#i bid you all a very spooky night as i go pass out now

[ghost-proofbaby]

my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea. 

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday. 

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it. 

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson. 

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger. 

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not? 

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play. 

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch. 

“Shit!” 

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow. 

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!” 

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?” 

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions. 

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through. 

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph. 

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences. 

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts. 

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.” 

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove. 

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…” 

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.” 

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.” 

Your stubbornness is admirable. 

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.  

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there. 

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares. 

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt. 

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip. 

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“ 

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.” 

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior. 

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his. 

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.” 

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness. 

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder. 

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.” 

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking. 

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain. 

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you. 

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten. 

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss. 

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses. 

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“ 

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?” 

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.” 

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?” 

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing. 

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.” 

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.” 

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.” 

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“ 

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm. 

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe. 

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.” 

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place. 

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.” 

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.” 

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.” 

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.” 

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog. 

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally. 

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told. 

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #ghost's writing #ghostly halloween #seriously not edited #i have to be up in mere hours to get dressed up for work haha #but i HAD to write this goddamn #i had another idea where the roles are reversed in a different scenario i might try to write and post tomorrow #most unrealistic thing is that reader didn't immediately cling to him for comfort like i would lmao #i love scary movies even when they terrify me #i bid you all a very spooky night as i go pass out now #sorry if it's bad and sorry for the unoriginal title but my brain is just mush right now waaaaah

[zeestarfishalien]

Part 11: One Way to Shake Me Up

[Master Post | Next]

Jason would like to comment upon an incredible feature humans have which is adaptability. He’s managed to completely reroute his life and daily routine around a body on a dining table and the spectral dog attached to said body.

He has a smaller two person table which he eats at and otherwise ignores the bigger table with its carefully laid artifacts, runes, and body. It’s kind of in the way so it’s rather impressive the way it’s become just another part of the scenery for Jason. At least it’s like that until he noticed that Spooky goes back into their body every night after Jason himself had gone to bed.

The first time Spooky didn’t climb back out of their body when Jason got up in the afternoon, he nearly panicked trying to find the spirit. He’d like to say he’s gotten better since then…but that would be a lie. Jason can’t quite help that spike of fear every time it takes Spooky a while to be coaxed from their body. They’re struggling with something and can’t communicate what it is. It’s frustrating and worrisome and Zatanna says it’s fine but she doesn’t see the way they look at their body sometimes, like it might eat them.

Yet every night they go back…and every night Jason wishes he could communicate fully with his roommate. There’s a desperation in Spooky’s eyes, something in the way they watch Jason talk or cook or fiddle around with gear in his off time. But the quiver in their legs they can’t quite get to stop for several minutes some days cuts Jason deep. His chest aches for his friend.

He’s not quite sure when exactly he shoved out any lingering hesitation about Spooky. A lot earlier than he likely would have for anyone else though and if Spooky does turn out to be bad news, Jason is going to suffer a lot. He’s attached. Very attached. Spooky is fully a part of his life and he really kind of likes it.

It’s the little things, the way that Spooky nudges his hand when they want his attention (usually to show him a bug or random trinket) or tucks their tail over their eyes when they’re pouting or feigning indifference. They watch movies together and Spooky follows him like a little duckling whenever he’s within their prescribed radius.

It’s not until Jason is ranting to Damian, Alfred, and Cass at Thursday tea time that a solution is presented. It’s presented in the form of a delirious Tim stumbling into the room half asleep.

“You should just put the alphabet on your floor. Or just one of those phrase button things people get for their animals.” He then promptly passes out. It’s ridiculously obvious now that Jason thinks about it and he can’t believe it took a nearly comatose genius to point it out to him. Cass is snickering at something dumb that’s definitely not Jason’s face (hint: it is), so Jason jabs her in the side. At least he tries to.

The smug smirks all around the table are all the response he gets for his antics.

“You know what,” Jason scoots his chair out and makes to stand, “I don’t need to take this.”

“Come now Master Jason. I do believe your friend Spooky can wait until after tea,” Alfred points out, painfully hitting the nail on the head. It’s only because it’s Alfred that Jason sits back down and doesn’t even glare.

The rest of their teatime passes uneventfully and all too slowly in Jason’s opinion. It’s all he can do to sit there feigning serenity, holding his legs perfectly still so they don’t bounce in anticipation.

He’d like to say that he made a swift but not suspiciously swift exit, the smirks on his sibling’s faces said otherwise. Even Alfred had a knowing glint in his eye as he bid Jason a good evening.

Well fuck them!

No, not really…he loves them he’s just anxious and excited and his gut is churning. He might finally have a way to communicate better with Spooky.

He definitely did Not border on the edge of speeding to get back home just a little bit faster.

He’s still careful to make sure no one sees him use the secret entrance to Damian’s little base.

It’s Damian’s. Not his. Not home (but it feels like home).

It doesn’t even have half a kitchen, just a mini fridge and a microwave oven, both of which Jason brought in himself.

They’re gone…

There’s no sign of Spooky in the little one room base they both live in.

It takes Jason 9 minutes to find Spooky pacing the border of their tether to their body. In this case, a rooftop at the end of the block.

Every once in a while they try to go further only for their body to turn to smoke and reform inside the prescribed radius. They return to pacing, eyeing the edge of their limits with a sort of panicked desperation.

“Spooky,” he calls softly. They still startle and skitter farther away. “Hey, it’s just me. Can we go inside?”

They shake their head no, their gaze jumping back to the invisible line they cannot cross.

“I’ve got a way for us to communicate. You can tell me what’s wrong. I’ll do my best to help.”

They spin back to him and he’s seen them desperate but not quite with this same level of agitation, of worry. They’re gaze searching Jason for any hint of a lie or possibly just looking for an affirmation of his words.

“Let’s figure this out together.”

Wowza, here we are. I will fully admit that most of the reason this wasn’t done sooner is that my newest dpxdc fic is taking up my time (and I haven’t even posted any of it yet. Hooo boi…). We’re getting close to some more answers! Next chapter maybe 😉

I’m also back on my Tales of the Land nonsense (a fantasy novel wip) with all the lore building and song writing involved there. Gotta torture my fav half siren thief some more 😈

@rangerhorsetug @treepainting @thatonegirl10 @demiourgias @spooky-fm @antagonisticly @fluffy23sblog @manglethemingle @kyrianclawraith @layyeschips @shepardking @asphyxia778 @ballzfrog @fluffen-spooky @drowningroane @deathsdaisy @malaayna @mistyaltair @potatoeofwisdom @heartsong18 @nixthenerd @icedbluesoul @the-church-grimm @overtherose @sara0055

@dannyphantomphan @nonbinary-disaster @depressed-bitchy-demon @8-29pm @addie-lover-of-stories @lifefilledwithstories @apointlessbox @skulld3mort-1fan @katgirl05 @spookytragedyshark @mandyne-1001 @ascetic-orange @booklover9114 @qualifiedpasta @mouzerequis @fleeting-mists @gin2212 @rollthatcritical @kaitouhime @itsloveleo @litlecameron @phantom-dc @hippityhoppity-iownyourbones @pastalavistamf @kokoroluna @legowerewolf @riasthelustful @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff

@akintoabitch @snowblub @isaactheautobot @jaguarthecat @ventureingonwings

#danny phantom crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #my graveyard song #church grim danny au #the black dog danny

[buildmeafairytale]

Demon Boyfriends: Elow &Siphorus

Suprise! I wrote something! What’s better than one demon boyfriend, you ask? Two demon boyfriends, duh. I started this literal months ago, and I’m not going to lie, it's very self indulgent and porny. My praise kink is clear and in full swing. I was going to make one of the characters a hard core brat but he turned soft, what can I say. Anyways, I hope you guys like this! This is a link to my Ko-Fi, everything is appreciated but nothing is expected. <3

Life has been going great for you. Too great, really. You landed a well paying job in a cute small town named Talon Valley. You found the cottage of your dreams in the forest a few miles out of town. It was perfectly desolate and had a garden already set up in the back, as well as shelves that will work perfectly to store your potions. You already picked a great altar space, as well. It was your first time living alone, and you were excited to finally practice your craft in peace. 

Except there was no peace, and you soon discovered you were not alone. At first, the misplaced items didn’t phase you. You were still unpacking and you really didn’t know where you set things most of the time anyway. Only after the first couple weeks when things were supposed to be in their places, did you start to notice. 

You were a witch, sure. But that didn’t mean you weren’t easily spooked. You didn’t want to make things worse, so instead of doing a cleanse that could anger something stronger than you, you did a few charms and protection spells on yourself. That did nothing to stop the tiny torments. If anything, they increased. Not only were several potions moved, but they were mixed together haphazardly. Then your blinds would open after you had closed them, or your fridge would be left cracked. All harmless things, but knowing someone or something else was doing this was enough to have you constantly on edge. You just wanted to relax, dammit!

You never thought of this side of living alone. During the day, you were living in a beautiful cottage in the lush green forest, but at night it felt as though you were in a haunted cabin in the woods. You really couldn’t take it anymore. You had cried and whimpered all night when you felt you were being watched, and by the time the sun rose you had resolved to deal with this. 

You gathered some materials and made your way out of the house. After all, a summoning spell required a lot of concentration and you certainly wouldn't be able to do it in there. You found a nice clearing not too far from your home, and set up. You lit a few candles, did a few incantations, and waited. You were about to give up when, in a puff of smoke, a demon appeared. They were crouched down with blue flames dancing around them, but even still they seemed massive.

As the demon uncurled and stood himself upright, it seemed as though more and more limbs appeared. You counted six arms coming out of him, his whole body a gradient of black to white. His pitch black fingertips seemed as though they were covered in soot, and as you got closer to the middle of his body his skin was more and more milky white. Hooved feet clap on the ground. He had dark eyes and horns like a ram’s curled on the side of their head, with long black hair in between, and he towered over you.

He lowered himself and took your shaking hand in one of his large ones, his pure white eyes staring at you. 

“It is lovely to meet you, my master,” his voice is like velvet, and he flashes you his sharp teeth at you before placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “They call me Siphorus. I cannot wait to be of service to you.”

You let out a bleating laugh, unsure what to make of this. You weren’t expecting such a large and powerful demon to come; you weren’t even out of the broom closet and this kind of thing should take years of real practice. 

“Um, master?”

He chuckled under his breath, “Yes, master,” he rose, “You summoned me and I am under your command. I promise to fulfil anything you ask of me.”

You ignored his suggestive promise. Smooth as he may be, you were out in the middle of the woods for a more important reason. “You can just call me Lily if you’d like? And well, I sort of need your help with something?”

“Like I said, I am under your command, master,” he prompts you, a clawed finger lifting your chin up. 

“There’s something in my house,” you tell him, clearing your throat and putting some space in between the two of you. “Something spooky and it...watches me I think. I don’t know how to make it go away by myself.” 

“A powerful witch such as yourself?” he frowns “No matter, I shall play the role of your gallant protector.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Honestly, who talks like that? For someone who looks so formidable, he’s a bit on the odd side. At least he is going to help you. 

He starts towards your house, although you aren’t sure how he knows the way.

“Ah yes, I can feel his presence here.” Siphorus opens the door for you with a flourishing gesture.

 As soon as one of his hooved feet lands on the other side of your doorway, chaos breaks out. Cabinets are slamming, furniture is being overturned, and the lights are flickering. 

“She is MY master! GET OUT!” A voice yells out as lightbulbs start to explode. You let out a scream as glass flies at you, covering your face and burying it in the stomach of the demon by your side. With a wave of his hand Siphorus halts the glass midair, something you probably could have done if you hadn’t been so panicked. You step away from him once again, your face hot. You try to convince yourself it’s from his inner hellfire, but you aren’t too sure. 

Siphorus clicks his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Now now, let us not make a mess of our sweet Lilians home, hm?” 

An angry hissing sound responds back, things slamming and shaking but nothing as messy. 

“This is quite the tantrum. Honestly, show yourself and be gone!” Siphorus calls out, and a figure starts to appear. 

White hot flames spiral out in your living room and from within it steps another demon. This one is almost as tall as Siphorus, but not quite. He is lanky, and his skin textured, light colored but red seemed to be pumping underneath, as if it was scar tissue. This one only has one pair of arms, and has no hair. His eyes are cat-like and stare straight at Siphorus, flames around him roaring even stronger.

“GET OUT!” the figure yells, and you flinch into Siphorus once again. 

The flames suddenly go out, and you turn to see the other demon looking at you now.

“What,” he paused, swallowing thickly. “What is going on? Did you...find a new demon?” He asked, his voice sounding distraught.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stand there confused at his words. He doesn’t sound scary at all, if anything he sounds heartbroken. The fear melts away, and you take a step away from Siphorus. 

“What do you mean a new demon? This one belong to you?” Siphorus asks, eyebrow raised. You just shake your head, and he heaves a dramatic sigh. 

“Of course I belong to her. I became attached to her weeks ago and she brought me home. She was walking in the forest and I felt her energy. It was lonely so I came with,” he hissed these words out, eyes turned to slits. 

“She was scared and I had to keep her safe! She was making protection charms and satchels and sticking them everywhere.” 

“From you, you nimwit! She didn’t even know you were in the house!” Siphorus admonishes him, “You should have at least presented yourself!”

His face falls further and the demon places himself on one of your dining room chairs, dwarfing it.

“But, she never asked for me? I was never summoned to do her bidding, or had any reason to show myself. I just thought she knew I was here, and would ask me if she needed anything. Since she didn’t ask, I just watched over her.” he sniffles, and you get a knot in your throat. 

A pitiful “Oh,” passes through your lips. You move over to him, letting him scoop you onto his lap.

“I just wanted to be a good demon, I’d never had a master that was such a nice witch,” he whines high in the back of his throat, nosing at your hair. You coo at him the way you would a scared puppy, doting on him with attention and sweet pets on his scarred and hairless head.

You then hear a scoff from Siphorus, both you and the new demon turning to look at him.

“What?”

“The two of you are absolutely pitiful, do you know that?” Siphorus asks, baffled.

You stay cuddled up, “Well, wait - what is your name?” you look up into his eyes, his fangs pushing into his soft looking lips. 

“Elow, master,” he replies into your hair, still trying to get as close as possible to you. 

“Elow, it’s nice to meet you,” you tell him, giving him a sweet smile he readily returns. “Well I’m absolutely fine with Elow staying. And I don’t think we’re pitiful.”

Siphorus sputters. “Well, I suppose we have a bit of a problem, then. You summoned me to get rid of him, and I cannot leave until your summons are completed.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just don’t feel good about making him leave now, Siphorus.” You tell him, and feel Elows long arms wrap even tighter around you.

“Yes, Siphorus. Please don’t make me leave now,” Elow asks him, eyes wide.

You assure Siphorus you will help him in any way that you can. 

“You can stay here until we figure out how to let you go back, of course. I- do you sleep?” you ask them. “I can get some rooms ready for you!” And you scurry off, hoping that the two demons get along.

You aren’t sure how to act now that you have both demons staying in your home. Firstly, you layout some ground rules as far as Elow touching your potions and leaving the fridge door open. He looks so sad after your gentle scolding, so you take some time to comfort him as well. The two of you snuggle up on your small couch and watch a movie. He’s informed you that he has been starved of contact for a long while, and he basks in your touch. You enjoy it as well, and his warmth lulls you to sleep. When the two of you wake, you are covered in a blanket. It’s soft and black, and not one you had seen before. It smelled slightly of fire. 

The three of you had settled into a routine. On the days you went to work, you came home to a clean house, and a meal. It was all so domestic, and occasionally one or both of your demons would produce a human glamour and come with you into town. They always kept on sunglasses, though, because they couldn’t change their eyes. You doubt the inhabitants of Talon Valley would mind. Siphorus had informed you that most of the people living here were some kind of supernatural being. As a witch, you fit right in.

So well, in fact, that you had befriended another witch already. She was much more confident in her abilities, and had already figured out a solution to Siphorus being stuck with you. 

Coming back from a visit with her, you had mixed feelings. You had a solution, sure, but you had grown so fond of your demon. You didn’t want to let him go, and already felt hollow just thinking about him departing. You creak the front door open while lost in thought and were unprepared for what you were seeing. Standing in shock, you take in the scene before you.

 Through the doorway, you can see Elow on top of Siphorus. His head is thrown back, and high pitched moans leave him. You can make out the deep bass of Siphorus encouraging him as Elow bounces on his cock, thoroughly impaled. Siphous is leaning back on one set of hands, with the others on either side of Elow’s hips and face. Elow’s own hardness bobs between his thighs, long and thick. It’s textured like the rest of him, but redder.  You feel your own face get hot, and the gasp that leaves your lips is what finally catches your demons’ attention. 

Elow is embarrassed and won’t look at you, trying to hide behind a tangle of sooty arms. Siphorus just smirks at you, taking in your doe-eyed appearance. You feel as if your heartbeat is between your legs. 

“Isn’t our Elow so beautiful,” he draws out, running his hand along the other demon’s flank. Elow shudders, still fully seated, and you nod. “So beautiful, so good for me. For us,” he purrs into Elow’s ear, his milky eyes still locked on yours. This time Elow actually moans, weather that be from the thickness spearing him open or the words alone, you are unsure. Siphorus beacons you closer, and you feel as though you are under a spell.

With a touch of your magic, the door is shut and locked. Your feet carry you closer to them, and Elow peaks at you, somehow both demure and debauched. He isn’t much smaller than Siphorus, really, but he looks tiny like this. He whispers a “Hi,” into your hand, kissing it gently. You return the sentiment, caressing his face. He squirms and whimpers, and you see his cock jump. “Oh, honey,” you coo, and pull him in for a sweet kiss. One of Siphorus’s hands tangles in your hair, while the other of the set is on Elow’s head, encouraging you two. He encourages you vocally too, his pleased throaty moans making your kiss turn feverish. 

“Join us, master,” Siphorus implores you, a hand wandering down your thigh.

Behind the lust you feel for them, a sense of nervous insecurity rises when you go to take your clothes off. You pull off your outerwear, taking your time. Your demons must sense your hesitance, as they pull you between their intertwined forms, Elow at your back.

“Shh master, just focus on my hands,” Elow tells you, ever so sweet. His hands move along your breasts, kneading the flesh there. One rises up, covering your throat. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just holds his hand there. His thumb comes up to brush along your lips, and you take it into your mouth without a conscious thought, sucking and wrapping your tongue around it, an action that draws moans from both of your demons. 

“Do not try to hide from us,” Siphorus’s voice is but an echoing growl, teeth pressing into your ear. “We can smell you, master. The air is thick with your want, let us serve you.” From where you rest on his torso, you can feel his hips moving, along with Elow’s hardness pressing against your lower back. You whimper around the thumb in your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Elow removes his hands, and you let out a pleading moan, not wanting them to stop.

“You have to tell us, master. Tell us what you want, and it’s yours, please,” Elow says, his voice a breath of a whisper.

“Yes, darling, just tell us,” Siphorus echoes the sentiment, and you feel dizzy with want.

“Please,” you breath out, “Please touch me. Take me,” you plead to them. 

No sooner do the words leave your lips their hands wrap back around you. You push your butt back onto Elow’s pulsing cock, rolling against it. He whimpers out, and you can only imagine how full he must feel. You use your magic to take your clothes off, not wanting to break the contact with your lovers. Feeling them against your skin is worth any nervousness you may have been feeling. Siphorus captures your mouth in a kiss, and although you may be his master, it is clear who is in control. The press of his teeth to your lips has your hips jerking, and you’re sure they can both feel how wet you are perched on Siphorus’s muscular abdomen. 

Siphorus’s hips are moving harder now, meeting Elow’s bouncing ass. A pair of Siphorus’s hands wrap around your hips and in one fluid motion, hovers you on top of his face. Your hands find his horns, steading yourself. He makes a loud, wounded noise at your grip, and Elow moans out at the particularly hard thrust that follows. You take that as a sign to loosen your hold, and pack his reaction away in the back of your mind for another day. You then look down and see Siphorus’s tongue, so very long and pink, seeking out your heat. 

He suddenly growls, and flips you around so that you’re facing Elow, and his tongue presses into you. It stretches you and you feel it press against your walls, long enough that it can still curve to press to your clit. The sensations are overwhelming, and you cannot help but rock against them.

You get to watch Elow being fucked, and you meet his mouth in a frenzied kiss. Both of you are being held tight by Siphorus’s hands, being pleasured by him. The hands around Elow are thrusting him up and down, and the peek you get of Siphorus’s member has you clenching harder around his tongue. He laps up the wetness spilling from you as if he is starved, the noises coming from him sound as if he is tasting salvation. Elow acts much the same, drinking from your mouth as if it is the finest wine. 

You feel all too much and not enough, and you wrap a hand around Elow’s cock. It’s hot and heavy in your grip, and Elow turns to putty, begging. 

“Please don’t stop, please master,” he whines, high in his throat. Incoherent noises keep coming, and you assure him you won’t stop, pressing yourself further onto Siphorus. 

“Not gonna stop honey, wanna make you feel good. Such a sweet demon, aren’t you? My sweet demon.” You praise him and his movements turn jerky. The noises leaving him become even more frantic and high pitched. He reaches a crescendo and spills into your hand, covering you in his thick white cum. You don’t stop until he is pulling away from your hand, a whimpering mess convulsing on your other demon's cock. Your other demon, who is now redoubling his assault against your cunt, seems close as well. You watch him tense up and with an animalistic grunt, fill up Elow with his seed. His tongue is still fucking into you, and the visual he and Elow provide is all that is needed to push you over the edge, tensing and jerking away as your climax leaves you breathless. 

The three of you pull yourselves apart, you considerably more out of breath than your demons, who are much quicker to recover. Elow is behind you while Siphorus leans upright against the couch, stretching out his many muscles and preening before you. You let your eyes rake over him, and you feel desire bubbling in your skin. 

His nostrils flare, and his eyes dig into you even harder, predatory. You feel your heart pound and you’re sure he can smell your want, just as he said. 

“Oh, Lily, you think we are done with you?” Siphorus asks you, reaching over to tuck a sweat soaked strand of hair away from your face. 

“I hope not,” you whisper out, ignoring how hot you feel your face getting. You gnaw on your lip, and feel Elow stretch his arms out. You lean into them, already feeling breathless. 

“C’mere master, please? Can I have you this way?” He asks, tucking you to his front. One hand moves to rest on your throat while the other goes to your leg. You nod eagerly, letting him hoist your leg up as he nudges his member against your opening. He ruts against you before seating himself inside in one lazy thrust. All of your nerve endings are ablaze, and your hands wrap around his forearm, keeping his hand pressed against your neck. He keeps a slow pace, and molasses runs through your veins. The moans that leave you sound desperate, and you watch as Siphorus fists his cock, his other hands tweaking his nipples and moving up and down his body. 

You can feel the magic he is putting off, and it’s as if his hands are touching you from where he is in front of you. He is content with watching this time, it seems. 

“Deeper, Elow. Give it to her deeper.” Not just watching then, apparently. He is giving orders as well. You moan out as Elow follows his direction and presses deeper into you, an eager “Yes'' leaving his lips. A phantom hand, courtesy of Siphorus, is circling your clit. The slow but persistent pleasure had you throbbing and jerking back into Elows arms, the two of you overstimulated together in the best of ways. More phantom hands ghost over you and go to Elow, who lets out a whorish moan at the feeling. 

“Good boy, just like that,” Siphorus praises and nods.

 You whimpered and met his milky gaze, “You too darling, you’re such a good girl for us. Such a good little master, aren’t you?” he asks, his smirk downright predatory. 

His words pull a noise out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of making. Between his words, phantom hands, and Elow’s deep movements massaging your inner walls, you don’t last long. You feel yourself tense again, sparks flying through your veins as you milk the cock nestled deep inside you. Siphorus is still talking to the two of you, praising you though you can’t make out the words. Elow finishes too, locking himself inside you as he fills you with his seed. He grunts and makes breathy sounds into your neck as he continues to fill you.The warmth of it has aftershocks rippling through you, and you lean your head back against his shoulder as the two of you enjoy your afterglow. He slips from you minutes later, and you feel his plentiful cum running down the inside of your thighs. You should feel a bit grossed out, but all you feel is sated and claimed.  

Siphorus must have finished with you as well, since you feel tendrils of his magic cleaning you up. They run up and down your body, prompting you to further melt into them. Your eyes peek open and he is there, smiling and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Shh, let me get us comfortable,” he tells you, before conjuring up a nest of blankets and cushions for you, all with a subtle fiery scent. You and Elow don’t even have to move, all the better since you still very much feel boneless. If Elow’s soft and content noises are anything to go by, he feels the same. Siphorus nuzzles himself in, the three of you tangled together. 

“May I admit something, my dearests?” he asks us, answered only with a humming affirmative.

“I- Well, I didn’t have to stay. I’ve been free to leave but I just really, really wanted to stay.” You had not heard him sound so vulnerable before, and you squeeze one of his hands. You’re surprised, but not upset by the news. If anything, it lifts a weight off of your shoulders.

“Pft, tell me something I did not already know,” Elow teases him, his eyes still closed and a smile on his face. 

Siphorus sputters, taken aback, but it turns into hearty laughter. 

“I’m glad you stayed,” you tell him, kissing him in your half - asleep state.  

The blankets and content hum of magic in the air lull you to sleep, surrounded by your loves.

#demon boyfriend #demon #demons #witch #exophilia #Monster #monsters #monster x reader #demon x reader #demons x reader #My writing #demon smut #mxmxf #mlm #mxfxm #monsterlover #monsterboyfriend #mywriting #monster #monster lover #monster lemon

[blazichu]

Mystery March Day 13: Relax

I misremembered this one as ‘rest’ which kind of colored the tone/content, but I still dig it.

--

It started with a death curse.

Or, well, maybe it wasn’t a death curse specifically-- Vivi didn’t pretend to be an expert, but she knew how it made her feel, even from a distance, and from that she could extrapolate that it was bad news.

The point remained: there was a curse being levied, and the two people who might have any indication what it did reacted harshly to it. Those reactions, however, were on polar opposite ends of the spectrum. While Mystery bristled and visibly weighed his options, Lewis decided on a more proactive approach. In an unerring, deceptively fast glide, he made his way toward the caster and seized their raised hand by the wrist.

Startled by the unexpected contact and the skeletal phantom suddenly looming over them, they immediately lost their concentration-- and, for good reason, went into a panic. They tried to backpedal. When they only made it a step away, they tried to wrench the arm away.

Lewis’s grip on it tightened, and he rumbled something inaudible from their distance.

The spell in their hand popped-- exactly like a soap bubble, in spite of the fact that it didn’t technically exist yet-- and Lewis flinched in its wake, hair flickering wildly for half a second. Just as quickly as the disruption came on, though, his demeanor and form settled; he raised his free hand to gesture lackadaisically.

“Still dead. Imagine that.” He leaned in, as if to confide in the caster, but the phantasmal force behind his words carried them across the gap between himself and the rest of the group, “Be grateful it was me tonight; if you raise this hand again, toward any of them,” His grip tightened, and they renewed their struggling, teeth grit against the pressure on their wrist, “It’s the first thing you’re going to lose. Do I make myself clear?”

Something must have passed between the two, because Lewis dropped their hand, sending them skittering backwards blindly. He straightened up to his full height-- plus an extra couple of inches, due to his lack of contact with the ground-- and made as if to follow. The caster whirled around and booked it as fast as they could.

For several seconds, he stayed put-- tracking their progress until he deemed them too far away to bother with-- and then turned to rejoin the group, absently flexing the hand that had interrupted the curse. He looked completely unruffled, though, admittedly, it was pretty hard to judge when the only metric was a skull with resting bitch face.

It was off-putting, if Vivi was honest-- not the skull, but drastic behavioral shift. Lewis had always been loathe to use his stature to his advantage; he may have loomed, but it was always an accident, and on the rare occasion he’d seen fit to intimidate someone, it had always disturbed him after the fact. Maybe he was just leaning into the fact that it was hard to be a reassuring presence when one was very obviously dead, but it was hardly an isolated phenomena.

She still loved him dearly, but times like this, she worried for him.

Belatedly, Vivi realized that Arthur had frozen up somewhere in the middle of things. Lewis, as he drew nearer, seemed to notice the same thing, sighed, and gave him an absent pat on the shoulder.

And that was that.

Until later that night, when midway through a discussion on Scottish folklore, Lewis fell asleep at the table.

Thinking nothing of the sudden silence, Vivi stabbed a couple more penne, giving Lewis a few more seconds to consider his stance on kelpies. When there was no answer forthcoming, though, she glanced over, and immediately dropped her fork.

“You’re seeing this too, right?” Arthur asked, bemused.

Bizarrely, even though there was no gentle rise-and-fall of the chest, it was immediately obvious that Lewis was asleep, and nothing more sinister. And if there was something more sinister than dead Vivi wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was.

She scooted forward in her seat, leaning over her plate to get a better look without uprooting herself.

“I… didn’t realize that was an option.” She said after a moment passed. Then, with the blunt end of her knife, she nudged Lewis’s jaw. Arthur fussed at her for it, which was fortunate, because Lewis didn’t wake up to do it himself. She set it down and frowned, “Think we should be worried?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Vivi hummed to herself and stood up, moving to shake Lewis’s shoulder; skull still resting on his arms, he didn’t stir in the slightest. Chewing thoughtfully on her lip, she looked at Arthur. “I realize now’s not the time, but how do you s’pose his skull’s staying in place if he’s not actively keeping it there?”

Arthur, who’d gotten to his feet the same time Vivi had, flicked both of his hands up in something that wasn’t quite disbelief, “You’re right, it’s not the time.”

He made a circuit of the table, and the slumbering ghost thereupon, then came to a halt at Vivi’s other side. “He… looks fine? There’s nothing up with his anchor, anyway, so…?”

Vivi nodded, thoughts racing-- and then, both as a test and in search of answers, hollered, “Mystery!”

Nothing from sleeping spooky, but after a moment, Mystery appeared, grumbling all the while.

“You bellowed?” He asked, face twisting in displeasure as he padded onto the wooden floorboards.

With a wide wave, Vivi gestured in Lewis’s general direction, “Do you know anything about that?”

“I believe that’s your boyfriend.” He said, irritation creeping into his tone, “Should I identify Arthur for you, too, while I’m here?”

“We think something’s wrong.” The Arthur in question cut in, before they could get off track, “He’s, uh, asleep? Probably?”

Mystery shot him a look over his glasses, “He’s what.”

He offered a much more subdued wave toward the still form at the table.

Perhaps realizing that, through all the shouting and sassing Lewis hadn’t said a word, Mystery tensed minutely and trotted over. As the others before him, he nudged the ghost. And, as the others before him, he received a complete lack of response.

“That’s… unusual.” He said, somewhat unnecessarily, and propped himself up on his hind legs, front braced against the edge of the chair. It took a bit of craning, but he managed to nose his way against Lewis’s chest and prod at the golden heart sandwiched between its owner and the table.

That, finally, got a rise out of Lewis. He made a soft, inhuman noise akin to whine and flapped the nearest hand, as if to shoo Mystery away. As subdued a response as it was, neither Vivi or Arthur had expected anything, and it was enough to make one start, and the other jump.

Snout scrunched in thought, Mystery hopped down from his perch, “It seems you were correct, he’s asleep.”

In a silent bid for more information, Vivi turned her palms upward.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. My best guess is that it’s a product of the spell he intercepted earlier, but, as that’s the only variable at play here, that seems rather obvious.” His cocked his head, deliberating, “I suppose we could try to agitate his anchor, if you’re that worried, but he doesn’t seem distressed. Personally, I don’t see the harm in letting him sleep it off.”

At that, Vivi gave a short, wry laugh, “Well lookit that, Artie, you managed to stay up longer than a dead guy.”

Arthur stuck his tongue out and made his way back to his place at the table, eyes briefly resting on Lewis’s slouched form. “Should we move him somewhere else? You know how he gets when I fall asleep at my desk.”

“I think it’s less that he objects to the tabletop, and more that you should go to bed before you get to that point.” Vivi said, flopping back into her chair, “Kinda funny that he passed out here though, after all the talks you guys have had. What do you think, is it gonna take magic backlash to beat your all-nighter-recovery record?”

–

It took another two days for Lewis to wake up. There was some debate as to whether or not that technically broke Arthur’s record; Arthur was relatively certain he’d never taken that long to bounce back from a tinkering binge, and Vivi begged to differ. Mystery wisely stayed out of it.

Up to that point, they’d just resigned themselves to having haunted decor on the table while daily life went on around him, so it was a welcome surprise when Lewis showed signs of waking.

Vivi eyed him from over the edge of her laptop’s screen as she collated her research into parasomnia. He briefly buried his face deeper into the crook of his arm, then sat up and pressed the heel of one hand into an eye socket. As his open eye landed on Vivi, he blinked, dropped his hand, then glanced to the empty seat across from her.

She grinned at him and, without thinking, announced, “He lives!”

It was followed by a confused beat of silence and then a sheepish, “Oh shit, sorry.”

Lewis simply stared at her, uncomprehending.

“How’re you feeling? That was a pretty serious nap, but I guess that’s the worst you can do to someone who’s already dead, huh?”

“A nap?” He echoed, voice distorted either from sleep or confusion.

Vivi turned in her seat to gesture to the brightly-lit kitchen window. “I was trying to be nice, but I could try something more festive, like ‘short coma’.”

“Vivi. Since when do ghosts sleep?”

She shrugged, “Since two nights ago? Mystery thought there was a way to wake you up, but if a curse is anything like the flu, you were better off sleeping through it.”

“Oh,” Lewis said, voice unusually soft, “Right, the spellcaster. That shouldn’t have done anything, though…?”

Vivi shot him a sideways look, and gestured widely to the table. “You tell me, boo.”

Lewis did no such thing. Instead, he got up and floated away, body language troubled.

--

Things went back to normal relatively quickly thereafter.

On this particular night, Vivi was still pulling together notes for their next case, and frequently called out random trivia about bog bodies to whoever was available to hear it. Mystery would have been underfoot in the kitchen, had its other occupant not been hovering a good six inches in the air, floating around or through him in an effort to ignore his well-meaning nagging, whilst cleaning up for the day.

And then there was Arthur, who had disappeared after dinner. He had the next day off, which was a double-edged sword-- more often than not, he took it as an excuse to stay up until dawn and then crash.

There was a loud clang from down the hallway, and Lewis automatically turned to consult the nearest clock. Simultaneously, Vivi’s eyes flicked down to the digital display on her laptop. 1 am already. She saved her work and stretched, deciding her fifteen remaining tabs could wait.

While she shut things down for the night, Lewis tucked a new towel into the oven’s handle and started toward the hall, goal clear in mind.

Vivi stared after him and, after some thought, did a little skip-hop closer to catch his arm. “Maybe you should try to get some sleep, too.”

“I… don’t need to sleep.” He said, in the tones of one who’d been made to explain something very simple to someone who should know better.

“Not technically, no, but you can.” Vivi tilted her head as she considered whether or not to voice her next thought. “I get that you didn’t really have a choice in the matter before, but you-- after you woke up, you seemed a lot happier, and it made me think. We sleep because our bodies need it, yeah, but it’s important for us mentally, too. Even if you’re dead, you’re still a dead human-- what if you’ve just been cranky because you don’t have a body to tell you you’re tired?”

Lewis was quiet for several long seconds, and then sighed, “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll try.”

A slow smile worked its way across Vivi’s face, and, with some doing, she craned high enough to press a kiss to his cheekbone. With a gentle bump of his temple against hers, Lewis floated off-- and, as he left, Vivi caught a single word muttered into the darkness:

“’Cranky’?”

–

Though she’d told herself she didn’t have any specific expectations, Vivi found herself slightly disappointed when she spent the night alone. At first, she assumed it meant Lewis had decided against resting after all, but when her alarm went off and she made to start fumbling around in the kitchen, she realized what had happened: for whatever reason, he’d decided to sleep on the couch. She told herself not to speculate why; he had to have his reasons, and there was no point in humoring the wriggling doubts when she’d just be able to ask.

She was a little surprised, though, when her futzing with the coffee pot failed to disturb him. Maybe he was just that tired. It wasn’t unthinkable; if her theory held any weight, he’d only slept three nights over the course of a year.

With the coffee brewing and toaster at work, Vivi wandered over and braced an elbow on the back of the couch. As before, it only took a glance to recognize that Lewis was asleep; unlike before, his anchor was in plain view to confirm it, dusted a mellow gold that didn’t pulse so much as draw in and out, keeping the same pace as the low, even breathing of true sleep.

It seemed he’d curled around it out of habit, protecting it even in unconsciousness.

Vivi lingered a bit longer, without any particular reason for doing so; thoughts came and went, and she didn’t try to hold onto any of them. It was soothing leaning there, absently matching her breathing to the lazy thrum of Lewis’s anchor.

Then the toaster went off and she started upright, slapping her cheeks in anticipation for the day ahead.

She never asked why he chose the couch, and he never offered her an answer.

---

Something about that brief respite must have convinced Lewis that he was better off taking the occasional nap, because he didn’t speak a word of protest from there on out. And as he accepted it, the less Vivi worried for him; he’d never been unrecognizable-- not counting, you know-- but he started acting more and more like himself, rather than the new, spooky version where you had to squint to make out his original personality.

That wasn’t the only benefit, either. Arthur might have foregone sleep for his own sake, ignoring any number of pointed reminders while he worked, but this discovery seemed to change things. If it got too late and he realized Lewis was still hovering around, he’d shut things down on his own and shoo the ghost off to bed, using himself as an example.

It was an incredibly sweet gesture, but Vivi had a suspicion that Lewis might have engineered the chain of events in the first place; he may have urged Arthur to sleep in the past, but he only started loitering when he realized he could make himself the impetus to follow through. But at the same time, the longer this went on, the gentler the reminders became, the more it turned into something he considered ‘for Arthur’s benefit’ and less a naughty, if mutually beneficial, game.

The compromise didn’t always mean they slept at a decent hour, or even went to bed properly, but it did mean that they slept every night, at least for a little bit, and that was better than the alternative.

(It also meant that Vivi got up one morning, further into this arrangement, and found them asleep on the couch: Arthur’s good arm dangling off the edge, Lewis half-sunken into the back of said couch, loosely curled around his anchor-- but also, as a consequence of where he was laying, Arthur. If it hadn’t been for the phantasmal tail his lower body melded into, ‘cute’ was all it would have been, but as things stood, that also bumped it into the ‘fascinating’ camp.

She hadn’t forgotten the fact that his skull stayed firmly in place while he slept, so this unconscious modification was an object of intrigue for her.)

“It’s because you weren’t getting your beauty sleep,” Vivi joked, then moved her hands in a rainbow’s arc and put on the ‘I am interacting with a young child’ voice, “And we all know real beauty is on the inside.”

Lewis sighed a laugh, but didn’t argue. In fact, after a moment’s thought, he said, “It’s strange. Obviously I know I’m dead, but I didn’t realize how awful it was to feel like a ghost until I felt like a person again.”

And to that Vivi hummed, unsure what to say, thoughts racing.

Then there was Thursday.

On one particular Thursday, where Arthur couldn’t stay asleep and Vivi had an especially early shift, the commotion throughout the kitchen roused Lewis from wherever he’d settled the previous night. Nothing unusual there, and Vivi would hardly begrudge his help as she blearily went about putting breakfast together.

There were no footsteps as he rounded the corner-- there never were, regardless of whether he walked or floated-- but something was audibly off when he greeted them.

Vivi waved without looking over, intent as she was on the coffee pot.

It would have taken her a few more minutes to notice, if it hadn’t been for Arthur’s uncertain, “Uh, Vivi…?”

She glanced up, and then automatically followed the pointed tilt of Arthur’s head, failing to process the look on his face until several seconds after the fact.

Where he’d emerged from the hallway, Lewis was shooing off a Deadbeat that seemed determined to get in his face. Frankly, it was hard to blame the Deadbeat; as soon as what she was seeing clicked, Vivi bounded across the kitchen and got in his face herself, reaching up as far as she could. Her hand brushed his cheek. Not his cheekbone, his cheek-- and despite herself, she felt tears welling up.

“Vivi?” He asked, and there was no overt reverberation. As dark-- as dead-- as his eyes may have been, his concerned gaze on her was a balm she hadn’t known she needed, and she gave up on holding back the sniffles as she flung her arms around his neck.

She’d known. She’d known he was still there, even in his roughest moments, and now she had him back.

#Mystery Skulls #MysteryMarch2021 #blazy's stuff

[feathered-serpents]

Heartseller (aka the Story I Got Published)

So! This is a totally original work about a spooky fae-like spirit that was published in my university lit magazine earlier this year. I’ve been working up the nerve to post it here for awhile, and I expect like 8 people max to read it, but whatever. I’m still proud of it. Hope you like it! 

Note: This is not the exact version that was published, so there might be some grammar errors and such

CW: Death of a child, grief, spousal and implied parental abuse 

---

    Three-hundred men died tonight.

    Hurry now, you know how it goes. Douse your fires, snuff your candles, dim your lanterns.

    Three-hundred men have died, the Heartseller will be over the hill.

    The Heartseller will be over the hill.

---

    Róisín Ó Ceallaigh’s brother had died first. The only son of her bloodline and younger than her by ten years. He was a boy too brave to live long. Róisín had never believed in the stories, so she went and bought the brightest lantern she could find and hung it high above her door.

    Shannon Mac Gabhann’s husband was next. Men who batter their wives are always terrible with swords. Cowards they all are, and I have long seen my share of cowards. Her candles remained lit as a wish.

    Eithne de Paor’s son had lived for hours. His brothers took him to their mother who held his hand and stroked his hair and sang to him until he slept. Of her twelve other sons, none would put out the lantern for her. She sat before her fire, tending to it, dozing in her chair. Waiting.

---

    I went to Róisín first.

    She was sleeping when I found her. I remember thinking how peaceful she looked, for a woman who just lost her only brother, and how peaceful she looked for Róisín Ó Ceallaigh.

    Róisín was a large woman, her skin tanned and freckled from work in the woods, hands calloused from lumber. She wore wild sturdy curls that formed a mane around her face. A face you look at not because it is beautiful, but because it demands it.

    I waited, it would not take long.

    Róisín Ó Ceallaigh woke, when she saw me, she sat up in bed. She crossed her lumberwoman’s arms over her chest and said, “You’re real then?”

    “Yes, Róisín Ó Ceallaigh.”

    She raised one red eyebrow. “You know me?”

    “I know you. I wouldn’t come if I didn’t know you.”

    She smiled with one corner of her mouth, looking out her bedroom window into the glow of the lantern outside. “So, I should have put out the lantern.”

    “Perhaps,” I said.

    Róisín said nothing.

    “Heartseller,” she said. Testing my title. “Heartseller. How do you go about it? The stories never make it that far.”  

    “You give it to me.”

    “Give it?”

    “Not for nothing,” I said. “You sell it.”

    “But you’re the Heartseller.”

    “It is not a title I chose,” I said. “We never choose our titles.”

    She furrowed her brows as I said it. She ran a hand up her shirt, pressing down on the skin in the center of her chest. Feeling her heart beat below her fingertips.

    “What will you give me?”

    “Anything.”

    She glared at me. Her eyes were green as emeralds and sharp as knives. “I know your kind,” she said. “It is not anything.”

    “It is.”

    I did know Róisín Ó Ceallaigh. I knew she was the oldest of eight children. I knew she had six sisters that were all cast aside by their father in favor of their brother. The youngest of them, who had killed their mother on her birthing bed.

    I knew Róisín Ó Ceallaigh had built the very house I entered. I knew there were still splinters lodged in her calloused palms, that she felt nothing in her fingertips and had a nail on her left thumb that had gone black and fallen off. I knew somewhere in this house two of her sisters slept, and they had fled with her instead of living under her hellish father’s thumb. Who slept now, sonless, in the castle on the hill that looms above the village.

    “Then you know,” she said. “You know me.”

    “Róisín Ó Ceallaigh,” I said. “When the sun rises, you will have everything your brother had. Your father’s castle will be yours, everyone in this village will be your people. Your sisters will live lives in silk, and your birthright will be yours. Firstborn.”

    Róisín removed her hand from her shirt. She let her hands fall onto the bedding beside her and gripped the blankets. She held her head high.

“So be it, Heartseller.”

    Róisín Ó Ceallaigh’s heart was red. It glowed and pulsed like an ember, so full of life. It would stand proud amongst the others, it would be one that never faded. It would outlive the sun.

---

    Shannon Mac Gabhann was awake.

    She sat by the window and watched the night pass. Beside her sat a little red candle, dripping wax onto the windowsill. In the light, Shannon looked as if she was fading. Shannon was already a ghost.

    She saw me coming up her entryway path, she took her little candle, and opened the door. The wax from the candle melted and pooled on the flesh of her hands. She did not flinch.

    “Shannon Mac Gabhann,” I said.

    She moved from the doorway, standing to the side, and gesturing for me to come in.

    Shannon did not build her house, and neither did her husband. Her house was one of the oldest and largest in the village, her husband’s grandfather had built it. It was full of trophies. The house was her husband’s grandfather’s, the animal skins covering the floors and the horns adorning the walls her husband’s fathers, and Shannon, her husband’s.

“I know your kind,” she said. The red candlewax now streamed down the back of her hand. Oozing through her fingers. Bright against her white skin. “Give me what I ask and nothing less.”

I bowed my head to her. She raised her chin and ran her free hand over her belly. “Of course,” I said. “I deal not in tricks.”    

    Shannon Mac Gabhann. I knew she used to be beautiful. The most beautiful woman for miles. Beautiful enough to attract others of my kind, and I knew then she was careful. Then she didn’t step into the circles of toadstools, then she left gifts by the window, and then she sprinkled salt by the door.

    Now Shannon Mac Gabhann was small, despite her belly being round and full. Her hair was grown past her waist and was as yellow and firm as straw. Her eyes were clouded, and her arms pale as the moon, streaked with formless marks of blue.

    “I want a husband,” Shannon said. Her voice was shaking, the words I want were foreign to her. “A good husband, you hear? A strong husband. A kind husband.” Her clouded eyes were now a deep blue, and they caught the light of the flame in a way that mimicked courage. “I want a husband who will love me.”

    “Hush,” I said. I reached for her. I ran a strand of her ruined hair through my hand, where it became fine and soft once again. “I only ever give what you want.”

    She looked up at me, and she smiled.

    Shannon Mac Gabhann’s heart was white, with ribbons of blue moving on the surface, like worms, trying to dig in deeper. It likes to be held, so I hold it. I hold it as close to me as I can.  

---

    Eithne de Paor sat in her chair.

    The fire was lit, and her children were not with her. Eithne de Paor could not walk, her chair had wheels to get around. She sat in it, crumpled, every joint in her body as hard as a knot on a tree branch.

    She swung her head over to look at me, her neck permanently crooked, she moved each part of her body separately and with great effort. I believe she could see me, even through her milk-white eyes, for when those eyes fell on me. She sighed and nodded her head.  

“I told them,” she said. “Put out the lantern before midnight.”

    “They didn’t believe you?”

    She shook her head. “They think I’m a mad old woman with mad old stories, Heartseller.”

    “I don’t come to the mad.”

    “Oh, that isn’t true.”

    With a trembling, jointed hand, Eithne picked up a long iron fire-poker that had been leaning against her chair and jabbed at the logs with it. Her blind eyes reflecting the flames like a mirror, she prodded until the largest log fell, and the flames burst forth, swallowing the new air. She looked content, closing her eyes to allow the fire to warm her face.

    “Go on then,” she said. “Do your bidding.”

    “What is it you want?”

    She opened one eye. Against the fire, it glowed orange. “You’re supposed to know, aren’t you?”

    “Yes,” I said. “I know, but I do not understand.”

    “What’s so hard, Heartseller?” she said, closing her eyes again, leaning her head against the back of her chair. “I want you to take my heart.”

    “I…I can’t take it.”

    “Why not? There’s nothing else I want.”

    “You could want wealth,” I offered. “Gold. I could fill your walls with gold.”

    She shook her head. “What am I to do with gold?” she said. “I’m too old to buy those silk dresses or heavy jewels. It’d be wasted on me.”

“If not for you, then for your children.”

    To this she scoffed. “Of all the things my children need, it is not gold.”

    “Power then,” I said. “Come the morning, you will rule this land. Every inch of it yours, to command as you please, all the people your people. To love you, like you deserve.”

    She crossed her arms over her lap, knitting her fingers together. “I don’t want power,” she said. “And I am loved.”

    “Maybe not a queen’s power,” I said. “I could give you power over the sun, and the moon, you could take them down and hold them in your home. The stars even. Weave them into your hair.”

    “My hair is thin,” she said. “What would I do with the sun and moon?”

    Here I paused. I thought of what brought me here, of the hearts that drove me over the hills. Yes, there was one last gift I could offer.

“Your son,” I said. “Your son, back from the dead, just as he was.”

    “My son is at peace,” Eithne said. “I do not want him back.” She took a long breath. “Take my heart”

    “I can’t.”

    “I give it to you.”

    “You can’t give it,” I said. “You have to sell it.”

    Eithne de Paor smiled.

    “I know your kind,” she said.

    “You all do.”

    She sat up in her chair, as tall and proud as her crooked spine would allow.

    “Give me your heart.”

    “What?”

    She placed one hand on the wooden wheel of her chair, with a great creak of the floor the chair turned to face me. Eithne de Paor smiled through me.

    “Your heart, Seller,” she said. “I want your heart.”

    I have heard the stories the people tell of me. The songs.

    They are different each time, some say I am cloaked in black, while others say I am as naked as a newborn. Some say I ride on an ashen horse, and others say I have a wagon that simply pulls itself. I have been told I have blinding red eyes, and I have been told I have no eyes at all. I have even been told I am the brother of Death, and I have been told there is nothing like me in the world.

    Of all the stories, there is one thing that never changes. Two undisputed rules among the people.  

The Heartseller has no name.

    The Heartseller has no heart.

    “You know me,” I said to Eithne de Paor.

    She smiled. “I know you, Heartseller.”

    My heart was red.

    My heart glowed and pulsed like an ember, so full of life. My heart stood proud amongst the others, it was one that never faded. My heart outlived the sun.  

    My heart was white.

    My heart had ribbons of blue moving on the surface, like worms, trying to dig in deeper. My heart liked to be held, so hold it. Hold it as close as you can.  

    But my heart is black.

    It is black and dotted with stars. It is a little piece of the night, carved from the sky. My heart is old, and it has seen more than I ever have, or ever will.

    My name was Róisín Ó Ceallaigh, the firstborn of my family, and the rightful heir to everything my brother had.

My name was Shannon Mac Gabhann, I was the most beautiful woman in my village, and I will be loved.

But my name is Eithne de Paor, and I am free of my children. I am free of my home.

    Three hundred men have died across the hill. Hurry now, put out your candles, dim your lanterns.

    Three hundred men have died.

    The Heartseller is coming over the hill.

#writing #my writing #original writing #i am sooooo nervous okay here we go

[freckled-words]

Count The Teeth - Part Eleven

I am just. I don’t even know? I swear I remember posting this final chapter last year with the whole series, I swear I did, but as far as my tumblr account can tell, it doesn’t exist.....I hate tumblr sometimes, I really do. So if this is already in existence, then let’s just roll with this being an odd duplicate.

I’m not going to post all the prior links here, as I’m setting up another post that will have EVERYTHING on it, including the original one shot ‘Smoke and Blood.’

I can’t even remember if this was edited. Regardless, enjoy this random end chapter XD

It had been the oddest thing when you left NateMare licking his wounds.

You’d gone to the driveway and found a taxi waiting for you. The driver said the fare had been taken care of and he was to take you wherever you wanted. When you asked him who had covered the tab, he said a well spoken gentleman had done so. 

Seeing your disheveled appearance in pajamas, the taxi driver became curious as to why you were there. 

You went with an elaborate story. It was your birthday, and your asshole brother had kidnapped you and brought you here for a spooky adventure. You’d gotten fed up with his childish antics and had decided to leave. You added that it was likely your brother’s friend that had paid the taxi driver.

When you got home, you took a long, luxurious, hot shower and collapsed into bed. Your exhaustion was deeper than you’d thought, leading you to sleeping for a straight 12 hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 months later…

It had taken him a month, but Mercer had kept his word. He’d found each of his victims that had been put into a coma, and brought them out of it. When questioned about what had happened to send them into the coma, they all had the same story. They’d been out at night, and they came across a man looking for directions. After they sent him on his way, they’d become dizzy and passed out.

Authorities believed that the victims had been distracted by the man asking for directions, then jumped by a second person that knocked them out and then drained them for blood. Reddit was running rampant with theories about a team collecting blood for the black market.

You supposed it was better than them getting freaked out about a rampaging vampire. The last thing the city needed were civilians taking up guns, pitch forks, torches, and stakes to go after people that were innocent.

In the following months, you remained on alert. NateMare’s promise of retribution had left a fairly strong impression. Armed with the knowledge of something to use against him, you’d set up a collection of weapons throughout the apartment.

In the kitchen, you had a bucket of blessed water by the sink. In the living room, you had a Super Soaker loaded with the stuff and in your bedroom, you had a spray bottle at the ready. You knew it would annoy and delay him at best, but at least it was better than just standing around and letting him curse you again.

You were so intent on watching for hints of a smoke cloud, you didn’t think to watch for any bats.

Which was how Mercer caught you off guard.

You’d spent the day out with one of your friends, and had lost track of time. It was dark when you made the walk home. The night was overcast and the wind was much colder as winter was settling in.

Despite your thick jacket, you still felt the chill. Your hands were stuffed into your pockets and your shoulders were hunched up to your ears. Your attention darted between the people walking towards you on the sidewalk and the people that were walking parallel to you across the street. Leaving no room to focus on your surroundings behind you.

An arm went around your shoulders, pulling you in against a tall frame. Startled you made a noise that was barely a word and some kind of squeak.

A familiar voice chuckled, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You didn’t dare look up, not wanting to get caught by his eyes. 

“What are you doing here Mercer?”

Mercer’s arm squeezed a little tighter, guiding you forward to keep walking.

He was greatly enjoying himself. You could tell from his voice as he replied, “Well hello to you too. Can’t a friend just come around for a visit now and then?”

“We’re not friends.”

“Oh, you wound me.” He lamented, without an ounce of actual dismay.

“Did you come here to get some payback for soaking you?” It was the first thing that came to mind, and you were kicking yourself for not bringing your tiny spray bottle with you when leaving earlier.

You caught sight of Mercer’s hand as he waved that thought off, “Not at all. I’ve gotten over that little trifle. As I said, I’m just here on a friendly visit.”

“At what point between you and NateMare trying to kill each other, did you and I become friends?” You could see your apartment building up ahead, and at this point, you were just utterly perplexed as to what was happening with Mercer right now.

He ignored your question, “I had some time to think while I went from hospital to hospital, and I’ve come up with a fun idea. One that I’m sure you’ll see the benefits of.”

You knew it was stupid, you could hear yourself calling it stupid, but when you both stopped in front of your building, you looked up. 

The bugger was genuinely amused, smiling brightly and in all innocence. There was no glow to his eyes and you didn’t feel any part of you go numb. He was playing nice. For now.

You shrugged off his arm and moved around to stand in front of him, “And what idea is this?” 

“Well, as we’re both aware, my dear, baby brother is all in a huff about you letting me go. The set of lungs on that boy, I swear. My ears were throbbing for an hour after his hollering.”

You winced, but you weren’t surprised Mercer had caught that.

“I was thinking to myself about how much trouble you and he were, going around and messing about in my handiwork. Good job on digging up the family history by the way. Anyways, I thought I should probably keep tabs on my brother, make sure he doesn’t come barging in on me at some point unexpectedly. The only problem is that I’m terrible at tracking idiots.”

You shuffled on the spot, getting colder by the minute. Mercer was clearly intent on dragging this out, and you doubted he’d just let you walk away. But you had no intention of inviting him inside.

“So I came to the only logical conclusion: You! I knew he was bound to come knocking on your door at some point and figured I’d keep watch. I tell you, watching a mortal for a month is boring. Which is why we’re having this chat. Much more engaging than just hovering about bored out of my mind.”

Your blood pressure rose at his declaration of stalking you for the past month. You thought you’d felt eyes on you, and it made you twice as jumpy. Knowing it was this nuisance didn’t make you feel any easier.

Processing everything he was saying all together, you just about threw your hands up.

It was the same damned position you’d been in 5 months before, only now it was reversed!

“Clearly you two are related.” You grouched stomping your feet. The cold was seeping through your boots and socks, making your feet ache.

“I am not helping you find NateMare. You are not hanging around here to wait for him to show up! And I’m not getting involved with either of you again!” You didn’t care if the neighbors heard, for all they’d understand, it sounded like a romantic issue.

You spun on your heel and stomped up to your apartment door.

Just as you put the key into the lock, a decent sized bat flew around you and clung onto your chest. You looked back over your shoulder and saw no sign of Mercer. Glaring down at the bat, you hissed, “You are not coming inside, let go and go away.”

The bat merely wiggled its ears, and much to your chagrin, he nuzzled against your coat. Even worse, it was adorable.

You heard people, more tenants that belonged to your building, coming up behind you. 

Suppressing a frustrated scream you unlocked the door, and kept your body turned away from the approaching people.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, concealing Mercer as best you could, and made a beeline for the staircase.

Huffing up the stairs you swore at him, “You’re in so much trouble. I have a bucket filled with holy water in my kitchen and it has your name all over it buddy.”

The impudent bastard gave a tiny squeak. One that conveyed no distress in the slightest.

A glance down and there was no mistaking a smug smile, even on a bat.

You didn’t stop until you were inside your apartment, at which time you were breathless and sweaty under your coat.

“You make one damn comment about me being out of shape, and I will seriously drown you.”

“I’d very much like to see you try.”

You’d been locking your door, putting your back to the living room.

It hadn’t been Mercer that had replied.

Stiffly, you hit the light switch next to the door frame and peeked over your shoulder.

NateMare lounged back on your couch. His body was relaxed, but his expression was one that read murder.

The sound of dripping drew your eye to the kitchen. Your bucket of holy water was on the floor, along with a puddle of water and some that was dripping off the sink's cabinet doors. 

“NateMare-”

“Shut it.” 

He got to his feet and stalked towards you, “You should consider yourself very lucky. Had I gone after you that same day, I would have happily ripped your esophagus out of your throat.”

You swallowed thickly.

“But I took some time to calm down, recover, and think about it. I changed my mind.”

He stepped closer, leaving two steps of distance between you, “I’ve come to realize that I enjoy having a minion doing my bidding. Unlike some other… people… I could name, I don’t have a host popping out brothers every damn holiday. Plus, you’re already semi-trained.”

He smirked and held up a hand. Smoke gathered in his palm, and formed a thick section of chains.

“Hell. To. The. No.” 

You’d done this song and dance and you were not doing it again.

Turning to face him, you pried Mercer from your chest and shoved him into NateMare, “Here, talk to your brother. Take it outside!” 

Stunned, NateMare had dropped the smoke chain and grabbed Mercer on reflex. 

Unprepared, Mercer didn’t have a chance to resist being shoved into NateMare’s hands.

The two stayed frozen and dumbstruck to the spot while you threw off your coat and went to get your mop and bucket.

There was another second of silence until you heard, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

There was enraged squeaking, a bit of scuffling, the sound of a grunt, and then silence.

When you returned to the kitchen, you found the two were gone, and your balcony door wide open.

You were in the clear. For now.

#I'm honestly so proud of this #Mercer Battle #NateMare Battle #NateMare #Reader insert #I hate tumblr #deleting my shit #fanfiction #Count The Teeth #Part 11 #natewantstobattle

[lailaliquorice]

drops of jupiter in her hair

you can thank the lovely anon who sent in this prompt for this angst fest, which was  “I might never get a chance to say this.”

and we have more beheaded cousins! I love these two so much and really need to write them together more. in my last fic with them I had anne looking after kat but this time we’re flipping the script and multiplying it by a lot because this is a lot, and I’ll apologise in advance to the sixcord who have had this dangled over their heads for a good few days now. love you guys!

there’s no tw on this other than mild blood bc as much as it doesn’t look like it for a while, there is actually a happy ending. i’m not that mean <3

A clear winter’s day after a week of non-stop rain had given Jane the excuse to force a very cabin-fevery Anne and Kat outside for the first time in several days, and they hadn’t just used their freedom to go into central London as per usual. Kat’s complaint that everything was so much more crowded and built up than how they remembered it from their old lives caused Anne to skid to a halt where she was heading towards their usual train line in the underground station, before abruptly changing directions and dragging Kat with her without giving an explanation.

And that was how Kat found herself getting off a train to be faced with a forest so beautiful it was worthy of being pictured on a Christmas card.

“Come on!” yelled Anne, zipping her coat and charging towards the platform exit.

Kat was left just running after her with her laughter leaving clouds of steam in the air, all but shoving her ticket into the barrier to let herself out of the station before they were running down a path through the fields and towards the forest. The pompoms on Anne’s woolly hat bounced just like her usual space buns did as she ran, bringing a smile to Kat’s face even though her cold ears made her wish she’d brought a hat for herself.

They skidded to a standstill once they reached the end of the forest, both panting to get their breath back as the chilled air made Kat’s lungs ache. “It looks bigger up close,” she commented once she could form words again, glancing upwards with a slightly nervous frown at the trees towering over them.

“We won’t go in far, I just thought it’d be nice to get away from the city a bit,” Anne reassured her with a grin that Kat couldn’t help but trust. “It’s not even like we’ve gone that far from home, Jane could be here in half an hour in the car but obvs that isn’t an option for me just yet.”

Kat gave an exaggerated hum as she grinned in an attempt to stifle her laughter; the fifth time failing her driving test had actually been due to driving too slowly in a desperate bid to pass and the fit she’d thrown upon returning home had practically shaken the walls.

Anne glanced up from the floor before Kat had a chance to rearrange her expression. “Shut up Kitkat,” she retorted playfully.

“I didn’t say anything!” Kat squeaked.

“Your face did! Ugh enough of this, come on!”

Their laughter echoed around the silent trees as they stepped foot into the forest at last, Kat trusting Anne to lead the way as she followed on slightly behind. The slight frost the night before meant that the leaves still crunched beneath her feet despite autumn being long gone, making everything feel a little eerie once their voices fell quiet to better take in the scenery.

Kat lasted five minutes before her own footsteps started to sound too much like someone was following them, and after putting on a short burst of speed to catch up with Anne she burst out “Can we keep talking please?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, it was getting a bit spooky,” Anne said with an easy smile that Kat returned a little more nervously. She glanced around as if looking for something, then took off suddenly with a shout of “I’ll race you to that tree stump!”

Despite knowing that Anne would win Kat still ran after her; she loved spending time with her cousin since it let her be the rebellious child that she’d never been able to be back in her old life. That neither of them had really. While Jane mothering her meant that Kat felt more like a child with her too, there was something about Anne dragging her into trouble like an older cousin-turned-sister was meant to that she loved more than she could say.

Anne was grinning triumphantly as she turned to face Kat after hopping up onto the stump on the edge of a steep incline, pulling a superhero pose when Kat took her phone out for a photo. “I can see everywhere from up here,” she said, shielding her eyes from the winter sun with one hand as she looked out over the trees and the lake far below them. “I think that might be the city out there in the distance, lemme-“

She broke off with a scream as the rotted wood beneath her feet gave way and sent her plummeting off the cliff, tumbling head over heels and barely missing several trees before she fell into the lake with an enormous splash.

Kat shrieked Anne’s name as she scrabbled down the cliff after her, being as careful as she could manage while wanting to just sprint after her regardless of her own safety. Anne was heaving herself onto the bank by the time Kat made it down to her, her hat gone and her hair dripping with water, and when she looked up at Kat she could see the scratches on her face from her uncontrollable roll down the hill. “Well that was fucking cold,” she said, any bite in her words ruined by how her teeth were chattering as she shivered.  

She attempted to smile at the sarcasm, but she could hardly manage it with the worry that was making her heart race. “Are you ok?” Kat asked, eyes wide as she took in Anne’s sodden clothes and the smears of blood on her face and hands.

“Yeah, ‘m not hurt. Just damp,” Anne muttered, shrugging as she gave Kat a grim look. It fell into a crestfallen frown as she touched her hair and realised her hat was missing, but one glance at it floating across the lake was enough for her to decide it wasn’t worth wading back in again. “And bloody freezing too,” she added, “we’re going home right now before I die of cold out here.”

Kat nodded firmly, but her voice died in her throat from where she’d been about to agree when she looked behind her and realised she had no idea where they were. She could just about see the stump that Anne had fallen off of if she craned her neck upwards but there was no way they could climb all the way back up the cliff. The plan of just retracing their steps back to the train station was impossible now that they were stuck on a path they didn’t recognise with no idea how to get home.

A quiet “Ah, fuck,” from Anne made Kat whip her head around to see her tipping water out of the headphone port of her phone. “Don’t think this’ll be working anytime soon,” she tried to joke, but the seriousness of the situation was reflected in her solemn expression.

“We can use mine to get us out,” Kat said, though the glimmer of hope she felt was dimmed as soon as she pulled out her phone to see that she’d lost service.

“No signal?” Anne asked, clearly guessing from the defeated look on Kat’s face.

Kat shook her head.

Shivering violently, Anne pushed a strand of sodden hair away from her eyes as she said “Then I guess we’re gonna have to try and walk our way out of here.”

~~~

Anne didn’t know how long they’d been walking for. All Kat’s phone was good for was checking the time but very quickly she decided she didn’t want to know, preferring to just keep putting one foot in front of the other with no indication of time passing then be reminded of how long they’d been lost. Her hair was still dripping water down her face, sluggishly blinking droplets from her eyelashes, and her coat was so wet that she was considering taking it off and seeing if that made her any less cold.

But then she glanced down at the red skin on her hands and decided against it. If she kept her coat on then Kat would be less likely to see, and Anne couldn’t bear the thought of Kat worrying about her on top of everything else.

“I’m sure I haven’t seen that tree before,” Kat said from where she was up in front this time round, pointing to an oddly shaped tree that Anne would have probably been racing to climb on any other day. Her voice grew with confidence by the word as she continued her commentary with “That means we’re not going in circles, that’s a good thing, and even if we come out of the forest on the wrong side we’ll still be out. Do you think I’ll get phone signal back once we’re away from the trees?”

Anne gave a confused hum as she tried to take in Kat’s words. While she could recognise that they should have been making sense, she just couldn’t focus her mind long enough to comprehend what she was saying and what she was supposed to reply.

After several seconds of silence, Kat turned around to face her with a confused look that immediately turned into downright worry. “Annie?” she said in a scared tone.

“Mhm?”

“Your lips have gone blue.”

She lifted a shaking hand to touch her face, vaguely concerned in the back of her mind when she couldn’t feel the contact on either her cheek or her fingertip. “Oh,” Anne breathed out quietly.

They stared blankly at each other for a moment, unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air, before Kat hurried forwards to grab Anne’s freezing hand. “Come on, we have to get home,” she said, the former confidence in her voice still there but marred by a noticeable tremble.

Anne nodded, but when she tried to walk on as Kat tugged at her hand she felt her foot slip and she fell awkwardly to the floor. “’m sorry,” she slurred, trying to push herself back to her feet though not even Kat helping by pulling her arm could get her to stand again.

“Anne? Annie!” Kat cried out, her panicked voice sounding miles away to Anne’s confused mind.

She tried again to stand up but her limbs refused to cooperate, forcing her to admit defeat and settle with just propping herself up with her arm as she stayed sprawled on the floor. “I can’t, ‘m sorry,” Anne repeated as she looked up miserably at Kat, wrapping her other arm around her waist in a feeble attempt to protect what little body heat she still possessed. Her voice quietened to a mumble as she added “I’m so cold.”

Kat stared down at her for a moment with an unreadable expression on her face, before she fumbled to take off her coat. “Put this on instead,” she insisted, ignoring Anne’s protests to unzip her wet coat herself since Anne would never be able to grasp the zip herself with her frozen fingers.

Since her clothes underneath were soaked through too it didn’t make her feel any warmer, but it was nice to have the cold weight of her sodden coat off her shoulders. “Thanks,” she whispered, too drained to even speak properly at that point.

When Kat sat down beside her Anne let her head fall onto Kat’s shoulder, the hand bracing herself against the ground slipping through the leaf litter as her energy was used up. That was until she realised she was starting to fall asleep, and a jolt of pure fear through her chest gave her the boost she needed to sit upright and look Kat in the eye. “I might never get a chance to say this,” she started through gritted teeth, struggling to make her tongue form the right words.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Kat whispered, before she realised like a blow to the head that perhaps Anne wasn’t.

Anne gave her head a tiny shake when Kat interrupted, and the sight of tears rolling down her ghostly pale face was enough for her to fall silent. “I love you,” she said, moving with effort to place an ice-cold hand on Kat’s cheek. “You’re the best little sister I’ve ever had.”

Kat covered Anne’s hand with her own as she started to cry too. “I love you and you’re not dying here,” she insisted, choking out a forceful “No!” when Anne just shrugged. “Come on, you can survive anything. You’re Anne Boleyn, you always make it.”

The ribbon choker around Anne’s neck choosing that exact moment to come undone under its own damp weight and reveal her scar quickly proved that statement wrong.

“S’alright,” Anne breathed out, her head nodding forwards again as her short-lived strength deserted her. A delirious smile flitted across her face as she added “We ‘ad fun.”

“Annie, stop it,” Kat sobbed, grabbing her shoulders as she threatened to fall forwards.

Anne shook her head, just about finding the motivation to look up at her cousin as Kat’s distress pierced through the bubble of lucidity that had prevented her from panicking until then. “Don’t want to die again Kitkat,” she whimpered. She’d stopped shivering by then, which would have been a pleasant feeling if it weren’t for the voice at the back of her head quietly insisting that wasn’t a good thing.

Her head lolled to the side as Kat prodded her neck with two fingers to check her pulse, and from the way her eyes darkened Anne could tell that the result wasn’t good. “Just hold on, alright?” she begged, “I’m gonna get you help, I’m not letting you die here. Not again.”

Those confident words turning into a terrified scream was the last thing Anne heard as a black wave crashed over her vision and she collapsed to the floor.

~~~

Beep.

Beep.

The first thing she became aware of was the fact that she was warm. Blissfully, beautifully warm, compared to the numb coldness that she’d last known. But her contentedness at that lasted barely a few seconds before it made her panic, the question of ‘Am I in Heaven?’ screaming at the forefront of her mind.

She tried to sit up, eyes flying open, but almost immediately there was a firm hand on her chest pushing her back down.

“Careful, Anne. You’re ok, you’re in hospital and we’re all here. Just go easy for a minute.”

Anne focused her eyes at the familiar voice, looking up into the worried smile of Catherine of Aragon. “I’m ok?” she asked in a fragile voice, not quite ready to believe it yet.

“You’re ok,” Aragon repeated, unable to contain a relieved sigh at the sound of Anne’s voice after hours of waiting and worry.

She could have cried with happiness as she fell back into the hospital bed which felt like the most comfortable place on Earth, but instead she just found Aragon’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“You gave us quite the scare though,” said Cathy as she sat down on the bed in Anne’s eyeline, Anna pulling up her chair so she was close enough to grip onto Anne’s hand with a tight smile on her face. “Everyone was so worried and the doctors said it would be touch and go for a while. But your body temperature has returned to normal and there’s no sign of frostbite, so in a couple of hours you’ll be absolutely fine.”

Anne gave a tired but happy groan at the news, fully relaxing back into her pillow and closing her eyes. But then a horrible thought occurred to her as she replayed the last moments before she’d passed out, crying out a horrified “Where’s Kat?!”

The other three just exchanged a glance. The heart machine beeped a panicky rhythm as Anne’s heartrate soared, shouting again “Well? What happened to her, is she ok?”

“Shh, love, or you’ll wake her up!”

At the sound of Jane’s reassuring tone, Anne let Anna help her to sit up and look properly around the hospital room. Jane was sat in an armchair against the wall, and curled up in her lap was the very person Anne had been looking for. Kat was fast asleep and clearly dead to the world if she hadn’t been woken by Anne’s shout, completely wiped out by the events of the day.

“You can thank her that the pair of you made it out of there ok,” Jane said, and Anne watched her through wide eyes as she continued. “After you passed out she left you covered up in the forest and managed to run far enough to get phone signal to call an ambulance. She led the ambulance crew back through the forest to find and rescue you.”

Aragon nodded along to Jane’s account. “Then she called us and we met the pair of you here. She saved your life, Anne.”

She didn’t realise she’d started crying again until she felt tears dripping onto the hand in her lap. Words failed her as she met Jane’s eyes again, looking down at Kat in her lap and just holding out her arms in a voiceless plea.

Thankfully Jane seemed know what she meant, smiling knowingly as she nodded for Anna to carefully take the sleeping Kat from her arms. Anne shifted a little on her bed to make room for Anna to lay her down beside her, just as Kat sleepily blinked open one eye and murmured “Annie?”

“It’s me, Kat. I’m alive,” Anne choked out as she grinned tearfully.

Kat’s eye closed again as tiredness fought to claim her again but she still gave a beaming smile, wrapping her arms around Anne’s torso and resting her head over her heart.

“Go back to sleep, both of you,” Aragon murmured, smoothing Anne’s hair away from her face and wiping her tears with a gentle thumb. “We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

Anne continued to cry silently as she held her close. Exhaustion pulled at her own limbs as she sunk back into the bed, but the lingering fear of how close a call she’d just had kept her arms tight around her cousin and saviour as she gave herself back into sleep.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #anne boleyn #katherine howard #beheaded cousins #catherine of aragon #jane seymour #anna of cleves #catherine parr #laila's writing

[aziraphalesrarebooks]

The Halloween Nanny Ashtoreth and Warlock fic nobody asked for. Written with lots of love and an extra scoop of sugary sweet fluff to rot your teeth. 

Can be read alone here or on AO3

But is technically part of my connected oneshot collection found here: Connecting The Stars

“Nanny!” shouted the ferocious lion as he jumps into Crowley’s arms.

 Halloween is weeks away and it’s a favorite of the Dowling Matriarch. She’s busy planning a Halloween costume party for local diplomats and anyone else who’s anybody. The house is to be full of people and music and there’s even to be a haunted trail in the garden. Crowley must admit it sounds fun if he wasn’t to be otherwise occupied.

 “Look! I got you a pumpkin!” He’s 7 years old and is currently wearing a pair of lion footie pajamas his mother had bought for him earlier in the week. The hat was pulled up over his head, giving him a fuzzy mane of hair. It had been his day off and from what Aziraphale had said, the boy had been on his own for most of the day but had come out to the gardens when the boxes upon boxes of pumpkins were delivered.

 “Brother Francis said you’d like it, I picked it out myself!” He turned around and proudly grabbed the pumpkin that was hidden partially behind his bedroom door.

 “It’s perfect my little hellspawn, where shall I keep it?”

 His tiny lips pursed, then his eyes glittered with mischief. “You can keep it in my window! They are supposed to scare off evil spirits. That’s what Mama said.”

 Crowley had the decency not to laugh but hid the snort behind his hand. “Evil spirits you say?”

 He nodded his head, confident in his ability to warn his dear Nanny about all the evils of Halloween. “She said ghosts come out because the curtains have holes in them and demons and witches…” he lowered his voice, “and even bats!”

 He chortled, “Do you think your Nanny would just let any old demon get you?”

 Warlock rolled his eyes, “Of course not, Nanny. You’re too scary, they would be too scared to mess with you!”

 “And you must always remember that.”

 “I will, love you, Nanny Ash.”

 “I love you too hellion.”

 “… Nanny?”

 “Warlock.”

 “What’s a pumpkin going to do against a demon or a witch?”

 “Well, I’m sure it would hurt if you threw it at one.”

 “Na-nny!”

 “War-lock!” he mocked.

 “Stop teasing me!”

 “Well, first we will need to carve it.”

 “a Jack-o-Lantern?”

 “Precisely.”

 “And then what?” he was making that face again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration with his lips pursed.

 “Then we put a light inside of it, usually you do it a few days before Halloween; October 31st.”

 “To scare off spooky things?”

 He grinned, “To scare off spooky things.”

 “Nanny?”

 “Hm?”

 “Why can’t we go to the party?”

 Ah. That had been a sore spot. Warlock was ecstatic about the upcoming holiday and he assumed that it was a good thing. The Antichrist and all things considered, being excited for Halloween was probably a good sign. However, they were being sent to stay at a hotel for the night.

 He’d been so upset when his mother mentioned it in passing, for months all she’d talked about was the party and how much fun it was going to be, only for her to drop that bombshell earlier in the week with the promise of left-over treats the day after.

 “You and I will have our own party. Perhaps we can carve our pumpkin then?” He had a plan, Aziraphale would be off by the time the party began and then they’d meet at his flat.

   To his surprise, Warlock decided to be a demon for Halloween. His reasoning was to see if the pumpkin actually worked.

 He’d been insisting on scary stories every night before bed; and had, several times ended up sneaking into his Nanny’s bed to cuddle after a nightmare. He’d absolutely fixated on being a demon, pitchfork an all.

 So here he was, in Crowley’s flat, wearing a bright red costume with silly horns and a pitchfork, terrorizing his plants. Although, that had probably been a bad idea on his part.

 Warlock was under the impression this was just another weird hotel room.

 It was odd having the kid in his home, but it didn’t feel wrong. He was thrilled; although, he’d never admit that to anyone. He loved Warlock, often thought of him more like his son than his sort of nephew. Having him in his flat, it just felt right.

 “Pizza then pumpkin?”

 “Yes!”

 Just then, a pizza that had been planning to be eaten by a downstairs neighbor found itself being delivered to a different address. Crowley paid then shut the door.

 Warlock took a big bite of the cheese pizza, smearing sauce on his cheek as he did. “Nanny?”

 “Locky.”

 “Nanny! I’m not 3 anymore!”

 He sighed, “Yes, Warlock?” the years were going by too quickly for his liking.

 “I’ve been thinking, we shouldn’t do a face for our pumpkin.”

 “Well, what should we do?”

 Another bite, this time with sauce being wiped onto the red pants of his costume. “What about an owl or a… cat… or… Oh! What about a snake! We could do a snake like your cool tattoo!”

 It surprised him, he didn’t know what it surprised him; Warlock had often made it known how cool he thought his mark was. “A snake might be hard to do…”

 “Na, we can do it! But… maybe not as loopy as yours.”

 They set to work once they were finished eating and before long, an acceptable jack-o-lantern sat proudly in the demon’s window. The light flickering from inside the pumpkin, contrasting against a very acceptable snake.

 “Nanny?”

 “Yes, Hellspawn?”

 “Do you think we could sneak past the guards and go trick or treating?”

 He shouldn’t have encouraged it, but they both hated being tailed by the secret service agents and Crowley had learned it was easier to just redirect them than try and lose them. Tonight, for instance, both guards had found themselves remembering they were to be off tonight and had bid the other farewell and gone home. 

 “That can be arranged.”

 “Hey, Nanny?”

 “Yes, Warlock?”

 “You should be an angel for Halloween!”

 And that’s how Aziraphale found him nearly two hours later. He’d just happened to have an old angel costume laying around because when the Antichrist asks, you do it.

 “My dear, you look simply heavenly.” He giggled at the picture his friend painted standing there in a long white tunic, two white tufts of feathers hanging from his shoulders that were supposed to be wings and to top it off, a fuzzy white halo atop his fiery red curls.

 “Brother Francis!” He hugged the man tightly. “Come into our room! Look!” he said tugging Aziraphale into the kitchen of Crowley’s flat while pointing at the jack-o-lantern proudly.

 “Oh, my dear, such a marvelous job you both did! Here, why don’t you and Nanny get together with your pumpkin so I can snap a picture.”

 “Francis.” He warned.

 “Now dear, in front of the pumpkin with your sworn enemy.”

 “Nanny isn’t my enemy!”

 “But my dear Master Warlock, demons and angels are mortal enemies!” He rolled his eyes as he heard Crowley snort. “My dear, it is your Nanny’s job to thwart your evil deeds!”

 “… Nanny?”

 “Yes?”

 “Please don’t throw a pumpkin at me.”

 Aziraphale spluttered.

 “No promises, hellspawn. Angel? Picture?”

 He nodded, holding up his camera and taking several photos.

 “What do you say to some snacks and a scary movie?”

 He nodded enthusiastically, running to where he’d seen the television earlier. If the couch was now large enough to fit the three of them, he didn’t notice. He was too busy digging into the popcorn and candies he found waiting for him.

 The two settled in beside him, Brother Francis pulling a warm tartan throw over the three of them as the movie began.

 Emily?

 Emily!

 Come little children, I’ll take thee away, into a land…

 He felt eyes on him, he looked over and met the blue eyes of his Angel. His heart flip-flopped, then he quickly looked away only to glance back and smile shyly back.

 He reached up and took off the fuzzy halo and placed it onto Aziraphale’s head.

 “Angel.” He said grinning.

 “You’d make a great angel Brother Francis, Nanny can be a demon with me. You can… thwart us!” he snuggled against the demon, turning his attention to the movie.

 The two smiling at the other over the head of their little demon before turning their attention towards the movie as well.

   And if years later, Adam found a scrapbook in the cottage with a photo of the three of them sitting, cuddled close on the couch. Aziraphale would just smile and reminisce while his other two boys were out pretending to collect wood for a fire.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Fic #Crowley #Aziraphale #brother fran #Nanny Ashtoreth #aziraphale/crowley #Warlock Dowling #My favorite kid ever #Halloween Fanfic #Pumpkins #He dresses up as a demon #Briefly mentioned Adam Young #Kid Fic #Ineffable Husbands #Almost Antichrist

[bechloeislegit]

PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK - 2019

DAY 1 - COSTUMES COME TO LIFE (#HW191)

It was two weeks into September when Beca Mitchell walked into Beale's Halloween Boo-Tique. She always chuckled at the name because the owner likes her puns.

Chloe had asked all of her part-time employees to meet her at the shop to talk about their schedules and their new inventory.

"Beca!" Chloe Beale, a pretty redhead with cerulean blue eyes, called out as soon as the young woman walked in. "How's my favorite employee? You're the first one here."

"Hey, Chloe," Beca said with a smile. "I guess by your eagerness that you're going to hire me again this year?"

"Of course," Chloe said, smiling. "You're already on the work schedule because you aren't just my favorite employee, the customers love you, too."

"Damn," Beca said, snapping her fingers. "I'll have to work on changing that."

"Oh, stop," Chloe chastised, slapping Beca on the arm. "You know you love working here."

"I do," Beca said. "The highlight of my year is getting to see your pretty face every day for an entire month."

"You know, Becs," Choe said with a grin. "One of these days I'm going to think you're serious with all this flirting and then what will you do?"

"I know what I'd like to do," Beca said with a smirk. "But, I'd start slow and ask for a date. And see what happens from there."

Chloe bit her lip and stared at Beca. "So, why haven't you-"

"Boo!" Stacie Conrad yelled, startling Chloe, who jumped and squealed.

"Oh, hey, Stacie," Beca said, unphased.

"How did she not scare you?" Chloe asked incredulously. "I swear she took five years off my life."

"I have loved Halloween since I was barely able to walk," Beca said. "Plus, I have three older brothers who liked to torment me. I had to learn not to show fear or be scared 24/7. So, there isn't much that scares me."

"Challenge accepted," Stacie said.

"That wasn't a dare, Stacie," Beca said with a laugh. "But do your worst. I like a good scare as much as the next person. As long as there is an actual scare in there somewhere."

"Oooh, did I just hear Beca call you out Stacie?" Cynthia Rose asked as she joined the trio.

"I believe you did," Chloe said, smiling.

"She did," Stacie said, glaring at Beca. "When you least expect it, Mitchell, expect it!"

"Ooo-ooo, I'm scared," Beca said, shaking her entire body and laughing.

"Beca, stop it," Chloe said, slapping the younger brunette again.

"Sorry," Beca said, raising her hands in surrender. "I'll behave as long as you stop hitting me. Why are you so violent toward me?"

“You know you love me," Chloe said with a big smile.

"I know I'd like to slap you back," Beca muttered.

"What was that?" Chloe asked, narrowing her eyes and glaring at Beca.

"What? I didn't say anything," Beca said and moved to stand next to Cynthia Rose.

"Hey, Beca, I heard your show this morning," Cynthia Rose told Beca. "I like that you started your Halloween teasers already. Those spooky noises are even better than last year's."

"Thanks," Beca said. "I wanted to try a few out in the promo so we can incorporate some of them in our Halloween themed shows next month."

"I'll be listening every day," Stacie said. "This is my favorite time of year."

"I'm glad you're all working for me again this year," Chloe said. "There's a new place that opened just two blocks over and is going to be giving us some stiff competition."

"What's it called?" Beca asked.

"Halloween Town," Chloe said and scoffed. "Not very original if you ask me."

"Not as original as Beale's Halloween Boo-Tique," Beca said, emphasizing the boo in boo-tique, and causing the others to laugh.

"Hey," Chloe said, frowning. "It's a fun play on the word boutique."

"We love it," Stacie said, smirking. "Don't we, girls?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Cynthia Rose said. "It's the spookiest."

"Plus, we have the best skeletons around," Beca said, trying not to smile. "No bones about it."

Stacie and Cynthia Rose started laughing; Beca was close behind.

"Ha-ha, you guys," Chloe deadpanned. "Let's get this meeting started, so I can get your schedules worked out. Or should I fire you now and avoid the hassle later?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll be good," Beca said, biting her lip to stop laughing. "I promise."

"Me, too," Cynthia Rose and Stacie both said.

"Good," Chloe said. "Come on back to the office, and I'll show you what I've put together so far on the schedules. We'll also check out the new costumes that came in today."

** PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK 2019 - DAY 1 **

Two hours later, Cynthia Rose and Stacie bid Chloe goodbye and left the shop together. Beca hung back to talk to Chloe.

"So, I see you have me scheduled to work the late shift for the entire month of October," Beca said, looking down at the schedule Chloe made up.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "It is our busiest time, and I remember you saying that you wouldn't mind working every night, so I took you up on it. Brey won't be able to work as much as she did before. She's studying for the Bar exam."

"She'll do fine, I'm sure," Beca said. "She's not even a lawyer yet, but I know I wouldn't want to go up against her in a courtroom."

"So, about that date to see where this might go," Chloe said. "Would you maybe want to go out with me? After Halloween."

"You're asking me out?" Beca asked, wide-eyed. "Hell, yeah! I mean, yes, I'd love to go out with you."

"Great," Chloe said with a big smile. "I have an entire month to come up with something spooktacular."

"Oh, God," Beca moaned. "You're starting early with the puns this year, I see."

"You love it," Chloe said, grinning.

"I tolerate it," Beca said, grinning back at her. "Do we have to wait until after Halloween for that date?"

"You know I'll be busy with the shop," Chloe said.

"I know," Beca said. "But, you haven't started your Halloween hours yet, and you don't get really busy until the end of September. That's two weeks away. Which means that's two weeks of dating we could be doing."

"I like the way you think, Mitchell," Chloe said, smiling. "What did you have in mind."

"Do you want to grab a bite with me now? Something low-key and super casual?"

"I'd love to," Chloe said. "Let me just lock up, and we can go."

** PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK 2019 - DAY 1 **

Two weeks and four dates with Chloe later, it was Beca's first official night of working at Beale's Halloween Boo-Tique and things were a bit slow. She expected it, but it made the afternoon and evening drag by.

It was after ten-thirty and Chloe said they should start closing. Beca pulled the display board inside the doors and left it to the side. She then closed and locked the doors before heading to the back to help Chloe.

"Would you hang these up over there for me, please?" Chloe asked, holding out two costumes that were left in the fitting room.

"I can't believe some of the costumes you have this year," Beca said, looking at them as she hung them up.

"I found a great new distributor," Chloe said. "They have really unusual ideas. I thought some of our returning customers might like them."

"They are pretty cool," Beca said. "I wish people didn't wait until the last minute to reserve their costumes. It becomes a nightmare trying to get people in and out of the fitting room while helping other customers."

"That's why I asked a couple of my friends to help out this year," Chloe said. "They'll manage the dressing rooms so the rest of you can help customers."

"Good thinking, Ms. Beale," Beca said, pulling Chloe to her. "Am I off the clock? Because I really want to kiss you and it wouldn't be proper to kiss the boss while I'm working."

"Mmm, hold that thought," Chloe said. "It's almost eleven, and we need to close up and get out of here."

Beca let out a sigh and let Chloe go. "What is the deal with locking up no later than eleven exactly?"

Chloe pushed Beca toward the back exit and hurried out. She pulled the door closed and locked it, pocketing the key.

"Walk me to my car, and I'll tell you," Chloe said, taking Beca by the hand.

"I'd be happy to," Beca said with a smile.

Chloe led Beca toward her car.

"Most people think the bewitching hour is Midnight," Chloe said, starting the story for Beca. "But, it's actually eleven. That's when all the ghosts overtake the many costumes that are in Halloween shops and bring them to life."

"Wait," Beca said, stopping by Chloe's car. "You're telling me that right now, in your shop, the costumes have come to life? What do they do, have a party?"

"Yes," Chloe said seriously.

"No way," Beca said, laughing. "You're pulling my leg."

"Maybe I am," Chloe said with a mischievous smile. "Maybe I'm not."

"You're lying," Beca said, scoffing at the idea. "I've been a fan of Halloween my whole life, and I know all the myths and fairy tales out there. I have never heard of costumes coming to life."

"Maybe you don't know as much about Halloween as you thought you did," Chloe said, pulling Beca closer. "Now, I seem to recall something about a kiss."

Beca smiled and kissed Chloe. One kiss turned into a couple more. Chloe pulled back, and Beca opened her door for her. Once settled in the driver's seat, Beca closed the door and Chloe started the car so she could put down her window.

"Thanks for walking me to my car," Chloe said.

"I'll see you tomorrow, boss," Beca said, leaning in the window to kiss her one more time.

Beca stepped back and watched Chloe drive off. She made her way to her car parked a few spaces over when she heard a noise coming from the direction of the shop.

Beca stopped and looked. She scanned the parking area and the shop but didn't see anything. She chuckled and shook her head as she got into her car. "Stupid ghost story," she mumbled as she drove off.

** PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK 2019 - DAY 1 **

Two weeks later, Beca was in the shop and hadn't had a break since she walked in. She passed Chloe at one point and kissed on the cheek as she walked by.

"Mitchell, don't you have a customer to tend to?" Chloe asked, smiling the whole time.

"Yes, Ms. Beale," Beca said, hiding her smile. "I do."

Chloe winked at Beca and continued down the aisle to the checkout counter. Beca nearly fell into a display and grabbed things as they started to fall. Chloe looked back at hearing the noise and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"May I help the next in line, please?" Chloe said, glancing back at Beca to make sure she was okay.

Beca's face was red, but she was smiling.

Later that night, Chloe and Beca were making out in the back room when Chloe heard a noise.

"Oh, we, um, have to go," Chloe said and grabbed her jacket and purse.

"Whyyyyy?" Beca whined. "I was really enjoying this."

"You know the rules," Chloe said, hurrying Beca to the back door. "Out and locked by eleven. Not one second later."

"Fine, fine," Beca said, exiting the shop. "But, I still don't believe you about the costumes coming to life."

"Like I said, maybe I'm lying," Chloe said with a shrug. "Then again, maybe I'm not."

Chloe locked the door and let out a sigh. She pocketed the key, and Beca grabbed her around the waist.

"Can we make out in your car?" Beca asked, laughing as Chloe squealed.

"I'd love to, but I can't," Chloe said, hugging Beca to her. "I promised Brey I'd be home right after we closed."

"Really?" Beca asked. Chloe nodded. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. Can I get a quick kiss for the road?"

"Absolutely," Chloe said as she smashed her lips into Beca's.

"Mmmm," Beca moaned into the kiss. "I like kissing you."

"I like kissing you, too," Chloe said.

They stood with their arms around each other and Beca furrowed her brows.

"What's wrong, Becs?"

"Shhh!"

Chloe snapped her mouth shut and waited as Beca leaned her head toward the shop.

"Do you hear that?" Beca whispered.

"Hear what?" Chloe asked, listening.

"Music," Beca said, shaking her head. "I swear I heard music coming from your shop."

Chloe laughed. "Come on, Beca. I was pulling your leg. There isn't any music coming from the shop."

Beca listened for another minute but didn't hear anything. "Maybe you're right. Sorry. Must be hearing things. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Chloe said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Beca said, her cheeks reddening. "I'm tired, so that's probably got a lot to do with it."

"Well, you go home and get some rest," Chloe said. She kissed Beca's cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Chlo," Beca said as she turned toward her car.

Chloe watched as Beca got in her car and drove off. She looked at the shop and debated whether to go back in. She decided it wasn't worth it and got in her car and drove off.

** PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK 2019 - DAY 1 **

It was finally Halloween night, and Beca was behind the counter, helping a customer. Chloe knew that people would be picking up their costumes that day, so she brought out the reserved costumes and hung them on racks behind the counter for easy access.

This plan worked well. The customer had to show their ticket showing the costume(s) they reserved, and the employee would get it off the rack and hand it to them. It was nearing ten, and most all the costumes were gone, and Beca started helping to clean up so they could close the shop.

Beca was going as Chloe's plus one to a Halloween party, and Beca was excited. She was working double-time to get things put away so they could close.

"Beca?" Chloe called out for the young brunette.

"Yeah?" Beca called out, popping up from behind a display.

Beca walked over to Chloe. "What's up?"

"Hey," Chloe said, kissing Beca on the cheek. "Aubrey called. Her car broke down, and I have to pick her up for the party. Can you close up tonight? I'll get Brey and meet you at the party."

"Sure," Beca said.

"Don't forget," Chloe said. "Out the door and locked up by eleven. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Beca said. "I'll see you at the party."

"Good," Chloe said.

"Drive safe," Beca called out as Chloe left through the back door.

"Always!" Chloe yelled back.

Beca shook her head, smiling as she closed the door behind Chloe. Beca heard the bell over the door and went out front to see if she could help.

Stacie was standing behind the counter, counting the money. Beca furrowed her brow and looked at the front door.

"Didn't I just hear someone come in?" Beca asked Stacie.

"What?" Stacie said, looking up from the cash she had been counting.

"Didn't the bell over the door ring?"

"I didn't hear anything," Stacie said. "CR? Did you see or hear anyone come in just now?"

"No," Cynthia Rose said. "I'll check the door." Cynthia Rose walked over to the door, and Beca kept her eyes on her the whole time. Cynthia Rose pulled the door. "It's still locked."

"Really?" Beca asked in disbelief. She walked to the door, and it was indeed locked. "Wow. I must be hearing things."

"Maybe," Cynthia Rose said. "I'm done. Can I go now? I have to put on my costume and pick up my date."

"Yeah, sure," Beca said. "Go ahead. Have fun!"

"Thanks," Cynthia Rose called out as she headed to the back.

"You can go, too, Stacie," Beca said. "I'll finish up here."

"Thanks," Stacie said. "That's the last of it anyway."

"I'll see you later at the party," Beca said.

"Be careful," Stacie said. "I'll see you later."

Beca followed Stacie to the back and made sure the door was secured behind her. She went back through the store and picked up decorations and party supplies, placing them where they belonged. She knew Chloe would be lowering the prices on some of the items to get rid of them.

Beca heard a sound coming from the back. "Chloe?" No response. "Stacie, if that's you, I swear I don't scare easily so you may as well show yourself." Nothing again.

"Stacie?" Beca called out as she walked to the back. She heard rustling, and then music starts playing. "Stacie?" Beca called again and went through the door. She stopped short, and her eyes widened.

Twirling and swirling around the back room were costumes. Costumes with no bodies in them. Costumes with no bodies in them dancing and moving to the music.

Beca stood frozen for a few minutes, watching as the material swayed and swung through the air. She looked at her watch and realized it was 11:02 pm.

"Holy shit," Beca mumbled. "They really do come to life."

Beca looked toward the back exit. She looked at the costumes dancing around and tried to gauge when she could run past them and out the door.

She counted beats and waited. When she thought she had it figured out she got herself ready. On the next beat, she pushed off the wall and started dodging the dancing costumes. Suddenly, she was engulfed in several layers of material. She was grabbing and shoving them out of her way. She would gain a foot and lose two; her legs didn't seem to be able to push past them.

Beca stopped and let the costumes continue their dance. She remained frozen in place, her breaths ragged. She counted in her head and slowed her breathing. Soon the dancing costumes were back in some sort of formation and dancing around her.

Beca watched, mesmerized as the costumes continued their dance. The music changed, and the dancing got livelier. Beca found herself suddenly swooped up in the arms, or would it be sleeves, of a confederate soldier. They were a few feet in the air, and Beca was holding onto the costume for dear life.

"Put me down!" Beca screamed, and suddenly she was hitting the floor. "Fuck!" Beca yelled as her feet hit the floor, and she fell onto her back.

Beca looked up to see the costumes hovering above her, swaying but no longer dancing. Beca swallowed and glanced quickly at the door. It was closer, but she would still need to get through the costumes to make it out.

Beca slowly got up and dusted offer her jeans. "Um, that's some great dancing you folks are doing," Beca said, looking around at the costumes still hovering around her. "Maybe you could show me how to do it."

Beca looked around and felt the air shift around her. "I, uh, I'm a fast learner," she said. "I would need a partner to show me the steps, or, um, movements. What do you say? Does someone want to teach me?"

Beca stood and waited. She jumped slightly when the confederate soldier costume moved toward her. The sleeve came across its waist, and the costume bowed to Beca. The other sleeve reached out as if asking for her hand.

Beca licked her lips and slowly reached out her hand. There was no hand to take, so she grabbed the end of the sleeve. Suddenly, she was being whirled and twirled around. Beca could swear she heard laughing and giggling.

She let herself be led around the room. She was handed off to different costumes at random moments. The soldier handed her off to a lion; the lion handed her off to a ghost; the ghost handed her off to a bride. She was getting dizzy but somehow managed to maneuver closer to the back door.

As soon as Beca got close enough, she made a move toward the door, only to be pulled back by the soldier, the lion, and the bride. They grabbed her around her legs, waist, and neck. Beca screamed and struggled but found the bride's armless sleeves tightening around her neck.

Beca was thrown to the floor. The soldier was kneeling next to her with his hand on her chest; she couldn't move. Beca grabbed at the sleeve and tried to pull herself out of from under it. Nothing was working. She finally laid back in resignation and closed her eyes. A tear slid from the corner of her eye and down her face.

Beca tried to sit up when she heard a key in the back door. "Chloe?"

Suddenly, Beca was on the bottom of a pile of costumes that landed on her as they fell from the air. She hit her head, and that's all she remembered.

** PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK 2019 - DAY 1 **

"Beca's car is outside," Chloe said, slightly panicked. "She has to still be in here."

"Calm down, Chloe," Aubrey said as they entered the shop.

"I can't calm down," Chloe said. "You know what happens if the doors aren't locked by eleven."

Chloe looked around the room and gasped. "I can't believe this! You costumes get back on your hangers, now!"

The pile of costumes came to life and made their way to their hangers. As soon as the confederate soldier stood up, Chloe saw Beca lying unconscious on the floor.

"Beca!" Chloe screamed as she ran to the girl. She dropped down next to the brunette and gathered her in her arms. "Becs, wake up. Can you do that for me, please? Can you open your eyes?"

Beca's eyes remained closed. Chloe checked to make sure she was breathing and let out a sigh of relief when she was.

"Is she okay?" Aubrey asked, bending to look down at Beca.

"I think so," Chloe said. "Just overwhelmed by all this, I'm sure."

"What do you want to do?" Aubrey asked.

"Help me get her to my car," Chloe said. "Then we need to grab her costume. I'll take her to my place and put her to bed. When she wakes up, I'll tell her she got drunk, and I didn't want her going home alone."

"That sounds good," Aubrey said, grabbing Beca's legs as Chloe put her arms around Beca's torso.

The two friends carried Beca to Chloe's car and got her strapped into the front seat.

"You wait here," Chloe said. "I'll go get her costume and be out in a few minutes."

"Okay," Aubrey said.

Chloe rushed back into the shop and stood with her hands on her hips. She was angry. "You guys know better than this. What were you thinking? Beca is my girlfriend, and you scared her half to death."

Chloe glared around the room, stopping to look at every single costume. "All of you better hope that I can convince Beca she was drunk and none of this had actually happened. If not, I will burn you in the incinerator. Do you understand?"

Chloe heard rustling and could see some of the costume heads nodding up and down. "Good." Chloe found Beca's costume and rolled it into a ball. She went to the back door and stopped to look around the room. "Now behave and make sure you get back on your hangers by seven in the morning. I'm going to leave now."

Chloe went out the back door and made sure the lock clicked before she went to her car. "Brey, follow me home. I'll need help getting Beca into my apartment."

Chloe threw Beca's costume on the floor in the back. She left it balled up so it would look like it had been worn. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove home with Aubrey following behind her.

** PITCH PERFECT HORROR WEEK 2019 - DAY 1 **

The next morning, Beca woke with a start. She sat up and looked around the room, trying to figure out where she was. She heard a noise and let out a squeaky, "Eek!"

"You okay, Becs?" Chloe asked with a laugh. "Here, I brought you a pain reliever. You're going to need it after last night."

"Last night?" Beca asked, not sure what Chloe was talking about.

"Yeah," Chloe said, climbing onto the bed to sit next to Beca. "You tied one on. It took Brey and me both to get you up here."

"Brey?" Beca's head was in a fog. "I got drunk? I don't even remember going to the party."

"Well, you did, and, yes, you got drunk," Chloe said. "You're a cute drunk. Now, take your pills and grab a shower. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Uh, okay," Beca said. "Towels?"

"In the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom," Chloe said. "Soap, shampoo, and conditioner are on the shelf in the shower. I put a change of clothes in there for you, too. If you need something, just yell."

"Uh-huh. Right. Okay," Beca mumbled, still trying to figure out how she ended up in Chloe's apartment.

Chloe kissed Beca's cheek and climbed off the bed. "Breakfast will be ready in twenty, so don't take too long."

"Right, twenty," Beca said, nodding as she slid off the bed. "Breakfast." Beca moved slowly toward what she presumed was the bathroom before she stopped. "Um, where is the kitchen."

"Go to the end of the hall and turn left," Chloe said. "It's a straight shot to the kitchen."

"Right," Beca said. "I remember now. Uh, thanks."

Beca entered the bathroom and took one last look at Chloe before closing the door. Chloe let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her hair. She left the bedroom and hurried to the kitchen to find Aubrey sitting at the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee.

"Is she awake?" Aubrey asked as soon as Chloe entered the kitchen.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "She's in the shower. She's a little out of it, but I think she's buying the story that she got drunk last night."

"Good," Aubrey said with a feeling of relief. "The whole costumes coming to life thing would be hard to explain."

"Yeah," Chloe said, chewing her lip as she looked back toward the hall that led to where Beca was taking a shower. "It would be hard to explain."

#pitch perfect horror week #Pitch Perfect Halloween week #Halloween #HW191

[runicrigel]

The Dead Hen

Author’s Note:  In November of 2019 I went to live off grid and work on an organic farm outside of Austin, Texas for a month.  I stayed in a camper from 1973 I renovated and wrote small memoir blurbs.  This is one of the most poignant.

MEMOIR  POST 2 - THE DEAD HEN

“They’re dead,” I announced sagely.  "Everything and everyone dies.“  It was a finite statement made desperately upon a patch of sandy earth in southeast Texas.  I loosed a guttural, "Huuuugh!”  Into the sky, literally hanging my head back for additional dramatic effect.  For a moment, I was vaguely self-conscious about this display but no one was around other than the chickens at my feet, clucking and strutting.  One chicken crowed and stomped a single foot.  It flapped it’s wings as though acknowledging the death of the grey hen crumpled at our feet.  I stared at the odd ritual, then back to the corpse.

I understood both then and now that this level of gravitas is likely not befitting the life of a nameless hen. She is just, “chicken.”  But I have no direct experience with dead things, or escorting them to their final resting places.  When I was young I had a small dwarf hamster named Tutter that had died.  My dad had gently carried him into the computer room, cradled in a large, callous palm, and offered kindly, “Do you want to see him?”

“Nooooo!”  I howled, and ran out of the room.  Death is natural, but there was something terribly unnatural about it to me.  I wish I could say that uncanny feeling vacated with age and maturity but it didn’t exactly.  All I know is that  I couldn’t bare to see my little Tutter lifeless, even if he was but the size of a pair of cotton balls.

Those strong but tender hands that had once cupped my little dead hamster were cold when I wrapped my own hands around one of his palms.  "His hands are so cold.“  I’d remarked through a shutter and then tears broke free as I stood by the casket that made him seem so small.  I didn’t sob.  I just cried, hard, like a helpless person does.  When my father died we knew he had wanted a close casket funeral but somewhere along the line that idea had received an override by those left to grieve.  He hadn’t wanted people to remember him that way, and after the funeral, I had an inkling as to why.

As I stood both staring and trying to not look at this chicken memories flooded me of pets I’d known to pass.  I was there for my boyfriend when his cat was put to sleep, and when the other began to labor and then died right in his arms.  More than once I had considered how grateful I was to Spooky and Baldric that they had let me be there for them at the momentous occasion that is the end of a life.  Yet, when each feline was buried I had let Jason go alone, unable to look on their corpses.  Afraid of what I might see as they disappeared underneath a bed of loam.

I had always been this way.  When I was a girl and our dog delivered a stillborn litter I sobbed outside on the suburban sidewalk of our street in my nightgown while my younger sister (who wanted to be a nurse) helped my mother deliver the unmoving pups.  When my step-father’s brother killed himself I cried terribly at his funeral and was a ghost of myself for weeks.  It didn’t matter that he and I hadn’t been close.  I barely new him.  At a young age, every one of Death’s intrusive visits were otherworldly and bitter.

And now there was this nameless chicken, it’s death incomparable to my father’s own.  This defiant chicken, who had decided to die during my journey of healing and renewal.  Rude.

She had been refusing to sleep in the coop for days — opting to hide under it at night instead.  While the others piled into the coop to be stowed away from the jaws of coyote or other predators, she scrambled under it to take her chances.  Only when the sun warmed the sky and the coops were opened to let the others flutter out to feed, did she enter to perch alone.

Looking back on it, this behavior was likely indicative that she was nearing the end of her life.  That night she had died under the coop and now she was laying there so still — like a pile of slate feathers.  Morning dew glistened on her neck.  When I’d come upon her I’d gasped in surprise.  It was apparent immediately that she was dead, lying in a completely unnatural slump unachievable in life.

I knew right away that it was unsanitary for her to stay lying there.  It was also my first day completely alone on the farm.  There was no one I could defer the task of moving her to.  No one to set upon this task that I myself had always avoided.  So now here I was howling into the sky, trying to convince myself that this chicken was dead and that no matter how much I didn’t want to touch it I had to touch it and move it out of the pen.

I stood in the sand trying to force my brain to reckon with the fact that the chicken was not going to move.  "It isn’t sick or debilitated.  It’s dead.  It’s not going to move now or ever again.  Really?  Are we sure.”  I had to process, “No it’s really never moving again and nothing I do can change that.  It’s final.”  I felt cold some where deep inside.

I’m on a farm. And chickens die on a farm sometimes.  "Where there’s livestock, there’s deadstock,“ John (the farmer and my host) had warned me with a chuckle.  

"Goddammit.”  The sentimental, mostly vegetarian in me, wanted to say something to mark this occasion which I’m sure my hosts, now callous to chicken death, would’ve have groaned or laughed at.  This chicken didn’t even have a name.  It’s just a chicken.  And now it died.  It’s no one’s fault, it just died and that’s how things were.  "You were a good chicken,“ I finally decided on with a gulp.  Was she?  I have no idea.

I reached down with my work gloves, the body felt heavy and everything in my body crawled.  I stepped back.  Another five minutes explaining to myself things die, and this was my task.  I was going to hold my own on this farm, so help me.

Another round of my mind flashing back to the pets I’d watched surrender to darkness and what I had learned from those moments.  I thought of what it might be like when my dogs pass.  Would I be so remiss then to cradle their small bodies one last time?   My heart broke a little at that thought but I knelt down, took a deep breath and very gently lifted the hen from the ground.

It’s bony feet were curled.  It’s tiny head and bushy neck lulled back almost delicately.  I rested the little body in a tote and found myself adjusting it so that it wouldn’t lay on its head or neck, as though it might find that uncomfortable.  I had to remind myself that she no longer felt anything.  I carried the tote away from my body illogically anticipating the chicken might spring out at me, and then as my boots crunched up the hill I huddled the tote more comfortably to my body.  I trekked along in resigned silence.

I got to the house in time to see that John was just pulling out.  I hadn’t missed him after all.  He lifted the creature by its feet and rest it in the back of his truck. "It took everything in me to pick up that chicken.”  I confessed.  He gave me a smile that was both sympathetic but rueful.

“Sometimes chickens just die, it probably won’t be the last time.” I nodded and wished him safe travels.  He bid me a good day.  I crunched back up the hill and stowed the once again empty tote in my Jeep.

I embarked on this journey largely in part because my father’s death had left me feeling changed, hollow and wounded. Stowed in the confines of a suburban household I was listless, heavy.  The walls became a reflective chamber with no tunnels or corridors towards escape.  There was only rumination of thought like chewing on already regurgitated cud.  I could not obtain peace through anything side of me, it was time to reach outward.

During my walks among the rustling leaves and cool nights however, I had felt free.  Something called me beyond the shores of a linear lifetime spent roaming a cage of drywall.  I yearned to  — if not attain my father’s joy for life and those he loved — then to at least strive towards it.  I wanted to work with my hands, feel fatigue in my body at night and go to bed satisfied with my day’s work.

I thought of my Zazen Buddhist practice and studies.  I recalled, as I often do, the stories of the Buddha, sitting in meditation, legs crossed with his fingertips pressed to the earth. It’s called the Earth Witness mudra.  The story goes that as Siddartha obtained enlightenment under the bodhi tree he reached down to touch the earth, quite literally grounding himself, and the Earth cried, “I am his witness.”  Fibers of carpet and scored linoleum did not offer the same effect I yearned for.  I wanted to go to bed with dirt under my nails.  I wanted to touch the earth.

So I embarked in a camper that’s older than I am and took a chance on this gorgeous farm in southeast Texas ran by one of the most generous married couples I have ever encountered.

The stages of grief and the stages of enlightenment share a certain quality.  The pursuit of acceptance.  Part of life is sitting with death, and I am grateful to this nameless chicken who taught me another lesson.  As I took that small body into my hands, and lifted it from the sand I believe I cradled acceptance there too.  Maybe there isn’t as much gravitas in the death of a single bird as I wanted to assign to it, but maybe there was just enough.

#woofer #grief #buddhism #memoir #writing #life #inspirational #motivation #poet

[kellanved-ammanas]

Space Mercs AU: Halloween Party Part Two: Party

Spy went back and forth on whether or not he was going to attend the team Halloween party. It would be silly to celebrate a holiday typically only celebrated by humans especially on a planet humans weren’t native to. But… it was one of Ellen’s favourite holidays, she’d always insisted that he celebrate it with her. That had been a long time ago though, he… sort of missed it. Which meant it’d be dumb to go; he missed it because he still missed her. So it was decided, he was not going to go.

Despite that seemingly final decision, he found himself hiding invisible in the corner of the common room as Scout prepared it for the Halloween party that evening. That didn’t mean he was going to the party though. He was just curious to see what was being done for it.

Scout had enlisted the help of Demo, Engie and Pyro, in the making and hanging of the decorations. Mostly black and orange ribbons, probably cloth bought from the store in town and cut up. But he’d also used his artistic skills to make a big ‘HAPPY HALLOWEEN!’ banner, decorated with little spiders, ghosts, bats, and a couple skeletons peeking out from the corners.

Somebody – it certainly wasn’t Scout – had figured out how to make bat shaped cupcakes and ghost shaped cookies, they were all a little lopsided. Some more than others, but only a few of them were unrecognizable. There were chips and dip too. Whatever the dip was, was dyed bright red, possibly trying to resemble something gory in the theme of Halloween (?) but failing miserably – not every food experiment could be a winner. But of course, there was alcohol, tons and tons of alcohol, enough to take up half the table. Spiked punch and just straight bottles of liquor next to the two-liter bottles of soda. There was even a few bottles on liquor from the town, obviously brought in by Demo, Scout had refused to even touch the stuff since it had killed him.

A lot of work had gone into all of it and it was quite impressive. And the whole thing was orchestrated by Scout, he was even clearly in charge of where everything went. He’d inherited his mother’s love of Halloween all right. Not surprising, she had a way of pulling people into things she was passionate about and making them love it too.

Holding back a groan, Spy slunk out of the room, hugging the wall lest he bump into anyone by accident. He was going to have to attend the party now, wasn’t he? Out of obligation because he was – did he dare even think to himself? – proud of the work his son – thinking about Scout, using that phrase was probably risky, if he did it too often, he might accidentally say something out loud that gave away his secret – had put into it. But also, because he did enjoy Halloween, he wanted to celebrate it again. And so, he would even if it did go against his better judgment.

 -

“You showed up!” Scout said as soon as Spy stepped into the room.

Spy had actually shown up first but had remained invisible hidden in the corner while everyone else arrived. He’d then waited a few more minutes after Sniper – the true last person to arrive – came in to sneak out and reenter visible. “I was bored and had nothing better to do so I figured I might as well show up see what was going on in here.”

Scout’s exuberance was unaffected by Spy’s feigned apathy. “That means everyone’s here, yes! Even Miss Pauling showed up.”

“Well, the Administrator’s not here so technically, not everyone’s here.”

“Well, she doesn’t count. For all we know she might not even be a real person because she’s just a voice over the speakers from our point of view. So, yes, everyone is here and it’s amazing. I’m not letting your garbage attitude ruin the party. We’re going to eat and drink and watch scary movies until our socks fall off. I don’t even really know what that’s supposed to mean but we’re going to do it anyway.”

“Okay, all right.” Spy hadn’t come here planning to be contradictory, it had just kind of happened out of habit.

“Good. I’m glad you showed up. Demo said you wouldn’t but then Medic made a bet with him that you would. So if Demo’s mad at you, that’s probably why. But now that everyone’s finally here… it’s scary movie time!” The last part was addressed loudly to the entire room.

The TV they were presumably going to watch these scary movies on was now set up in the middle of the room with two midsized couches and some beanbag chairs, setup in front of it, exactly enough room for ten people. Engie, Pyro and Sniper were already hanging out one of the couches while everyone else hung out at that food table right behind them.

Surprisingly, they all gathered around the TV – bringing plates of food with them of course – with no further prompting from Scout or anyone else. Even Demo left the ready supply of alcohol behind, bringing only a single bottle of it over with him to sit in one of the beanbags next to Soldier. Spy quickly grabbed a drink and snagged a spot on the outside end of a couch before anyone else could, ending up next to Engie.

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” he whispered while Scout chose what movie they were going to watch first.

Spy shrugged. “I had nothing better to do.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

Spy almost asked ‘why?’ because it made some sort of sense that Scout wanted him here – he was the one organizing the party so naturally he wanted everyone here just for the sake of it – but why would Engie be glad Spy showed up? It didn’t really matter though and wasn’t something Spy wanted to get into right now. So, he didn’t respond.

As the opening credits of the first movie began to roll, Scout ran to dim the lights. He then ran back to reclaim the center beanbag chair as if it were possible he might miss something important by being away for five seconds instead of two.

 -

The first movie was one Spy had seen before a few times, back when it had been Scout’s mother who insisted he watch scary movies with her. He wasn’t sure if that made him more inclined like it or dislike it. Either way though, it was more interesting than the second movie which was so stereotypical it wasn’t scary at all. In Spy’s opinion anyway, the others didn’t seem to mind. Though all of them, except for Pyro, were drinking more than him so that might have something to do with it.

The third movie and fourth movie were pretty decent, nothing too grand but satisfyingly spooky. But three quarters of the way through the latter, Demo finally passed out. Soldier had either been matching him drink for drink and also passed out from alcohol consumption or had fallen asleep because of how late it was. They leaned into each other snoring softly which is what had drawn Spy’s attention to them.

After the movie ended, Miss Pauling had to leave, the fact that she’d been able to stay as long as she had was surprising, it was past midnight after all. At some point Heavy and Sniper had fallen asleep too. Pyro looked to be sleeping as well but it was hard to tell for sure, he might just be very relaxed, leaning into Medic’s shoulder, who surprisingly didn’t seem to mind.

But despite all that and the tiredness mixed with the obvious effect the alcohol was having on him, making him groggy and unsteady, Scout insisted they keep going. Medic was of course all for it, he was loving the gore and routinely stayed up until stupid o’clock in the morning anyway. Engie didn’t look tired either for the same reason as Medic, staying up all night was a frequent thing for him, he was used to it. Spy was starting to feel sleepy but he wasn’t going let them know that, he could stay up all night if he had to. So another movie it was.

“I think Scout might’ve finally fallen asleep,” Engie whispered a bit more than an hour and a half later as the credits rolled across the screen.

“Really?” Medic said as he stretched out a leg to prod Scout with the toe of his slipper. Scout didn’t respond even when Medic poked him a bit harder. “Weak.”

“I guess that means the party’s over,” Spy said as he stood up. Finally he could go bed.

“Yep, looks like.” Engie stood too. He bent down to gently take the remote out of Scout’s hand to turn off the TV before going over to the light switch to turn the lights all the way back up. “Now uh… you two, before you go off to bed, help me get everyone we can up so we can send them off to their rooms, this ain’t no place anyone should be sleeping in. We’ll clean this mess up tomorrow sometime.” He gestured towards the table, now a mess of mostly crumbs and a few left-over cupcakes and cookies. At most maybe one quarter of the various alcoholic drinks were left over, Pyro was the only one who hadn’t drunk anything, which was a contribution to why most of the team now was now fast asleep.

Spy didn’t want to stick around to help wake everyone up but… he did anyway. But only because Engie had asked Medic to help too and Medic seemed to be staying.

Everyone but Demo and Scout woke up to a small amount of prodding, shaking, or poking. Not surprising, Demo was drunk off his ass and Scout had literally slept through a fire alarm once.

“We shall have to slap them to wake them up,” Soldier said. Before he could make a move to do so, Heavy put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back.

“No slapping, we can carry them to bed,” he said.

“I’ll drag Scout to bed,” Spy volunteered with a sigh. “His room’s right next to mine anyway.”

“Oh, interesting,” Medic said with an evil smirk, rubbing his hands together.

Spy ignored him; a reaction was what Medic wanted. Instead, eager to be done with this business and in bed, he bent down to pull Scout up and hoist him up on his shoulder like a sack of grain. Scout didn’t even stir. “Now I must bid you all a good night.” He bowed slightly to everyone in the room before heading out. Normally he would’ve gone invisible too because it had a better affect, but whilst carrying another person it would’ve just look silly.

Unfortunately, their sleeping quarters being on the ship to make things more convenient when they moved meant the journey to their rooms was quite lengthy, even while going at a fast walk to leave everyone else behind. Luckily Scout wasn’t too heavy so the burden wasn’t as bad as it could be.

He reached Scout’s room and picked the lock to gain entry. He placed Scout on his bed and… against his better judgement, tucked him in. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered to do this but it was too late now. But it was most likely the first and only time he’d ever put his son to bed.

“Good night,” he whispered, almost just mouthing the words, before retreating out and to his own room.

Previous

#My Writing #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 #My AU #Space AU #space mercenaries au #Spy Dad #Fluff #Halloween #Spooky Month Challenge 2019

[wetlaprasfanfiction]

Ghosts And Echoes - Chapter Eight

October is upon us, so I hope you enjoy my spooky musings!

Here’s chapter eight in time for the big day! More coming VERY soon!

Once Daryl was finished what he needed to do at the graves, he took Carol’s hand and motioned towards the house.

 Carol slipped her arm back around Daryl’s waist and they both began to walk back towards the house.

 When they got there, the whole place smelled of food cooking, for a moment, Daryl remembered the few times in his childhood when his mum had managed to save up enough money for a joint of meat and cooked a roast dinner.

 His father would wolf the food down with at least two beers and not utter so much as a thank you for the effort, a stony silence would permeate the air around the table, nobody dare speak for fear of igniting his rage.   Afterwards, when his father passed out on the sofa, Daryl would go to his mum and hug her, ‘thanks for the lovely dinner mum’ he’d always say.

 Daryl missed his mum. He knew she loved him but was terribly afraid to show it for fear of his father’s rage. His father forbid his mum from showing the two boys any affection, saying it would ‘make pussies of them’.

 After dinner, mum always said ‘run along now, go play’ urging Daryl to be elsewhere when his father woke up.

Daryl figured this upbringing was the universe’s way of preparing him for what was to come, it hadn’t been easy, but without this hardship, Daryl wondered if he would have survived like he had. His life was desolate before the dead began to walk, before the world ended. It was not that much of a shock to him and his brother, they adapted quickly. It was these well instilled instincts that had kept them alive in the early days of the apocalypse, kept them together and kept them strong.

  Dinner seemed like a quiet affair, small talk over planting vegetables and securing fences passed between everyone. Daryl chose to remain silent and the others respected that.

 He just didn’t feel like talking much, but heck he appreciated the dinner. Today was roast chicken day, and Daryl loved roast chicken day!

 ‘Mmm, this is damn good’ he grunted between mouthfuls of the delicious roasted bird, adorned with onions and peas and roasted potatoes, all from the garden courtesy mainly of Maggie.

 It had taken four chickens to feed everyone, and the birds sat in the middle of the table among the rest of the food.

 ‘Thanks so much for doing this wonderful dinner’ Carol spoke up.

 ‘It’s been a shitty week for some of us and we needed this’

‘Daryl, you take as much time as you need to recover from your latest injuries’ Rick told him, ‘please don’t worry about us, we’re all just fine’.

 Rick knew Daryl would be very upset about being out of action yet again. He was right, Daryl was pretty pissed about his injuries, and how he couldn’t do the things he felt so obliged to do.

 Daryl finished off his dinner, his only qualm is there wasn’t enough, he giggled silently inside his head.

 ‘Thank you, honestly thank you, this has made my day’ Daryl said, thanking everyone for the dinner he’d just enjoyed so much.

 ‘Mind if I excuse myself now? I’m hurting, think I’m going to go and lay down for a bit’ Daryl said to the group.

 ‘Not at all hun, hope you feel better later on’ Maggie assured him, knowing what he’d just been through.

 ‘I’ll be up in a while sweetie, just going to help with the dishes after everyone’s done eating’ Carol told him.

 ‘No worries, I’ll be in bed’ Daryl said back.

 ‘Goodnight Daryl’ Carl said as he bid Daryl farewell for the evening.

 Daryl was missing his friends, his family, he felt lonely. He felt lonely and angry that some of them had been stolen away in such a pointless way.

 Once he got to the bedroom, he got onto the bed, took two painkillers and took off his trousers and his shirt and got under the blanket, it was 8pm anyways, not that long till bedtime in a world with little to amuse oneself with at night.

 As he felt the painkillers begin to take effect, his sore ribs felt a little less sore, his breathing didn’t hurt quite so much, and his eyes began to feel heavy, his thoughts slowed as his body prepared to fall asleep.

 Next thing he knew, movement woke him he felt the bed move as if someone was sitting on it.

 ‘Carol?’ his quiet, still half asleep voice asked the darkness around him.

 ‘NOT QUITE!’ a demonic sounding voice boomed.

 Daryl looked up to see the bony face of Negan glowing ever so slightly in the darkness, his cold, stale scent flooded Daryl’s nostrils.

‘Oh shit not again’ his terrified mind raced as the demonic entity glared at him in the darkness.

‘Not here, please not here in the place where my family also live’ Daryl was frantic with fear, not so much for himself, but for the others here that he loved and cared about so much. 

He was alive because of these people, and now he had bought this demon into their lives. 

 ‘Hello again piggy!!!’ Negan boomed.

 ‘NO, FUCK, NOT AGAIN, LEAVE ME ALONE, LEAVE ME ALONE YOU SONOFABITCH!’ Daryl cried out, his body now pinned to to bed by the evil spirit.

 Negan laughed in the darkness as he straddled Daryl’s terrified form.

 ‘Just a fleeting visit piggy, just to let you know I am going to kill each and every one of you, one at a time, slowly, and last of all I will kill you, after you watch them all die! I will take your bitch first, what’s her name, oh, Carol, that’s it’.

Daryl was both livid and terrified that the demonic Negan had dared mention Carol’s name. Daryl would give his life for her, he’d trade places with her in all dangerous situations, often diving in first so she didn’t. 

He knew how to protect her from walkers and humans alike, he had the strength and skills to be able to do this, and he did it well. 

He could not protect her from this awful thing, and it made him feel so powerless and helpless.

 Then Negan vanished as quickly as he appeared.

 ‘NO NO NO’ Daryl cried out, the guy was in complete shock again, he was utterly terrified, he felt so helpless against such evil.

Negan may be gone, but the effects of his fleeting demonic visit were very real indeed. 

Daryl shook so violently he thought he was having some kind of seizure. He was paralyzed by fear, he could not move, he was frozen to the spot, his body in a state of shock. 

 From the landing, Carol, who had been making her way to bed with Maggie, suddenly heard Daryl crying out and they’d both run into the bedroom.

 Suddenly the door burst open and Carol and Maggie entered the room.

 They both sat on the bed next to a very scared, shaking and panting Daryl.

 Carol sat down next to him, he couldn’t or wouldn’t speak at this point, he was too terrified and utterly exhausted, but he uttered one word ‘Negan!’.

 Carol pulled him into her arms, Maggie held his hand and tried to reassure him.

 ‘It’s freezing in here’ Maggie commented.

 The two women believed Daryl and everyone else was slowly coming around to the idea too.

 Maggie took the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around Daryl.

 ‘There you go sweetie, it’s okay, you’re safe here with us’. Maggie stroked Daryl’s back as he lay against Carol, his body was shaking so much they could both feel it.

 Negan’s evil spirit terrified Daryl in ways nothing else ever could.

 He made Daryl feel so alone, so helpless and defenseless, just like he had during his unsettled childhood.

 ‘I should have come up here sooner, it’s 2am’.

 Carol had got carried away playing cards by candlelight after dinner, they’d played poker and Rummy, had a good laugh, something Carol felt she needed after recent events.

 Daryl would usually have totally been up for playing, but he’d needed to rest tonight.

 ‘Not again, not this again, no, he’s going to hurt you all, he said he is going to kill you and make me watch’ Daryl said, his terror filled voice breaking with every word.

 ‘No Daryl, NO he is certainly not going to do that, we’re all going to be fine!’ Maggie shot up.

 Carol held Daryl against her body, she kissed him on the forehead and told him he was safe, ‘nothing’s going to hurt any of us’.

 ‘I’m gonna leave you two alone now’ Maggie told them both, her hand still on Daryl’s trembling shoulder.

 ‘Stay strong Daryl’ she told him, ‘we will stop him once and for all’

 Daryl was amazed anyone believed him, I think what they’d all been through was so not normal that nothing phased any of them anymore. Maggie secretly believed that if Negan’s evil ghost was still around, then maybe Glen was somewhere better than this world.

 ‘It’s okay, you’re going to be okay sweetheart’ Carol reassured Daryl again as she helped him lay down next to her.

 Once they were both in bed, she quickly pulled the blankets round them both and held a now silent, calmer Daryl close to her body.

 He was exhausted, there was something about the encounters with Negan’s evil ghost that drained him of his life force. Daryl had sustained injuries in the past where he had lost a lot of blood, it felt like that, it felt like his body had nothing inside, his energy and spark drained away.

 He began to calm down, partly because he felt safe with Carol there, and partly because he was too exhausted to do much else.

 He gripped Carol’s hand that was draped over his back, through the crook of his arm and resting on his chest.

He could feel her warm body against his back, holding him tight.

 ‘Love you’ he murmured before his exhausted body fell into sleep, feeling Carol’s hand tighten ever so slightly around his, ‘love you too’ she replied.

 Once Daryl fell asleep, she gently laid him onto his pillow and adjusted herself for sleep, he didn’t wake up or even move.

  Carol began to wonder what could be done to stop this evil that was tormenting Daryl.

 Carol could just make out Daryl’s face as the orange glow of the candlelight danced around the room.

 He was peacefully asleep, no terror on his face, no ghosts, no torment, no pained look. His long hair slightly covered his still cut and bruised face. 

 On this note, Carol blew the candle out and tucked herself under the blanket.

 She felt the low warmth of Daryl’s body next to her, she would normally lay on his chest but couldn’t at the moment because his ribs really hurt.

 It wasn’t long before Carol was asleep. It had been a very tiring day.

  When Carol woke up, she reached over to Daryl’s side of the bed, hoping to find him and wrap herself around him, just for a few more minutes.

 She soon realized Daryl wasn’t in the bed.

 Perhaps he’d got up and let her sleep for a while, maybe he was downstairs.

 She slowly sat up and noticed a piece of paper on the bedside table next to her, it just read:

 ‘Carol, I love you, I have never ever loved anyone as much as I love you, please forgive me, this is for you too. I must protect you.

 I cannot let him hurt anyone else, if he wants me, he can have me.

 Please keep everyone safe

 Daryl’.

 Carol dropped the piece of paper in shock.

 In a panic, Carol jumped up out of bed, quickly got dressed, ran downstairs and asked everyone she met on the way if they’d seen Daryl leave.

 ‘No Carol, I haven’t seen him today’ Rick told her, ‘Why?’

 ‘He’s gone, he’s gone Rick, he left this’ and she showed him the piece of paper.

  ‘When I got up, his crossbow, boots and his other stuff were gone from where he keeps them in the cupboard in our room’.

 ‘Oh god, he’s gone back to the Sanctuary hasn’t he’ she said, her voice breaking with worry.

 ‘Maybe’ Rick said, ‘we can start by looking there, that’s where this all started’.

 ‘I’ll go get the truck’ Carol told Rick.

 Carol made sure she’d got her knife and rifle with her and jogged down to where the vehicles were parked.

 ‘I’ll go tell them to open the gates and I’ll meet you down there’ Rick told her, ‘lets keep this between us for now, everyone cares about Daryl, so lets not worry them, lets bring him back safe’.

 Down at the gates Dwight told them he had let Daryl through very early this morning on his bike.

 ‘He’s not my prisoner anymore, I can’t keep him here’ Dwight said, his voice laced with concern that he would be held to account for Daryl leaving.

 ‘Nah, it’s okay, he’s a law onto himself, we’re going to find him and bring him back safe.

 ‘I hope so’ Carol said back, she was visibly very upset.

 ‘He’s a very silly man, he’s still hurt, he’s had a really shitty few days’.

 Carol jumped into the truck and Rick ran down to the gates and told the guys who were on watch to open them and let them through before he jumped into the truck and the pair made their way to the sanctuary, hoping to find Daryl there and thwart his ill conceived plans.

Disclaimer: As usual, I don’t own any part of the Walking Dead, this is just me borrowing these guys for a few, I’ll put them back once I’m done :)

#ghost #halloween. #daryl dixon #Carol Peletier #maggie rhee #rick grimes #haunted #demon #negan #fanfiction #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction

[elementalgypsyheart]

Creeping Flames

Summary: There was always something….off about Nana Kuromori. It was nothing she did specifically just a weird creepy feeling about her. Is it little wonder her son is the exact same way and seem to just natural scare people off without doing anything? Not like Tsuna care though. Who need normal human friends when he can just play with Grandpa Slendy’s Creeps?

(Or the one where Nana is the half human daughter of Slenderman and Tsuna have some interesting friends and family that make the Mafia seem like Saints).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: He is a LIAR!

Luciano Vincenti was a mid level Freelance Hitman. He was good at his job if he said so himself. In and out like a ghost only leaving his target bodies behind. So why was he here in nowhere Japan just to kill a civilian brat? True the brat in question is Vongola’s Young Lion only child but it was still insulting in Vincenti opinion to be hired for such an easy kill.

Vincenti crept into the window of what his information said to be the brat room only to sneered in disgust. The brat wasn’t even a year old! A simple pillow to the face would be more than enough to kill the brat. Feeling more insulted than before Vincenti walked closer to the crib where a fluffy caramel brown haired baby slept but before he could touch the child something grabbed HIM! Before he can even screamed in shock everything faded to black. The last thing he saw was the now awake brat glowing sunset orange eyes.

                                         ***********************

Vincenti came to in a dimly lit basement tied to a chair and gagged. His head was screaming murder at him and he could feel blood sluggishly pouring from a cut on his head where it had hit that damn orange eyed brat crib.

“It seems the pest caught in Tsuna’s room is awake now my child.”, a male deep clear with an undertone of static(?) voice spoke. Something about that voice sent the hair on the back of Vincenti neck to stand up.

“Thank you daddy. Did you mind taking Tsu-kun with you to your place? I don’t want him waking up due to the pest again.”, said a female voice that sounded happy and amuse but there was barely hidden anger in that voice. That voice….that voice made every cell in his body scream Danger! Predator! Killer! Run! Hide!

“ I don’t mind spending time with my grandson and I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind either. Beside Jeffery have been disobedient lately so setting him on babysitting duty should be an appropriate punishment.”, assured the first.

Vincenti saw movement from the corner of his left eye. What he saw when he focused on the figure terrified him so much he screamed through the gag loudly. It was an abnormally tall thin male humanoid figure. It was dress in a black suit with a white shirt and red tie. It had no hair, it skin was pure white, and it face…it had NO FACE!

“Good thing Jeff is Tsu-kun favorite babysitter if only because he the one usually stuck babysitting him!~ Mu I’m starting to think Jeff only misbehave so he can babysit Tsu-kun!~”, giggled a inhumanly beautiful caramel haired woman.

“Hmm perhaps you are right”, acknowledged the creature, “In any case it seems Tsunayoshi and I must bid you goodbye my child. Have fun with the pest.”

With a dark chuckle the woman responded, “Oh I WILL daddy bye now and have fun with Tsu-kun!~” The creature and the woman hugged each other before the creature disappeared in a blink of an eye leaving no clue it was even there.

“Now that my little Tsu-kun is out of the house I don’t have to worry about you waking him up anymore so we can have a nice long discussion on why you were in my BABY’S room.”, growled the woman.

“Now how will I get you to talk is the question. I can’t cut out your tongue because then you can’t talk. Same for cutting you open and taking your heart or brain although E.J would like a free meal of your kidneys so I can do that later after all no matter what you won’t live anyway. Hmm decisions decisions. Oh! I know what I can do to get you to talk and best of all I don’t need to take off the gag and you won’t be able to lie to me at all!~”, cooed the woman as, to his horror, her hair began to grow and move like tentacles!

He whimpered as one of her tentacle hair grabbed his face and forced him to look deep into her evilevilevilevil caramel eyes. “Don’t worry this is only going to hurt a lot!~”, she purred as suddenly his mind exploded in pain. Vincenti screamed like a pig in a slaughterhouse through his gag as the woman torn his mind apart looking for the answers she seeked. Bringing forth and discarding memories faster than his human mind could comprehend. Luciano Vincenti last sane thought before his mind shattered beyond repair for even a Mist to fix was ‘What sort of nightmare have I angered?’

                                          ***********************

Nana looked down at the now vegetable man twitching in the chair with an angry expression. As she thought of what she had learned in the pest mind her tentacles like hair moved to unbound the comatose man only to bound him again to a butcher slab against the wall where many bloody tools hang. The tentacle-hair began to work on cutting up the brain dead but still alive man and placing the pieces into a large wheeled cooler as it owner pace and ranted angrily at Iemitsu’s lies towards her and how he would pay.

The tentacle-hair now finished with it task of cutting up all the desired pieces of Vincenti body began turning on the furnace to burn the clothes and what remain on the body. Before the tentacle-hair threw in a body part Nana snapped out. “Oh don’t throw in the bones! I wanted to make some bone soup for the others so just scrape off as much meat as you can from it and throw those in.”, ordered Nana as the tentacle-hair gave a motion equivalent to rolling it eyes before going back to the slab to do as it was told.

“Don’t you backtalk me young lady! I’ll get a horrible hair job if you do! Maybe a bowl cut in the color of Neon Orange and Hot Pink spots?”, threatened Nana with a smile as the tentacle-hair stiffen and turn to look at her as though saying ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Nana smirk widen, “Try me and we’ll see but if you behave I’m sure we can splurge a bit and get that very expensive and very nice looking brush you’ve been wanting. You know the one that leave you shiny and bouncy and untangle ALL your knots very gently.” At this the blood soaked tentacle-hair happily wagged like an overexcited puppy as it ‘hugged’ Nana and gave bloody kisses to her face. Nana laughed at her tentacle-hair antics, “Now I’ll only get it if you behave and do as I ask okay so go finish your job and after we pick up Tsuna we can go buy it got it?” The tentacle-hair happily nodded and went back to work with a bounce in it movement.

Thanks to the promise of a new brush the tentacle-hair finished it work much more faster. Nana with the tentacle-hair help wash off all the blood that remained in the basement and themselves before grabbing the cooler filled with the remains and in a blink of an eye she disappeared from her home in Namimori.

                                         ***********************

Nana appeared in front of an old decrepit looking mansion surrounded by skeletal trees or tall towering pine trees with a thick creeping fog all around. Nana breath in the crisp air closing her eyes in bliss at the peaceful surrounding before she was tackled to the ground. Nana looked to see her ‘attacker’ was a young bleeding girl with curly chocolate brown eyes and emerald green eyes in pink pajamas holding a teddy bear.

“Nana you’re here! I missed you so so so so much! Are you staying long? Are you staying for dinner? Are you going to make it? Can we bake cookies for dessert? Are you staying the night? Is Tsuna?”, babbled the girl.

“I miss you to Sally!~ Yes I’m staying the night with Tsu-kun so yes I’ll be making dinner and of course we can bake cookies!~”, laughed Nana.

“Yay! Best day ever! I got to go tell L.J! I’m sure he’ll love to help us make cookies!”, Sally squealed as she ran into the direction of Laughing Jack’s ‘play area’.

With a chuckle Nana got off the ground and went inside the mansion. She passed by the living room where Ben and Jeff were in an intense Mario Kart race with Tsuna on the ground prompt up by a sleeping Smiley gnawing on a teething ring Jason had made for him. Unable to resist the adorable sight in her opinion she took out her cell a snapped a few picture. Even better?Jeff had accused Ben of cheating after he had won for the fifth time in the row and had pull out his knife so he can try to stab the other in the gut. It was just too cute in Nana’s eyes. Thanks goodness for Smiley who had woke up when the two started yelling and had grabbed Tsuna by the scruff of his ‘Chunky thighs and spooky vibes’ onesie and moved them to the other side of the room to avoid being caught up in the two idiots fighting.

Nana continued on to the kitchen where she put all the items in her cooler away in their place and got started on making that bone soup as well as other options for those who had less...peculiar tastes. With that done and leaving the meals alone to simmer Nana headed towards her father’s office. They needed to have a little chat about her husband lies and what they should do about them. One thing was for sure. Iemitsu better watch his back from now on because if he did anything to harm Tsuna he will be a dead man walking. At the same time in Italy Iemitsu had the sudden feeling that it would be good idea to avoid visiting Namimori for the next few years...or decades.

#creeping flames #crossover #creepypasta #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #cp #slenderverse #marble hornets #this is just going to be a mess of these fandoms mix together #shall use anime and manga #mainly manga #people bone soup #hey there an OC! #Oh there he goes #by that I mean he's dead #like beyond dead #Bye Vincenti you shall be miss #not really but let pretend #slenderman #nana sawada #tsuna sawada #iemitsu sawada #jeff the killer #ben drowned #smiley the dog #sally williams #laughing jack #eyeless jack #tentacle hair #did not plan that but liking the character thus far

[an-n-alyst]

10.6.20

Dear Reader,

Another month has passed and here we are, nestling into the leaves of October. A fan favorite month, no doubt. Times are spooky and the coffee is spiced. The weather is cooling off and those of us with an affinity for leather jackets and heeled booties are itching in anticipation.

Today, I wanted my topic to be something that hopefully could provide some more insight into something that not everybody gets to experience, and that topic today is the joy of being a step parent! (More specifically, a young step parent with no biological children of my own).

I mentioned this briefly in one of my previous posts about my relationship with Shawn, but before I had met him, kids were a deal breaker for me. I’ve never been absolutely certain if I wanted them of my own, but at the time I was convinced that I did not want to be responsible for someone else’s kids, and that I probably couldn’t handle always coming in second to somebody else. The notion is immature and fairly selfish, but those were just my boundaries for a relationship and it was a personal choice that I’d made.

Along came Shawn, and one of the first things I learned about him was that he had kids. Let me remind you, Reader: I didn’t really think twice about the possibility that I could be a part of their lives one day. It was disappointing to hear at the time and I had figured that our relationship, if we had any semblance of one, would not be serious enough for that possibility to occur.

However, he was so charming that it was almost criminal, and I found myself a few weeks later turning the idea over back and forth in my head. Would I really meet his children? Would I really become a maternal figure in their lives? Did I even have the ability to be a good maternal figure for them?

The first night that I did meet them, I was so nervous. I remember debating on whether or not to take out my nose ring to appear more professional, as if I were going into a job interview. I admitted this to Shawn and he pretty much told me that I was being a weirdo and to just be myself and they would love me in return. Ok, easy enough.

I met them in the lobby at the movie theater. Ava was shy, and Caiden casually addressed me with a “Hey, Anna.” I told them both hello. And that’s pretty much it. We were off to a great start.

Once the movie was over, the three of them walked me to my car and we bid farewell. I remember going to my mom’s afterward and telling her that I was a goner. I met them one time and they had my heart and will hold it forever.

I won’t recap the entire year, but I will say that growing a backbone is probably the hardest thing I’ve had to deal with as far as being a parent goes. It’s a really, really weird feeling when you discipline or chastise somebody else’s child, at first. I think one of the first times I did it was when I suggested to Caiden that perhaps he should put on his shoes since we would be leaving soon. I was horrified that I would be so bold as to give him instructions when he barely even knew who I was. Who gave me the right?

Yeah, all that’s pretty much out the window by now. It definitely took a long time but being a no nonsense kind of parent has come easier to me here lately. A large part of it is probably due to me picking up almost all of my parenting style from Shawn. I can confidently assure you that I keep them in line and cleaning up after themselves. I can also promise that I no longer take them on extravagant shopping trips to TJ Maxx, even though picking out clothes for them might in fact be one of my favorite parts of being a mom.

I’ve gotta tell you, though, my favorite part of being a mom is at the end of the night when one of the two looks up at me and asks me if I’ll sing them a song. I climb up the steps behind them as they excitedly clamber into their beds and eagerly look to me for the song. Sometimes I’ll bring my guitar upstairs and *poorly* strum along while I sing quietly. I sing these kids the same songs that my own mom and Grandmom sang to me when I was a little kid. They know the songs now and sing them under their breath sometimes. Sometimes they sing along with me.

I’ll then tuck them in officially once we finish the song, and we have a routine called ‘One, Two, Three, Four’ where I rock them back and forth from their shoulders down to their ankles into the covers so that they’re nice and burrito’d in. I bid them farewell and goodnight. They tell me they love me and my heart swells to heights I never knew possible.

It’s so silly to me now to think that I ever could have opted out of being with Shawn because of the fact that he had kids. I would have missed out on knowing what maternal love feels like. Yeah, I get that it’s not entirely the same as having children of my own. Sometimes I do feel an ache in my heart that reminds me of the fact that at the end of the day, they aren’t biologically mine. They aren’t legally mine. I have no obligation to be a mother to them. It was a difficult thing for me to process and sort out for a very long time as my love for them grew. I had to find a balance of not only knowing how to raise them but how to accept that no, they are not biologically my children, but that does not make me any less of a mother, and my love for them is indeed that of a mother’s. I speak of them as if they were my own. When I talk to clients at my job I refer to them as my kids. Because to me, there’s no issue anymore. They are my children to love and protect, along with their mom, dad and stepdad. It’s so cool to think that they have double the love. They surely do deserve it. Their hearts are made of gold.

It gives me peace and warmth to know that love is reciprocated and that they love me, too. They don’t have to call me ‘Mom’ and they don’t have to call me ‘Anna’ either. I’ll accept whatever their little hearts tell them to call me. Hearing Ava’s constant ‘Hey, Anna’ interjections throughout the day makes me feel whole. I could be ok with being just Anna to them for the rest of my life as long as they know how much I love and cherish them, and would do anything for them, just as a mother would. I feel a new purpose in my life and I’ve grown as a human being just from loving these children with everything I have. It’s an incredible thing - being a parent. Maybe one day I’ll have one of my own, maybe not. But I know in my heart that the two I have now are more than enough.

If I had to give you one final thought that encompasses this entire post, it’s that being their step parent is undoubtedly one of the best things to ever happen to me. Should you find yourself with a similar opportunity to love and be loved in return, take it. I promise you won’t regret it.

[freckled-words]

Count The Teeth - Part 11

Guys. I am genuinely wanting to dance. It took me over a YEAR to finish this story idea for an OC NWTB character, AND NOT ONLY DID I HAVE SO MUCH FUCKING FUN WRITING THIS LAST CHAPTER. I AM JUST SO STOKED THAT SOME OF YOU REALLY GOT INTO THIS. (Apologies if the ending feels rushed.)

I sincerely hope you all enjoy this last segment. Please do let me know what you thought of the whole all together. Please let me know how I can improve. What do you want to see more of in these stories? Any feedback is appreciated <3

This chapter is not edited (because I was too excited to wait)

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE  PART SIX / PART SEVEN / PART EIGHT / PART NINE / PART TEN

It had been the damndest thing when you left NateMare licking his wounds.

You’d gone to the driveway, and found a taxi waiting for you. The driver said the fare had been taken care of, and he was to take you wherever you wanted. When you asked him who had covered the tab, he said a well spoken gentleman had done so. 

Seeing your disheveled appearance in pyjamas, the taxi driver became curious as to why you were there. 

You went with an elaborate story. It was your birthday, and your asshole brother had kidnapped you and brought you here for a spooky adventure. You’d gotten fed up with his childish antics and had decided to leave. You added that it was likely your brother’s friend that had paid the taxi driver.

When you got home, you took a long, luxurious hot shower, and collapsed into bed. Your exhaustion was deeper than you’d thought, leading you to sleeping for a straight 12 hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 months later…

It had taken him a month, but Mercer had kept his word. He’d found each of his victims that had been put into a coma, and brought them out of it. When questioned about what had happened to send them into the coma, they all had the same story. They’d been out at night, and they came across a man looking for directions. After they sent him on his way, they’d become dizzy, and passed out.

Authorities believed that the victims had been distracted by the man asking for directions, then jumped by a second person that knocked them out, and then drained them for blood. Reddit was running rampant with theories about a team collecting blood for the black market.

You supposed it was better than them getting freaked out about a rampaging vampire. The last thing the city needed were civilians taking up guns, pitch forks, torches, and stakes to go after people that were innocent.

In the following months, you remained on alert. NateMare’s promise of retribution had left a fairly strong impression. Armed with the knowledge of something to use against him, you’d setup a collection of weapons throughout the apartment.

In the kitchen you had a bucket of blessed water by the sink. In the living room you had a Super Soaker loaded with the stuff, and in your bedroom, you had a spray bottle at the ready. You knew it would annoy and delay him at best, but at least it was better than just standing around and letting him curse you again.

You were so intent on watching for hints of a smoke cloud, you didn’t think to watch for any bats.

Which was how Mercer caught you off guard.

You’d spent the day out with one of your friends, and had lost track of time. It was dark when you made the walk home. The night was overcast, and the wind was much colder as winter was settling in.

Despite your thick jacket, you still felt the chill. Your hands were stuffed into your pockets, and your shoulders were hunched up to your ears. Your attention darted between the people walking towards you on the sidewalk, and the people that were walking parallel to you across the street. Leaving no room to focus on your surroundings behind you.

An arm went around your shoulders, pulling you in against a tall frame. Startled you made a noise that was barely a word and some kind of squeak.

A familiar voice chuckled, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You didn’t dare look up, not wanting to get caught by his eyes. 

“What are you doing here Mercer?”

Mercer’s arm squeezed a little tighter, guiding you forward to keep walking.

He was greatly enjoying himself. You could tell from his voice as he replied, “Well hello to you too. Can’t a friend just come around for a visit now and then?”

“We’re not friends.”

“Oh, you wound me.” He lamented, without an ounce of actual dismay.

“Did you come here to get some payback for soaking you?” It was the first thing that came to mind, and you were kicking yourself for not bringing your tiny spray bottle with you when leaving earlier.

You caught sight of Mercer’s hand as he waved that thought off, “Not at all. I’ve gotten over that little trifle. As I said, I’m just here on a friendly visit.”

“At what point between you and NateMare trying to kill each other, did you and I become friends?” You could see your apartment building up ahead, and at this point, you were just utterly perplexed as to what was happening with Mercer right now.

He ignored your question, “I had some time to think while I went from hospital to hospital, and I’ve come up with a fun idea. One that I’m sure you’ll see the benefits of.”

You knew it was stupid, you could hear yourself calling it stupid, but when you both stopped in front of your building, you looked up. 

The bugger was genuinely amused, smiling brightly and in all innocence. There was no glow to his eyes, and you didn’t feel any part of you go numb. He was playing nice. 

You shrugged off his arm and moved around to stand in front of him, “And what idea is this?” 

“Well, as we’re both aware, my dear baby brother is all in a huff about you letting me go. The set of lungs on that boy, I swear. My ears were throbbing for an hour after his hollering.”

You winced, but you weren’t surprised Mercer had caught that.

“I was thinking to myself about how much trouble you and he were, going around and messing about in my handiwork. Good job on digging up the family history by the way. Anyways, I thought I should probably keep tabs on my brother, make sure he doesn’t come barging in on me at some point unexpectedly. The only problem, is that I’m terrible at tracking idiots.”

You shuffled on the spot, getting colder by the minute. Mercer was clearly intent on dragging this out, and you doubted he’d just let you walk away. But you had no intention of inviting him inside.

“So I came to the only logical conclusion: You! I knew he was bound to come knocking on your door at some point, and figured I’d keep watch. I tell you, watching a mortal for a month is boring. Which is why we’re having this chat. Much more engaging than just hovering about bored out of my mind.”

Your blood pressure rose at his declaration of stalking you for the past month. You thought you’d felt eyes on you, and it’d made you twice as jumpy. Knowing it was this nuisance didn’t make you feel any easier.

Processing everything he was saying all together, you just about threw your hands up.

It was the same damned position you’d been in 5 months before, only now it was reversed!

“Clearly you two are related.” You grouched stomping your feet. The cold was seeping through your boots and socks, making your feet ache.

“I am not helping you find NateMare. You are not hanging around here to wait for him to show up! And I’m not getting involved with either of you again!” You didn’t care if the neighbors heard, for all they’d understand, it sounded like a romantic issue.

You spun on your heel and stomped up to your apartment door.

Just as you put the key into the lock, a decent sized bat flew around you and clung onto your chest. You looked back over your shoulder and saw no sign of Mercer. Glaring down at the bat you hissed, “You are not coming inside, let go and go away.”

The bat merely wiggled its ears, and much to your chagrin, he nuzzled against your coat. Even worse, it was adorable.

You heard people, more tenants that belonged to your building, coming up behind you. 

Suppressing a frustrated scream you unlocked the door, and kept your body turned away from the approaching people.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, concealing Mercer as best you could, and made a beeline for the staircase.

Huffing up the stairs you swore at him, “You’re in so much trouble. I have a bucket filled with holy water in my kitchen, and it has your name all over it buddy.”

The impudent bastard gave a tiny squeak. One that conveyed no distress in the slightest.

A glance down, and there was no mistaking a smug smile, even on a bat.

You didn’t stop until you were inside your apartment, at which time you were breathless and sweaty under your coat.

“You make one damn comment about me being out of shape, and I will seriously drown you.”

“I’d very much like to see you try.”

You’d been locking your door, putting your back to the living room.

It hadn’t been Mercer that had replied.

Stiffly, you hit the light switch next to the door frame and peeked over your shoulder.

NateMare lounged back on your couch. His body was relaxed, but his expression was one that read: murder.

The sound of dripping drew your eye to the kitchen. Your bucket of holy water was on the floor, along with a puddle and some water that was dripping off the cabinet doors. 

“NateMare-”

“Shut it.” 

He got to his feet and stalked towards you, “You should consider yourself very lucky. Had I gone after you that same day, I would have happily ripped your esophagus out of your throat.”

You swallowed thickly.

“But I took some time to calm down, recover, and think about it. I changed my mind.”

He stepped closer, leaving two steps of distance between you, “I’ve come to realize that I enjoy having a minion doing my bidding. Unlike some other...people...I could name, I don’t have a host popping out brothers every damn holiday. Plus, you’re already semi-trained.”

He smirked and held up a hand. Smoke gathered in his palm, and formed a thick section of chains.

“Hell. No.” 

You’d done this song and dance, and you were not doing it again.

Turning to face him, you pried Mercer from your chest and shoved him into NateMare, “Here, talk to your brother.” 

Stunned, NateMare had dropped the smoke chain and grabbed Mercer on reflex. 

Unprepared, Mercer didn’t have a chance to resist being shoved into NateMare’s hands.

The two stayed frozen, and dumbstruck to the spot while you threw off your coat and went to get your mop and bucket.

There was another second of silence until you heard, “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

There was enraged squeaking, a bit of scuffling, the sound of a grunt, and then silence.

When you returned to the kitchen, you found the two were gone, and your balcony door wide open.

You were in the clear. For now. 

#THIS BITCH BE DONE #FINALLY #fanfiction #Count The Teeth #Mercer Battle #NateMare #NateWantstoBattle #NWTB #reader insert #Part 11

[camp-camp-imagines]

You're the first person to accept Woodscouts X Reader and I'm crying. Okay, my idea is Pikeman is radioing the others for part of their plan, however someone else comes over the radio. She got the wrong frequency and they start talking, they get along and it goes on for days. Then he asks to meet her. They meet on Spooky island and turns out the reader is a Flower Scout, it's a little awkward for them to talk in person so she picks up a rock and pretends it's a radio to help them talk again. ❤️

I LOVE IT!!!! Also sorry for taking so long… ;v;

~~~~~

Pikeman paced a lap around the table in his planning room; he was waiting for a confirmation response from Petrol about if their popcorn delivery had arrived at the front gates. He only stopped pacing when a static crackled from his walkie.

“Hello…?”

Pikeman nearly jumped out of his skin; that was DEFINITELY not Petrol OR Snake… A girl. How did a girl get on this channel? Pulling himself together, Pikeman plucked the walkie from the table and clicked the button on the side. “You are on a secured channel. Speak your name, rank, and how you got this channel number….!” Pikeman insisted, though his voice creeked slightly, having not been prepared to talk to a girl; speaking with Gwen was one thing because A) she was usually right in front of him and B) he expected rejection from her.

“O-Oh um… My mama told me never to tell strangers my name… Can we use code names…? That’s what you’ve been doing right…? With the other two you mentioned before…?”

Pikeman hummed a bit as he considered this suggestion; it was a reasonable excuse. Most parents didn’t like their children talking to strangers. His parents allowed him to be a bit more independant due to PROVING his responsibility with his position in the Wood Scouts, but even he knew never to give his full name unless introducing himself in person.

“Well I’m sure you already know my… Code name… So what code name do you wish to be addressed by?” Pikeman asked, managing a small smile as he waited for the girl’s response.

“Hmm… How about… Tiger Lily…?” the voice suggested, sounding a bit nervous. Pikeman tried to imagine what this ‘Tiger Lily’ looked like in his head. She sounded young, no older than him, maybe a few years younger. Tiger Lily, maybe a redhead like him…? No, lighter. More of a copper colour. Like the flower she chose to hide her name with. Freckles, of course… He was pulled from his thoughts when Tiger Lily called his name. “Mr. Pikeman…?”

Pikeman cleared his throat before speaking again. “My apologies, Miss Tiger Lily… I must ask again though how did you get this channel number…? Not that I am not enjoying our chat, but as I stated, this is a secured channel…” Pikeman asked, his voice a little less harsh than last time, but with his nerves calmed after receiving a name he could call her, his speech was even and didn’t have it’s previous creeking.

“But… You came onto THIS line…? I’ve only heard your voice the last hour or so…” Tiger Lily insisted, sounding confused.

Pikeman’s eyes widened as he looked down at his walkie channel; she was right. He must have clicked it to a different channel when he slammed it down before. “I’ll call you back.” He quickly insisted before readjusting his channel and clicking the call button. “PETROL, SNAKE, WHERE’S THAT POPCORN DELIVERY?!”

After hours of back and forth arguing and sorting and storing, Pikeman dismissed a pissed off Snake and a… Well a still ever neutral Petrol. Once they were gone from his sight, he let his head hang and let out an exhausted sigh; how could he have let such a small mix up cause so much chaos…? He’d have to be more careful next time with his radio.

The radio.

Pikeman glanced over at the radio that was sitting on the table across from him; Tiger Lily… Would she have waited all that time for him to come back? He’d been gone for so long. ‘She’s probably gone.’ He thought, trying to convince himself not to bother trying, but something gnawed at the back of his thoughts, telling him, BEGGING him to just… Check. Walking over to the table, Pikeman picked up the radio and fiddled a bit with the channel, setting it back to what he’d accidentally had it at before.

With a deep breath, he pressed the call button and spoke. “Tiger Lily, do you copy? Over.” He waited, counting the literal seconds in his head as he waited for a reply from his mysterious radio mate. He’d reached 57 in his head and was about to give up when suddenly there was a crackle from the speaker.

“Hello? Pikeman?”

Pikeman let out the breath he’d been holding and managed a small smile as he pressed the call button again. “My deepest apologies, Tiger Lily. I did not intend on taking nearly as long as we did. Apparently my right hand men aren’t nearly as competent as I thought…” Pikeman grumbled, walking over to his chair to sit. “But with my guidance, everything is sorted and ready for delivery.”

“Goodness Pikeman, you shouldn’t talk about your friends like that… You’re all a team, right? Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

Pikeman frowned a little, knowing she was right. “You are correct, my dear… Perhaps I expected too much from them… I’ve been… Irked lately due to our newest recruit from another camp… He means well and tries, but there is no bigger regret I have on this planet than not taking that lanky optimistic counselor Da-”

“He just needs positive reinforcement…! Make sure he knows he’s doing a good job, but lightly suggest another strategy for the things he’s not doing so well on…?” Tiger Lily suggested, cutting Pikeman off. “I know some people who are like that here too, but once you show them a different way and let them try, you definitely see a difference…”

Pikeman smiled again; Tiger Lily seemed like such a kind soul with plenty of intelligence to back it up. “I might try that… Thank you, Tiger Lily…” Pikeman leaned over the table a bit as he watched the radio like it was a screen. “You must be tired of listening to me complain… Shall we change the subject? Like… What sort of hobbies interest you…?”

“Oh gosh I absolutely love baking…! Though I think my favourite thing to do is when we have friendly competitions with the other camp troops… So many very talented people…!”

“I couldn’t agree more, my dear!” Pikeman exclaimed, grinning a bit again.

The conversation took off from there, dipping at times when Tiger Lily would disapprove of some of Pikeman’s methods before rising again when Pikeman realized what she meant and would continue the conversation. This went on for so long that Pikeman didn’t even realize he’d missed dinner.

“Oh goodness, is that really the time…?! I’m so sorry I kept you so long, Pikeman…!” Tiger Lily insisted, sounding rather guilty and ashamed.

Pikeman shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “It’s quite alright dear, the conversation was far too engaging for me to simply stop for a meer meal.” he insisted, standing from his chair to stretch his back and legs. “Our mess hall is usually open later on for officers, so I will still be able to get something, so long as the other officers haven’t eaten everything already.”

“I should probably go too… We’re supposed to make our own dinners here and tonight is pizza night.” Tiger Lily explained, a shuffling sound following her as, from what Pikeman assumed, she stood up. “Could we… Do this again tomorrow…?”

Pikeman had to keep himself from shouting yes at his radio; he couldn’t seem TOO eager… “Perhaps… Is your camp close to Lake Lilac? Tomorrow evening we could meet in person instead…? It would make this much easier to talk in person than over the radio, correct? We could meet on the island that Cameron Campbell’s old summer home is located on…?”

“You mean Spooky Island…?”

“Spooky what now?” Pikeman asked, raising an eyebrow.

After agreeing to meet, Pikeman and Tiger Lily bid their farewells and promised to meet the following night. The day felt like it passed far too slowly for Pikeman’s liking; he just wanted it to be after hours already so he could take the boat out… He was very quick to eat and finish dinner before he began pacing up and down the rows, making sure everyone focused on eating instead of talking because ‘talking could be done AFTER eating and clean down!’.

Once everything and everyone was clean and presentable, Pikeman dismissed them, waiting until every member of his troop was gone before heading off to the docks to borrow the boat; he was sure he was going to be late and hoped that Tiger Lily wasn’t waiting for him… Thankfully, it seemed he was the first to arrive, so he spent the time waiting for her just pacing and thinking; what if she saw his face and immediately didn’t want to speak to him again…? What if she was just nice over the radio but was actually rude in person…?

What if this was a trick by that damned Maxwell…?

Shaking these thoughts from his head, Pikeman stopped pacing upon hearing a boat slide up against the shore; she was here… Pikeman quickly flattened out his uniform and straightened his collar before standing at attention, his arms pressed against his back as he waited for her to appear.

The bushes rustled before a young girl appeared from behind them.

A girl… In a flower scouts uniform… She was very pretty with a cute pair of glasses on her nose, but… He was definitely not expecting her to be a member of one of his rival camps.

“A-Are you… P-Pikeman…?” She asked, taking a few steps toward him.

Pikeman nodded, his professionalism thrown out the window as he wasn’t quite sure how he should introduce himself now that he was seeing her in person. But from what he could see, she wasn’t sure either as her eyes were searching the sandy beach. He watched as she hesitated before hurrying over to the shore line and carefully lifting a flat rock out of the sand, washing it off in the water before bringing it up in front of her face. He watched as she tapped her thumb against the side of the rock.

“H-Hi… It’s Tiger L-Lily…” She stated, her eyes down as she said this before she looked back up at him and lift her thumb off the rock again. Pikeman looked confused at first until he watched her press her thumb down again. “C-Come in, Pikeman… Over…”

It clicked in his head what she was doing and he scrambled to find a rock like she did; he didn’t want to accidentally use his actual radio as it was set to the frequency for the other radios back at camp… Once he found a rock about the size of his radio, he too washed it off and held it like he would his own radio. “I read you, Tiger Lily! I… I must say, you are just as… As beautiful as your voice implied…” He insisted before lifting his thumb to give her a chance to speak.

Tiger Lily blushed, but giggled, pressing her thumb down again. “T-Thank you… You’re quite handsome yourself…” She said into the rock, but looked up from it to look to Pikeman, who was becoming red himself. Pikeman looked from Tiger Lily to the rock and back to Tiger Lily before taking the stone and tossing it into the lake. He then turned to Tiger Lilly, who looked rather shocked and started walking toward her, stopping just in front of her before offering her his hand. “W-would you like to go for a walk…?” He asked with a smile.

Tiger Lily’s eyes darted from the stone to Pikeman’s eyes a few times before she dropped the rock on the ground in exchange of taking his hand, a small smile playing at her lips as she nodded. “I-I’d like that…” She said softly, squeezing his hand before following him along the shore line for their romantic walk in the moonlight.