot your target. the fan from earlier tirelessly climbs the lengthy walk to the grandstands. she's decked out in alpine merch, which makes you scoff. why criticize zhou's team when the very team she was rooting for wasn't doing so well either?

you watch as she settles herself at the very top seat of the grandstand, waving her little alpine flag. what a pity. if only she wasn't so rude. when the cars roar around the corner and she stands up to cheer, it isn't hard for you to reach out your hands and push. a look of recognition registers in her face before she falls backwards off of the high-up stands. she screams, but who hears her over the loud engines as they make their way around the turn? except you, of course. she lands on the ground with a sick splat, likely breaking her back and neck the way you did when you died. you float for a moment over the carnage before floating away to your rightful spot in zhou's garage. serves her right, you suppose.

IV - bat!shapeshifter - pg10

the second pierre found out about your special "ability," he didn't hesitate to take advantage of it. sending you to spy on the other team's cars? check. going to pester the invasive reporters who only cared about spreading yet another rumor? check. monitoring around him to make sure there wasn't any people trying to attack him in the paddock? check.

you didn't mind of course- anything to help your boyfriend one step closer to his end goal. you hated seeing him coming home, again and again, dejected over the progress he's made, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he raced.

today, a night race, gave you an opportunity to give your boyfriend another chance at points. with the sky being pitch black, it made it easier to navigate around without being seen.

in the garage, under the harsh incandescent lights, engineers and alpine employees mill around, checking data and making any final adjustments to the car. before long, pierre gets the green lights to drive up to the starting spots on the track. just prior to pulling on his helmet and climbing into his shitbox of a car, he pulls you close.

"remember what we talked about, okay?" he whispers into your ear, playing it off as a tight hug.

you nod, pressing a kiss to his freshly-shaven jaw.

"of course, baby," you respond earnestly.

when the car rumbles awake and your boyfriend steers the car towards the starting grid postions, you take off running as well. taking a flying leap behind the car, you shift into your bat form and fly up, up, up, into the rapidly darkening sky.

you sit patiently on a tree branch near the track, watching carefully with your sensitive night vision. like you planned, when you spot the telltale black carbon-fiber and vibrant red bull car pull in towards the pitlanes, you dive bomb down back towards the garages. it takes a second, maybe even quicker, to find the engineers poised with the fresh tyres ready for max verstappen's pretty little rb20. you don't hesitate to sink your pointy teeth into their unprotected necks, one by one. the venom in your saliva works quick, and by the time max pulls into his pitstop spot, his pit crew all lay on the ground, incapacitated.

huh, that worked suprisingly well, you think, soaring away from the crime scene. maybe you should try that again in the next prix.

V - witch - gr63

with the fia implementing the barbarous rules at every prix at every calendar, you would think people would be more scared to come. however, it seemed like the audience doubled, if not tripled ever since the rule was announced. something about 'the thrill of it,' lewis had said when you asked him. so, like the crowds of fans lingering in the fanzones, the vips and sponsors visiting the paddock club increased significantly, eager to get a look at the track action and drama between drivers like it was some drama movie.

so, the only thing that made sense to do was to profit off of it, of course. with your magic and brewing pot at hand, you could do most anything to the pompous rich pricks who wanted nothing more than an in to the thrilling secrets of the bloodthirsty sport of formula 1.

"what are you wearing tonight, darling?" the vip asks, flaunting her massive diamond ring in your peripheral vision, obviously fishing for complements. it shined tauntingly in the colored overhead lights at the exclusive paddock club event. jazzy music and the clinking of glasses drown out the pretentious conversations of yet another pair of billionaires talking about their newest private jet acquisition or supercar purchase.

you fake a half-hearted smile at her, smoothing down your own outfit.

"i'm not really sure. i just pulled it out of my closet, i suppose."

failing to get a proper response from you, she smooths down her own glittering dress haughtily and brushes her carefully styled hair behind her ears.

"well, i'm wearing all ysl. the heels themselves cost at least 1.3k!" she exclaims, pointing to the rather painful-looking heels holding up her feet.

just then, your boyfriend appears next to you, lips wide in a smile.

"hello, darling," he says, handing you a drink from the bar. it's a small glass of margarita, coincidentally matching the one in the pompous vip's hand.

"it's not poisoned, i promise," he says to you, making you roll your eyes. the vip, hearing this, laughs.

"so exciting, isn't it? with all the fia's rules, i can't wait to finally see some more drama on track tomorrow," she says giddily, as if george wasn't in grave danger every day, on track and in the paddock because of people like her. dropping her voice down to a scandalous whisper, she continues, "i heard, some fan fell- or was pushed off the grandstands last night!" she giggles, waving her hand. "honestly though, i would probably jump too, if i had to sit in those grimy seats."

you and george both exchange looks of disgust, but she doesn't catch it as a well-dressed gentleman walks up with a grin, giving her a polite hug.

"ah! ricca, how nice to see you again! i haven't seen you since- what, our little outing to bali a month ago? wanted a little bit of racing action now huh?" he asks, swishing his whiskey on the rocks. he turns after finishing his sentence, as if just realizing you and your boyfriend's presence. his gives the both of you a demeaning look, as if you were the ones butting into the conversation instead of him. however, after a beat, his eyes grow wide, and it is obvious when it clicks in his brain where he has seen george.

"oh my!" he proclaims, clutching his chest. "you're that- that racing driver! what's your name again? lando norrin? ferdinand alonso?"

that really said a lot about the reason these socialites were here. who the fuck was ferdinand?

your boyfriend, like the kind-hearted person he was, pastes on a smile and gently corrects the man.

"er- no, sir. i'm george russell- driver for mercedes."

"as i thought," he states with no shame. he then loudly clinks his drink with the young lady, ricca's, glass, and they both down their respective liquids.

you literally could not take it anymore.

"let me take those onto the bar for you," you offer helpfully to the affluent pair. "another whiskey and margarita?"

they have the decency to thank you tipsily before shoving the empty glasses in your hand. you turn back to george, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"i'll be right back," you whisper.

squeezing through the crush of the crowd, you station yourself in an mostly empty table in the corner of the room placed next to a floor-to-ceiling window. the empty glasses in your hand clink when you set it on the table, the last dregs of the drinks swirling at the bottom of the glasses. a quick wave of your hand summons fresh ice cubes in each glass, and a practiced flick of your middle finger and thumb sends a stream of margarita and whiskey out of thin air into its respective glasses. from your pocket, you retrieve a vial of silver liquid that you brewed just about every grand prix. with a hint of nightshade, wings of a spanish fly, and ground up pearls, it made the drinker do whatever you wanted, really. after carefully pouring half into each drink, you throw the empty vial into the air, where it is promptly teleported to your vial cabinet back in george's driver room.

perfect.

before heading back, you take one last look through the glass that presented the night sky and darkened track below. the track still had streaks of black from the burnt rubber from the race only a few hours ago.

it was a wonderful sport really. it was a shame that implemented these barbaric rules that forced your hand. but if that's what you had to do for george, then you would do it.

it didn't take very long for the potion to take effect. you could tell from their slurred speech and slow movements that one could pass off as being drunk.

deciding to waste no time, you pull out your quill pen and paper out of a hidden pocket in your dress. it levitates in the air, visible to only you.

with a nod to george, you both go through the usual spiel- bank account numbers? passwords? credit card numbers?

the vips list off the information as if it is public knowledge, unknowingly allowing your quill to copy the numbers and sensitive information into your notebook.

when you are satisfied, you slip the notebook back into your pocket.

"alright, i think we're done here, georgie," you say to your boyfriend, ignoring the two figures that sway, silent, next to the two of you.

george pouts.

"aww, i was really having fun with that!" he whines.

"well," you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. "do you want to stay at this god-forsaken place where you might be stabbed by "ferdinand" alonso for no reason or do you want to go home to our comfy flat?"

he shrugs.

"i guess you have a point," he says unhappily.

taking his hand, you lead him out of the still-packed event, but not before slipping another vial of blood-red liquid into their drinks- mind-wiping serum that worked perfectly every single time, except the fact that it also had a tiny side effect of excruciating pain that lasted a few hours.

eh, they deserved it for not even knowing your boyfriend's name.

tomorrow- if they even survived- they would wake up to see their bank accounts drained. you suppose you should send them a thank-you letter next time for single-handedly sponsoring the next merc upgrades, even if they didn't know it.

VI - hellhound!shapeshifter - cs55

at this point in time, you didn't care anymore. you dared one person- a fan, an official, or opposing team member to try again to break into carlos' driver room. they never seemed to learn their lesson of how loyal and protective you were of your boyfriend. one bite with your teeth are sure to dismember an arm and one swipe of your paw could brake even the most sturdy tire drills, as demonstrated with the last haas mechanic that tried in vain to murder carlos.

it might not seem like it, the way you were curled in carlos' arms on his couch. you practically had your face buried in his red branded hoodie, half-asleep, while he scrolled mindlessly on his phone. it's so soft and comfy, you can't help let out a soft snore as you drift off.

carlos laughs, chest rumbling, patting your head with his free hand. "i thought you were supposed to be on guard, protecting me, mi amor!"

opening your eyes a tiny bit, you pull yourself even closer to carlos, reveling in the warmth of his body.

"i am on alert," you defend, but it doesn't help your case the way your voice comes out muffled from being pressed against his hoodie. "i am always list-"

footsteps.

you hear a pair of scuffled footsteps from the hallway outside of carlos' door, thanks to your exceptional hearing. it slowly drags closer and closer to the only door out of the room, a slow patter of sneaker on pavement that is only audible to you.

without wasting a second, you leap up off the couch and shift into your hellhound form, baring your sharp teeth towards the door, poised, ready to attack whatever poor soul that had decided had your boyfriend was an easy target.

behind you, carlos slides off the couch slowly, recognizing something was wrong.

a knock sounds on the door, making him flinch and eliciting a warning growl from you. however, when both you and carlos don't move an inch toward the entryway, the door slowly slides open.

you muster up all the power you have to leap straight at the attacker, making sure to aim for the neck. but before you can pounce and go for the kill, carlos roughly yanks you back by the scruff of your neck.

"woahwoahwoah," he says to you, pushing your foaming mouth away from the cowering man in the doorway. "it's fine- it's okay!"

you snap at the man once, making sure to purposely show off your canines, but back off a little into the room. if carlos said the man was safe, you wouldn't go against his words.

carlos scratches his head, briefly apologizing to what you realize was his head race engineer, riccardo adami, explaining the precautions he had to take in light of the fia's new rules.

riccardo laughs nervously, but proceeds to let carlos know that he is wanted in the media pen.

carlos holds your hand in his when you stroll down the lighted walkways of the paddock. you flounce your way past the plush couches next to the walkway and the little cafe/bar that served absolutely bomb coffee and cocktails. honestly, you missed the times before the fia's stupid fucking rule where you could drink cocktails with alex's girlfriend or gossip with yuki's girlfriend without fearing that they would poison your drinks or strangle you behind the mclaren hospitality just to help their boyfriends. you guess you still could if you really wanted to, though. maybe you'll do the poisoning and strangling if really needed.

lost in thought, you miss the fake smile the interviewer gives you before dragging your boyfriend off into the media pen.

throwing yourself onto the said couches from before, you convince yourself that he'd probably be fine, but you make sure to keep an eye out and train yourself to listen to any concerning sounds within all the chatter and crowds.

to your surprise, the interview ends quite early, and you have hardly taken a sip of your iced coffee (even though it was, like, 8pm a the track) before carlos storms out of the media pen.

"you okay?" you ask your boyfriend concerningly as you take another swig of the still-full iced coffee in your hand.

carlos huffs angrily, running a hand through his hair, before grasping your free hand to lead you back to his driver's room.

"it's fine, let's just go," he says dismissively, straight-up dragging you behind him.

you pull him to stop with your strength, and glare at him with your arms crossed.

"no! carlos sainz, you tell me what happened in there," you demand.

he rolls his eyes. "well, that stupid interviewer just kept on asking me questions about my thoughts on the missing otmar, dead steward, the fan "falling" from the stands, and all that bullshit that i said didn't want to talk about. i told her i wanted to talk about the race, but then she just responded with a question about my reaction to max's pit crew being injected with some type of venom. i was so done at that point, i just walked out."

you frown. that woman sure sounded like a bitch. honing in your hearing to find the woman through the noise in the media pen, you hear what you assume to be the interviewer mention carlos' name.

"...no, and like i felt like he was so hard to work with," she laughs.

perhaps she was talking to a friend in the media pen?

"...yeah, and he wouldn't answer any of my questions- like what am i going to put in my article? nothing?" she says incredulously. "honestly," she continues, "i hope he dies next on the grid, so it'll make it easier for the next poor reporter who has do an article on him, because then, she won't have to go through the misery of interviewing him!"

a symphony of giggles from a group follow her sentence, a few muttering their agreement.

you turn back to carlos, purposely blocking off the noise of the media pen in your ear, and give him a genuine smile. pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek, you comfort him, "i'm sorry that happened to you, baby. i'm sure it won't happen again- ever."

true to your word, you wait until carlos is proccupied with arguing with charles in the hospitality about one of the controversial on-track battles that took place earlier in the day when you make your move.

the sky is dark, throughly littered with sparkling diamonds, when you pad through the mostly-empty paddock towards the media pen. several fans and officials, seeing your demonic form, scamper out of the way in an effort to avoid your wrath.

you spot your target with your sharp eyesight immediately, walking wobbly in her high heels with a clipboard in one hand. several of her reporter friends huddle next to her, their laughs echoing through the darkened paddock.

time to enact your plan.

stopping a meter behind them, you use your sharp claws to draw a circle on the ground. with three taps of your paw and a breath of fire into the middle, the pavement slides away to reveal a portal into a fiery pit. you're not too sure where it leads, but you don't really plan on finding out either.

silently scampering over to the group, you clamp your jaws down the legs of one of the people that you heard agreeing with the interviewer. you ignore the group's screams before roughly dragging the woman towards the pit. she falls, and it's not long before her yells are covered up in the rumble of the flames.

even when the group scatters in different ways, it doesn't take long with your supernatural speed to catch up to them and drag each person into the pit. you purposely save the main interviewer for last.

when she lies at the edge of the pit, arm bleeding profusely from the wounds from your teeth, you shift back into your human form.

"don't fucking talk shit about my boyfriend ever again," you snarl.

with a shove from your arm, she falls backwards into the deep fire pit with the rest of her "friends."

if carlos was hard to work with, you bet whatever demons down there were so much more harder to work with. oh well, that was her problem.

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sl-walker · 6 days ago

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Self-Promotion as Distraction

Want something to read? Here's my stuff that I'd rec, along with what kind of mood it's good for. Feedback adored if you read any of these and wanna give it.

Supernatural - The (Second) Book of James - Long Good if you like stories written before Season 9, tons of angel lore and metaphysics, angel-vessel relations, Jimmy Novak, a story told backwards-and-forwards, and something with a very bittersweet ending that is not actually the ending. Some warning for tragedy, of a sort. If you love Cas and Jimmy, though, it's a hell of an adventure, especially if you like Cas as a total badass.

Star Trek: The Original Series - The Arc of the Wolf - Long Good if you love your Trek stories very grounded and humanistic. Pretty much the life story of Montgomery Scott, it's very much a Scotty story first and a Trek story only sometime after that. There's drama, humor, high seas piracy, friendship, found family and even if you don't actually know Trek very well, I've been told you don't need to in order to enjoy it.

Star Wars - Witness me - Long Good if you like Maul and specifically Obimaul, especially with the more Legends lean on Maul's characterization. Basically an AU where Maul was captured after Theed, the series doesn't ignore the fact that Maul was cut in half, so it's very heavy on the psychology and relationship building. It also has a whole gamut of emotions explored, and beyond the Obimaul, you also have found family and friendship building and an absolutely awesome cast of clones in Blackbirds: Year One. Probably my most popular work, and not entirely without reason.

Star Wars - Undersong - Long-ish Good if you like id-fic! A Sith AU where both Obi-Wan and Maul are raised by Sidious before escaping together, it's largely written in a serial format, with short chapters and a lot of momentum. Good if you don't like long, dense chapters, but do like a story with some real rollercoaster emotion. I enjoyed the hell out of the supporting cast, and so does everyone who reads it, too.

DC Comics/JLI - Past Resolution's Power - Mid-length Good if you want a shorter tale but with teeth. The prequel series to Stardust, this one primarily looks at the short span of time between the book Justice League: Generation Lost (and Booster Gold Vol. 2) and Flashpoint, mostly centered around Booster, but also with Rani and Rip and Michelle and Guy. It's a pretty heavy and genuinely mature story, though it's got its light spots, too. Also called the Mk. I timeline, as its the first.

DC Comics/JLI - Carbon Cycle - Long Good if you want something long, involved, sometimes incredibly fluffy and definitely filled with warmth. The Mk. III timeline -- meaning the third reboot, versus the Mk. I timeline above -- takes place mostly around DC's Rebirth era, on the notion that the characters aren't getting cleanly reset every time and instead that there are these echoes from past lives. The main story, Stardust, is Booster/Beetle slowburn, lots of funny but also lots of sincerity, and later on some heavier stuff creeping in, but the supporting cast has some serious screentime, too.

How about you, Tumblr? GIVE US YOUR DISTRACTION RECS.

#supernatural #castiel #jimmy novak #st:tos #montgomery scott #star wars #maul #obi wan kenobi #obimaul #dc comics #justice league international #booster gold #boostle #come on and share your stuff #yes you #the person reading these tags

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hg-aneh · 6 months ago

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Hi! Been a huge fan of your art for a while now. The way you draw everyone’s favorite gay supernatural beings is just….. 🤌🏻

Anyway, here’s my ask

Have you watched Hazbin Hotel? Do you ever draw the characters?

I know what happens in Hazbin but it's like those cases where the show doesn't rlly seem that interesting to me so I just learn about it through episode reviews or critiques :0... or drama videos xD (they're fun bg noise)

I've drawn a couple of the HH characters a grand total of one ( 1 ) time as a gift for a "mutual"'s AU over on titter. I can't say I was a fan. They're fun but also ridiculously complicated to draw skfbskg

Thank you for the compliment btw :3

#aneh answers #aneh wont shut up

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perpetualexistence · 11 days ago

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A Total Drama Magnus Archives AU

Day 7: Free Day!

Alright gang, this one’s going to be a bit different as this is what I’ve got the energy for right now. Rather than tell a narrative like I usually do, I’m just going to infodump the ideas I currently have about this AU.

The important thing to know is that this AU takes place parallel to most of the events happening in canon Magnus Archives. Though in this case the setting is actually The Usher Foundation, the sister organization in the Americas. Spoilers for The Magnus Archives because it’s going into it.

Everyone’s in their late 20’s here mainly because they need to have full time jobs for this to work. Also, please do check tags.

(It’s also got a very heavy focus on Alenoaheather as villains and I won’t apologize for this)

@total-drama-horror-week

Characters and their Roles

Usher Foundation

Gwen: Protagonist, pretty much takes up Jon's role except instead of recording tapes, she listens to tapes and makes forensic sketches so that the Foundation can actually be able to recognize what they're dealing with. Her sketches are hauntingly accurate. Becomes an avatar of the eye.

Courtney: The foundation's lawyer. Her main job is pretty much protecting the foundation from all the lawsuits about break ins that the investigator types just constantly do. Is a skeptic about all this and just took the job because she needed an in to the field and this is just what she found. Does start believing when she realizes her friend Bridgette is different even though everyone else claims she's still the same. And thus having to deal with Not-Bridgette.

The Antagonist Trio

Alejandro: Avatar of The Spiral. Comes from the Burromuerto family who have aligned themselves with The Buried. After…separating himself from family tradition, dedicates himself to The Spiral. Hypnotizes people into states of mind where they lose sense of self, direction, purpose, you name it. His hair is full of curls and his pupils fractalize when he’s hypnotizing someone, or when he’s feeling extreme emotion.

Heather: Avatar of The Web. Was once a regular spider that was gifted with ascension into avatarhood from the entity that spawned her. Now exists as a drider that tricks humans into coming enough to her so that she can paralyze, cocoon them, and eat them at her leisure.

Noah: Avatar of The Eye. Only surviving member of his family line in the event that saw him become an avatar. Feeds on learning and seeing others' traumas. Scrambles around trying to figure out avatarhood until he meets Alejandro, and later Heather. Works for the Usher Foundation to feed himself and feed his partners intel and vulnerable statement-givers to feast on. Peers into others’ worst traumas and can force them to relive it in their minds. He has an eye each on the backs of his hands.

Miscellaneous

Izzy: Avatar of The Hunt. She goes out of her way to encourage others to give in to predator/prey instincts. She enjoys watching the chaos go down between the Usher Foundation and the antagonist trio. She stays on the fence and would help either side if asked.

Eva: Avatar of The Slaughter. Or at least aligned with it. Offers herself as a mercenary so that she can satisfy her bloodlust. Works a lot with the Foundation but can be persuaded to work against them if someone else can offer her a better fight.

Backstories

Noah

Noah's part of a big human family with a lineage of being involved in supernatural things, from research to hunting to capturing to study etc. Basically a more localized version of the Institute/Foundation. They're more a neutral party rather than just for the side of humanity though, which somewhat puts them at odd with them.

The Mudaliars are one of the safer bets of information for those outside of the Usher Foundation. Of course there is usually a price in terms of exchange of information, corpses of what they kill (one of his sisters really likes dissecting things), just money, etc. Noah isn't the most sociable or the one who's normally 'customer' facing, but he's the one who stays at home the most while the others are out and about. They need to leave at least one person at home at all times to deal with clients that might come in, and that person was Noah once he was old enough to start getting into the family business.

The problem was their extralegal status ar semi-archivists led them vulnerable to those aligned with Entities. The large size of their family also made them a tantalizing target. Thus the family, Noah included, were kidnapped in an attempt at a Mass Ritual to bring forth all the Entities into the realm.

The ritual involves each Mudaliar being sacrificed in a different location for a different entity. Noah is meant to be a sacrifice for The Lonely, so he’s locked into solitary confinement, with his only interactions with the outside world being pictures slid under his door of the corpse of each family member as they get sacrificed for their entity.

He’s able to piece together what’s happening, though with dread realizes there’s little he can do to fix the situation. His one chance is to disrupt the ritual, though his options on that are very limited. Eventually he settles on the idea that he could devote himself to a different entity to disrupt it and save himself.

He knows he’s caught in a trap of the lonely, doomed to die a slow and agonizing death of dehydration and starvation being all by himself with nothing to eat or drink. Thus he turns his attention to attracting the attention of The Eye. His one idea for how to do this is to dedicate himself to keeping track of his own deterioration.

He commits energy he should be preserving writing down everything he’s learned, not sleeping until his body forces him to collapse in exhaustion and then just starting up again when he’s recovered. Running out of pen and paper and thus using whatever he can get his hands on, eventually resorting to his own blood in his commitment to make sure his knowledge doesn’t die with him.

Eventually, it works as he’s granted avatarhood. The downside is that he did this while still connected with his remaining family. Becoming an avatar of The Eye saved himself and the world, but it killed the rest of his family. Leaving him alone anyways.

He wanders around for a while trying to figure out what there even is to do about his life until he comes across Alejandro when he’s trying to feed himself with forbidden information.

Alejandro

The Burromuertos are a family that have served The Buried for generations (similar to the Lukas family). Serving The Buried has led them to getting riches untold from the ground. Their family always lives in prosperity.

However, this gift isn’t without sacrifice. Each generation, the Burromuertos have to sacrifice one of their own to The Buried. In the days of old this involved taking the sacrifice and shoving them inside of a special suit of armor. The person inside would still be kept alive, and slowly crushed to death over the course of their lifetime. The suit act independently of the will of the victim, following the orders of the Burromuertos outside. The victim would power that suit of armor that serves as a guardian.

By the time that victim is used up, they would have been crushed into a diamond. That diamond is then placed into a display room that only the heads of the household know about. It’s part of the guardian’s duty to protect this room, as well as the rest of the mansion and Burromuertos.

Over time, the suit of armor modernized to something more akin to a robot suit. Tradition made it so that the youngest would be the one sacrificed so that more time would last between replacements. It also had the head of the family sire children in threes: The first to inherit the family legacy, the second just in case anything happened to the first, and then the third to be the sacrifice.

Alejandro was led to believe that he was simply meant to inherit part of the family wealth. He knows of his family’s history with The Buried, but not exactly what the sacrifice entails. (Burromuertos are only allowed to know about the ritual once they’ve produced a potential heir since their use as a sacrifice becomes nonexistent.)

His time comes early, just before reaching adulthood, when the old sacrifice fully crystalizes. He’s shoved into a suit and discovers just how much value his family put into him.

He stayed like this for a few years. He learned to have only quick, shallow breaths, as anything longer would see his prison tighten around him. Although he had been conditioned to be loyal the The Buried even in this tortured state, he was always ambitious, and was never quite as loyal as his family would have liked.

Instead, he follows a descent towards The Spiral. With nothing else to do, there’s only trying to mentally escape his current reality of being crushed and trapped. He’d rather do that than acknowledge his family knows he’s alive, but will do nothing to save him because he wasn’t good enough for them to produce a younger child to spare him from this fate.

He’s somewhat aware of the things that happen outside of the suit, though he much prefers to stay inside with his hallucinations.

This is until Noah comes to free him. It wasn’t intentional. Truth be told on Noah’s end, he was just hungry for knowledge since The Eye was making it known he wasn’t feeding it properly. A rich family like the Burromuertos seemed like they’d have just the knowledge he needed. The robot at their beck and call was just another obstacle to deal with.

In trying to flee from and destroy the suit Noah accidentally ended up freeing Alejandro. Noah has a heart so he helps bring Alejandro back to reality. Alejandro has a heart full of hatred and pettiness so when he finds out why Noah’s there, he agrees to help steal from his own family.

Using what he’d learned from his time in the robot suit, he helps Noah steal some wealth, particularly the family diamonds.

Though when he touches one of them to put away he finds out they're still conscious thanks to inherited psychic link of having been trapped in the suit just like them.

The two of them bond through working with the diamonds. Noah uses Alejandro as a conduit to peer into the diamonds and feed off their traumas, while Alejandro gets the knowledge his family denied him without having to relive his own trauma inside the suit.

They stick together for a while, surviving using Noah’s knowledge about entities and Alejandro’s newfound hardiness. Experiencing the pressure of the suit has left him stronger and tougher than before as gravity now as nothing than the gravity he’s used to.

Though the whole time they’re doing so Alejandro still has nightmares from his time trapped in the suit. The terror always comes from The Buried, but then salvation comes in the lies he tells himself. The lies he tells to others to forget things. In fractals and spirals and other.

He gives in to The Spiral so that nothing else can ever claim him again. And life is pretty easy.

Up until they meet Heather.

Heather

Heather started off as a store-raised spider. As a spider she was naturally touched by The Web, enough to have a small form of sentience. Her dwelling was small and cramped, and meals didn't always come on time. She wasn't the happiest with it, but she also didn't really understand what happiness was. It was enough to survive so she lived with it, though the part of her that could think wanted more.

She thought she'd get this when she was bought by a teen. That teen provided her a much bigger terrarium, and went so far as to get her live food. She discovered what enjoyment was when she drained the life out of a fly. She was content. She actually grew to a healthier size for her species since she was malnourished before.

That teen seemed really excited to have her. Something about 'revenge', though Heather didn't know what that word meant. She figured it had something to do with that older sibling that constantly seemed to pick on them. Though that older sibling was squeamish around her, and thus she learned what fear was.

All this came to a head when it came to what her owner referred to as 'the big day'. Heather didn't know much of what was going on. All she knew was that she was placed into the smaller container her owner used when they wanted to carry her out of the house, and stuffed into their pocket. It was dark and cozy so while she didn't appreciate the jostling, it wasn't so bad. The next thing she knew she was taken out of that container and placed onto something with a lot of pink frills. She was pretty confused, but was able to piece together that she'd just been placed onto the ballerina outfit of that older sibling. She was content to stay in place until the performance started and the older sister began to dance.

In order to not be flung off, Heather clung as tightly as she could. Until, eventually, she heard a familiar tune. It was a song she'd heard play every meal time. One she'd eventually learn was called Dance of the Sugar Plum fairy. So, as she took this to mean that despite these circumstances that food was here, she emerged from beneath the folds. This immediately got screams from the other performers and the audience. And eventually that older sister when she realized there was a spider on her during the performance of her lifetime.

Despite Heather's intelligence, she was barely able to process the speed at which she was flung off from that body. Before she could recover from the fall, someone else came and squashed her.

The curtains fell, and everyone was fleeing from her mangled, still living body. Twitching in agony. There was screaming all around. But there was also laughter. One she recognized.

It was from her human. Laughing at a prank pulled off. Uncaring for her agony now that her job was done. No attempt to rescue her despite the love and care she thought she'd understood. The only mercy she received was from the ballet teacher who came to finish the job just so he could salvage the disaster of a performance.

It was in her death that she was able to meet her mother. The Great Spider. She was offered the chance to become the manipulator. It was her birthright, after all. She took it without hesitation.

One by one those who attended that performance went missing.

One by one she perfected her craft of trickery and deceit.

She saved her owner for last.

The look on her face was satisfying.

Thus, Heather started to fully live her life in her new form as a half-human, half-spider. Her human half took inspiration from what the idea her previous owner wished for herself. She uses social media to trick her victims into coming closer, and then when meeting them in real life, webs them up to consume them.

She’s had hunters try to take her down, and other people stumble into her lair, but none of them were really of importance.

Not until Alejandro and Noah, who find their way into her lair in their attempts to get a break from other avatars/humans in between their feeding sessions.

Heather tried to trick them into thinking she was just another victim who needed to be helped to get them to come closer. Unfortunately for her, they were both smart enough to know something was wrong. Noah outright said as much, to Alejandro’s chagrin as he wanted to lure her into a false sense of security thinking that they’d fallen for it.

They have this conversation about how this should have been handled in front of Heather. Honestly, it was pretty hilarious seeing them seemingly not understand the danger they were in.

Still, Heather had a job to do, so she threw away the false pretenses and chased after them.

Despite their banter they do prove themselves rather competent in evading her. Alejandro tries to hypnotize her, though as an avatar of The Web she’s highly resistant to attempts to manipulate her. Still, she’s impressed. So much so that she agrees to let them go.

…And then proceeds to follow them around while disguised as a regular spider in order to see if her hunch about these two having more worth is right.

She starts realizing their potential, though is unaware of the fact that they know she’s watching them thanks to Noah’s connection to The Eye.

Though this time he's smart enough to sneak this information to Alejandro rather than outright say it considering what happened the last time he decided to out her. Alejandro gets the idea to put on more of a show of their capabilities since he can recognize that she's sizing them up.

When it eventually does get public that they’re sizing each other up, that’s when they agree to an alliance. They’ll work together to keep each other fed and make sure they each stay alive.

No matter what.

Domains and Avatars in a Changed World

The Change still happens as it does in canon. Nobody has a direct part in it, though Alenoaheather are a continuous threat to The Usher Foundation as a trio of avatars seeking to expand their influence and victims. They get into fights, though the conflicting parties end up surviving to see themselves Changed.

Gwen

Her sketches take on a life of their own. When she sketches something realistically enough, it’ll come to life. She isn’t guaranteed control of it, but it will be there. In addition, if she sketches an individual, she’ll be able to ask it about things that individual knows. If she touches that sketch up to the original, then that person/creature will be trapped within the drawing. If the drawing is destroyed, so are they. Unlike with other deaths in the changed world, this is permanent.

Her domain is Artist’s Alley. There are booths run by abstract figures that buy and sell art. These art pieces are in fact humans/animals trapped in pieces of art. It represents the fear of being put on display for others to gawk at and commodify. She’s vaguely aware it exists, and when she does find out about it avoids it like the plague.

Izzy

She can turn into prey animals that lure unsuspecting victims into an obsessive hunt that never ends until the person can hunt no more and collapses due to exhaustion, dehydration, or a combination. At which point, she then turns into a predator that rips them apart. She waits for them to reform so that she can start the process all over again.

Her domain is The Opened Season. In it humans are caught in a cycle where they are always hunting someone down, while they themselves are always being hunted. It’s based on the fear of not being at the top of the food chain despite being high up there. Izzy spends most of her time here.

Eva

She can take her own emotions and strengths and project them onto others. This is usually rage and results in others getting filled with the urge for violence. This prevents them from thinking straight, which makes them both easier and harder to fight off.

Her domain is The Battle Arena. Humans are made to fight in an continuous onslaught against each other and other beasts and foes. There are places for training that are still met with violence. Places of rest and relaxation are all potential fight pits. It represents the fear of peace not being an option.

Alejandro

Alejandro's domain is The Lulling Field. It looks peaceful, with nothing trying to attack you. The grass is soft. There is a standard cycle of day and night. During the day it's sunny, but there's always shade among the many trees. It's just warm enough to encourage rest without being overbearing. There are poppies with fractal designs that litter the ground. For those who prefer resting inside, there are cabins with the comfiest beds imaginable.

Those who aren't lured by the temptation to sleep find those strange, beautiful poppies start emitting pollen that forces them into slumber.

That's where the horror begins. Once they fall asleep, they are trapped within a non-euclidean dream that never ends. The dream logic is strange and unpredictable. A person loses their sense of attachment to their body as they grapple with viewing themselves in the third person perspective of their dreams.

There are many times where they're allowed to think they've figured out how to escape the dream and have woken up, back to a reality pre-change where nothing bad has happened.

It's always proven as a lie as each 'wake up' is actually them being driven deeper and deeper into their dream. Until they can't even remember what their original reality was like.

The many peaceful sleeping forms that inhabit the field forever hide the torment the dreaming soul is experiencing. They enhance the illusion that it must be safe if so many are comfortable enough to sleep exposed.

The real world is such a harsh place right now.

Don't you deserve the rest?

As its avatar, Alejandro has the ability to travel through and inhabit dreams. In this form his limbs are much longer than they should be, and he’s closer to 8 feet tall. His fingers curl in on themselves but are capable of slicing. His pupils are permanently fractals.

He'll carry poppies that he blows into the faces of those who are awake to knock them out. He'll often go into those of his victims and insert himself as their dearest, most trusted friend.

Sometimes he'll try to convince them that they're insane for thinking that their dream is anything but reality. Other times he'll help them 'discover' their unreality and help them 'escape'. Truly let them think they're the protagonist trying to free their people. only to laugh when they just go right into the next layer of dreaming thinking that they've finally won.

His realm represents the fear of falling asleep and never waking up.

Noah

Noah's domain is The Library. Which, as the name implies, is a giant library with books filled on every subject known and unknown to mankind. There are cameras watching every shelf.

There are reference desks centered at the entrances/exits with mechanical attendants. Those attendants can answer questions in regards to basic questions about the section they reside over, but anybody seeking specific questions, or who wishes to borrow a book, need to make their way to the main reference desk in the center, which is where Noah resides.

The directions and maps to get to that main desk are confounded by riddles that must be solved using intelligence. If solved properly it's a quick trek to the main desk. Otherwise, it takes ages to stumble to the right spot, though being smart enough to make one's own map that works for them will also get them there quicker, albeit still slower than if they'd solved the original riddle.

Anyone in The Library will want to make their way to that central desk fast, because it has regular hours, and closed time where the lights go dark. The attendants make their rounds at dark.

Any visitor caught by an attendant is dragged to the central reference desk, frozen and put On Hold on a large shelf until Noah can come to deal with them when The Library opens again. The same thing will happen if they're caught stealing a book or damaging anything in The Library, which is nigh impossible to get away with with all the cameras.

Those who have broken the rules have all their knowledge forcibly extracted from them by Noah. His fingers slip through their skull to pull out their brain and spread it into sheets as thin as paper. The grooves of the brain become lines of text as they're separated into neat sheets of paper. Their bodies are used as the leather needed to bind the new book together. They're still alive and conscious through this whole process as they get shelved away into the appropriate section. To stay there until someone feels like checking them out.

Anyone who does make their way willingly to Noah during business hours has the option to ask for a library card. Library card holders are allowed to stay in the library after hours (so long as they hold firm to the no stealing or destroying property rule).

They can stay in the library as long as they like without need to worry about Noah. However, his partners do like to come visit from time to time, and they're always eager for more victims. Noah won't do a thing to stop them. So any humans can stay at their own risk.

Library card holders are also able to borrow books from the library. Regular books can be borrowed without issue. However, more valuable books, such as books that would help them survive and understand the new world they live in or books that were once people that have all their valuable knowledge, require valuable knowledge to be given in return.

A person can either let Noah Behold them for a traumatic memory that they will then be forced to relive as he examines it and determines if it's a worthy trade for the book they want. Or they can give up a cherish memory for him to turn into a book. They'll never be able to remember that memory again.

This domain's fear is about getting caught breaking a rule you didn't know existed. Getting punished in a way that far outmatches the crime. The rules are nowhere to be found so you have to either ask for them and risk somehow breaking them that way, or stumble around and hope you don't break them.

It's a surveillance state with an apathetic watcher. He only care for his books, not people. He doesn't want to be here. If he's made to deal with it he takes it out on the person who interrupted his brief moments of peace before going back to his task.

Noah's also got the ability to peer into someone's immediate future based on their current thoughts. He doesn't pack much of a punch himself aside from his 'blast them with the PTSD' ability. But he can dodge attacks because he can See them coming.

Rather than just have the two extra eyes, he now has eyes covering every part of his body. If he touches a person, he can place one of his eyes onto them so he can see what they experience.

He also has at least a vague awareness of what's going on in each of those cameras at all times.

Heather

Her domain is called The Spider's Den. There are spiders and webbing everywhere. There's evidence that there was once remnants of humanity but it's all overtaken by webbing. Stepping on the webbing sends vibrations to other strands, which is how spiders get alerted to the presence of humans. Only baby spiders are the size of regular ones from Pre-change. Spiders now are on average the size of humans.

Once they paralyze and cocoon their victims, they drag them over to the central web to present them to their queen: Heather. She'll inflict her own venom on them, and only then will she unravel their cocoon. Not to free them, of course. She rips into a person to pull out their nerves.

She turns the webbing into strings and replaces the nerves with them. With the end of their strings attached to herself. She forces them to play along into a fascimile of normalcy where Heather is the main star. Everyone else is merely there to compliment her and revolve around her.

When she doesn't need somebody anymore, she'll cut their webbing. They'll collapse with nothing to hold them up, and stay there paralyzed thanks to her venom and their lack of nerves. They're left to just watch as life goes on without them. Occasionally being used by other spiders as new nests. If Heather does remember they exist and wants them again, then she'll reconnect their strings and start the show all over again.

The domain itself is more about the general fear of spiders, but Heather has also turned it into the fear of being an insignificant player in someone else's story.

Her avatar ability is that ability to connect people to herself via webbing, and then control them as she pleases. Her venom enacts a permanent paralysis. While in her previous drider form her human half was mostly human, now her top half is much more spider-like. She has eight eyes and she has mandibles. She’s also bigger, standing closer to 12 feet.

Endgame

So there’s no concrete endgame for this AU, as it’s more ideas and concepts than anything.

I will say that post-change, Alenoaheather perform an unholy wedding in order to marry their domains together. It involves many a sacrifice, and they ‘invite’ the few outside of themselves that they care about to it. Mind you, they do this with the intention of keeping them trapped forever, but still.

One of which being Carlos, who has to grapple with the fact that his little brother has now become this monster. Carlos is just a human caught in all of this. Despite Alejandro’s best efforts, his abilities do overtake Carlos just with his sheer presence and Carlos becomes closer to a vegetable than anything.

Alejandro refuses to acknowledge this and treats Carlos as if he isn’t talking to a shell of a man.

Gwen and Courtney are traveling about trying to fix the world in whatever way they can. Mostly by killing off other avatars.

Eventually, the change gets reverted, though I can’t decide whether Alenoaheather gets defeated by Gwourtney before the change gets reverted, or if they become normal after the change and get hunted down by everyone else.

Either way, that’s all I have for this AU for now! Don’t know if I’ll decide to expand upon it more but hope you guys enjoyed it!

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littlegoblininyourshoe · 3 months ago

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UUUH YA! HPPY YOAI DAY (>ω<)

MY TOTAL DRAMA INVADER ZIM AU (Invader Drama)-

Noah (Based on Zim, an alien who came to Earth to concur it.)

Owen (Based on Dib, a grown ADULT man who believes and studies the supernatural during his free time.)

Izzy (Based on G.I.R, also known as I.Z.Y., came alongside Noah to help concur Earth, is a bit insane.)

Eva (Based on Gaz, Owen's only human friend, still has her anger issues. Instead of being obsessed with video games, she is obsessed with working out.)

#little goblin in your shoe #art #fanart #digital art #drawing #total drama #noah total drama #total drama noah #owen total drama #total drama owen #izzy total drama #total drama izzy #eva total drama #total drama eva #total drama nowen #td nowen #nowen #invader zim td au #Invader Drama

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trashrunes · 7 months ago

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Just supernatural au Brick and Svet playing tug cause idk just wanted wholesome werewolves

#total drama #td #art #total drama revenge of the island #tdroti #td fanart #total drama fanart #td au #total drama au #td supernatural au #total drama supernatural au #td brick #total drama brick #td svetlana #total drama svetlana #my art

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thisonesatellite · 4 months ago

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Tagged by the always wonderful @fsbc-librarian -- thank you so much, darling! 💖💖💖

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

42 works

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

677,643 (how do i have so many?)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

MCU/Stucky -- this is my main focus and current sandbox. i love to play with these two. OUAT/CS -- that is where i started my fic writing journey and it still makes up the bulk of my works. i no longer write it, but it will always have a soft spot in my heart. Dramione -- i wrote one dramione fic a while back, and it is a ship dynamic i really enjoy. i still have one big, rather epic fic idea for it, too. Since this idea -- (and @mysteriouscatstellation) -- have been bugging me about it for over a year, i absolutely have to write it. Eventually. Obvi. (Actually, it's up next after i finish my East German Stucky Spy Lunacy, shhhhhhhhh.) Leverage -- i also have one Leverage fic. i have literally no idea how that happened. None. This fic basically walked out onto the page and said, my turn. 😂 It did give me a really good opportunity to create an original character though.

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Always. ALWAYS. i love and appreciate each one, from a row of emojis to a page of analysis. i go back often and re-read them, just to motivate myself. People who leave comments are the real heroes. (Although i do understand that not everyone has the spoons to comment, and that's OK, too. Just know that if you leave me a single emoji i will love it no less than if you write a dissertation. 💖💖💖)

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that i know of. But i haven't checked either.

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes -- The Sword and The Heart, an epic rewrite of OUAT S5 i tackled with the amazing @ohmightydevviepuu. If you have never collaborated with another writer, i strongly urge you to try it. i learned things about myself and my writing that i am still benefiting from to this day and i am immensely proud of what we created together. However, that is pretty much due to dev being the best collaborator ever. (Get yourself someone you trust and love and yet challenges you at every turn, is what i'm saying.)

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

That's a hard question, because affinity does change -- and why wouldn't it. We change, become different people, and sometimes the things we used to bleed for no longer resonate quite as hard. Like - my OG ship was Buffy /Angel, and i have the absolute soft spot of all time for them, but also i'm (obviously) no longer in high school and so the urgency has subsided. There have been a few other ships i've sideswiped over the years, characters i absolutely loved but never quite got 'ship-invested' in. (Shipvested? 😂) Personally, one factor is definitely that i did not know what a fandom was, or even that there was 'fandom' (as a concept, a community, a Thing) until Captain Swan tore a hole in my heart five years ago. i didn't really know what fanfic was. Or AO3. Apparently i live under a rock. But currently, the tl;dr is a dead tie between Stucky, Captain Swan, and James Holden /Naomi Nagata from The Expanse. With lots of honorable mentions bringing up the rear. 😂

8. what are your writing strengths?

Plot, dialogue, world building, and having characters stay true to their nature even when seen through various AU lenses, i think. Also action and fights and sometimes even battles. And i think i have a knack for letting exposition bleed through action and dialogue, instead of writing it outright. (That last one is a hard-won skill and kills me dead at least once a chapter, you feel me.) i also put a ridiculous amount of research into everything. Seriously, it's a sickness. i once spent more than two hours looking up radio dramas from the 30s that had a supernatural bent and might appeal to teenagers. For half a throwayway line. Possibly i should not list this as a strength. 😂

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

Smut. SMUT ALL THE WAY. i cannot write it, i don't know how. People who read my fic will always get shortchanged in the E department and for that i am sorry. But i really am completely useless on the smut front. And fluff. i can do soft scenes, but i cannot write pure fluff. i don't know how to do that either. i'll write a fucking coffee shop oneshot, or a thieves AU that doesn't even crack 5K, or even a BARTENDER fic, and yet complex back story and plot and action will still burst out from between the lines. All you people out there who can just tear off a sex scene or a fluff piece, i salute you. Also all you people who have multiple WIPs. i don't know how you do it. i can only ever write one fic at a time. You are all wizards, aren't you.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

OUAT /Captain Swan, back in 2019.

Zero pressure tags: @sparkagrace @cable-knit-sweater @bittersweet-in-boston @late-to-the-party-81 @metalbvcky @voylitscope

#thisonesatellite #personal #ask game #asked and answered #satellite q

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favouritefi · 10 months ago

Note

This is absolutely too late but... what is 'The Terror' about? I assume it's a show and the characters are not animal adjacent.

when i read this ask i HOLLERED thank you anon you're a delight

the terror is a 2 season horror drama but when ppl talk about it they usually only mean season 1 which is based off of a book by dan simmons which reimagines the franklin expedition with supernatural elements. i havent read the book and i dont plan to, and some people who enjoy the terror also really enjoy polar exploration history, but im not a huge fan bc it reminds me of work / school too much LOL. if i utilize my history degree at all its just to add more flavour to my catboy au, my professors would be so proud of me.

if you can handle horror and gore i highly recommend watching the show! if you're here from ofmd though i gotta warn you that its a totally different vibe, yea theres gay ppl on boats but the terror is much more grim and takes itself way more seriously

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amyyythestarry · 11 months ago

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CHAPTER 109 OF TBHK!

I love how Tsu’s feet is just kicked up, like always. I find it so hilarious because people are calling him fruity💀.

Fruity a** pose.

Him and his brother, omg.

The bestie look, the look of secret telepathy I knew I would see it from them. I really want to see it from the Yugi twins too. Like, twin telepathy, then saying stuff at the same time/doing something in sync, maybe as humans people get them mixed up or they swap for the day. I always imagine them just being silly stereotypical twins.

Yes Teru is pissed.

Also Mirai not being able to read is funny to me.

In an au where they are alive, in my aus where they are all in the Near Shore, she just has dyslexia.

Tsu’s smug smile, enjoying his ambiguity and unknowing-ness. Just a drama king in disguise and wants to mysteriously introduce himself.

Mr. B**ch. Step forward.

Jesus.

They for real called him out. Can’t even claim it’s bs.

I didn’t realize this before, but the fact Tsukasa is surprised is really funny.

Because if you think about it, Hanako has been acting more like how he was as a human, ‘Amane’, than he is as a supernatural, as ‘Hanako’. Being embarrassed for himself.

The Amane Tsukasa knew was not perverted, and if he was then he probably kept that to himself, instead of Hanako, who outwardly acts as a perv.

“Amane, you want to do pervy stuff?” - 🫢

Tsukasa, as the very non-perverted person he is, must actually be shocked that his dear old twin brother would be and want to do such a thing. Maybe not disgusted like Teru and Akane obviously is, but since that’s not a part of Amane he know he will hold this in his memory bank. Now he knows you’re a pervert Amane. He’ll probably never let you ‘live’ this down.

She just a little baby, she can’t even reach over the thing!

Her first time in court she was only 3 years old.

I wonder when she’ll turn back to normal?

I love love love Akanene, I’m sorry y’all.

But c’mon, HE’S DEFENDING HER, STICKING UP FOR HER, WANTING HER TO WIN HER CASE.

Platonic or not, they are the sh**.

In the MangaUp translation it said “Do you really think I’m a sociapath?” ( Or something like that ) He definitely is.

Not Tsu saying he would. Everyone’s reading him like an open book, omg. 😭

Akane has nothing to say.

The way he just smiles silently, looks up to see if his fellow criminals will defend him, even a little. Not even Nene did though.

C’mon Teru, Akane was expecting a message of love. Whatever, they’re the yaoi ever.

Pose of innocence.

Then rats himself out.

He can’t help his brutal honesty.

The word ‘smithereens’ is something I don’t want to hear.

Feed him to the owls is crazy.

I love characters who talk in first person when addressing themselves. Doesn’t Tiara also do that?

Totally random, but Tiara and Mirai would be besties.

And Tsu smiling without concern.

I cannot be the only one who is dissatisfied that something didn’t happen to him?

Like really, we could have seen what the Tsu of TBHK future was, we could have seen him disappear/die. And I love him with all my heart, but you cannot admit that that would not be a plot turner, or exciting to see something bad happen to him.

He just had to use that little sprinkle of hope, the power of what? F**king friendship? Loyalty to carry out his job? From thin air.

He’s still amazing though.

Was he yelling as Amane, the caring big brother, or Hanako, the leader of the mysteries who used his twin powers to predict what Tsu was going to do and knew it was going to lead to something bad? Maybe both.

Also, is this just a general warning, or will this have consequences later?

Signature move I guess.

Jii-san. Says the person who doesn’t care for supernaturals, calling the supernatural that tricked and got him involved with the school mysteries, ‘grandpa’..

Let us just hope Akane will survive the next chapter ok?

I wonder if his body is actually different from his human body though? Does he actually have gears inside of him? Or is Tsu just making assumptions.

But, wasn’t he in Clock Keeper form when he got a hole stabbed in his chest in the severance arc?

Oh god.

Whatever, I’m just gonna place my bets that Tsukasa will somehow be stopped. Probably not by Akane though, he’s the weakest school mystery and can’t even stand a chance against Teru.

Nice chapter, I was honestly expecting jail time.

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theladyoracle · 1 year ago

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✧ General Creepypasta Headcanons ✧

𖦹⭒°｡⋆𖦹 The Lady Oracle's AU 𖦹⋆°｡⭒𖦹

Featuring: The Slenderman, Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, BEN Drowned, Eyeless Jack

a/n: Just jotting down some of the general headcanons that have been piling up in my notes app! Honestly it's so much that its starting to lag down the note LOL!

Also I take requests so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE shoot them into my ask box!

cw/tw: mention of murder (obvi), mention of torture, mention of vomiting, implications of 'incidents', implications of cannibalism

The Slenderman/The Operator

10ft tall...and then some

He/Him/It

Goes by both Slenderman and the Operator. The only difference is that he makes his Proxies only address him as the Operator. Denizens (lower ranking creeps, I'll make another post about this probably for my au...) are allowed to address him as either. This is to make sure that the Proxies don't get 'too friendly' with him

Seldom cares about anything going on between the people who live in the manor unless it directly affects him. Will actually get so annoyed if people bother him with petty problems or drama. He only cares about his things, his home, and his business

Is basically a dirty, evil capitalist landlord

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss fr fr /hj

Is very supernaturally inclined. Reads books, casts spells, and brews potions. Is very knowledgeable of other realms, creatures, and magicks

Is very secretive with everyone in the Slender Woods. For all they know; he is the strongest, most powerful entity there is in the woods and they should fear him. This is how Slenderman likes to keep things

Out of touch with humanity, but sometimes its really funny! He will forget that humans need food to survive, and finds it 'inconvenient' that they need air to breathe...okay maybe its only funny to me

He finds some human things charming! Like fashion - he has a tie for every occasion and always wants to look presentable. He also loves a good riddle

Thrives with paperwork. Literally has a contract for every Proxy and Denizen. Loves structure

Will call the Denizens his 'children' at times....but will seldom ever call his Proxies his children. Proxies are regarded more as property or dogs than they are people

Jeff the Killer

Denizen (at age 21)

Is 29 years old

He/Him/His

5'10 with wide shoulders, a thin waist, and moderate muscle mass

I headcanon Jeff to be half Korean (on his mother's side) I believe this due to the traditional pronunciation of Liu's name

Loves using a knife as his primary murder method because its intimate - he truly considers it to be an art

Is close with BEN. He sees BEN as like a younger sibling (similar to Liu.) So he spends a lot of time barging into BEN's room (much to his distaste) and annoys the fuck out of him. I think he does this because he's pretty lonely too but doesn't want to admit it...

Before his psychotic break, he was obsessed with other famous serial killers. His other hobbies before murdering his parents include: manifestos, torture methods, and anatomy

Is a total metal head - doesn't listen to anything except for alternative music

Will totally ask you to "name 3 songs" if you're wearing a band t-shirt (even if he doesn't know the band...)

Owns a tattoo gun! Is really fucking bad at giving tattoos.....

BEN Drowned

Denizen

He/Him/His

I think of BEN as a sort of shapeshifter. Taking inspiration from the game Majora's Mask, I like to think that BEN is able to change his "skin" to however he wants to appear, but has a default form that gradually changes (so for example depending on who he chooses for a victim, he can portray himself as a 12 year old boy, a teenager, or even older) but his default form is one that can age as though he never drowned as a boy

This isn't just limited to age - he can use this to look as freaky as he wants. Usually this is just to make himself look more uncanny for his victims

I don't think BEN in my AU is the ghost of Ben Lawman (the boy who drowned) I think that Ben Lawman's essence was twisted and possessed by something inherently evil during his death

When he was found in the woods, the Slenderman saw the wicked potential that this new entity possessed and offered him a deal

Probably like 5'5"-5'6"

Skinny, like really skinny - despite how much he eats

BEN is a total incel :/

Frequent Discord, Reddit, and Twitch user

Despite the Slenderman giving him the incredible gift to age as if he never died, he is still so fucking immature. it's like dealing with a child

He always seems annoyed when anyone comes to talk with him. He takes everything as an attack and has the crudest, most annoying, immature sense of humor

He has to be bribed to do LITERALLY ANYTHING

His room smells like dirty socks and vape juice

Literal definition of "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM I'M PLAYING MINECRAFT"

Jane the Killer

Denizen

28 years old

Latina

Lesbian

She/her/hers

5'7" . Soft hourglass-shaped build with strong thighs and legs!

She is a woman of science and logic, and is overall just a very intellectual woman - lowkey kind of nerdy, it's sweet if you get to know her

Comes across as 'no nonsense' to newbies and people who don't know her well, but she's secretly very sarcastic and clever! She has the realest conversations, and is a powerful ally to have

There are a lot of rumors about her in the manor, because she seems to be the Slenderman's favorite

Oftentimes is doing a lot of household errands or chores for the Slenderman as part of her contract

Helps compile mission files for targets (sometimes helps with research, but mostly puts them together and then serves the assignments underneath resident doors)

Does the interrogations and initiation processes for new recruits to the manor (asks them questions to build their contract, shows them around, etc)

Quick-witted and sarcastic - doesn't let anyone talk shit to her. Literally no misogynistic comment goes by unchecked. She absolutely tears into the creeps that come at her

Has an absolute adoration for old horror films, true crime, and investigation shows

She loves solving mysteries or puzzles. Brain teasers and riddles are totally her thing! But...is like way too good at it. I mean, she can guess the answer to any riddle first or second try, and she's ALWAYS guessing the ending of movies within the first fifteen minutes. It kind of takes the fun out of everything

Usually likes to spend her down time alone. She feels like the 'mom' of the mansion otherwise (and hates when she feels like that)

Eyeless Jack

5'11" with a slim yet muscular build

25 years old

He/Him/His/They/Them

EJ is exceptionally intelligent - both in creative problem solving and just in general with his anatomical knowledge

He's is so quiet in everything he does. Sometimes this is comforting and sometimes its creepy. He's silent. He types quietly, he wraps wounds quietly, he cleans quietly....kind of just a strong and silent type kind of dude

He is the only resident of the manor that the other creeps feel safe and comfortable getting care from, because he actually keeps a sterile and clean environment while he performs operations

KIND OF RANDOM! But I think his parents were total hippies (literal cultists)

I like to think he was a vegetarian before the incident :'(

His skin looks super ashy gray but it's actually super smooth - he moisturizes all the time in attempts to get his radiant glowy skin back but it never really works with his dark gray skin

Has to wear eye masks to bed so that the ooze doesn't get all over his pillows and sheets. Usually he doesn't care if it drips on him or his clothes, but hates when he wakes up and it's all over his face

Cannot eat anything besides human organs without vomiting - and HATES vomiting. Like he's developed somewhat of a fear of it now...especially how it looks when it comes up

That's just about it for now! Thanks byyyeeee~!

xoxo -Oracle

#creepypasta #creepypastafandom #theladyoracle #theladyoracleau #creepypasta au #slenderverse #creepypasta headcanons #creepypastahc

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