#creepy haunted dolls is where he draws the line
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Wherever You Run, Wherever You Hide
Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader
Word Count: 6.3K
Prompts: 'Haunted House' , friends to lovers, soft, teasing Steve and soft confessions.
A/N: So this is a very, very late piece written for my partner in crime @acourtofsnakes, it started off as a Halloween prompt and as usual got way out of hand and ended up like this. Surprise my lovely, I hope you like it 💚
"What is it with you and haunted houses? Do you not think we visit enough creepy places?"
There was a scream from the attraction behind you as the boy spoke, a twisted cackle chasing at its heels and Steve glared when you snorted a laugh at the way he wrinkled his nose, hands shoved into his pockets as his eyes flickered to the house then back to yours once more.
You simply shrugged in response, a teasing grin tugging at your lips that just barely peeked out from behind the thick wool of your scarf. "What's the matter Harrington? Can take on Demogorgons and bats no problem but teenagers in fancy dress is where you draw the line?"
It went this way every year that the Halloween fair rolled into Hawkins. You would be drawn to the Haunted House in all of its cliche blood-splattered glory, neon lights flashing like a beacon, the zombies that crawled around the outside of the house and beckoned you with rotting hands outstretched to come closer.
And every year Steve would pretend it was the worst thing in the world when you dragged him towards it, as if he was actually capable of denying you something you asked of him. Heels dug into the ground just enough that you had to work to get him there and a soft pout on the boy's face that melted into a fond smile, all indulgent and warm, the moment you weren't looking.
It was threatening to make an appearance now, even as he rolled his eyes, seemingly determined to ignore the fact he was already giving in by matching every step you took backwards in the direction of the ticket booth with one of his own towards you.
"S'real funny princess." He replied smoothly, a smirk on his pretty face and head cocked to the side as if he was forcing himself to think back to a memory that he would never admit was already seared into his brain. "Cause I could've sworn it was you hiding their face in my sweater last year, not the other way around."
"Hey! Not fair, you know I hate dolls."
You were trying your best to sound outraged, a voice full of faux-indignation that did nothing to make the boy appear apologetic. If anything he looked triumphant - the flash of the lights glinting off his steadily widening grin, eyes bright and too knowing.
Because you were all flushed skin where your knitwear couldn't hide, a gaze that couldn't fully keep his whilst you were remembering the way your best friend had wrapped you up in his body. Tucking your head into his chest, one arm tight around your shoulders and a large hand encompassing both of your smaller ones. His lips a gentle pressure against your hair as he promised, 's'okay babe, I'll tell you when it's over'
And just like when you'd clumsily pulled away back then, all shy and flustered, Steve was forced to try his hardest to bite his tongue again now. To swallow the fierce urge he had to tell you something stupid, like just how fucking pretty you looked and how he wanted nothing more than to kiss the heat from your cheeks.
Maybe even admit that holding you, regardless of how short it lasted, had made his entire night.
Instead he hid his feelings behind a tease as his larger step towards you caused you to fumble your step back. The heel of your shoe caught on a rogue stone and Steve's arms reaching out to steady you as your lower-back knocked into the blunt edge of the currently empty ticket booth.
"Easy there, princess." He cooed, eyes sparkling with mischief and his hands spanning your hips, thumbs crafting thoughtless circles over the fabric of your sweater that made the flesh beneath burn white hot. "Can't have you falling for me before I've even had the chance to play hero again."
You suddenly hated the fact that Steve was a solid wall of warmth - summer kept alive beneath his skin - hated the way it melted you and the autumn chill that had crept inside your bones. The inch left between your bodies seemed to spark with heat, making you forget how to snap back when he crowded you like this.
This was your best friend for fuck sake, and god, if he just leaned a little closer you were sure he would see right through you.
To the thoughts you had tumbling around your skull, every pesky little feeling you'd ever had for the boy written in neon flashing lights to match the ones that adorned the house behind you.
His lips twitched and he raised a brow at your lack of retort, smug and teasing, amused by his own cheesy joke and the way you gaped at him.
"Y'know what Harrington–" You attempted to bite out, determined to ignore how the words sounded like a struggle even to your own ears.
But then the tight grip of his hands was leaving your waist, drifting up to adjust the too large hat Eleven had knit for you that occasionally slipped a little far past your brow. His gaze softened a touch as he looked at it.
Remembering how proud you'd been when the girl had shown you her work, the way you lit up when you realised it was for you, eyes bright and just a touch glossy, before pulling her into the most adoring hug he thinks he'd ever seen.
Knowing if he hadn't already been in love with you then he would have fallen right then anyway.
Meanwhile, you couldn't help but stare whilst he righted it. It felt like you were bound in place, caught up in some type of spell that only the boy in front of you was capable of weaving, a heady kind of magic that flowed solely between the two of you.
You inhaled the scent of him, nose practically to his chest - the smell of crisp apple and something woodsy, the cinnamon sugar from the donuts you shared earlier still sweet on his breath - and grew dizzy with it, too warm when his fingers lingered longer than they should to toy with a lock of hair that fell out of place.
Heart thudding at the soft noise that escaped from the boy's parted lips all because you shivered at the gentle way he swept the strands behind your ear.
Shit - you hadn't been able to help it.
The touch had been light but no less gut-wrenching as it grazed your cheek and you realised too late that if your face didn't give you away, then surely the way your body reacted to him was about to.
He was close enough that he must have been able to hear the hitch of your breath despite the sounds that echoed from the ride, seen the way you swallowed hard as he watched you for what felt like an eternity before daring to lean a little closer.
"What?" He prompted, voice dropping low. Hoarse. Honey eyes burning a little darker as they flickered down for a beat before darting back up in a way that made you feel like Steve wanted something he didn't think he was supposed to ask for.
And then there was an awkward cough, sounding louder than it truly was, from behind you. The booth no longer unmanned as the attendant appeared to startle you both.
The interruption brought you back to reality and Steve stumbled back as you swatted at his chest. Raking a shaky hand through the windswept mess of his hair with a rough chuckle when you managed to choke out a far too delayed 'you fucking wish', before spinning to face the kid with your cheeks aflame.
You just hoped that neither they nor Steve paid notice to the way you had to clear your throat before you trusted yourself to speak again.
That they were oblivious to how your voice still cracked even then when you asked for two tickets and handed the money over with a sheepish 'thanks'. Ignoring the attendant's gaze that slid curiously between you and the boy at your back.
"That's just mean, you're breaking my heart here, babe." Steve sighed, trying to sound less affected than he felt, nerves still tight in his throat but the words were spoken so soft that you didn't seem to notice.
His lips brushed the shell of your ear when he felt brave enough to draw you into him once again, oblivious to the fact that you were still reeling."I let you drag me in here every year, use me as a human shield and this is the thanks I get?"
"I could leave you to the first thing that attacks us instead if you want? I've still not forgiven you for bringing the dolls up again." You shot back, biting your lip at the smooth confidence he used to turn you in his hold and sling an arm over your shoulders, steering you both towards the overly-cobwebbed entrance.
He scoffed, full of cheek as he prodded at your ribs."You wouldn't dare."
And you wanted to curse the fact that it wounded some part of you deep down, how easy it was for him to act like nothing had happened. Like it hadn't fazed him in the slightest that the two of you had been seconds from risking your friendship by closing that gap.
Thank god you hadn't.
"Just watch me." You threatened, huffing and squirming, slapping at his hand because the boy refused to relent once he managed to pull a reluctant smile out of you. "I might finally get some fucking peace."
He gave a wounded gasp at that, a kicked-puppy look to his eyes that was almost as dramatic as the betrayal that flashed through his pretty features when you finally had enough of pushy fingers in your sides and shoved him into the path of the closest zombie.
He tripped over his own feet in an effort to avoid them and swore. Much to the amusement of yourself and the actor, who upon seeing Steve come stumbling their way lunged the moment he got close enough, hands snatching for the boy and gore-slick teeth snapping shut just shy of his shoulder.
It brought a cackle from your lips when the zombie suddenly reeled back and pretended to gag, hacking like Steve had left a god awful taste in their mouth. There was laughter from some of the people that passed to go into the house, a couple of "ewww gross'" that came from little kids who pulled at their parents hands and pointed. Tiny faces scrunched up with a horrified kind of curiousity.
You gave a victorious grin at the stunned look on his face, one that seemed to flicker from disbelief to questioning whether he should be offended before he rounded on you with hair wild from the 'struggle' and narrowed eyes. Shooting you a look that clearly told you you're in for it.
A smirk tugged at his lips, sly as your own grin fell and when he spoke, you couldn't help the way it made you nervous, your heart slamming up against the wall of your ribs. Forceful enough that you were sure the boy would be able to hear it from where he stood.
"Oh princess, you're so fucking dead."
"Wait, no Steve - Stevie - c'mon don't, I'm sorry." You pleaded. It was all you could manage when he was looking at you the same way a predator watches its prey, slowly closing the distance with a large step forward that dwarfed the one you took back.
You had hoped the nickname would make him melt, tried to make your voice curl all sweet around it in the way that had always made Steve cave before.
But he only chuckled, tutting soft and full of taunt "Nuh uh, you don't get to say my name like that after you fed me to a zombie and just expect me to forgive you. Better run before I decide to take a bite of my own."
Jesus fucking christ.
That shouldn't have made your lips part. It shouldn't have made you stare wide-eyed, breath caught in your throat and a bloom of warmth hitting your cheeks.
But, fuck, it did because Steve was prowling towards you with a careless hand running through his hair and a devilish look that somehow made him prettier than he already was, an unholy kind of handsome that made you want to drop to your knees at his feet.
Wasn't that a thought you didn't need in your head right now.
And so before he had the chance to tell that you were far more affected than you should be, undoubtedly able to see right through you like he always had, you decided to take his advice.
You turned heel and bolted.
**
There was a flood of smoke that surrounded you the moment you rushed through the door.
Lights flashing candy-red to make the hallway appear awash with blood and when you spared a glance at the heavy-framed portraits that adorned the walls whilst you ran, Steve's laugh and the heavy thud of his footsteps echoing behind you, it instantly gave you the eerie feeling of being watched.
The place was a maze of doors. Some that led to creatures who were ready to pounce the second you appeared, a werewolf in chains that clanked as it howled and clawed at the floorboards, a killer clown who cackled as they lunged forward, hacking at the air with a blood-soaked kitchen knife.
They all whooped and hollered when you raced past them, manic yells of taunts that followed you down another hallway, around another corner where you nearly crashed into a girl all in white, throat torn and eyes milk-pale as she blinked at you.
If you startled her she did a good job of not showing it, offering a simple warning that 'you can't run forever, the house always wins' before she drifted back to where she had previously been hidden, muttering and wailing as she went.
She was gone before you could reply that it wasn't the house you were really running from but in fact your best friend.
And that the only reason you were running through the attraction instead of taking your time to enjoy it like you had paid to, was because you couldn't handle how you burned with Steve's hands on you and the way you still ached to kiss him with his fingers dug into your skin and his laughter in your hair.
So instead you had 'fed' him to a creature of the undead and hell, maybe it was a good job the girl had disappeared before you could blurt any of that out, because you definitely sounded crazy and the boy that was supposedly chasing you was nowhere to be seen.
It made you pause when you realised.
Had you lost him? It didn't seem likely.
'Cause yeah, the attraction was like a labyrinth but Steve had navigated through much worse, much more disorientating places and faced things a lot scarier than a couple of kids in costumes because something or some circumstance had dared to separate the two of you.
And really, after all of that, what chance did a haunted house stand against Steve Harrington's relentlessness when it came to finding you?
It was why you stepped into the next room a little more warily, breath held and tiptoeing, cursing the floorboards that still groaned beneath your feet and you threw a suspicious gaze over your shoulder every now and again before quickly looking ahead once more.
This one was almost too dark, too creepy, lit only by the occasional flash of bright white that was supposed to be lightning coming from the shattered windows, strong gusts of air whistling through the cracked glass and made it seem like the room itself was groaning.
You swore if some psycho possessed doll came running at you from out of nowhere then you would kill Steve for not being here for you to hide behind.
Whatever revenge he had planned for you be damned.
So when a hand smoothed over your head you were done. Over it. Prepared to run like hell the rest of the way out of this damn house because your throat burned from the embarrassing shriek you just let out, your cheeks hot, heart pounding, and there was still someone's spindly fingers petting at your hair.
Catching lightly at the ends when you spun just in time to barely make out the shadow of a chuckling figure skulking back into the corner.
An ichor-stained grin of razor-sharp teeth that split their whole lower face beneath their hood as the lightning cracked again and allowed you a split second of visibility to watch the mocking little wave they gave you.
At the end of the night you would adamantly say it was their fault for what followed.
Despite the fact that you should have known better than to take your mind off of Steve for more than a few minutes, that you don't enter through a new door without checking what lies beyond it at least once.
But instead you kept your gaze on your creepy friend with the smile.
Ignored what could possibly be in the next room in favour of watching for any signs they would run for you as you fled. Daring them with narrowed eyes to stay where they were whilst you retreated and your hand fumbled behind your back for the doorknob, cheering quietly when you finally felt the cool shock of metal.
The door clicked with a taunting kind of finality when you got it shut.
The type that left a silence you knew you couldn't trust in its wake, a beat of it passing, two, surprised when you turned and stared down the length of a hallway to what seemed like the exit at the end.
It wasn't what you had expected, gore and horror swapped for cobwebbed walls and rubber spiders and plastic bats with lopsided wings that hung from the ceiling. An antique grandfather clock and bookcases lining the room that were loaded with old tomes and trinkets.
The lights were softer than any of the previous rooms too, less pulsing neons and more steady waves of violet and midnight blue that, despite where you still were, instantly made you feel calm. Safer.
You should have known.
You'd seen all the horrors. Watched countless victims make the same mistake over and over because the fact usually was, if someone or something looked harmless, if escaping ever looked too easy? As simple as a straight run to the way out?
Chances were it was most definitely a trap.
But you weren't thinking about horror movies. Not when whilst you were standing there, someone from deeper inside the belly of the house screamed, a shrill sounding thing that was enough for you to shake your head, muttering a soft 'nope' before your feet started forward on their own accord.
And of course that was when it happened.
There was a swinging creak, a whoosh of cooler air. Two large hands catching at your waist and dragging you against a broad, warm body, your back flush to the person's front and just when you were about to scream they spoke. A lightly stubbled jaw scraping along your cheek as they dipped their head to whisper.
"Caught you, princess."
What the hell? Where did he even come fr-
A quick glance to the side answered that. A fake bookcase. A hidden door. The type of thing you really should have seen coming.
God, you'd been beaten by a total cliché.
It was enough to make you want to scream for a completely different reason, fear swiftly morphing to frustration, but then another question raised quickly in in place of the first and Steve must have sensed your confusion.
"Remember Michael Reid, the kid I helped coach that summer?" He murmured, a touch smug, like he never planned on letting you live this down. "He's working this part and let me swap in when I told him there was someone in here I needed to teach a lesson."
You swore then, quick and hushed under your breath, a sound that made the boy behind you snicker into hair, utterly entertained by your reaction. His broad chest was a rumbling warmth at your back and you could fucking feel the way his lips tugged into a shit eating grin when he notched his chin at your crown.
"Jesus christ, Harrington, think you could have managed it without giving me a fuckin' heart attack? Get off me." You snapped, barely any heat behind it, because despite your words you were that little bit delighted to see him.
You were just also annoyed at yourself for losing, petulant that you'd known something was suspicious and yet still walked directly into your best friend's trap.
And Steve knew it.
Utterly unfazed by your sharp tone and your attempts to fight him off, simply pressing the smile that he knew would get him in trouble to the back of your head whilst you wriggled in his hold.
You swatted at his arms that wound around your stomach, fingertips pinching at nothing but the thick wool of his coat sleeves before you sagged back with a defeated groan when he somehow managed to cling to you tighter. Rolling your eyes, lips twisted to hide a smile because Steve sounded far too pleased with himself already as he curled you into him.
"Aww c'mon don't be like that, didn't you miss me?" He tsked, laugh soft in his throat as he smacked his lips to your cheek in a quick, messy kiss, all charm and just a touch patronising whilst you huffed. "Bet it wasn't half as fun running around in there without me to hide behind."
"I don't know about that," You muttered but it was full of tease, mischief, and you knew that he had picked up on it the moment you shifted to the side so you could turn your face to look back at the boy. He dipped his chin to meet your gaze. Nose just shy of bumping yours and a brow raised like a dare. "It was nice not having you screaming in my ear every time something touches your hair."
The effect was immediate.
Because Steve broke the hold he had on so fast that you would have fallen had it not been for the warm weight of his hands quickly reappearing on your hips, spinning you around until your chest bumped against his. Until you were face to face, sharing the same breaths, his expression akin to something both amused and insulted. Like he just couldn't wait to argue this with you.
Hopefully he wouldn't notice how your mind instantly went blank.
Because your best friend looked far too pretty up close, in this kind of light, softened by the faint purples and blues that slanted over the angles of his face, all wild hair curling at the edges from the heat inside the house and eyes near black in the dark.
Jesus, did he have to look so good all the damn time.
"You take that back." He demanded, his voice far too fond to hold any real threat but you still shook your head, both to clear it of the effect Steve Harrington had on you and also because you couldn't resist the need to provoke the boy. Just a little, just like you always had.
The way that both you and Steve would never admit to enjoying far too much.
"And if I don't?" You countered, hands pressed to his chest in a little shove and chin raised in playful defiance as you grinned. "What're you gonna do, zombie Steve, eat me?"
He stared, lips parted, cheeks a little pink, and made some kind of strangled noise before his grin reappeared, wolfish, voice scandalised. "Is that what you'd like? Right here? Never pictured you as the type, princess."
Steve watched with delight then as you blinked, nose scrunched up in confusion for just a few adorable seconds and then your mouth fell open into a pretty little 'o' that had his grin splitting wider, eyes shining.
Endlessly amused when you choked out his name in admonishment and grew flustered.
"Not what I was talking about and you know it Harrington." You spluttered.
He pulled you to him, chuckling, as you covered your face with your hands. But you went with no more resistance than a quiet grumble passing your lips, a soft little noise of embarrassment that always made Steve's chest go warm for you.
"S'not my fault you make it too easy." He shrugged, all feigned innocence, smiling too sweet as he dropped a kiss to the top of your head.
You snorted from where you were buried in his coat, the grin you couldn't help hidden as you let him shuffle you both back until you were no longer stood in the centre of the walkway, careful not to trip on a rubber rat or the edge of the threadbare rug whilst he kept you close.
And when the quiet was broken by a group spilling through the door, old classmates of yours and Steve's, you jumped and the boy gathered you a little closer than you thought possible, arms wrapping protectively around your shoulders before he realised they weren't some kind of danger and relaxed.
They were too caught up in the effects of the house, too busy pushing and shoving, winding each other up over who had screamed the loudest, to really pay attention to the two of you entwined. Steve pressed to the bookcase and you pressed tight to Steve, legs tangled.
And you were glad of their distraction when you recognised the voices, not really wanting to spend another year, or however long it took last time, with that familiar bitter taste in your mouth as you were forced to explain no, Steve and I aren't dating, no, there's really no chance of that changing and yes, we really just are best friends.
It sometimes made you wonder if they saw something you couldn't, what they saw at all when they watched the way the boy would blindly tug you into him whenever you appeared at his side, the way you'd fit yourself to him when he did, head resting lazily against his shoulder.
There'd be soft smiles on your faces from the moment you were joined and every time Steve said something to you he would make sure to look down, gaze all kinds of warm as it roamed your features.
A little like it was now when you drew back to peek up at him.
You, on the other hand, were still burning, cheeks hot and a nervous kind of energy thrumming in your chest and the way the boy was looking at you was decidedly not helping.
In fact, you were fully prepared to shove your face back into the soft wool of his scarf that smelled like him, attempting to cover the fact that you were trying to look anywhere but at your best friend because the image he had planted in your head refused to fucking leave.
But then Steve was refusing to let you go back into hiding, refusing to let you watch your hands twist and untwist in his lapels like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He curled his fingers beneath your chin before you could duck your head again, tipping your face up and keeping your gaze fixed on his.
It was a branding kind of touch, once that demanded every ounce of attention you could possibly give and you swallowed, throat tight.
"You're despicable, y'know that." You told him, blurted it out before you could make a fool of yourself staring at him any longer than you already had, a bit dumbfounded. Too stunned to function normally.
But it came out more breathless than you wanted, far less offended than you tried so hard to pretend and more like the situation had punched you straight in the chest.
Broken ribs and true feelings spilling out through the cracks faster than you could hold them back.
You wanted to wince but Steve was already failing to bite back a smile that was all tease and charm. Moving a little closer as he angled away from the shelves that were digging into his back.
"M'sorry." He replied, sounding not very sorry at all, a little bit distracted because he couldn't stop his gaze from flickering down to your mouth. The hand that rested at your waist gave an absent-minded squeeze and he matched your shaky inhale when the pad of his thumb gently brushed the plush of your lower lip. "You're just so pretty when you get all flustered, couldn't help it."
It sounded like an admission rather than a taunt.
And by the way that Steve's eyes suddenly darted back to yours, slightly wide with nerves, you had to wonder if it was a thought he maybe hadn't meant to voice.
But he had and now there was a rolling feeling in your chest, your stomach, like everything had flipped at the boy's words and you had to fight to stamp it all down, to keep your features completely neutral because what if it didn't actually mean what your silly little heart was hoping it did?
It's not like Steve hadn't called you pretty before, right?
Just maybe not like this.
Not like it was something he'd spent time thinking about and wanted to do something about it.
You forced a chuckle, a last ditch attempt at making a joke so you could save yourself from saying something truly stupid. "You tryin' to say I'm not pretty all the time, Steven?"
"If you don't stop calling me that, we're gonna have another problem." He warned back, but his voice was warm and there was a spark in his eyes that looked like newfound bravery when he shook his head. His nose nudging yours before he cleared his throat. "And no, that's definitely not what I'm saying, sweetheart. You've always been too fuckin' pretty."
You couldn't breathe.
"Steve…"
There was muffled shouts that grew loud, that any other time would have been deafening when the door flung open once more, the sound of the wood smacking off the wall drowned out by voices and pounding footsteps as another group fled.
But the only thing you or Steve could see was each other, the way he was close enough that his breath fanned across your lips, tasting like sugar and Steve, the hint of mint underneath.
The way your eyes had grown dark, a little wild with longing.
The house drifted away, the screams, the manic laughter, the blood and the cobwebs and the lights that bathed you both in a soft haze of violet and navy.
All of it disappeared the moment Steve licked his lips, a nervous habit, whilst he pressed his thumb to the corner of your own and whispered.
"Made it real impossible to not do the whole 'falling for your best friend' thing, y'know."
He said it slow and soft, shyer than you'd ever seen him, eyes watching you carefully under the fringe of his lashes like he was praying he wasn't about to scare you away and shit, you thought, he really has no idea does he?
And you couldn't help it. You laughed.
Not unkindly, you could never, but a little strangled, a touch delirious because those words had set off a thousand fireworks in your chest and the feeling was so overwhelming, fizzing beneath your ribs, that it felt like it should have been a fever dream.
Which would make sense. Because you had always been so sure that that would be the only way you would ever hear Steve say that he was in love with you.
But no, this was real, and so was the faintly crushed look on Steve's face as he watched you laugh, completely misunderstanding, misinterpreting your disbelief for rejection and you quickly realised your mistake when he made to pull back.
"Forget I said anything -" He began, swallowing hard, throat bobbing as he tried to mask the hurt and the words fell out of your mouth faster than your brain could keep up with, panic laced and frantic.
"No - fuck, Steve- wait -" you begged, hands scrambling for his collar, for Steve's own hand that was slowly about to drop from your face and the boy stilled when you grabbed it and pressed it to your cheek, cradled within your own. A hesitant kind of hope in his eyes as you took a breath. "I wasn't laughing at you I swear, it's just, god, you have no idea how long I've wanted to hear those words from you and then you said them and I just -"
"How long?"
"What?"
"How long have you waited?" Steve repeated, a slow magic kind of grin appearing on his face that made your heart flip, your pulse doing its best impression of a hummingbird's heartbeat as he moved into you, a hand splayed at your back and his thumb stroking sweet arcs over your cheekbone. "Need to know how much making up I've got to do for being such an idiot and being too scared to tell you how I felt sooner."
You laughed again, a little softer this time, a shade embarrassed because you had loved the boy in front of you for longer than you could remember and it felt crazy that after hiding it for so many years, you were finally about to tell him.
"Oh y'know," you shrugged, fingers toying with the fabric of his scarf at the nape of his neck, hand sliding from its place atop of his to gently grasp his wrist. It was impossible to resist the smile that tugged at your lips as he leaned to touch his forehead to yours, eyes sparkling as he waited. "Not long, maybe ten years or so."
If Steve was surprised he didn't show it, instead he looked at you like he understood completely.
Like he knew himself how it felt to love your best friend that long.
But still he let out a low whistle under his breath, trying to sound as serious as he could despite the way his cheeks had grown sore with the smile that lit his face. His heart misbehaving in his chest as he cupped your jaw.
"That's a long time to make up for." He mused, voice hushed as he tilted his head, his mouth almost brushing yours as he spoke.
The anticipation made you feel like you were going to implode. Electric beneath your skin.
"It is." You agreed, just as quiet, curling a hand around his neck and leaning a little heavier against him because you suddenly felt far too unsteady. "What are you going to do about it?"
His breath hitched a little at your soft-spoken challenge but still he couldn't resist a final tease. "You askin' me to kiss you for the first time in a haunted house?" He tsked. "I know you love them but if you think we're comin' back here every year for our anniversary-"
"Harrington?"
"Yeah, princess?"
"Shut up and kiss me" You huffed, smile fond, sighing against the boy's mouth when he gave a breathtaking grin and did just that.
It was a gentle push of his lips to yours, a sweet, warm, languid thing that pulled a soft noise from your throat and made your chest feel like it was gonna burst because your best friend was kissing you like you were the most precious thing in his life, like he'd waited a lifetime for this moment and wanted you to know he'd happily spend another just like this.
He gripped you a little firmer as you melted into him, a golden feeling fizzing in his belly and a lovesick kind of smile on his lips when you murmured something sweet and pushed up on your toes for more.
Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling, tugging, and when you licked softly at his bottom lip to ask him to open for you, the boy gifted you with a low, quiet groan before giving you what you wanted.
The sound was enough to make you feel drunk, dizzy on the way his tongue slid against yours and that Steve got greedier, a little messier, the instant you gently nipped at him. His hand fused to your jaw and your own name pressed into your mouth on a hitched breath as he kissed you over and over and over.
And when you finally parted, it was with glassy-eyed looks, kiss swollen lips and heaving chests. Disgustingly sweet grins that didn't even falter when another group came barreling through and reminded the two of you, quite ear-splittingly, that you were still very much inside of an attraction.
Instead Steve chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, your nose, another two to both your cheeks whilst he pushed away from the bookshelf and wrapped both arms around you to spin you in a crushing hug.
"Steve put me down!" You laughed, a bright burst that made the boy light up even more and when you finally got away, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he stole your heart all over again with the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen.
A hand reaching out for you to place your own in as he asked. "Wanna get out of here? Maybe find somewhere a little less creepy where we can talk and make some more of that time up?"
And how on earth could you say no to that? To Steve and the way he was looking at you, slightly shy, like his lips weren't still glossy from your kisses.
You couldn't. Never had been able to if you were honest.
So you placed your hand in his, heart fluttering when he smiled soft at the way your fingers so easily entwined, and let him lead you to the exit.
To something new, to something far more exciting than any haunted house could ever be.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington one shot
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Omega 3 fans rise
Anyhoo, since you mentioned AUs, I feel like I have to ask..
You got any AUs where they’re the main focus?
(Also I was the one that asked for angst HCs and now my heart is in pieces thank you)
RISE RISE RISE and you’re welcome :)
I’ve got a couple!!
Doll Au:technically not centered on them but as of now this au is basically just. Open world with many a story to tell. But uh they (and most salmonids?) are rag dolls. At least the Cellist and Timpanist are, maybe the DJ is a different kind or has better material bc Goldie (which isn’t stated canon yet but he has the eyes and the fringy bits and jewelry/piercings so. Probably the case). But they’d all a little roughed up, well loved, mended over and over. They make their music, live their lives, sew each other back up again when needed…somewhere between quaint and chaotic. when I write or draw more for this au it’ll all be vignettes of events, tales that range from whimsical to creepy to heartbreaking. If a little absurd.
Reincarnation AU: also focused on everyone but these guys are in it so the gist with them is that they’ve been in nearly all of each others past lives as rivals or adversaries and continue to be a part of each others next lives as friends. Also since DJ is a Goldie and those live longer he does cross paths with one or two of the other two’s next lives since he ends up outliving them both by a long time.
Inkfish/Turf War AU/hypotheticals: not rlly an au yet but I’ve posted abt what they’d main and how they’d play turf war before so that counts for something? I’ve considered exploring it further in an au where they’re all inkfish (octolings probably) or maybe just outright make a splatband species swap au to explore how that would change their music and whatnot. Hm… Warabi salmonid…
Human designs/Au: In general I like to draw nonhuman characters as human bc it’s a nice creative exercise in translating certain traits (both physical and personality) to something that still gives the same vibe. Uh in an au where everyone is just a modern day human they’d just be like. A “normal” but very experimental band situated/formed in Hokkaido or Okinawa. There’s less animosity between them and inkfish bc Yknow. Human so no gruesome Grizzco war would take place but they still end up with many a rivalry and people they don’t get along with bc of their unique sound often being turned away in favor of the more mainstream musicians and their personalities are just as easy to clash with as in canon.
Putting the last two under a read more bc it’s getting long. And warning for darker content- death, horror, one offhand mention of suicide ahead…
Death/Ghost AU(s): MORE ANGST sorry about your heart. Hopefully this doesn’t grind it to dust. Technically AUs bc there’s like three different hypotheticals here. All involve the same prompt with one of the three dying during a salmon run shift, some sort of freak accident or being too close to the sr stage and getting hit by one of the longer ranged specials (Killer wail, sting ray). But Yknow basically an unexpected undignified death. And then coming back as a ghost and hijinks and angst and low grade nightmare fuel ensue. So basically the 3 outcomes/sub-aus are:
Cellist dies: Very distraught about the dying-and-becoming-a-ghost thing but more so abt having to leave the other two to mourn and pick up the pieces. He haunts his cello, basically clinging onto it and he eventually becomes able to play again (initially he’s very much invisible and intangible but becomes something more along the lines of a poltergeist). But the thing is the other two basically took it home with them bc he’s got got no other living relatives go claim his belongings and they want something to remember him by and can’t bring themselves to part with it so. Haunting ensues. Typical poltergeist happenings and just. They keep hearing him play. It’s horrible to deal with, just a reminder of their own grief. He eventually gains the strength to truly make himself known, able to be seen and communicate more directly… but he appears as he did in his last moments, still bleeding bright pink ink. Still horrific but he’s able to tell them he means no harm. Not to them, at least. He resolves to stay, too stubborn and concerned for the other two to just pass on. So, perma-bleeding ghost here to stay. Yay. While he doesn’t mean to hurt them they rlly don’t like seeing him like this and he becomes prone to bouts of more typical haunting activity that at times becomes aggressive. At one point they do consider exorcising him.
DJ dies: most… “lighthearted” of the three options! Somehow. They end up haunting the home as well, communicating via technology esp their own computer which they turn on and try to control in an attempt to communicate. Unlike with the Cellist version of this au the other two catch on to exactly what’s going on sooner and the DJ does actually make themselves visible earlier on. But they’re otherwise intangible and weak outside of their controlled tech. So for a haunting it’s relatively low in actual traumatizing events, since they’re more amicable and mischievous than the other two when they die. But while they try to be a nice friendly upbeat ghost they’re still rlly upset abt being dead and not as good at hiding it as they think. So between their attempts at being a ghostly prankster they have these bouts of jealousy and grief that they need to be helped through, not to mention how the other two are technically still mourning. Still this is probably the least scary and upsetting outcome? Also the ink color that they bleed would be the typical orange.
Timpanist dies: on the other hand. Oh boy. This version and the Cellist’s are both more upsetting but while that one is more depressing and tragic I feel like this one would go straight devastating horror. I feel like not passing on normally would fuck with the Timpanist. He would not grasp how he is still around and feels like he’s done something wrong if he’s not in the afterlife yet. Unless someone’s keeping it from him. Or unless this is all there is. Maybe at first he would nobly resolve to protect the other two, any way he can. But he can’t. They don’t sense him. He can’t interact. Totally intangible and invisible. Maybe he’s even bound to the exact spot he died, stuck right on stage. Forever. Forced to watch every performance go on without him. Forced to stay anchored to the scene of his last moments, unable to follow his friends home like he used to. Unable to give or get any comfort. And eventually it just breaks him. There’s nothing he can do… but actually there is: he can possess others. Idk how he figures it out but once he does. Every other day, another Inkfish loses it. Takes off the lifesaver ink tank and runs to the nearest salmonid, or the water, open arms. Those who are held down, stopped right when their eyes go wide and their face pale until the moment passes, report hearing a familiar timpani beat, then just… going blank. It continues for a while. Then he gets the bright idea to possess another salmonid. Maybe one of the other two. Now he can finally reach out again. But he’s… changed. He’s not the same person he was. So desperate, without reason or regard… Having heard and seen what happened, the DJ is well aware of what is going on when the Cellist stops what they’re doing, turns to them with wide eyes, and says hello. Or, when they hear those familiar rhythms, and then that familiar voice, fuzzy but still understandable, right in the back of their mind. But he tries to communicate by possessing one or both of them, basically trying to stick around and act like everything can go back to normal. But it gets to the point where’s he’s just no longer able to connect the same way and basically alternates between wreaking havoc on inkfish and trying to stick with the other two, every bout of possession becoming more terrifying and violent. Eventually it gets to the point where they have to get rid of him before he gets rid of them. Then the two outcomes would be that they exorcise him… or die trying. Oh and the ink is either the new yellow green or lilac.
Monster AU: Cellist as an onyrō or ningyo, Timpanist as either a Yukijin (demons that protect Noboribetsu’s Hell Valley) or Onibi Will-o-Wisp sort of ghost (bc Green Flame) and DJ as a Shachihoko (Tiger-Fish hybrid creature). If I go with the Cellist being an Onyrō I’d mix this with the ghost au concept: he’d be a normal mortal before joining the band but would die sometime between 2 and 3, either in a freak accident like in the normal ghost au or… well… as I mentioned in the last hc post… yeah. But he’d come back as a ghost either way and decide to torment Grizzco’s employees forever… and keep making music, because hey, he’s at least tangible enough to still hold the cello. But in this case he’d be more dangerous and malicious than the base ghost au but not as directed towards the others either!
And then there’s my “Omega 3 as Single Player Bosses” proposal which may eventually become a whole au or DLC pitch. Like Deep Cut they’d be fighting you for reasons only kind of sort of related to the issue at hand but probably a little more direct (bc they want to kick your ass for being an inkfish with possible ties to Grizzco and think you straight up abducted little buddy probablyyyy). I think they also may target you if you’re working with OTH in the DLC bc they remember that those two promoted Grizzco so the rivalry that forms between the two bands is mainly born of that and part of the story would be the two having realized Grizzco sux. Or something. I think Marina already had a hunch and has more respect for salmonids but the network still made them advertise and Pearl would be oblivious bc Inkling Propaganda or just not understanding that Salmonids don’t come back when they die.
#I had to retype this it didn’t save the first time 💔 sowwy for late response#ghost au#ω ghost aus#doll au#splatoon reincarnation au#human au#splatoon#splatoon 3#splatbands#ω-3#long post#asks#headcanons#monster au
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Theory: What if Tsukasa was a good guy?
All right, first time that I’m throwing out a theory, (with the assistance of @trish-chan!) so forgive me if I’m tripping on my words. Okay, so, theory time. (Also, to avoid confusion, I call No.7 by Hanako, and pre-death by Amane)
When I say Tsukasa was a good guy, I mean as in a good bro before he died. I think the current consensus is that Tsukasa was the one abusing Amane (theorized to be in varying degrees…), but what if he wasn’t the one behind it? What if Tsukasa ended up becoming corrupted or messed up in some way?
This ended up really really long, so the whole this is under the cut...
First, let’s focus on how they were alive. What was their relationship like? Well, we know they were close, at least. There’s this one bit in the Tanabata arc where little Amane says that Tsukasa will get violent if interrupted.
However, in the official translations it says that he’ll throw a fit. Y’know, like an excitable little kid.
It also says that he’s playing katanuki, and he LOVES katanuki, so we can assume he wouldn’t want to be interrupted. (Also, Hanako loves katanuki too!)
But other than that, we don’t really see them being brothers in the past, do we. Right…?
WRONG! Something I completely overlooked before were the volume sleeve illustrations.
Also, in this (^) illustration, I’d like to point out that the Tsukasa’s radio and Hanako’s kokeshi doll are sitting on the chest of drawers!
Something to note in these illustrations (and also the Tanabata arc) is that Amane is happy and there are no signs of bruising anywhere either. So at least as little kids, no form of abuse is present.
Also, something else I noticed:
He says that “WE believe it’s real.” Tsuchigomori said that he doesn’t have friends, and he’s obviously not referring to Tsuchigomori here. Tsukasa is the only one left he could be referring to in this “we”. They both were enthusiastic about this rock that supposedly fell from the sky, ever since they were four.
I feel like I’m grasping at straws in this part, but why would Amane include a third party unless they were important? Especially when it comes to something so sentimental to him.
Next, we have the picture from the Kamome school orientation.
Nothing here either. Just the two holding hands, and Amane is still bright-eyed. Note that they are alone. We know the Minamoto siblings live alone, but Mitsuba and Nene both have parents with them. The Yugi twins don’t. Another theory was that Amane’s parents were abusing him and they just favored Tsukasa, but this can allow us to presumably scratch that.
So that means any harm to Amane happened somewhere between here and his death. So, let’s make a time frame, hmm? We know Amane died around age 13. What age is he here…? Well we know he just entered Middle school, the first level Kamome provides for. What age…
Wow. That lines up perfectly.
This leads into the next major part of the theory.
We all know that Kamome is incredibly “haunted.” Filled to the brim with supernaturals. So, what if these two got caught up in supernatural business and things went south?
Originally this was a theory on proving Tsukasa wasn’t the one abusing Amane, but now I’m possibly considering that it was him. However, he wasn’t fully there, or something caused him to go mad.
In this part, Hanako is reciting a part of Mori Ogai’s “Takasebune”. (Credit to @nanabansama for finding that out!) In the story, a man is being exiled for a crime he committed. He seems kind so the police escort is wondering what he did. Turns out, he and his little brother were orphaned when they were young. At some point after growing up and working together, his brother fell ill. He came home one day to find out that his brother tried to kill himself so he wouldn’t be a burden. The man had finished the job for his brother, essentially putting him out of his misery.
We can draw some parallels to Hanako from this.
The man has a little brother that he killed
Absence of parents, this makes it likely that Hanako and Tsukasa’s parents are dead.
The man is being punished for what he’s done and is fully accepting of what has to happen to him as a consequence. In the man’s case, being exiled, and in Hanako’s case, being mediator for human and supernatural relations.
Perhaps from this we can draw that Hanako killed Tsukasa to put him out of his misery.
(Also, something really interesting, Ogai is spelled 鴎外. 鴎 is pronounced “Ou”, however alone it is pronounced “KAMOME”! While we’re on the subject, kamome means seagull. I had no idea why the school would be named that, but I would not be surprised if this were the reason!)
@daikon-senpai has pointed out that we can see a reoccurring “hole” in Hanako’s stomach. There’s a high likeliness that he killed himself after killing Tsukasa.
There’s a traditional method of suicide called seppuku, where one would slit their stomach to bleed out (though they would usually have someone cut their neck for efficiency and to minimize suffering). One of the reasons one would commit seppuku were if someone committed a crime or had brought shame on themselves. Both of which would be a likely reason Amane would have killed himself, and he even still carries intense guilt now as Hanako.
[UPDATE: I had made a post about how it appears that Hanako pulls his knife out from his stomach, something absent from the anime. Some of the earlier instances can look like he’s pulling out from his gakuran, so here’s a more obvious example:
@shweshishweh and @spades-queen have additionally pointed out that in some official art Hanako is depicted with a bandage over his stomach and Tsukasa with a bandage over his heart (or a heart that is damaged, as shown in the Valentine’s Day art).
With this information, not only can we assume Hanako died from wounds on his stomach, but also that Tsukasa likely died from an injury to his heart.
END OF UPDATE]
Speaking of guilt-
It’s believed that when Hanako cries while confronting Tsukasa, he’s afraid because he’s with his abuser again. I doubt this is true at all. He hasn’t cried since the Mitsuba Arc, though he still locks up briefly.
Obviously Hanako holds a ton of guilt from what he did to Tsukasa, so of course he would freeze up when the dude comes out of no where and is like, “Long time no see!!” He’s being confronted with what he did, front and center. No amount of jokes can distract him from it. There’s no avoiding it. After Tsukasa had entered the picture for a while, Hanako stops reacting so strongly, as he’s more prepared for it. (This was pointed out to me by @trish-chan!)
It’s also possible that Tsukasa is acting the messed-up way he was before he died, and Hanako is realizing that death really didn’t free him from it. He’s mortified at what’s happened to his brother.
Another thing she’s pointed out was that currently, Tsukasa hasn’t hurt Hanako. Not physically, at least. If he was the one hurting him then, why not now? It’s not like he’s hiding being violent in front of people. Let’s see… he turned Mitsuba into a monstrosity, nearly killed Kou, ripped out No. 3’s heart, totally would have turned Nene into a bloody pulp, killed the pufferfish into a bloody mess, and he’s finger painted with blood (who knows where that came from) among various other psychotic things.
Last thing I have here is a kind of lose connection, but worth including, nonetheless.
Only Tsukasa and No. 6 are creepy black mokke. I can’t bring myself to believe that AidaIro would do that for no reason. I wouldn’t question it if it were only Tsukasa, but now No. 6 is in the mix.
This actually made me think of possible connections that Tsukasa has to No. 6. After all, who has a giant gaping hole to the far shore and has messed with someone’s head so hard they basically tried to murder their childhood friend? Is it possible that No. 6 did something to Tsukasa, for whatever reason?
We don’t know enough about No. 6 currently to really be conclusive about this, though. Could both of them been corrupted somehow?
UPDATE ON THIS PART: Since I’ve first posted this, more chapters with No. 6, or Shinigami, have been released. While I have even more doubts that he and Tsukasa have any direct connection than before, I still think there are some shared aspects. Sumire’s seal is probably the most major revelation, now that it’s pretty much confirmed that Tsukasa is a yorishiro. If we assume Tsukasa is Hanako’s yorishiro, then that’s something in common with Sumire and Shinigami. But then wouldn’t Hanako be a black mokke?
This makes me think that that particular connection isn’t the shared aspect Tsukasa and Shinigami have. Perhaps it’s just something that hasn’t been revealed yet (or I haven’t picked up on lol). Something else interesting of note is the fact that Tsukasa has been completely absent this entire arc. His only sort-of presence is through Natsuhiko, who we still don’t know the motives of. We also don’t know how the Tsukasa+Sakura+Natsuhiko+Mitsuba quartet have been dealing with the Severance.
So, there are a lot of questions yet to be answered so I’m not dismissing this idea yet.
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So, in a nutshell, this theory is: Hanako and Tsukasa were good brothers, until they got caught up with supernaturals after entering Kamome. This may have caused Tsukasa to go crazy, and hurt Amane at the same time. This leads to Amane killing Tsukasa. Possibly out of self-defense or putting him out his misery. Following this, Amane kills himself. ~50 years later, present Kamome Academy. Tsukasa makes his way to the near shore and either gets corrupted or was never freed from whatever ailed him when he was alive at the school.
I’m realizing now that this would also explain this:
“Tsukasa is not himself. I know that. So I forgive it.” But we all know that Amane/Hanako is too cryptic and secretive to actually say that.
#jibaku shounen hanako kun#jshk#jshk spoilers#toilet bound hanako kun#tbhk#tbhk spoilers#tsukasa yugi#hanako kun#amane yugi#hahaha yes i think i stan tsukasa
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Haunted House Contest
At work last night did some brainstorming inspired by this post with my friend on here @stars-for-thought using my oc Jaqi and her oc Mal. :)
…
I get major Jaqi and mal vibes lost in a haunted mansion for a contest type situation
I just picture them as reluctant duo against the supernatural after too many hijinks left them with way too much experience to not do it.
And of course they brought glow sticks that drive the ghosts and demons crazy, no chance of leaving them in the dark with those
Self taught geniuses, just ended up in the same dorm at the most haunted university and paid for school by fighting off the thousands of ghosts and ghouls for their classmates
Star -
They both swear and curse
Calling things out
.
And both find bludgeoning tools
.
Star -
“I am not going to die like those dumbass white people in the movies!”
.
What’s funny is the skillets were the first step they did. “Ok. We need weapons...” they look at each other, “Skillets,” and head for the kitchen passing the knives and meat mallets and all that for a whole rack of them
Carry them around until they get lost in a cleaning closet, “Hey! Tool belts!”
Just add more pocketed layers for all sorts of stuff
Hobbit steps, good skillets then pockets to stuff with whatever else you might find useful later
Then The five minute argument on if road salt for melting ice outside would be more effective then they have to grab a twenty pound sack and the tiny shaker of regular salt from the kitchen. Huge laughter when the road salt is way more effective so they drag around a carpet with two of the bags on it blocking off the worst rooms
.
When In doubt shout and beat the demon to death
“Why is there a ouija board?! Nothing good ever comes out of a ouija board!!! That’s how you get catfishes by the other dimensions and afterlife, you think your helping your great grandparents to have their favorite recipe for crumpet casserole next thing you know the walls are bleeding and the lawn furniture starts barking at your neighbors!!”
Jaqi crosses her arms and Mal pats her arm “Do you need a minute? That felt way too specific to be anything but a bad memory..”
“There’s a doll room!!” Mal shouts from down the hall as they are doing the obligatory room exploration bit.
“Can we just salt the doll room now?”
“Already on it!” Mal says with a rice scooper lining the room with salt that immediately starts screeching and shouting in satanic voices.
“Not today you porcelain bastards!”
Start rolling up carpets to draw demon circles on the bottom of them to trap things as they’re gone. Walk into a room seeing the contest guy on the center of a carpet, “ladies you’ve won!”
Mal loading the salt stuffed potato catapult they made asks him, “Why don’t you step off the rug and say that Sauron?”
He hissed and they walk away, “We’ll be down the hall in the most definitely not haunted hall of mirrors if you feel up to a stroll there buddy.”
They mutter to each other, “Man they went for everything in the book didn’t they?” Checking things off a list of things they imagined to possibly encounter.
.
Star -
“No! We don’t go to the basement! That’s where you die!”
.
All of a sudden trap door and they’re in the basement and Mal is just like “don’t even say it”
“What? You have to admire a clever trap door”
.
Star -
They hear a loud mysterious sound
“….nope. We do NOT go towards the creepy loud sounds.”
.
Oh ya, then there’s more sounds in every direction and they have to choose which sound to deal with
.
Star -
They spend an hour trying to decide
From eeney meeny miney mo to flipping a coin
.
And they end up in a the safe zone garden but they have to leave because they keep sneezing terribly there from the flowers
“Why didn’t you just go into the garden?” Jaqi and Mal mock repeat the contest people back for that question and then say “We’re allergic to the safe zone garden!”
If they somehow run into the guys in the next mansion over (if it’s LoTR) then obviously the Durin direction mishap has them find a secret connecting tunnel the contest owners didn’t know about and they spend the rest of the night ready to beat each other to death at the first sign of being monsters
I picture Mal with a mace like thing and Jaqi just found a huge monkey wrench like half the size of her body and the guys are all impressed asking where they found that, the guys had to break chairs for stabbing wooden stakes
.
Star -
The girls yelling at the dwarves on “you don’t go in there! Everyone knows that! Have you not seen a single horror movie!?”
.
And when in doubt they have cast iron skillets in tool belt holsters on their hips for extra bashing strength
The guys timidly asking to borrow their skillets after asking how useful a skillet could actually be
Ooh, and a build a bear doll that has the chants to cast demons out in them
Or like a music or jewelry box And it’s crank powered so they can’t effect it
Mal looking in her notes “how do you make holy water again? Only under 8 oz?! This bucket is going to take too long...can we try acid? Does acid work on ghosts?”
“We got tons of acidic chemicals. In the worst we will have lemony ghosts trying to kill us, let’s give it a go.”
All the guys find are pogo sticks and the ladies say they could find something to use them for, end up turning them into really big spring loaded crossbows or something like that when the cabinets and dressers in a room come to life
The guys do find all the really cool keys though and Fili of course has been pocketing every sticky note sheet stack and note pad he can find which eventually in one at a note they find has a secret clue to a secret prize inside a giant safe they have to find
And he has to brag that they made fun of him for grabbing all the paper he could find but now they get an even bigger prize
“Metal blocks?” Jaqi and Mal ask as the guys gasp and inspect the blocks.
“Those are mithril blocks!!”
“Ok, do we hit something with the blocks?”
“No!! Just one of these is worth more than the Shire!!”
“Ok...but say we put the really expesive blocks in a sack, then could we hit something with them?”
“I mean, you could...but it’s Mithril...”
Girls nod and say in their turn, “We’ll find a sack for your bludgeoning cubes.”
.
Star -
Death by pretty cube
.
And the durins have been ghost hunting for generations take it really seriously and they look at the girls who are muttering tries at the right words to seal something to paint on the sticky note for the trunk they trapped it in as the boys are holding it down. “It’s something, something, that moose rune...”
Mal cuts in, “No it’s the iguana rune..”
“No, the iguana one is to lock them in a vat of water...” and Thorin’s brow is twitching, “Something, something?! That thing could kill us all and you’re going to put something, something on the sealing sheet?!”
“Obviously not, that would be too long. I think the first one is that boomerang shaped rune...”
“Give me that!” Thorin says writing out the runes in the sheets he sticks around the trunk that stops rocking when he’s finished and growls in anger. “Honestly who taught you how to seal demons? A gopher?”
“Actually there was a P.O. Box number on a cereal box when I was seven, they mailed the kit to your house. And I got this cool decoder ring!” Jaqi says with a huge grin and she and Mal both flash their matching rings.
“Me too, mine is green and glows in the dark!” And Thorin just shakes his head
.
Stars -
The durins impressed but worries af
Dis loves and steals them “I’m teaching them properly.”
.
Be funny if it’s televised and the Durins at home are actually making notes on a few of their tricks. Did shouting “glow sticks thorin!! I told you glow sticks would work!! What do I get? Grief, that’s what I get! What’s in your hand big brother?! Do mine eyes deceive me?! Is that not a glow stick?!” And she’s screen shoting it to rub in his face for later
And there’s like this flerken creature but it’s a badger instead of a cat and Mal and Jaqi are all excited “oh you look like Mr Scarf!” They gasp seeing the tell tale marking on his back, “It is you mr Scarf!” Then turn for the kitchen, “We need some salami.”
Thorin is all, “You need to kill that thing is what you need to do! They topple whole villages!”
“Oh Mr Scarf would never!” They rub his face, “I’m gonna find you some salami. Honestly don’t why you wouldn’t like a badger. They’re super friendly.”
“That’s not a badger!” Starts for a good half hour until Mr Scarf eats a demon and the girls go Huh, and then live in him even more making the guys wonder how they tamed such an unstoppable creature with just salami
They arrive at a room with sinks and tub full of water and the girls shake their heads, “Not reaching in that water, always something in the water. Nope, can’t make me do it.”
Guys say, “Oh come on, you can see the bottom.” One reaches in and the usual hair then hand combo is what they pull back trying to unplug the drain
They shout and the girls bludgeon the creature back into the water, “See! See!!! You never reach in the water!”
.
There’s a feast at the table “nope, not gonna trap me in hell with your three grapes today mr necromancer...I’m gonna go get some more cheese slices from the kitchen.”
“But, why wouldn’t you eat it. It’s all out here set up for someone to eat.”
“It’s clearly a trap.” Jaqi and Mal say. “That’s how they catch you. This is the maze and that’s the cheese cube mr mouse that chandelier will drop or the floor will or it’s poisoned or will explode into spiders... the possibilities are endless and all of them bad.”
“How do you learn this stuff? It’s a feast.”
“Then take a nibble.”
“I’m not hungry...”
“Mhmm.”
“How do you know all that?”
“Always happens.”
“Where have you been cleansing that that always happens to you?”
“X university.”
The Durins gawk at the girls shouting the name back at them, “Our clan wouldn’t come within fifty miles of that county let alone the campus. Why would you go there?”
“They had an amazing brochure.”
“Now there’s the real trap.”
“Wondered why the mortality rate started dropping. It was you two.”
.
They talk about how they got into the contest and Jaqi says, “Well there was this really nice lady that called saying we won a sweepstake and got our names out in a raffle to compete and we had to show up at a certain time to be in the running for the big prize.”
The guys faces drop and Kili says, “You mean the nice lady told you to fill out the forms to enter the pool of ghost hunters to be asked on the show? You have to apply to be on here.”
The girls grins drop and Mal says, “It’s Bethilda again. I just know it...this is very likely going to go very badly...”
“Who’s bethilda?!” The guys keep asking wondering who the girls are clearly being haunted or tormented by
“Oh she’s just this demon posing as an old woman trying to leave us her inheritance but she just won’t go away no matter what we do...”
“What inheritance?!”
“Oh just some old mountain resort called MoRiA. As if that place is real. Supposed to be loaded with more treasure than we could ever be able to comprehend.” And the guys need a minute to stop screaming and screeching
They cover their mouths and Fili is able to squeak out in a drop of his hands, “That sounds like a lovely place you should take her up on the offer.”
Kili nods, “At least give it a chance. Could have some lovely folaige to peruse in the spring.” The guys give him a look and he grins, “If you don’t like to ski...”
“Fine, but if this turns out to be like the time she send us to da horn to dig up that glowing rock she said would gain us access to the lost kingdom of Erebor I am so trapping her in a nesting doll.” Jaqi mutters and Thorin grabs the boys arms.
Muttering in Khuzdul, “I can’t feel my legs,”
Kili, “You know when we get out of here we should all take an expedition with that rock of yours in search of erebor. Just for giggles and a break from demon hunting.”
“Why not I’ll need a break after Moria turns out to be a bust.”
.
After the night is over loud stomach growls and they look at each other wondering if the monsters hitched a ride inside them
And the girls ask if they can keep their weapons and they pout saying that they named them
Five days of ok, I think we’re safe
.
They get to Moria and they ask, “Thorin, why are you in that portrait? And that one? And that statue?”
“Well, I mean GramyGram did mentions something about our kingdom of Moria being usurped from the family some centuries back, but the details are a bit fuzzy.” He said clearing his throat. Then they get to Erebor and there’s more portraits and statues of their family and Jaqi asks, “Are you dead? Because I’m going to feel super betrayed if you’re all dead and didn’t say anything about it to get your unfinished business concluded.”
Fili covers Kili’s mouth after he asks, “Are we dead? I had so much to live for!”
“We’re not dead.”
Mal says, “that sounds just like what a lying dead person would say.”
“We’re watching you three.”
They call home, “Tell them we’re not dead GramyGram!”
“By all accounts we should all be dead, fate keeps throwing all its got at us but we still keep managing to stagger away...”
“Not helping, Dis...”
“So why don’t I just sign the deed over? Or something?” Jaqi says to Thorin who looks at her in shock. “It belongs to your family.”
Fili said, “Technically it only transfers by marriage.”
“Alright but I swear if you vanish into a giant ethereal mist of light after the wedding license is signed since your unfinished business is through leaving me a three second widow I will have Bethilda go to whatever afterlife you are sent to to drag you back down here to spend the rest of eternity helping me to run Erebor and that ski resort. I am not taking on that army of gerbils of a task all on my own for just giggles.”
And Thorin is puzzled how they are now getting married but doesn’t want to argue to avoid the wedding he doesn’t know how he lucked into it being planned already
.
The girls demanding to wit friend gets a sandwich shop in Moria and the guys are confused but clearly agree. Then he shows up and he’s a huge unstoppable ghoul or something and they said “we found him tearing up the floorboards of the kitchen and cabinets one day until our panini press fell on his head and he just started making us sandwiches. Turns out he’s always dreamed of becoming a famous chef with his own sandwich shop!”
And they have more employees like that and it turns out partly like Hotel Transylvania where they are perfectly fine until clients start to act up or deface the establishment then the return home to find their home in disastrous states in retribution around a propped up note and three pillow chocolates ‘thank you for your patronage, never come back’ and they never do or the destruction only gets worse and mahal help the people who dare to contact the authorities for the damage
And you pick a flower and you find the bush drags you into the underground labyrinth explaining why there is a sign to not disturb the flowering plants but you may accept as many of the lemons as you can carry while fleeing the giant toad demon that lives underneath the tree’s roots
And every Tuesday the fountains overflow with bubbles because it’s been approved by management as another wish of one of their otherworldly employees that said the kids would love it and funily enough the ducks and deer do too
People who’ve visited before it was lost are confused to how the place has changed but they have to admit the place has a certain unflinching charm to it now
Need I say ghost orchestra and demons always up to don a tux, top hat and ballroom dance the night away for guests up for the adventure
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It’s in the Walls
Movie/Game/Show: The Boy
Dynamic: Brahms Heelshire/Reader
Warnings: you got a whole ass man living in your house without you knowing, you’re a mom
Summary: There’s a large house up for sale on a massive price-cut, who wouldn’t take that deal?
~~~
“Mom!” the shriek was high-pitched and echoed through the winding walls of the maze the manor made itself out to be.
(Y/n) closed her eyes, pretending the scream didn’t happen for a few seconds of cheap bliss before breaking back into her mothering persona. She crept down the corridors, reminding herself to take down every painting on the wall, the eyes followed her. Eventually, she came into her younger son’s new room, leaning her body against the doorway.
The blond child was huddled in a box pressed against the right wall, his small body curled tightly into itself inside the cardboard. He looked to his mother, large blue eyes sprinkled in delight that she came. Pointing to his bed, he murmured, “I saw a rat.”
“What?” she muttered, the realtor said the rodents that only stuck to the yard, but of course, that was a lie, “Oh, sweetie, come here,” the boy stumbled out of the box and grabbed onto his mother’s extended hand, “I’ll take care of him, you go make sure Joey hasn’t lost in mind in the library, okay?”
“Thank you, Dylan,” she cooed, pressing a short kiss to his forehead before sending him off.
His pink lips, shaped nearly identically to his father’s, stretched into a large grin,
“Okay, Mama!”
As soon as her son was gone, the smile drooped and suddenly she felt the weight of her eye bags drawing on her face. (Y/n) carefully approached the bed before getting onto her hands and knees, pulling up one of the draping blankets to peek underneath. A squirming, round, fat little frame poked out in the darkness before it squealed and began scurrying away.
Her hand shot out and she squeezed the fatty body between her fingers, grimacing at the rat in her hand. She never hated the things, they just never piqued her interest in the best ways, either. It thrashed and scratched at her, a small hiss leaving the woman before she tossed one of the windows open and left the rat on the sill outside to crawl away. Shutting and locking the window once again, (Y/n) made another mental note to get rat traps. Unless there were already traps.
Exiting the room, (Y/n) huffed at every creak in the wooden planks of the floorboards. The manor was old, oh, so old, it only made sense that none of the wooden boards would be silent. Even so, it was annoying and she liked to think she had the right to complain.
Eyes drifting to paintings and peeling wallpaper, she tried to remind herself to be thankful. Divorce wasn’t easy, much less so when your ex was a greedy, manipulative joke that milked you for nearly all of your possessions - she was lucky to find the mansion. Especially at such an astoundingly low price - she doubted a typical house would be cheaper than what she got the place for. None of those houses came fully-furnished anyway. Admittedly creepy and strange, but you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you might not like what you see.
As (Y/n) scanned through cupboards and cabinets, a loud thud alerted her of a new presence in the kitchen. She shot up, banging her head on the interior of a cabinet, her hand settled on the tender curve of her skull, softly rubbing as she stood. At the counter was her elder son, black-dyed hair messy and glasses slipping down his nose.
“Hi, honey,” (Y/n) chuckled at his frazzled appearance, “just get done wrestling one of the stuffed bears?”
Joey rolled his eyes, thumping a thick, hard-cover book against the granite countertop, “No, actually, I was looking for my shoes. Where are they?”
The woman shrugged, “How am I supposed to know?”
“I left them by the door and they’re not there anymore,” the teenage boy scratched at the back of his head, “Dylan’s either lying or genuinely didn’t steal them so I came to you.”
“Did you check everywhere?” (Y/n) questioned, brows furrowing at the absurdity of the situation, “Shoes don’t just walk away on their own, you gotta have feet in them.”
“Yes, I checked everywhere,” the boy grumbled, no longer bumping the book on the hard surface, now content to flip through the pages and allow the smell of old parchment to fill their nostrils. What a lovely smell that was.
Shaking her head, the mother fumbled for an explanation to the whereabouts of her son’s shoes, “I don’t know what to tell you, you brought more pairs, right?”
Joey nodded slowly, eyes scanning through fragmented sentences before turning to the next page, “Yeah, I just really liked those ones.”
“Alright, well, I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually, don’t worry yourself over it,” she grasped her boy’s shoulder, rubbing her thumb into the flesh tenderly before letting go, “We have a rat problem, by the way, if you see any traps, let me know.”
“Oh fun,” he mumbled, forcing a wide smile onto his lips, “I think there’s some in the backyard if you haven’t been out there. They look like shit but they’ll probably get the job done.”
“Language, but thank you.”
“English and you’re welcome.”
Deciding it was better to just walk away at this point, (Y/n) headed for the back door. It was heavy to pull open and nearly slammed shut if she hadn’t pressed her foot into the thick wood, grunting at the responding pain. A trash bag was set out with a pair of gloves next to it on a quaint little side table with spider webs running between the beige wicker legs. As if somebody had put them out for a quick run but forgot they wouldn’t be using them after they left.
After that, what caught her eye was the glint of rusted metal in the thick, untamed bushes of the surrounding greenery. Upon closer inspection, she could see that grass had entangled with the metallic gate on a small wooden box, buzzing flies being the next eye-catcher. She crouched down, instantly picking up on the putrid smell of corroding flesh and dried blood, flies nibbling on the swiss cheesed corpse of a rat.
“Shit!” she gagged, backing away, rubbing her hands on her pants despite having not touched the cage at all.
Looking back up at the house, (Y/n) barely noticed the outline of a person in one of the second-floor windows. She blinked twice, shaking her head before squinting back up at the same window. Just a coat rack. Didn’t seem right - there were pants in the outline! - but then she realized how outlandish it seemed. If there was a secret person living in the house, surely it would’ve been mentioned by the realtor.
‘Forgotten’ rats were one thing, an entire person was another.
“Mom!” another soprano level scream ruptured her eardrums.
In turn, (Y/n) huffed, clenching her eyes shut before turning around and walking back towards the porch. What she first noticed was her seven-year-old, the second being the extremely off-putting, cracked porcelain doll in his arms.
It was half his size and looked to have been haphazardly put back together with some unnamed brand of superglue. Dark hair framed its head quite well with glassy, hazel eyes and pale, pretty pink lips. Grossly realistic and abandoned in a mansion, it seemed to be perfect fire material. Or it would be, if she hadn’t been told by the realtor, very explicitly, to not use the fireplace.
“Whole house could go up in flames,” Mindy had waved her hands about, “I’m not sure how that’d work, but just… don’t test it.”
Dylan held up the doll closer to his mother’s face, “Isn’t he cool?!”
“Yeah,” she lied through her teeth, carefully taking the doll, “Does he have a name?”
Leading his mother back inside, Dylan shrugged, but his loose limbs and lack of control made it appear as though he was trying to toss his shoulders off from his body, “Don’t know.”
“Hmm,” she quietly hummed, pulling back the tightly sewn collar of the doll to peek at a possible name tag, “I’m not seeing anything here, baby. You wanna name him yourself?”
There was another creak, easily dismissed as the manor’s old bones settling as the woman handed the fragile doll to her son. Dylan pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at the toy for a few moments before bursting out an answer, “I think he looks like a James!”
(Y/n) nodded to the boy’s antics, “I think that’s a great name for him.”
Before they could continue the conversation, a hard bang on the wall knocked a picture from its spot above the stove, toppling onto the rather shiny surface. Their heads turned, eyes wide and Dylan was suddenly shaking, grasping onto his mother’s shirt and huddling into her side. The woman settled a hand on her son’s shoulder, pressing her thumb into the tensing muscles before pulling away to inspect the wall.
It was a wall, obviously. Flat, leveled, wall. Nothing particularly interesting about it aside from the wallpaper’s collection of grime and peels. Looking down, she took notice of the framed picture. Three figures stood in front of the home (Y/n) now found herself in possession of. Garden controlled and clean with no windows boarded, cracked, or dirtied. A young woman not much older than (Y/n) herself was holding a four-year-old brunette boy to her hip with, who one could assume was, her husband beside them.
Glancing between the picture and the doll, she frowned at how similar the toy looked to the little boy. Not to mention that haunting family portrait at the foot of the staircase. Turning the frame over in her hands, she opened up the back before pulling the picture out of its frame. (Y/n) searched for a scrawled title of the photograph, quickly finding an answer.
Mummy, Daddy, and Brahms!
She replaced the picture just as quickly as she got it out, debating between putting it back and tossing it out before deciding to leave it on the counter. (Y/n) took her son’s chubby cheeks between her hands, planting yet another kiss on his freckled forehead, “I think his name is Brahms, sweetie.”
“Brahms?” Dylan muttered, almost as though he was testing for another bump. When there was none, he nodded, “Brahms.”
Running away and back up the stairs, (Y/n) was ready to force herself into forgetting the whole thing happened when her older son’s voice was heard.
“It’s funny, you little brat!” followed by a loud wail.
“Give him back!” Dylan screamed.
(Y/n) rushed out of the kitchen to see Joey holding Brahms out of Dylan’s reach, the older boy was visibly angry, “Funny, I could say the same thing to you!”
“Joseph Lowy,” the woman muttered, snatching the doll from her son, and giving it back to her pouting little blond boy, “Here, go play with Brahms,” as he ran up the stairs, she called after him, “Don’t get too crazy up there, you two!”
Joey shook his head, rubbing at the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, “Little asshole.”
“Hey!” (Y/n) looked over to the sixteen-year-old, “Don’t talk about your little brother like that.”
“He stole more of my shit,” the dark-haired boy tapped at the wall a few times with his knuckles, shaking his head, “Shoes I could deal with but now two of my shirts are missing.”
“Did you leave them at the house?” she tried to reason, leaning against the wall, “Dylan’s been with me for a while, maybe you’re losing it, sweetpea.”
Joey cringed at the pet name briefly before deciding to carry on with his point, “No, I didn’t leave my clothes at the house. I wouldn’t leave a single sock with that dick.”
“Don’t call my ex a dick,” (Y/n) breathed out, turning her son around and nudging him towards the den, “Only I can do that.”
“Unfair.”
“This isn’t a democracy, it’s a dictatorship,” (Y/n) waved off, standing there long enough just to watch the boy sit down on a leather chair and open the book in his hands. She’d have to go into town for rat traps, then.
She bit at her lip, turning towards the flight of stairs and beginning to go up the steps. Without the creeks flowing alongside her movement, the house seemed even more eerie - she didn’t bother to stop and figure out why there were no creeks. It didn’t matter to her at the time.
(Y/n) peeked into Dylan’s room, smiling softly at the sight of her little boy seated at a play table with plastic plates and cups and faux food set delicately on it. He was holding a small pink teacup with Brahms porcelain fingers using a hair tie to keep a similar purple one in his grasp. When the little boy noticed his mother in the doorway, he waved wildly, taking one of Brahms’ arms gently and copying the motion onto the doll.
Continuing down the hall, (Y/n) came upon her room, pushing it open and immediately seeing that her suitcases and bags had been peeled open. She was sure that she’d left them all zipped and sealed before leaving, but, of course, you can never be too certain. Going over to the luggage, she moved clothing around and peered through when she noticed how strewn about her things were.
The ‘fragile-minded’ female role after a heavy divorce was not something (Y/n) ever imagined herself as being. It was so played out and disgusting, she despised it with everything in her body. Yet, as she found that one of her dresses was missing, she suddenly felt as though it was depressingly truer than she’d hoped.
(Y/n) turned to another suitcase; her apple red-tinted skirt was gone. She dug deeper into the case, pulling out a few stray, tossed-around shirts in her endeavor to find her favorite skirt. She tossed a hand up, giving up on finding the articles of clothing for the time being. Not that she’d admit it, but worry was beginning to fester in the deepest crawlspaces of her gut.
Stepping over to a different suitcase, (Y/n) pulled out what probably wouldn’t make her look as though she just woke up and went over to the bathroom connected to her bedroom.
Mindy had made it abundantly clear that the two previous owners drowned themselves while on a ‘two-month’ vacation after leaving the house to a nanny. Who the nanny was or why she left wasn’t made clear to either woman, just that the house wasn’t right. Cryptic language, always appreciated.
Taking into mind the deaths and sudden missing clothing combined with bumps from the kitchen, it may be time to call the kettle a kettle. The home may be haunted. Not that she wanted a literal haunted house, but what other choice was there at this point?
Not even apartments were renting as low as the manor was selling.
As she finished getting dressed, (Y/n) began her way out of the house, stopping at her younger son’s room, “I’m going out for some things. Want me to bring you back anything?”
Dylan looked over to the cracked doll, “Do you want new clothes, Brahms?”
The doll, of course, was completely silent. Unmoving. Watching.
“I think Brahms wants new clothes, Mom,” Dylan beamed at the woman, holding up his plastic cup.
(Y/n) giggled, nodding as she pat the doorway, “Alright, honey, I’ll see what I can do for Brahms.”
“Thanks, Mom,” the bubbly little boy lowered his cup, settling his hand on the doll’s back, “Say thanks, Brahms.”
No words came from the toy, as one would be expected to expect. It sat still, not moving but still watching. Always watching. Unblinking, glassy, hazel eyes stuck on his flesh-and-blood blond friend.
“He says thanks.”
Nodding, the woman gave her boy a thumbs up, “I’m sure.”
The next son was still in the den, reading quietly to himself. Every now and again one’s ear would pick up on a small mumble of a word, small stutters slipping from the teenager’s lips. (Y/n) came up behind the boy, hands slamming onto the back of the chair loudly.
Joey jumped in his place, turning swiftly, “The hell, Mom?”
“I’m going out, bookworm,” (Y/n) teased, running a hand through the boy’s messy black hair, “Need me to pick something up?”
“Coffee grounds would be great,” he confirmed, “There’s none in this entire, literal, mansion.”
“Alright,” she gently brought her older son’s shoulders back so his head was laying against the chair, “Take a break sometime soon, okay? Stretch for a bit, make you and your brother some lunch.”
He hummed in acknowledgment but otherwise, there was no indication of him having even listened to his mother.
~~
The next morning was just as drab and bland as the previous, and there was no doubt that the morning after this would be the same as always. (Y/n) huffed as she climbed out of bed, rubbing a hand over her droopy eyes. She stood, no longer remembering much of what had happened yesterday other than buying children’s clothes for a doll and coffee grounds for her son.
Not even the drill holes the previous owners must have never paid much mind to, which she noticed after dinner. They were strangely large for any typical drill she’d seen or owned.
(Y/n) managed to trudge into the kitchen during her dazed state, neither one of her boys was eating and so she correctly assumed both were still asleep. Scratching under her shirt at her stomach, the woman picked the coffee grounds from under the sink, laying the hefty tub on the counter next to the maker. Seemed a bit counterproductive to have a coffee maker and not a single crumb of grounds or even any beans to actually use. Not that she could say it to the owners’ faces.
“Oh, filters, right,” she mumbled to herself, immediately recalling the thin papers in the walk-in closet style storage compartment.
Her hand scanned over a few shelves, one arm crossed over her chest and the other still running along canned goods and cereal boxes. She tilted her head to rest on the raised shoulder, beginning to hum quietly to herself. The air was pleasantly crisp, oddly crisp for the interior of a house let alone a pantry. It had the same feeling as being inside an attic, if that made any sort of sense it didn’t matter to her at the time. Not much about the house mattered to her at the moment.
A few creeks and Joey was walking into the kitchen, the poor house was only getting older and with his naturally heavy steps, Joey found himself making more noise than he’d like. So much noise. Too much noise. Why did he have to be so loose with his footfalls? He’d been walking for over forty years by now.
Forty years? Forty years.
He was a grown man, he should be able to walk quietly. Just because Greta left him, he suddenly can’t be a ghost anymore?
A scream clutched the air as the pantry door slammed shut. (Y/n) turned, not finding herself much a fan of the darkness. She took the doorknob into her grip, violently twisting and pushing on the knob, “Joseph?! Dylan?!”
The door refused to budge, like a weight was pressing down onto it. It creaked and rocked ever so slightly but there was no way of getting it open.
“Joseph fucking Lowy, open this God damn door!” she pounded on the busted wood, beginning to kick when her hits proved no help, “Dylan! One of you open this door, right now!”
Suddenly, the lock made a click, and all the invisible weight was gone, a sixteen-year-old boy staring quizzically at his mother, “Mom, what’s wrong with you? How did you lock the door from the outside?”
“What are you talking about?” (Y/n) shook her head, giving the pantry a glance over her shoulder, “You locked me in there.”
“You woke me up with all your yelling,” Joey instantly denied, “I’m surprised Dylan’s not up yet.”
“Joseph, I’m not playing with you right now,” she crossed both arms, “It’s not cute.”
“I’m serious!” he shouted in his own defense, neither of them taking notice in the seven-year-old cradling a porcelain doll with a cracked face to his chest, “I wouldn’t lock you in a pantry!”
“Mom…” the boy muttered.
(Y/n)’s jaw clenched, eyes slamming shut and body turning away from her older son to look at the disgusting wallpaper of her kitchen. She sniffed hard, rubbing under her nose before looking back to her younger son, “Yes, sweetie?”
“Brahms made a mess,” Dylan quietly replied, going up to his mother and grabbing her hand, “It wasn’t me, really. It was Brahms.”
“What do you mean it was Brahms?” she huffed, following after the child as he began leading her up to the second floor, “He’s a doll, baby, it was probably just the wind knocking something over.”
“No,” he shook his head, pushing his bedroom door open wider, “Brahms made a mess.”
A mess indeed. Clothes and toys had been absolutely hurricaned around the little boy’s room, some glass from pictures and abandoned dishes shattered across the floor. Dylan’s play table had been toppled over with all the plasticware left on the carpeted ground. Looking over to her son’s feet, (Y/n) felt herself puzzled at the lack of blood; glass was everywhere. How could his reckless little feet avoid all of it?”
“Baby, did you step in any glass?”
“There’s glass in there?” the boy peeked around his mother before looking down at Brahms, “How did you do that?”
(Y/n) turned back to the bedroom, poking her tongue into her cheek as her hands found their places on her hips. Confusion laced into her bones, trickling down the marrow and soaking into her shaking fingertips. Brows knit tightly downward in the midst of her conflict and head thumping for answers, no - no, that was a headache. She was getting a headache.
Taking her son’s shoulders, (Y/n) spun him around to face the way they just came down, “I’ll take care of that tonight, sweetpea, don’t go in here for a little bit, alright? I don’t want you cutting up your feet.”
“Okay, Mama,” Dylan grinned up at the woman, holding Brahms a little tighter in his grasp, “I don’t want Brahms to get hurt either.”
“That’s very nice of you,” she cooed, taking his cheek between thumb and forefinger and pinching gently, “What a good little boy I have.”
Beaming at the praise, the mother-son duo didn’t even notice the panel in the wall rolling back and it’s spidery tendons creeping around the curve of the wall’s edge. Instead, they giggled over nothing as (Y/n) took her son’s small, fragile hands into her own and puppeteered him down the stairs. Doll boy Brahms left to sit on the landing of the house’s flight until somebody, anybody, picked him up.
Passing the portrait of another family was easy enough despite how creepy it seemed. They’d have to take it down, feeling like a guest in one’s own home was never appreciated. Then again, neither were pests in your walls, especially when you didn’t know about them yet.
~~
“Sleep tight, sweetie,” (Y/n) blew one final kiss to her son before closing the bedroom door to her own room.
“Wait,” Dylan whined, stopping his mother in the motion, “Brahms is still gone…”
The woman pursed her lips, “I know, I know. Just try to sleep without him for now, okay? We’ll probably find him tomorrow morning.”
Pouting, the boy kicked his legs out slightly before nodding solemnly, “Alright…”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she smiled tenderly at the child before shutting the bedroom door genuinely. Turning to her other son, (Y/n) forced a much faker smile onto her lips, “And thank you for your upcoming sacrifice.”
“I never said it was a sacrifice,” Joey grumbled, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, “You’re just dramatic.”
“Incorrect,” (Y/n) turned her boy around with a few small pats on the shoulder, descending the stairs as a pair until they reached the comically large portrait of a family that wasn’t their own.
Her hand settled against the groove of the curvy golden frame, the other resting against the painted surface as she and her son lifted the painting from the wall.
“Shit,” Joey hissed, assisting his mother in her lifting, “this thing’s heavy. Really heavy.”
“Probably wasn’t meant to be taken off the wall,” the woman reasoned with her son, muscles straining in their removal of the ridiculously big painting.
As the woman handled the painting, deciding to let it rest on the floor. Her backbones screamed as she slowly bent at the knee to lower the portrait of the wealthy family. Knuckles and joints beginning to ache as she did so.
“Mom…?” Joey muttered, voice much smaller and more fragile than she was accustomed to.
“Yeah?” she gruffed, finally letting the painting down completely. Her hands came to press on her tailbone ever so gently, practically already feeling next morning’s soreness, “Something wrong?”
“Only if you think a human-sized hole in the wall is a problem?” the boy chuckled dryly.
“A what?”
Turning swiftly, (Y/n) was quickly faced with exactly what her eldest son had just described to her. A human-sized hole in their wall. Large enough to fit a six-foot person, maybe they’d have to duck, but the fact remained. Her hands reached out for the edges of where the frame met the actual wall. She turned her head both ways, it was dark but when her eyes adjusted she could tell that there was a clear path running through the wall. Pulling her head back out, (Y/n) nodded towards the hole.
“I’ll go first, you follow.”
“Fine.”
Stepping into the hole, she noted how disgustingly crisp the air felt, it reminded her of being trapped in the pantry. It made her question what ways were waiting to be opened up by creeping little fingers inside that quiet, confined space. Her skin bumped and hairs raised at the thought of whoever had made these pathways still being inside the house. But that was insane, not a chance that somebody could live inside the walls of a manor without anybody finding out. There’d be too many creeks.
And suddenly she was remembering being locked in the pantry again, when those loud creeks were cracking into her ears and her sons had still been asleep. Her sons had still been asleep.
(Y/n) stopped, glad that her son’s eyes, though faltering, had adjusted to the dark well enough so he wouldn’t bump into her, “You’re sure you didn’t lock me in the pantry, right? There’s no way you were sleepwalking or anything?”
It was silent, so silent that there was a deafening buzz drumming into her ears.
“Joey?”
Again, all she was met with was the droning, consistent blare of buzzing in her ears.
“Joseph, I’m not playing with you.”
Once more, she was hit with buzzing.
“Joseph,” (Y/n) turned around, not meeting the eyes of her sixteen-year-old bookworm son, but instead with a stained, smelly, thin white shirt.
It hung low enough to expose the oddly shiny slick of sweat glistening over a hairy chest. Her breath grew rapid, fear racing through her body as she shook her head.
Looking up, her gut was wrenched at the dirtied prosthetic mask angled as if the person behind it was looking down upon her, as though she were a frightened rabbit. Now that she thought about it, she was a frightened, shaking little rabbit.
“Where’s my son?” when there was no response, she tossed herself into his body, attempting to push past him, “Joseph?! Dylan?!”
The arms of the secret man in her walls wrapped around her, squeezing tightly. One arm abandoned her waist, scrambling for something a little ways behind them, when he found it, the arm raised above her head.
“Joseph?!” she sobbed weakly, beginning to choke on her own nasty cocktail of tears and mucus, “Dylan?!”
A thwack left no more screaming to be heard, the tall man dropping his makeshift club in favor of picking the woman up as though she were his cute, delicate bride.
Brahms turned, heading back for the largest panel of the walls with (Y/n) dangling limply in his arms.
~~
Finally coming to, (Y/n) sputtered in a soft muffle, eyesight unclear and spotting in the corners. The spots and blotches eventually leveled and began to mop themselves into one concise picture of the kitchen. She let out a soft hiss, wrists stinging when she suddenly realized that there were ropes binding her arms back and to her chair.
Head toppling to the left, a snoring Joey was also tied down with his glasses already having slipped from his nose. Crashed onto the floor and shattered, it reminded her of her youngest son’s room; her youngest son.
She looked over to her right, spotting an empty wicker chair immediately beside her and Dylan after that. Dylan was leaning far back, head resting on his shoulder and mouth having fallen open to let out quiet whimpers and whines as though even in Dreamland, he was frightful.
Finally, she looked forward, squinting at the collection of chairs in front of her. They were chairs, obviously, nothing too interesting about that but it’s what was in the chairs that alarmed her. Pillows conjoined together by stolen articles of clothing ranging from Joey’s shirt to her favorite dress and skirt and Dylan’s sweatshirt. Between her pillow copy and Dylan’s was the Brahms doll; staring ahead silently. Watching. Always watching.
A high-pitched, airy, childlike voice rang in her ear, it didn’t match the fully grown man standing behind Dylan. Brahms, the real Brahms, pat the boy’s blond hair before ruffling Joey’s untamed dark tresses, “Little brother… big brother…” he moved behind (Y/n), his hands settling on her shoulders before his mask moved to press it’s cold, hard lips against the goosebumped, terrified skin of her neck, “Mommy…”
Sitting down in the empty chair, Brahms smiled beneath his mask, staring into the dead, glassy eyes of his doll before letting his voice take on the deeper octave more appropriate of an adult.
“Daddy…”
#brahms heelshire#brahms the boy#brahms heelshire x reader#the boy 2016#slasher x reader#brahms: the boy#can't believe i spelt the movie name wrong :)#clown energy people i'm telling you
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What do you think Grima and Eomer are most scared of? Apart from being left alone with each other, of course :) I think Eomer is terrified of spiders - he has to ask Eowyn to remove them. Grima's fears are probably grander and more philosophical e.g. non-existence, failure, imperfection. But I bet he's terrified of weird stuff as well - exposed knees, clowns, steep stairs...
Oooooooh I love this question!! (granted I love any and all questions about these two)
[Oh god this got so long, I’m sorry but also not sorry.]
So I mean, it would depend what kind of fear we’re talking about.
In terms of day-to-day fears/things that spook you or creep you out. I think Eomer has a REAL problem with house (mead hall?) centipedes.
‘Too many legs, Grima. They have too many legs. I did not sign up for this.’
Once. when Eomer was like 10, he woke up with a house centipede on his chest and he’s never recovered.
Grima just shoos the critter outside. Eowyn lectures her brother about their importance in the grand ecosystem. Eomer doesn’t care.
Like when Eomer sees a house centipede all the hair on his body stands on end and he feels that cold wash of terror. I mean, if he had to, he could deal with it himself. But he’d be internally screaming the entire time. Stoic externally, of course. He is a brave rider of Rohan! But inside? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
-
I think Grima gets creeped out by uncanny valley things. Mostly dolls. I think he assumes 90% of all dolls are cursed. One time his niece left her doll behind and Grima had to lock it in a box and hide it in a storage room and he was still a little convinced that it was going to escape and murder them all. Chucky style.
Eomer: I want to get my sister a doll for the baby she and Faramir are about to have. How about this one?
Grima: W h y would you traumatize a baby like that Eomer? Are you a monster?
Eomer: This .... this is a cute doll. It’s not going to haunt them.
Grima: You don’t know that for certain. Look at those beady eyes. Always watching.
Eomer: Ghosts and draugr are fine but not dolls?
Grima: My undead brother might be a pain in the arse but at least I know what to expect from him. Mostly his trying to eat people. But it’s within the bounds of reason. That fucking doll on the other hand? Who knows what it thinks in the dark hours of the night. Who knows what secrets it holds in its heart.
Eomer: . . .I think I’ll just get the kid a stuffed animal horse.
Grima: Much better.
I also think Grima gets easily spooked by flying insects. Like once he ascertains that the sudden movement within his line of vision isn’t going to hurt him, he’s fine. But his initial reaction is to get up and leave very quickly and let Eomer deal with it. Grima has a strong association between sudden movements and getting punched. Reasonable, really.
Shared thing? I think Eomer and Grima both find teeth to be really creepy.
Eowyn: They’re just bones in your mouth. It’s fine.
Grima: MOUTH BONES??? DON’T CALL THEM THAT.
Eowyn: Mouth! Bones! Mouth! Bones!
Eomer: I hate all of this.
Eowyn: Mouth bonessssss!
Eomer shows up in Osgiliath, hasn’t seen Eowyn in like two years, she gives him a hug and whispers ‘mouth bones’ into his ear just to freak him out. Because they’re loving and caring siblings like that.
Eowyn: My daughter is just starting to get her mouth bones in.
Grima: I refuse to engage with this.
Faramir: Babe, why are you like this??
Eomer: I brought this doll for her.
Eowyn: That is so cursed, I’m surprised Grima let you buy it.
Eomer: I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cute.
Eowyn: hmmmm yeah well you’re sleeping with that thing over there so I don’t know that your judgement can be trusted.
Grima: h e y.
Faramir: What kind of family did I marry into??
/
Now, for deeper fears.
Eomer is the one who has a deep seated fear of failure. Of not living up to the expectations set on him from a very young age. Both as son of Eomund, who is like local hero 101, and as nephew to the king. Being orphaned at a young age, I suspect he had a lot of pressure placed on him to Be the Man in the Family. To Take Care Of Everyone etc.
And it’s hard being the son of someone who has a bit of a legend around them when they’re alive, let alone when they’re dead and so they become an impossible standard to live up to.
This isn’t to say Eomer is a stick in the mud and doesn’t get up to mischief. This is the man who drops sick burns for a living and can be described as “compulsively truculent”. Like, Eomer at 18 was absolutely a bit of a mad lad. But, there was always this fear and anxiety hanging over him of having to live up to great expectations - most of which he’s placed on himself but he’s not aware of that.
Later, I’ve always headcanon-ed that he does a bit of that daft thing of comparing himself to Aragorn and is like “I’m not living up to the story book legend who rules the neighbouring kingdom” and despairs.
Eowyn: You’re doing fine. And really, Boromir and Arwen run 80% of everything. Aragorn disappears into the mountains at any given moment.
Eomer: But what if I’m somehow failing everything at all times? Have you thought about that? That I’m failing our parents and ruining our father’s legacy and destroying our uncle’s trust in me??
Eowyn: . . . yeah that’s not happening. You’re fine.
Eomer: BUT AM I???
Eowyn awkwardly pats his hand, ‘You’re fine.’ Eomer despairs.
Grima: Can’t do worse than me.
Eowyn: Yeah! You can’t do worse than Grima.
Eomer: That bar is so low it’s underground.
Additional to this, I think Eomer is scared of letting things go - like giving up control in situations. Because he’s got it into his head that so long as he is in control he can keep everyone safe and no one will die (i.e. his sister). And he’s terrified of things heading down the Road of Chaos.
Which like, Eomer, good luck with that. You live in Middle Earth and Grima’s still around being the agent of chaos that he is.
Grima: I’ve had a thought.
Eomer: Oh no. Put it back where you found it.
Grima: Too late, I’ve told Eothain and he thinks it’s great.
Eomer: Gods preserve me.
Eothain: Ok but hear us out --
-
For Grima - he’s got a long of weird, existential fears. The World Ending being the biggest of them. He’s got a bit of a nihilistic, hopeless streak in him that can get quite philosophical in terms of dread.
But for more personal, grounded fears, I think the main one is that he’s terrified of being seen. Of being vulnerable. Because if people see him/know him, surely they’ll hate him and leave him and that would hurt so, so much. Therefore, if he’s mean to everyone, including himself, then people can’t hurt him because he’s already doing their work for them to himself.
Yet, he’s also afraid of being alone and so desperately wants to love and be loved but doesn’t know how to go about making that happen in a healthy, normal manner. So he self-sabotages. Tells himself things like, “I was not a lovable child, and I’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul and it’d be a scribble with fangs.” - Gillian Flynn
This just creates a fucked up freeze/thaw cycle of “I want to fit in and belong somewhere, but if people know me they’ll see what an ugly thing I am, better that they don’t know me, so let me shut them out/be mean to them etc., no one cares for me because I am unworthy of it, this hurts a lot, and I think fitting in and belonging would probably stop it hurting, but if people know me they’ll see what an ugly thing I am, better they don’t ... so on and so forth.”
So yeah. His deep seated fears of being vulnerable + being along make for some twisted thinking and lots of self-sabotaging.
Grima; What is emotional vulnerability?? Never heard of it.
Theoden: You could give it a try, you know.
Grima: No. I refuse.
Grima does that thing that Carrie Fisher talks about: “Of all the violence I have known in my life, I have not known violence like the way I talk to myself.”
/
Thank you so much for the ask! This was an absolute blast to answer. I loved every minute of it.
I love all Grima and Eomer questions.
<3 <3
#Grima Wormtongue#Eomer#ask#anon#reply#LOTR#lord of the rings#lotr headcanons#Grima is scared of everything except things he should be scared of
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Season 2: The Rankings
Whew. Oh boy.
They were still puttering about in season 1 to an extent. But now? Now they’ve really hit their stride. This season was a veritable chocolate box of delights and I ate my way through it. The overall myth arc was kind of nonsensical, but that emotional throughline? Christ. Spn buries SO MUCH emotional complexity into its leads, and they cashed in every cent in that two part finale. It packs one hell of a punch. And yeah, okay, I knew the broad strokes, the twists and turns. It’s hard not to be spoilered for a season of tv that aired over a decade ago. But reader! It mattered not!! I. Still. Wept. That’s when you know it’s the good kush.
1.) 2x12: NIGHTSHIFTER. This one just snagged the top spot by merit of its sheer ambition. Supernatural often feels like a very empty universe to me, just two guys and one car drifting from place to place. Which is fine, it makes for compelling TV, but they totally flipped the script here and this episode really dazzles precisely because of that contrast. It’s a huge, cinematic episode, a metropolitan setting full of uncontrollable elements, and it’s great to see Sam and Dean so profoundly vulnerable. The outside world is pressing up against the windows. They have sniper dots trained on them! They are, literally and figuratively, out of their depth! We’re not in Kansas any more, baby. God, I haven’t even mentioned the supporting characters. The entire mandroid rant deserves an Emmy. Victor Henrickson’s entrance! Heist movie antics! Agh! 10/10
2.) 2x07: THE USUAL SUSPECTS. Again this episode was a cut above precisely because it showed us what the brothers look like from the outside: sketchy as all hell. It’s so good when reality ensures, because it’s great to be reminded they lead objectively insane lives! Through Linda Blair’s eyes we get to see just how unknowable, feral and amoral they appear to the eyes of polite society. Put under a microscope like this, they’re scary guys! They’re just not socialised like normal people. They don’t really care about being arrested, or about the felonies. Getting arrested is an irritant above everything else. They’re still working the case from the inside. They’re professionals; excellent liars, and totally in sync with each other. The handwritten notes they pass, like delinquent school kids! A delight! The thrill lies in watching Blair slowly unwrap their strange logic, and unravel the mystery of both the brothers and the ghost. Ugh, what a great perspective shift. I’m 100% here for it. 10/10
3.) 2x09: CROATOAN. Ugh, this setting. Small Town Gothic, complete with eerie mist, hostile locals and creepy Stepford vibes. Sam really shone in this episode. He’s so soothing and giant, and it made his suffering at the end all the more devastaing. The real reason this episode ranks so highly is their conversation in the surgery. It just killed me. Dean’s sheer, bone-deep exhaustion, his admission that he’s tired of the life. Sam’s despair, because he knows Dean won’t leave. The performances were so steller. I can’t even really think too deeply about it because it makes me too crazy. 10/10
4.) 2x21: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART ONE. I loved this finale so much more than the finale in Season 1, LOL. It might just be because I’m more invested now, who knows. The opening of this episode is a piece of art: Boston playing on the car stereo, the rain, the small cafe, the lighting. Gorgeous. I love when they have to interact with ordinary people! It adds so much: texture, humour, personality! It draws things out of Sam and Dean that we just don’t see when they have each other to bounce off of. It was so good to see Ava and Andy again. “I just woke up in freakin’ Frontierland!” The gang’s all here, folks! This episode would rank higher, but recieves minus points for the long boring speech the demon gives Sam, and killing off the first gay in the show 0.2 seconds after her introduction. Anyway. The ending of course unzipped me; Dean cradling Sam’s dead body, muttering “It’s okay, it’s not even that bad.” The elation of their reunion, so devastaingly cut short! Sam, twenty two years old, bleeding out in the mud. The sheer, hopelessness of it all. The horror. My notes for the end of the episode simply read: “Dean oh Christ. Oh my God. Oh no.” It’s just one of those scenes that stay with you long after the credits start rolling. 9/10
5.) 2x20: WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE. I never thought I could be so profoundly upset by watching a man happily mowing a lawn. Dean’s trauma over the loss of his mother has undercut the whole show up until this point, and here it bursts to the fore. What really got me was the simplicity of it all. Just a sit-down dinner, an engagement. A beer on the porch. Fuck, he deserves it. He deserves everything. All the performances were great, they really served to show there’s a whole life in these AU characters. The fact it wasn’t all perfect was bizarrely more devastating. AU Sam’s weird straight hair and dorky jacket sealed the deal for me, as did his baffled terror in the warehouse. But even here, with no training and no idea what’s happening, he gets into the Impala! Because that’s his brother! Because I’m a huge baby I had to remove points because of how upsetting I found Sam’s quiet hostility towards Dean, HA. But that’s really just a testament to how well-realised their dynamic has become by the second season. 9/10
6.) 2x15: TALL TALES. Every single thing Sam does in any of Dean’s memories. Also alien slowdance set to “Lady in Red.” Also Bobby breaking them up like they’re petulant children. Gold, all of it gold. 9/10
7.) 2x11: PLAYTHINGS. So I’m a slut for a cool setting, obviously. Turns out, Supernatural did The Haunting of Bly Manor fifteen years ago. The swimming pool! The attic! Creepy dolls! The weird little playground! This episode has it all! I loved the saga between the ghost sister and the old lady, which would honestly make a killer movie in its own right. But I’m digressing. The main star of this episode was, of course, Dean’s profound and escalating sexual insecurities. “Well, you are kinda butch. People probably think you’re overcompensating.” FATALITY. I would’ve placed this one higher but the weird incestuous undertones kinda squicked me out... however, I did think we were meant to be creeped out by it, which is more than I can say for some other uh. Instances. It was, after all, beautifully paralelled at the end with the two sisters reuniting in death. “I can’t leave here, and you can’t leave me.” SHUDDER. Also, honestly, can Sam have one (1) breakdown on his own without Dean’s own emotional baggage taking over? Older siblings, smh. 9/10
8.) 2x22: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE: PART TWO. This one ranks lower than part one purely because I thought the yellow-eyed demon’s overall plot was kinda nonsensical, and I cared not for John’s weird deux ex machina moment. Like do you expect me to feel sorry for that bitch? I don’t! Anyway, that being said, let’s move on to Dean’s eyes in the junkyard when Bobby asks him, “do you have that low an opinion of yourself?” They’re so flat. So dead, like a shark’s. He doesn’t need to say anything back, because it’s all over his face. That non-expression says it all. This is the culmination of the emotional arc that began with his savage beatdown of the Impala in episode 2x02. To call it survivor’s guilt wouldn’t even begin to cover what Dean goes through this episode. It’s all in Ackles’ performance; in the the way he yells, “What am I supposed to do now, Sammy?” The complete claustrophobia of it all. There’s nothing for it but to make the deal. Dean’s been moving inexorably towards this moment for the entire season. 9/10
9.) 2x13: HOUSES OF THE HOLY. What a kooky little episode! Magic fingers! Sam’s costcutter seance purchases! The scooby-doo placemat he uses as a makeshift altar! I love him, your honour. Obviously this episode has a lot of *~dramatic irony~* in it because of the later seasons, but it stands alone as a total banger. I was so gutted for Sam when the "angel” was revealed. So many good little Sam moments to be found in this episode. His soft, quiet little revelation that he prays every day. His awkward, earnest explanation to the horrified priest! Dean gets some great moments chasing down the would-be rapist down those dark, snow-covered streets. His speech to Sam where he explains his lack of belief is brief, but it’s a total gut punch. Rounding it off with Knockin on Heaven’s Door was just the cherry on top. 9/10
10.) 2x14: BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN. Ahaha I love the way Dean acts whenever Sam’s psychic powers come up. He treats him like a rebellious teen, it’s so funny. “What’s going on with you, Sam? Smokin’, drinkin’?” As if Sam’s behaviour was a) at all under his control or b) anything Dean wouldn’t HIMSELF do. Dean’s just like, this isn’t how I raised you! Truly hysterical. The whole sequence between Meg!Sam and Jo was fantastic and horrible. Sam’s huge physique is never threatening, but it really was in that moment. The interplay between them was totally spine-tingling. Meg’s impression Sam slowly crumbling away over the course of the episode was so compelling and I’m sure it will be a really fun rewatch now I know the *twist*. 9/10
Favourite lines this season:
The way Sam says “black cat’s bone” in 2x08
“You’re not gonna go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?!” - Dean, 2x13
“Dean, this is a very serious investigation, we don’t have time for your blah blah blah blah.” - Sam (according to Dean), 2x15
“I’m fine, except for every single thing that’s happening.” - Ava, 2x21
#I feel like I'm exposing myself as a sam girl here#I love them equally I swear#supernatural#there's so much i left out like my comprehensive love for JO#what does she have? A KNIFE#I just didn't really dig NO EXIT as an episode sadly#spnwatch
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22 and 23 with lilith and sweets
request: from this list from @southsidearchive - “I’m calling it. We are officially lost in the woods.” and “Why are you going towards the creepy noise?”ship: sweet pea x lilith (oc)
Cheryl and Toni’s haunted house and hayride were the talk of the town every year. There’s candy and booze and zombies, everything that budding adults could want in a spooky holiday event.
“I don’t know why you won’t go,” Lilith nudges Sweet Pea with the toe of her boot under the coffee table. “Fangs and Toni go every year.”
Sweet Pea puts his cup of black coffee back down on the table, pulling glasses off his nose to look her in the eyes, “First of all Toni lives there. She has no choice.”
Lilith narrows her eyes at him, her mug warming her fingertips, “You know what I mean, you rotten thing. Your friends are all there!”
“Don’t know if I’m to the point of calling you my friend just yet,” he jests coolly, a smirk playing at his lips. He thumbs at the pages of the book on the table, marking his place because he knows her too well to think that this conversation is just over.
“Well, whatever I am to you,” Lilith starts, the spice from her latte warming her throat, “it shouldn’t matter because Fangs wants you to go. He’s just too nervous to make a big deal out of it to you.”
Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and tosses his glasses onto the countertop, “Why would I make Fangs nervous?”
“Maybe because you’re, I dunno, like six foot of pent up rage and frustration?”
“I am not-”
Lilith raises a brow and he shuts his lips.
“You are known not to change your mind, even when Fangs is involved. But, I think you should just sacrifice one Friday night and go. What else better have you got to do?” she asks, tilting her cup against her lips after she finishes speaking.
Sweet Pea notices the little glimmer in her purple irises that she always gets when she knows she’s going to change his mind. Somehow she always bullies him into doing things he’d rather not.
“I’ve got books and beer, what else do I need?” he wraps his tattooed fingers around the handle of his mug and leans back in his chair.
Lilith sighs and shakes her head before gnawing on her lower lip, trying to figure out the best way to guilt Sweet Pea into coming. She takes a breath, “Listen, I get you not wanting to socialize, but it’s your friends. And it’s me. Don’t you think you could make an exception for just one Halloween?”
It’s really unfair the way her eyes are boring into him like some sort of lasers, and the way the pout on her full lips makes his heart beat heavy in his chest. He groans and she’s trying not to break character because she knows she has him hook, line and sinker.
Truth be told, he’s not sure when he’s ever been off her hook.
“Fine, but there better be beer.”
“I’ll stash you some in my purse.”
--
It was supposed to be a simple haunted corn maze, that’s all.
How did they end up in pairs? Sweet Pea doesn’t know.
All he knows is that Lilith is gripping his bicep for dear life as he trudges through the winding maze of fresh corn stalks. He sighs when her fingers dig into the skin of his arm but he won’t complain because tonight is specifically not about him.
“Lilith, no one is going to hurt you, I swear,” Sweet Pea grunts out the words, trying to make them sound as far from protective as possible.
She sniffles a little and it makes his heart twinge, “I-I know that, like deep down, but I’m still scared, you know? It’s dumb, I know. I-I’m sorry.”
Instead of patronizing her like he really wants to, Sweet Pea begrudgingly wraps his arm around her shoulder and tucks her into his side, the blush on his cheeks unable to be seen in the darkness of the night. She fits right into him, her arms circling around his waist as her cheek presses into the fabric of his flannel shirt under his Serpent jacket.
“I think we should go left, we haven’t gone left yet,” Lilith murmurs, her fingertips twitching against his ribcage in what he can only assume is anxiety. He nods, keeping his palm tight on her shoulder so she knows that he won’t leave.
“Left is good,” he answers.
It takes a little while, but finally they wind their way into a horde of zombies. Seven people with fake blood and wounds start to chase after them to turn them away from the direction they’re going, and Lilith’s first reaction is to punch the nearest one in the face. He or she goes staggering backwards, giving them both enough time to turn and jog towards a new curve in the maze.
“Holy shit, Lil,” Sweet Pea laughs as they slow to a walk again. “I didn’t know you had such a wicked right hook.”
Lilith is laughing through quick pants of breath, but the smile on her face makes his insides turn to rubble. She laughs, eyes sparkling under the stars, “Mom taught me that.”
She squeezes his hand and it’s the first time he realizes that she was ever holding it in the first place.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t retract from her. Mostly to keep her from being embarrassed, he tells himself; there’s no reason to draw attention to it because it’ll just cause her to become more flustered than she is already and he’s not sure if he could handle her at that level.
“I don’t think we’ve gone this way,” she mutters as she drags him to the right, very far away from the zombie horde.
And, like a little lost puppy, he follows.
--
It takes another thirty minutes, but finally Sweet Pea breaks his self-imposed vow of silence: “I’m calling it. We’re officially lost in the woods.”
“It’s not the woods, dummy,” Lilith smacks the back of her palm against his arm. She laughs and leads him through another winding path.
He grunts, “There’s no way that Thistlethorn, or whatever the hell this place is called, is this big. We’re lost.”
“Think of it as an adventure,” Lilith grins up at him. She’s really close, close enough that he can feel the warmth of her skin and smell the floral fragrance of her perfume or her shampoo, whichever it is. The intoxicating concoction of her eyes, her lips, and her smell, makes him fall under some sort of spell and he finds himself thinking that maybe it is just an adventure.
Sweet Pea will not let her know that’s she’s won, so he huffs out a grunt and rolls his eyes to conceal his succession. He sighs, “Fine, Lilith. Whatever. Just lead the way.”
The giddiness in her step makes some sort of fluttering feeling in his chest, right where his lungs are kept hostage. He is short of breath for just a moment, but then as she’s leading him through the moonlight, he catches himself and follows after her.
--
“Hah, suckers!” Reggie pumps his fists in the air as Lilith and Sweet Pea break out of the maze. He grabs Veronica around the waist and twirls her in the air, “Told you we’d beat those guys, Ronnie.”
Veronica fusses at him not to mess up her costume makeup, just a simple cat eye and some over-exaggerated contouring to pair with her kitty ears. He chuckles before kissing her on the top of the head, turning to look at Betty and Jughead emerge from another exit.
“All that’s left is Fangs and Kevin,” Jughead mentions. His cheeks color but he says what he’s thinking, “Although, I’m not sure that they’re very preoccupied with getting through the maze anyway.”
Sweet Pea scrunches up his nose and Lilith leans into his side automatically. Somehow his arm reaches around her shoulders like muscle memory as she dips into him, holding her close enough that he can rest his chin on her head. He does not miss the look that Toni flashes him from across the yard where she’s manning a punch bowl and finger foods, dolled up in witch costume.
“You ready for the haunted house part?” Lilith is stood in front of him now, her body blocking him from anything and everything in his way. She is smiling too bright, her eyes too wide, and so he finds himself saying yes even though he really wants to curl up at home with his book and his beer until he falls asleep in his recliner.
She peals in laughter, eyes squinting shut so he can no longer see the amethyst of her irises. Her hand squeezes his tightly, pulling him towards the entrance to the manor.
As soon as they walk through the double doors, the entire atmosphere goes cold. He feels Lilith’s shoulder shake beside him and despite his better judgment, he is peeling off his jacket and wrapping it around her upper body.
“W-Wait, I-I don’t want to t-take this from you,” she chatters out, her shoulders hunching to try and hold her body heat in. Sweet Pea shakes his head, “S’fine. I’ve got a couple layers on anyway. You need it more than me.”
The fact that he’s saying this about his Serpent jacket makes Lilith’s throat go numb. She can’t even force a line of gratitude from between her lips. All she can do is slip her hands through the jacket and allow it to envelope her in some sort of safety net.
She tries her luck again and finds his hand by his side, threading her fingers through it with bated breath until he reciprocates.
And when he does, she lets her breath out through her teeth.
--
“W-Why are you going toward the creepy noise?!” Lilith manages from where she’s hidden behind Sweet Pea’s broad shoulders. Sweet Pea laughs, the sound vibrating his body, “Because it’s usually the scariest bits that you have the least to be afraid of. They’re just trying to keep us from finding the exit to where the party is.”
Lilith blindly trusts him, digging her nose between his shoulder blades so she doesn’t have to watch as a masked villain pops from behind the curtains. If she’s being honest, it’s also to keep herself from punching someone else in the face. She can’t handle being responsible for two broken noses in one night.
“See,” Sweet Pea murmurs, turning his head to speak over his shoulder. “There’s the red rope, and Toni is gonna let us inside.”
Lilith peeks out from behind him, her frame easily hidden behind his own. She smiles at the sight of Toni Topaz, abandoning Sweet Pea to rush forward and grasp her friend up in a hug.
“God, Toni, you’re going to have a lawsuit on your hands tonight,” Lilith laughs into her friend’s shoulders. “I punched one of your zombies in the corn maze.”
Toni kisses Lilith’s cheek before releasing her, “You’re lucky it was Andrews. He just laughed it off and is drinking whiskey at the bar. I’m sure an apology wouldn’t hurt, though.”
Lilith nods and turns to find Sweet Pea stood behind her. She grins up at him and he forces his face not to mimic her expression with the way her smile makes his heartbeat quicken.
“Free booze inside, right? The least you could do for scaring the shit out of us,” Sweet Pea brings Toni in for a hug of his own. She laughs, swatting his chest, “Oh, Pea, you know better. You pay us to scare you.”
“Hardly seems like a fair trade.”
“No one said anything about fair, honey.”
Sweet Pea keeps the retort on his tongue because Lilith is pushing her way inside with a final goodbye to Toni. She twirls around, the ends of her skirt flowing under the lights of the dance floor.
“What a way to blow off some steam,” she laughs, maneuvering her hands around in a way that Sweet Pea can only describe as sensual. Something electrifies his body and he forces something akin to words out of his lips about grabbing drinks.
Of course she doesn’t care, but Pea needs some liquid confidence if he’s going to survive the rest of the night.
When he gets back, her eyes are glowing playfully under the lights, a flush on her cheeks from dancing and her body has begun to sway almost of it’s own accord.
“I’m sorry I dragged you here,” she apologizes after taking a sip of whatever is in the cup that he brought her. She sets it down on the table beside where they’re standing, “I-I thought that Fangs would care more, or Toni. I guess you were right.”
Sweet Pea shrugs, tipping his glass back to take a long drag of the on-tap beer for the night, “S’all right, Lil. I���m fine. Like you said, I had nothing better to d-”
“I wanted you to come.”
He’s lost for words, running his tongue along his teeth so he can gather something like his pride back together. He keeps his jaw from going slack but it’s not easy.
Lilith’s cheeks are bright red, her dark skin favoring the color naturally. She swallows and he watches as her throat bobs, “I-I wanted you to come. I wanted to spend time alone with you. Without the others.”
“That’s generally what alone means.”
It’s not what he meant to say, but it’s the only thing he could force out.
Lilith looks stunned and she takes a step back from him like he’s wounded her, “Y-Yeah, yeah, I guess so.”
Sweet Pea puts his drink down because he really doesn’t want her to walk away, and grabs her by the hands, keeping her anchored to him.
“That was a dick thing to say, I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and wishes he hadn’t taken such a deep swig of that beer so quickly. Lilith chews on her lip for a second before responding, “No, it’s fine. I-I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did,” he recovers. He blinks hard to shut the stars out of his eyes, “I wanted to come. I’m the one that got us paired together for the corn maze. I wanted to be alone with you too.”
Lilith’s body seems to lose the tension she was holding in her bones before, and she takes a step towards him, barely any space between them now. All Sweet Pea can pay attention to is the way that his Serpent jacket hangs off of her shoulders, coupled with the purple dress she chose to wear tonight. How did she know that purple is his favorite color?
“Y-You did?”
He can’t help it when the laugh escapes his lips, but it’s not one of humiliation, but rather relief. He allows one hand to reach up to cup her jaw and he nods, “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I’m absolute trash at relationships. I figured our not-date-dates at the coffee shop were enough to give the hint and you’re normally such a first move kind of girl that I--oh.”
Lilith’s lips are on his and he can taste the cocktail on her tongue. She’s toying with the buttons of his shirt and all he can think about is her slowly peeling it from his shoulders and throwing it on the floor.
He manages to respond before she pulls away in shock, leaning down to better accommodate her size. He wants to pick her up by the thighs and haul her out of Thornbush - or whatever the hell it’s called - and drag her back to the Southside, but he won’t put her through that here in front of everyone else.
“First move kind of girl, hm?” she asks as she peels herself away from him, coming down from her tip-toes.
The sultry look in her eyes is sinful and he has to stop his imagination from running as he holds his hands steady on her hips now, not allowing himself anything further. He nods, swallowing thickly before speaking, “I’m not good at this. I thought you might be better. And if you thought I was worth your time-”
“You’re worth it,” she says quickly, leaning up to push one gentle kiss to his lips. The heat of a blush creeps up her neck and she can’t stop wondering how long she’s waited to feel Sweet Pea’s mouth on her own.
Lilith runs her thumb over his pectoral and looks up at him through her lashes, “What do you say with us starting to make those not-date-dates into totally-date-dates?”
It is Sweet Pea’s turn to steal a kiss now, bent at the waist to capture her mouth quickly before murmuring into her lips, “I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a date,” she whispers, forgetting her drink and losing herself in his eyes.
---
a/n: thank you so much for this prompt!! i loved writing it!!
tagging: @melton-my-heart @thesweetestsweetpea @theangriestpea @the-gargoyle-queen @jezzabelleserpent @vannahsunshine @sweetpeasbabydoll @sweetfogarty @wayward-river @hugharekillianmelou @princesweetpea @southsidewrites
#sweet pea#sweet pea x reader#sweet pea fanfic#sweet pea imagine#sweet pea one shot#riverdale#sweet pea x oc#sweet pea x lilith#ch: lilith#my writing
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Only For A Moment Ch. 41
Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?
Warnings: Implied abuse, flashback, and I promise fluff
A/N: Omg a new chapter already?! I know! Buuuuut it’s also pretty short, just a little sweet moment that needed to stand on its own. On the plus side the next chapter will be longer and y’all shouldn’t have to wait a month for that one either.
This was partially inspired by a HC request from @wonderlandmind4!
Tags are open!
Bucky can feel their hands on him.
Calloused. Rough. Soldier’s hands. Hands like his.
His muscles ache with the effort it takes to not fight back. It’ll only be worse if he does. They’ll only do worse.
Quiet. Still. Give them nothing. No reaction.
Don’t let them know how it breaks something in him. Don’t let them see the pain.
When he hears the insidious crackle of the shock baton though he can’t help but wince. Desperate as he is to say no, to beg, he doesn’t. It won’t matter if he does.
As the arc of electricity meets his skin he wakes up.
Slowly his eyes swivel in their sockets, taking in what they can of his surroundings. He knows this ceiling by now with its familiar water stains. Knows the faint glow from the bathroom providing just enough light to remove deep shadows. Even knowing where he is doesn’t allow his muscles to release.
Instead, he lays there, frozen, unable to take a full breath, or calm his heart rate. Some part of his mind still screaming that this is just another trick, that somehow they’re just waiting beyond his vision to come back and howl with cruel laughter as they-
Movement to his right. Sheets rustle followed by a soft contented sigh. In the small bed, your skin rubs against his.
Immediately Bucky’s muscles release. Tentatively he draws in a deep breath, his lungs almost burning with relief. Ever so carefully he moves to face you, fighting back a cry of joy at being free to move, to live, to be here with you.
You’re asleep on your stomach, your face turned toward him. In the soft light sneaking from the cracked bathroom door, you look incredibly serene.
There’s nothing there to indicate the battles you’ve fought or the ghosts you keep locked inside, nothing directly speaks of your strength both physical and your will to keep going. There are a few freckles where the sun was lucky enough to kiss you as he does. There are the softest of laugh lines, he likes to think of the joy you must have felt for them to have found their way into your skin, he likes to dream of adding more in time.
Sleep doesn’t return to him that night. For once, that’s just fine with him. Memorizing your features so that nothing, not even that fucking chair, could strip you from his heart gives him a sense of peace. Watching over you, ready to chase off any nightmare that would dare disturb you makes him feel like he has a purpose. And despite being conscious, counting your breaths and noting your soft sleep sounds makes him feel oddly rested.
It’s far from the final sleepless night he has but it changes things. From that night onward, if he wakes without disturbing you he falls into this ritual.
Another night.
Once again the feeling of unwanted hands tears him from sleep.
Only now the paralytic fear slips from him a bit faster. There’s a face to study, someone to protect, a count to keep.
Bucky turns cautiously as he always does but when his eyes light on your face he’s met not with your serene sleeping face but with loving yet haunted eyes.
“Hey,” your voice rough with emotion. “Did I wake you?”
For a moment he considers lying. After all, he can see the ghosts now see the weight of everything etched into the shadows on your face, what right did he have to add to your burden… He can’t bring himself to do it though.
“No. I—it was a dream.”
Your brows knit as you gently touch his cheek, “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it.”
“What’d you mean, doll?”
“I… If I can’t sleep I figure one of us should get some rest so I keep a lookout.” You let out something akin to a laugh, “Kinda creepy I guess.”
All the times he’d been woken from the beginnings of a dream by your tender touch fill his mind. Each time he’d thought that you woke from a noise he made or maybe he lashed out. How many instances had you just been keeping your own vigil?
His chest may burst, from heartache or love he’s not sure. Tugging you close he presses his lips to yours—savoring the way you yield to him, how your bodies fit together.
“It’s not creepy,” he says before kissing your forehead as you tuck your head against his chest. “Or if it is I don’t care.” He feels your body shake with a little chuckle.
“I’m happy to have you watching over me.”
“Always, Bucky. Always.”
Tag List:
@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @disagreetoagree @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @fairislesheets @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @wintersoldierswhore @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @jewelofwinter @siriuslycloudy2 @hardygal69 @jdoenson @gamorazenn @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @demonlover87 @winterboobearsworld
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Smallville S2E21: Excelarate
Chloe functionally isn’t in this episode, and I’m 100% here for that. Long may it continue
Who decided that teen genre shows would all feature cinemas which show black and white horror movies? Why is that a thing?
We’re getting right into the plot with minimal bullshit this week – Lana is clearing up the cinema (we’re had multiple episodes about contracts involving the cinema, and this is the first time we’re actually seeing it) when the projector starts playing a home movie of Lana as a kid, and then the kid from the home movie just fucking teleports in and freaks her out. To be fair to the show, it’s actually a surprisingly effective horror bit. It would be more effective it is was happening to literally anyone other than Lana, but hey.
The not-ghost is in Lana’s bedroom now. Which would be spookier if anyone in this fucking town LOCKED THEIR FUCKING DOORS
Okay, so the little girl is Lana’s childhood best friend who drowned, and Lana has screaming nightmares about it. Hands up who thinks this trauma is ever going to be addressed again after this one specific episode?
Oooh, concept – youtube channel where professional stylish bastard Lionel Luthor does food criticism
Okay why is this, why is ‘Lana’s being fucking haunted’ the point at which Chloe draws the line? Insect men? Sure, everyone knows Amazonian tribes can do that. Shapeshifters? Obviously. Vampires? Totally a legit thing. Ghosts though? No way, that’s just fucking weird.
I need some context for how far it is from Granville to Smallville, because this small not a ghost apparently walked it no problems
Oh good, we’re like three scenes in and the meteor kid du jour has already murdered someone. Why does everyone in this fucking town turn to murder as their first option!
Why does no one in the show own an umbrella? Is the director just real into seeing Clark get all wet? Because I try not to kink shame, but that’s just weird.
I love that this kid decided the best way to reconnect with her old friend was to go full on Chucky
I know for a fact Smallville hospital has security, so why the fuck are people allowed to just wander in and out of patients hospital rooms? Especially when so many of them end up being there to kill someone!
“Who needs human friends when you could have a definitely haunted evil doll?” Learning some things about Lana today.
Lana and Clark are way too okay with finding creepy murder basements. I know that happens to them like once a month, but I really don’t feel like that’s something anyone should get used to.
Okay, I get why a mad scientist might want to clone his dead daughter. I get why he’d do it in a creepy murder basement. The thing I don’t get is why the fuck he gave her superspeed of all thing, speaking as someone who’s done a fair bit of babysitting in their life, that seems like the worst possible power to give to a nine year old.
Why the fuck is the not-ghost murder child sitting in a creepy rocking chair like she’s fucking sweet Audrina. Wait, little girl who’s not the same as a dead little girl but might be the same and she’s got a rocking chair and her dad is trying to force her to remember her childhood trauma… Oh fuck, Smallville was bad enough without bring VC Andrews into it. What’s next, a flowers in the attic episode? I guess incest is the one taboo they haven’t gone to bat for yet in this show.
Lex I love you, but if you don’t want people to think you’re a supervillain you really need to stop starting conversations with “all ethics aside…”
Okay, I can forgive Lana a little bit for her shit because she at least knows that if a child gives you a drawing you have to say you like it, even if the child is a murder-clone
“She’s got severe chromosomal damage, she has no concept of right or wrong.” What the fuck does that have to do with chromosomes, Smallville writers?! Could it be that maybe she has no morals because she’s three days old!
Oh wow, we’re two season in and it turns out Kristin Kruek can actually act? And I get why you wouldn’t bother with scripts of this calibre, but I can’t help feeling her career wouldn’t have had to go full on Legend of Chun Li if she’d just tried at least this much more often.
That might just be the worst fake CPR in the whole history of fake CPR, and that’s really saying something.
Holy shit, are actions having consequences? Are we getting… fallout? Someone official has actually noticed all the people who died in the white saviour prophesy caves, and yeah it took Lionel bribing them for their to be any action, but they did something! That’s a major step forward. I’m proud of you Kansas state government.
So every character arc in this episode can by summarised as “Bitch, get some got damned therapy!”. None of them are going to get any therapy.
Hey does anyone remember that episode of Buffy with the invisible girl, and at the end it turns out there’s a whole government department that recruits invisible kids as assassins? Yeah, that. Lionel is doing that. I should probably be less on board with that than I am, but honestly as the only person in this show who actually gets shit done, I’d rather Lionel had the evil superpowered clone army than, say, the government.
#smallville#smallville recaps#charlie watches a thing#welcome to cake critique with your host lionel luthor#today: salted caramel brownies#how moist is too moist?#tell me you wouldn't watch the shit out of that
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Anonymous asked:
Do you remember welcome to the game? I kinda (extremely) want a fic where after jackaboy man gets kidnapped, he gets to the doll place to be turned into one, but gets saved by the others (I want some gore though)(I am very sadistic wow)
TW - there is gore, mutilation, amputation, and descriptions of slaves and hints at sex slaves!
--
Accessing the deep web was not advised in all the tutorials telling Jackaboy Man how to do it, but the deep feeling inside him to fight injustice sent him into it, after playing Welcome to the Game in Jack’s stead. If he could find out the true locations of the Red Rooms, he could potentially save the people from their fate. What he wasn’t expecting, as he sat at his computer attempting to get access to one of the rooms, was for someone to pop up next to him, as they had during the game itself, leaving the creepy, haunting music box sounds of the Doll Maker echoing through the room as Jackaboy was dragged away from the computer.
Blackness enveloped him even as Jackaboy tried to fight, swinging for his attacker. Whoever it was they were strong and agile and had the element of surprise and it was a losing battle from the beginning. Consciousness eluded him, and Jackaboy felt as if he were floating in nothingness, a comforting feeling but a feeling outside of control that he didn’t enjoy.
Pain was the next thing he knew.
His suit had been taken from him, but the mask had been kept on his face leaving him naked except for that. He felt numb, unable to truly move as he felt someone’s hands on him. Jackaboy blinked his eyes open, and a bathroom slowly came into focus. He had no idea where he was, but it was cold and he had no idea who was touching him but their hands were coursed and he hated it.
Struggling, he felt the hands still.
“You’re awake, I see.” A voice said.
Distinctly male, the voice had an accent that Jackaboy didn’t recognise, although there was something about it that reminded him of Schneeplestein and something told him he wasn’t in Ireland anymore.
As more of the room came into focus, Jackaboy realised he was lying in the bath and the strange man, wearing a mask over his face, was washing him down with scented soaps. His hair had been pushed back from his face and washed previously, and Jackaboy shivered at the idea of what this man had done to him while he had been unconscious.
“Don’t try to talk.” The man ordered, continuing to wash him even as Jackaboy tried to free himself from the bonds on his arms and legs. “Or move.”
The man slapped him, hard, and lights burst in front of his eyes. It didn’t discourage Jackaboy from trying to get free, this was something he needed to do. Fear was beginning to pierce his gut, and a helplessness that he didn’t know where he was, how long he had been there or what this man wanted to do to him.
“You’re going to be a special one.” The man cooed, “I’ve never done a male doll before.”
“D-doll?” Jackaboy coughed the word out around a gag tied tightly around his head, but the man seemed to understand exactly what he was asking.
The manic, enthused expression on his face made Jackaboy quiver. Turning off the shower he had been using to clean Jackaboy, the unfamiliar man forced the hero to his feet and dragged him from the tub. Jackaboy tried to remember details, anything he could of the bathroom in case he needed them to escape later, but his head felt foggy from whatever had been used to keep him under, and movements made everything lose focus again.
Upon leaving the bathroom, Jackaboy was hit with the smell of death and decay. His stomach turned and were it not for the gag he would have vomited. He had to swallow the urge back down as he stumbled along with the man, unable to walk properly but keeping his balance by sheer luck. Wherever they were going was close to the bathroom, and soon the man was opening a door and revealing to Jackaboy a room where a girl was chained to the wall.
Jackaboy was glad for the gag, as it cut off the strangled scream he wanted to make at the sight of the girl. She had no arms or legs, only metal poles protruding from smooth, white stumps. These metal poles were attached to an O-ring which was what was keeping her chained to the wall. There was no reaction in her to seeing the man with Jackaboy in his hands, she merely tilted her head and surveyed them with eyes that told Jackaboy she had been like this for a while.
“Aren’t you looking forward to matching with my darling?” The man asked, so excited it made Jackaboy’s stomach twist again. “I think you’re clean enough for the procedure to start.”
Instinct kicked in and Jackaboy tried to fight, but the bonds on his arms and legs were too tight to break with sheer power, and whatever drug was still in his system was affecting his superhero powers. The man was easily able to hold him still and inject him again. The last thing Jackaboy remembered seeing was the girl, leaning against the wall, and a strained sorrow in her dead eyes.
–
When consciousness returned to him again, Jackaboy’s entire body was numb and he had a headache, but he blinked through the pain to identify where he was. The room was clean and clinical considering where they were, and when Jackaboy turned his head to the side he saw surgical tools, including a bone-saw. His blood ran cold and he wanted to struggle, but his body wouldn’t respond.
“Hush now.”
The man was there, standing outside of Jackaboy’s view, but that didn’t stop the hero thrashing his head around to try and see him.
“I decided you’re going to be a special project for me, since you’re my first male.” The man hummed, “You’re going to be awake during the procedure, and I’m going to rig up a camera so you can see exactly what is happening.”
Jackaboy tried to speak but couldn’t, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He would beg if he could, beg this man to let him go, but he couldn’t, and the man seemed unaware of his plight, happily setting up the camera by his feet before moving around to his head to set up a screen that Jackaboy could see.
“Someone is going to pay top dollar for you.” He sang, “They believe you look like someone famous, but I do not care who you look like, just how well you behave. Will you behave for me, pet?”
Mustering what strength he could, Jackaboy bit at the man’s fingers when he trailed them down his jaw, earning him a swift slap, that he couldn’t even feel but that still left him disorientated. The screen came into view, with a perfect image on it of his own legs. And despite not being able to feel them, Jackaboy knew they were his own legs, knew from the scars he had obtained during his time as a superhero, from the miscoloured nail of the big toe on his right foot where had ran the door over it and bruised it…he just knew they were his legs.
For now.
The man disappeared again, and Jackaboy saw the bone-saw disappear. Eyes glued to the screen, he watched the man draw a perfect line just above his knee cap before putting the saw to skin and beginning to push it back and forth. Blood gushed forth immediately, and even though he was full of anaesthetic, Jackaboy screamed. He couldn’t feel any pain, couldn’t feel the saw tearing through skin and muscle towards his bone but seeing it was nearly as bad. The man was still talking to him but Jackaboy couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear anything over the wet sound of the saw, over his own screaming, over the splattering of blood.
When the man reached the bone, he paused for a moment, and Jackaboy watched him packing gaze to the wound to help stem the bleeding. The crunching of the saw going through the bone made his stomach heave, but Jackaboy was kept perfectly still. Screaming himself hoarse, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the gruesome sight above him. The camera had flecks of blood on it, the man was completely covered and Jackaboy was starting to get dizzy. With a sickening sound, the bone of his thigh snapped in half, leaving his leg attached by only muscle, sinew and skin, which the bone-saw made quick work of.
All Jackaboy could taste was sick in his mouth, and he was crying harshly, his mouth open in a silent scream as the man moved his amputated leg aside and pulled out a cauterising tool. It was strange, seeing his own wound cauterised to the point that the bleeding wouldn’t kill him, and it felt even weirder, since Jackaboy was able to feel some sort of sensation from the tool. When the man stepped around the table to his other leg, Jackaboy’s vision started to fade at the edges. He couldn’t watch that again…couldn’t go through the knowledge that he was about to lose another leg but his brain was too active, too fired up from the knowledge to allow him the sweet comfort of unconsciousness.
The sounds were just as worse this time, and this time, Jackaboy could feel some sort of sensation. It didn’t hurt, but he could feel the saw moving across his skin, through his muscles, and the sight of it was enough to make him dry heave again. It was so red, so stringy and clinging to the blade as it slowly sliced down to the bone. And his bone…so white against all that red. Jackaboy couldn’t feel the blood, but he could see that the entire bottom of the table was swimming red, and the man seemed to be taking the greatest pleasure.
“You will be the greatest doll.” He whispered as he began to saw the bone.
Something smashed in the corner of the room but Jackaboy couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. The man screamed something, a curse or a warning, and suddenly, on the screen above Jackaboy, the man fell forward across his ruined limbs, a knife sticking out of his chest.
The screen moved, and Jackaboy vaguely wondered if it had been replaced by a mirror.
“Where’s Scheep?!” A voice – one that sounded just like Anti – demanded.
“Oh my fucking god!” and “Holy jesus!” followed, and Jackaboy thought those voices belonged to Chase and Marvin respectively.
“Schneeplestein get the fuck in here!” Anti was yelling again and Jackaboy slowly began to realise that the other egos were indeed in the room with him.
“Jackaboy! Jackaboy! Can you hear me?!”
It was Marvin standing above him, cat mask pushed up off his face, which looked slightly green and his eyes were ablaze with worry. Chase was next to him, looking so pale he almost seemed like a ghost, and when Jackaboy looked past them to where the screen now rested, he saw Anti retrieving his knife from the dead stranger.
Schneeplestein finally entered and did a double take at the scene.
“Can we save this leg?” Anti asked, gesturing to the leg that had only half been cut through.
“It may be possible, but ve vill need to be quick.” Schneep replied, immediately going for the tools abandoned by the side of the bed. “Jackaboy Man, my friend, I am going to put you to sleep. Vhen you vake up, this vill all be over.”
Jackaboy didn’t have the strength to respond.
–
The bed he woke in was comfortable, warm and clean. He was also dressed, and pain free and the room was familiar, his own back at the house they all shared with Seán and Signe. Marvin and Chase were sat by his bed, Chase playing with a fidget spinner and Marvin reading, and on the other side, Schneep was checking his vitals.
“Ah, you are avake.” He exclaimed, alerting Chase and Marvin to the news.
“W-wh…what hap…happened?” Jackaboy coughed as he spoke, and Schneep shushed him quickly.
“Do not try to talk. It vill be painful for a few days.” He said, “As for vhat happened, Chase is the best to explain.”
Chase nodded. “Well, you were playing the game, that Welcome to the Game thing for Jack? And then you decided to go into the deep web yourself? You were actually kidnapped dude, and taken to that guy who makes dolls? He’s a real person, they actually transported you across Europe. That’s why it took us so long to find you! And why he…managed to start work on you before we did.”
“Anti’s currently tracking down the man who kidnapped you, and the one who ordered it and wanted you to be made into a doll.” Marvin added, “He’s out for blood.”
“As he should be.” Schneeplestein sniffed, “Vhat he has done to you is horrible.”
“My…legs?” Jackaboy asked. He couldn’t feel anything below the waist, and there was a terrible moment where he thought maybe the damage had been irreversible.
“Ve saved the leg that he did not amputate.” Schneeplestein confirmed, smiling comfortingly at Jackaboy. “As for the amputated leg, ve had to get creative, especially since he cauterised the vound.”
“Dr Schneep worked wonders though!” Chase declared, “He fixed your leg back on.”
“You vill be facing intense physiotherapy to get full use of your legs back.” Schneep warned, “But I believe you vill be able to be back out there fighting crime again.”
Jackaboy smiled and felt his eyes prick with tears. “Thank…thank you for…co…coming to…sa…save me.”
Schneeplestein, Marvin and Chase shook their heads, “You’re our brother, Jackaboy, we wouldn’t leave you to those creeps.”
“Now, get some rest, you vill need it.” Schneeplestein ordered, before ushering Chase and Marvin out of the room. “If you need me, press that button and I vill come.” He added, before closing the door.
Jackaboy lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the blood, the muscle and bone breaking, and he could hear the noises. Breathing erratically, he refused to sleep, forcing himself awake so he could drink in the safety at being at home among the other egos. They had come for him. And he would get over this.
After all, he was a superhero, the world needed him.
#jackieboy man#jackaboy man#jse egos#dr schneeplestein#antisepticeye#chase brody#marvin the magnificent#tw gore#tw mutilation#tw amputation#tw slaves#tw sex slaves#repost#prompts#so queue me
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Weekend Top Ten #369
Top Ten Favourite Things About Teen Titans Go!
One of the funny things about life is observing elements of circularity. For instance, nearly twenty years ago, my younger brother really got into the original Teen Titans cartoon, and I sort of got into it with him (having a brother ten years younger than yourself is very good for keeping your oar in with kids’ content when you’re supposed to be too old for that sort of thing; as a result, I got to thoroughly enjoy Justice League, Samurai Jack, Harry Potter and lots more stuff that may have otherwise passed me by). I knew who the Titans were but hadn’t read a lot of their comics; the cartoon was my introduction to most of those characters. It was really good, benefited from a tremendous theme tune, and – for its time – quietly revolutionary in how it incorporated anime aesthetics into a western cartoon. Plus it had a cracking voice cast, which – not that I knew it at the time – would become as synonymous with those characters as Peter Cullen, Frank Welker, and Kevin Conroy had done with cartoons I’d watched as a child.
(that’s Optimus, Megatron, and Batman, in case you’re wondering)
Anyway, here we are, eighteen-or-so years later, and Teen Titans is just a beloved long-gone cult classic but bizarre comedic spin-off Teen Titans Go! is a minor phenomenon. The same characters, the same actors, but wilder, weirder, funnier, crazier, way more violent, and – bizarrely – far more integrated into the wider DC Universe. And my kids – especially my eldest daughter – bloody love the show. It is huge in our house. We’ve seen the film, we listen to the songs, they draw their own comics, they roleplay the characters; we have a home-made Raven costume, for god’s sake. I have a six-year-old who knows who Tara Strong is. This is incredible.
As a result, I’ve seen an awful lot (not quite every episode) of Teen Titans Go!. It’s fortunate, then, that it’s fantastic, easily one of the best comic-book cartoon adaptations ever made. It’s not just how funny it is; it’s madcap and self-referential and full of many (many) MANY DC comics references. And great, great songs. And – like I said before – tremendous performances. Teen Titans Go! To the Movies is a great, great movie with great, great songs and many great, great gags, and it’s a mixed blessing that it ended up being released in what may well be Annus Mirabilis for superhero movies: it’s great that it’s mixing it up with Infinity War, Black Panther, and Spider-Verse, but I feel it got overshadowed a bit. Say what you will for the slightly more “serious” original Teen Titans series, but it was the barmy chibi-inspired stepchild that got a movie.
So this week, I’m celebrating what has become my second-favourite superhero cartoon of all time (after Batman: The Animated Series, natch). My ten favourite things about Teen Titans Go!. Enjoy!
The Songs: I tried to pick a song, or some reference or line or scene, but really it’s impossible. The songs are sublime. So great, in fact, that I’ll probably do another Top Ten at some point listing my favourite TTG songs. Really catchy, great lyrics, supremely diverse, and full of references not just to DC but to, well, everything. There’s a song about America that includes the line “Samuel L. Jackson on the stamp”, which makes no sense as far as I can figure, but is just wonderful.
Deep, Deep (DEEP) Cut DC References: it started with the Darkseid doll. A little plush Darkseid doll that’s always leaning against the couch. How cute, how funny; Darkseid, the literal embodiment of evil, but as an adorable snuggly. And then it got deeper, and weirder, and more wild. B’wana Beast. Alternate universe Robins. “That movie where their moms are both called Martha”. The Haunted Tank. The Haunted Tank! What kind of kids’ show references The Haunted Tank?! And then there’s the fact that The Comedian’s blood-stained smiley face badge is on display in the Batcave. Let’s go back over that one: there are Watchmen references in this cartoon for six-year-olds.
Batman and Gordon: the original Teen Titans cartoon pretty much never mentioned any aspect of the universe outside of the five characters, barring one fleeting visual reference to the Batcave and the episode where you meet the Doom Patrol. TTG has no qualms about explaining that, yes, Robin is Batman’s sidekick. So we see the Batcave, and Wayne Manor, and Alfred. But it’s Batman’s relationship with Gordon that’s golden. Not just stoic men’s men who diligently work alongside one another, never questioning, never needing to; no, they’re best mates, giggling schoolkids who want to shirk off all work and just sit in their PJs watching crap on the telly. Like a superheroic version of Beavis and Butt-Head, they’re often there, in the background, goofing off, playing games, undercutting the narrative. It’s such a perfect inversion of Batman’s usual persona and a great way of referencing – in supremely silly terms – the deep bond of affection between the two men in most Batman fiction. I especially like when Superman gives Gordon to Batman as a birthday present.
The Night Begins to Shine: I know I said I wouldn’t single out one song, but we do need to talk about The Night Begins to Shine. More than just a cool song in one episode, it blossomed into a whole weird parallel universe filled with bizarre references to ‘80s heavy metal and, well, Heavy Metal. Almost coming off like a primary school version of Mandy, the multi-part epic about Cyborg fighting a giant dragon in the “Night” universe, complete with cameos from people like CeeLo Green and Fall Out Boy (as Transformers!), is just a thing of absolute beauty. Truly, the level of reference and artistry on display in terms of writing, composition, and animation won’t be understood by the kids watching now until they’re quite a bit older. They’ll come back to this in ten, fifteen, twenty years and think “wow, now I see what they were doing; that’s so, so weird”.
The Holiday Mascots: belligerent Santa is the king (“you garbage kids!”), a fat psychopath trying to take over every other holiday, but let’s spare a thought for the other representations of holidays, too. The creepy Tooth Fairy, who eats teeth. The turkey from Thanksgiving who is horribly mutilated. Uncle Sam. And the Easter Bunny. Oh my god, the Easter Bunny. Genuinely unsettling. Words can’t describe. Seriously, check it out, it’s some Babadook-level freaky shit.
Raven’s Legs: a little bit worrying when you’ve got two kids under seven watching it, but the fact that Raven is not just hiding very, very sexy legs underneath her cloak, but is also capable of becoming an entirely other superhero who uses her legs as weapons, is very, very funny. Watching Beast Boy go full Tex Avery when he sees Raven’s legs is one of those gags that, I guess, works on different levels if you’re a child or an adult. Regardless, turning snarky sourpuss Raven into golden-costumed Lady Legasus is a nice move.
Breaking the Fourth Wall: they only really do this explicitly once or twice, I think, but overall the show is incredibly self-referential. From Control Freak trying to get them rebooted or cancelled, to jokes about the animation or the writing, it’s beautifully self-deprecating. This reaches its apex in the 200th episode specials, when the Titans journey into “our” world. It’s hilarious to see them interact with their own voice actors, but for me it’s the note-perfect representation of directing voice actors that’s really funny, almost as good as Toast of London in its depiction. Plus the gag about everyone who works on the show being ultimately replaceable. A scathing indictment of the animation industry, wrapped up in an animation; like The Simpsons in its heyday.
Genuinely Quite Upsetting Violence: I don’t think I’d ever seen a cartoon for small children before that quite regularly featured its main characters having their bones visibly broken. And by “visibly” I mean “cutting to an X-ray of their limb to show the bone shearing in half or crumpling to dust”. It’s almost rare for an episode to go by without one or more of the Titans experiencing life-altering injuries. I’m honestly not sure how they get away with it. but it is funny. Apex moment? Oh, undoubtedly them beating the shit out of Shia LaBeouf in the movie.
Real-World References: clearly the people who make Teen Titans Go! are in their late thirties or early forties; people who grew up in the ‘80s and absorbed ‘80s culture. People who liked Transformers and Star Wars and Back to the Future, who listened to rock music, who liked toys and videogames. They probably grew into teenagers who were fans of obscure animations, cult movies, sci-fi, fantasy, horror. They are, basically, me. I think I would get on quite well with the creators of TTG, based on the things they reference. But beyond cultural appropriation, it’s the references to daylight saving’s time, “shareconomics”, American politics and history, “The Man”, and more, that is so wild and weird to see in a cartoon for young kids. They handle these topics beautifully (I’m honestly not sure if my kids think the things the Titans are talking about are real or not), but as a grown-up it’s really funny to see these gags in a kids’ cartoon. I mean, the Titans fight the Illuminati in one episode. They reference “lizard men in Congress”. It’s bonkers.
Nicolas Cage: in Teen Titans Go! To the Movies, Nicolas Cage plays Superman. That’s it. I mean, what more do you want? The guy whose whole career almost seems to have hinged on playing Superman finally gets to be Superman. The guy who was nearly – oh so nearly – Superman for Tim Burton is now, at last, Superman. The guy who named his kid Kal-El is now Superman. The guy who was namechecked in The Ultimates about eighteen years ago (“this guy wants to be a superhero almost as much as Nicolas Cage”) is now Superman. It’s such a meta-gag, such a high-level gag. Stunt casting taken to its nth degree. It’s even funnier than Billy Dee Williams playing Two-Face in LEGO Batman. And it got better – this part, I concede, beyond the purview of the TTG creators – because the same year he played Superman, Nicolas Cage also played (an alternate universe version of) Spider-Man in Into the Spider-Verse. And, as I alluded to above, starred in his own version of The Night Begins to Shine when he made Mandy. It all links!
There we go. my favourite things. This was tough, I had to leave a lot out. I’m particularly saddened by not finding room for Cyborg’s tiny body made up of wires whenever he removes his head. And The Jeff; gutted I missed The Jeff. Or the episode that references all the movie incarnations of Batman, including a dumpster full of Batman Forever and Batman & Robin stuff (I’ll save my argument that TTG serves as an even better comic analysis and deconstruction of the meta-character of Batman, and of Robin, than the much-ballyhooed LEGO incarnations for another day). It’s really a great show. I love it to bits. Go watch it.
#top ten#teen titans#teen titans go#teen titans go to the movies#cartoons#dc#comics#robin#starfire#raven#beast boy#cyborg
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BTS Reaction To You Wanting To Play With A Ouija Board
Jin:
“Y/n, you know I love you, but you’re crazy.” Spoke Jin, his tone worrisome as he looked you over with his concern filled brown orbs. Shaking your head, a small smile on your lips, you tried a different route, cuteness.
“But Jin oppa, please. It’s just a game.”
“Yeah and Chucky’s just a doll. No is no, you are not messing with the dead. They’re dead for a reason, it’s called rest in peace not rest when Y/n’s not trying to make contact.” Huffing an annoyed sigh and crossing your arms childishly you knew you had lost.
“If it makes you feel better Y/n we can watch the movie, Ouija.”
“I guess that’ll work too Jin.” A smile on your face as you pulled Jin away to the living room as he searched up the movie. The two of you getting comfy and snug within each others sides as the movie played.
Yoongi:
“For the last time Y/n, no.” Stated Yoongi in exasperation, we’ve been having this conversation for not even a minute and he was already annoyed with my so called childish antics.
“But Yoongi it clearly says you can't play alone.”
“I know the rules babe, you’re not gonna play in general.” I pouted, crossing my arms and tried to give Yoongi puppy eyes, only for him to laugh in my face. “Y/n it’s a stupid game, which could end with serious consequences. I don't want you getting scared, and accidentally releasing an evil spirit by removing your fingers off the stupid eyepiece.”
“Planchette.” You grumbled annoyed, shoulders sagging in defeat with his logic. “Fine, can we summon a demon in the driveway then?” His eyebrows shot up his forehead and he looked at your face in terror.
“Kidding Yoongi.” You say with a giggle and reach up to kiss his chin. “How about instead of messing with the supernatural we watch something supernatural, like maybe The Ring?” Nodding in satisfaction Yoongi and you sat on his bed as he logged into Netflix on his laptop pulling up The Ring.
Hoseok:
His eyes widened as he saw the cursed board in your hands. “Y/n what the fuck. No way.”
“But Hobi~” You whined like a child causing him to shake his head, ruffling his beautiful hair. “Y/n where did you get this from?”
“The toy store.”
“Those things are evil,” he said in a scared tone as he pointed at the board in your hands. The rest of the boys gathered around to see what the commotion was, and none of them were surprised to see Hoseok’s terrified reaction nor where they surprised to see you wanting to do something risky.
“I’ll play with you Y/n.” Spoke Tae as you spun around smiling at him. “Thanks Ta-HOSEOK!” You screamed as he pulled the board out of your arms and stomped to the back door.
“Nobody is playing with this shit!” He shouted as you followed him outside, he threw the board down on a slab of concrete and pulled out a lighter burning the board. You just stood there as Hobi pulled you into a hug and kissed your forehead as you stood numbly watching your 13.99 board burn to ashes.
In the background you heard Jungkook sing, “bow wow wow.”
Namjoon:
You set the board down on the coffee table in front of Namjoon drawing his attention away from the book he was currently reading. “Y/n...?” He asked hesitantly as he noticed your excitement.
“Can we please play this?” You asked as you sat down on the arm of the chair that Namjoon was in, his eyes searched yours quizzically, trying to find a logical reason on why you’d 1) waste your money on something stupid and 2) want to talk to the dead. He saw no reason for you to play with such a thing, plus he was afraid you’d make contact and cause the dorms to be haunted.
“How about no.”
“But Joonie,” you pouted and he shook his head firmy as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “Why do you even want to play it?”
“It seems cool,” you responded and Namjoon chuckled as he held you to his chest. “Is that your only reason?” You knew he got you as your body sagged forwards against him, head resting under his chin.
“Fine I won’t play it,” you huffed annoyed as he rubbed the back of your head and kissed your forehead. “Good babe, because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He muttered his grip tightening as you two just sat their inhaling each others scents.
Jimin:
His eyes widened, “Y/n what? Why?” He muttered as he looked from you to the board. Shaking his head gently he grabbed your wrists as he looked into your eyes. “Are you sick babe?” He let go of your wrists and felt your forehead.
“You feel fine, you look really fine,” he winked at the last part, “so why do you want to do this?”
“Come on Jimin, it’d be fun.” You said with a giggle and he shook his head in disapprovement. “But why?” He whined as you planted a kiss on his soft lips.
“Please?”
“Baby, I’m drawing the line. We’re not playing with the dead.”
“Why not, they might be lonely and in need of a friend.”
“You have enough friends, and if they’re so lonely they should befriend each other or the devil, not you. Now come on, ghosts aren't gonna wanna be friend you.”
“Why not?”
“They just want your body, they want to be alive.” You rolled your eyes at the stupid argument as he pulled you into a hug. “Trust me, you have a nice body and they’d take it, I’m not losing you to a fucking ghost. That’s final no playing with the dead, now come on we can go play a movie or game or something. Anything besides that.”
“Fine Jiminie.” He smirked in triumph as he kissed the top of your head.
Taehyung:
You had been searching your house for a board game or something to play, and when you stumbled upon your previous roommates Ouija Board you knew you had to play, especially with Tae. You knew Tae would be down to play something like this, and it’d be especially fun to see who gets freaked first.
So that’s what the two of you were doing, the lights were all dimmed down to the lowest setting, but not completely off. The room was dark and your shadows stretched out onto the board as you two began to light a few candles to make it more ominous, because you both agreed setting is everything when it comes to spooks.
“Should we have, like, some creepy organ music playing through the speakers?” He asked staring into your eyes. “Nah, that might be too much.”
“Fair point we don't want this to seem like a funeral then no spirits would show up,” he joked as he shot a wink to you and gently nudged your shoulder. He already had the planchette in his hands and looked through the eyepiece all around the room. “No demons anywhere. Yet.” He teased as he placed the piece back on the board and smirked at you.
Placing two of your fingers on the board you began to circle the board twice, chills ran through your body. “Scared lil’ Y/n,” he teased as you shot him a glare. “Nope just cold.” As the two of you began playing you both had moved closer to each other, especially after Tae had asked, “if there’s any spirits here make it known,” and that was when your candles had been blown out. That was also the point when Tae called quits and the two of you ended your connection with the spirit, neither of you moving away from each other.
Jungkook:
You really wanted to have a fun, thrilling night with Jungkook with lots of scares, and horror movies just wouldn't do it. You wanted to have your own type of horror, paranormal, by actually talking to the dead. You knew Jungkook would be down to play because he loved to show how brave he was, especially to show off to his hyungs but also to impress you; which he did a lot.
So when you entered his bedroom, board in hand and an evilly cute smile on your face, Jungkook knew this would be a challenge, which he was fine with. He loved seeing your reactions when he impressed you, but a Ouija was something a little new for him.
“Do you wanna play with me?” You asked cautiously, searching his face to make sure he was actually cool with playing it. “Yeah,” he patted his bed for you to sit besides him but you noticed a bit of worry in his eyes.
“Kookie,” you spoke softly and put the board down at the foot of his bed and pulled him against you into a hug. “If you don't want to play just say no, I don't want to force you into it. You and me can just chill and watch horror movies or play video games together. Anything as long as you’re comfortable.”
“I’m willing to play, just for you.”
“You sure?” He smiled and nodded his head grabbing your chin in confidence as he quickly kissed you. “I’m positive, now let’s conversate with the dead!” He cheered as he wrapped an arm around your waist as you moved the board in front of you two.
“Jungkook are you-”
“Y/n I’m fine, but I’m starting to think that you’re the terrified one.”
“I am not, I just want you to be comfortable.”
“I am now let’s play.” You nodded and you both placed two fingers on the planchette.
#ouija board#Planchettes#BTS Ouija Board#BTS playing Ouija Board#bangtansonyeondan#BTS Fluff#J-Hope#V#Jimin#Jungkook#Suga#RM#Jin#x Reader#Insert Reader#Y/n#RM x Reader#Suga x Reader#V x Reader#Jungkook x Reader#Jin x Reader#Jimin x Reader#J-Hope x Reader#Hobi#Hoseok#Jung Hoseok#Jeon Jungkook#Kim Namjoon#Kim Taehyung#Kim Seokjin
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The Muppet Christmas Carol
thebestdecepticonleader
Hi 😃
Me
Hello there!
thenightetc
Hello!
thebestdecepticonleader
Ah, the Christmascarolman
Me
Hello, night human!
thenightetc
"Santa Buddy"
Me
Singing about how desperately he wants Santa inside him.
As one does.
thenightetc
Ha!
thebestdecepticonleader
hm
thebestdecepticonleader
I think someone misunderstood what this song was about when they made this version
Me
Yes, yes, Christmascarolman. Your "chimney" is oiled and ready to go.
We get it.
thenightetc
Very possibly.
Me
And speaking of sexual tension!
Me
Stop that, youtube.
thenightetc
Boy oh boy.
thebestdecepticonleader
um
thenightetc
Good thing their parents walked in just then
thebestdecepticonleader
okay then
Me
"The kids are fragging again."
"Who cares? I smell coffee."
Me
Named Christmas.
thenightetc
Lots of blank pages in that book
thebestdecepticonleader
Why do the humans look like That
thebestdecepticonleader
The mayor just hands over sacks of money
thenightetc
Oh, that's just how humans looked back in, uh, 1991
Me
It was a dark time.
thebestdecepticonleader
Wow, if she loses every hand she's really bad at poker
thenightetc
Right?
thebestdecepticonleader
You'd think you'd give up after, I don't know, ten hands
Me
I admire her persistence.
thenightetc
It's like she specifically likes losing money
Me
"Goodbye, children, or whatever."
thebestdecepticonleader
Like she could use the money on other wasteful things
Like clothes for herself and stuff like that
Me
Better shades of lipstick.
thebestdecepticonleader
better tan
she and Donald Trump must get their spray tan from the same bottle
Me
That's a cruel dig on Mrs. Mavelda.
thenightetc
Yeah, let's not go TOO far here
thebestdecepticonleader
It is pretty terrible though
thenightetc
Surround her with the corpses of her fellows
thebestdecepticonleader
She's wearing her friend
Me
Friends AND family!
thenightetc
That slide would be so splintery, though
thebestdecepticonleader
yep
thenightetc
You know, in a way, what with her losing all the money every time, it's like she's paying them to hang out with her
thebestdecepticonleader
Even I don't sink that low
Me
You can't pick your friends, but you can bribe them.
Santa is everyone's grandpa and uncle.
thebestdecepticonleader
at the same time?
Me
Yes.
thenightetc
You'd think one of them would be saying, "I wish for parents"
Which would be kind of awkward for her
Me
Her massive pillow looks comfortable.
thenightetc
gah
thenightetc
These closeups are not doing the animation any favors
Me
They just highlight her cataracts.
Me
FireWOOD.
thenightetc
"because you're not weakened from years of malnutrition"
thenightetc
This is such a great plan, really
Me
This won't end with two frozen child corpses.
thenightetc
...So did Santa cause that crash?
Me
Those drivers will be eating their Christmas dinner through a straw, but THE TREE.
thenightetc
That tree will outlive them all
thenightetc
Especially Happy.
Me
Every single year, I forget that happens.
thenightetc
Well, *I* forgot that Santa is actually real here and shows up at the end, so
Me
I think our memories are fighting to keep this movie from sticking.
thenightetc
well, it IS your fault
Me
She doesn't seem too concerned that Lilly and Potty are missing.
thenightetc
Best. Christmas. Ever.
Me
Better get out your most festive Corpse Handling Gloves, everyone.
thenightetc
The ones with the fur trim.
Me
Naturally!
thenightetc
Oh wow, is the whole town here now?
Me
They've got nothing better to do.
Me
It's a nice change from small town gossip and opioids.
thenightetc
It's a christmas miracle!
Me
Never. Gets. Old.
thenightetc
Right?
thenightetc
Santa in a conspicuously different drawing style
Wait.
If he's real, where the fuck was he all those years before??
Did he somehow not know there were miserable children there?
thenightetc
"But Ray, I'm not even pregnant"
Me
"Come to think of it, I never was! Our children just showed up one day!"
Me
She had to relearn how to walk and talk and swallow.
thenightetc
Why do they want her around children though
Me
Not much success.
thenightetc
You know, I'm not sure I've actually seen this one.
Me
It's surprisingly faithful.
Me
Hold on, the sound's a little awkward. Let me see if I can find one where it isn't.
thenightetc
...man.
Me
Much better.
thenightetc
me: "gosh, this is nice animat--wait, it's a muppet movie, those are models"
Me
Shhh.
thenightetc
"wow, it's really photorealistic!"
thenightetc
Wait
Wait, those melon things are alive?!
Are they alive and going to be eaten!
Me
Three and a half minutes in and the implications are already horrifying!
thenightetc
Pfffff.
Me
He knows how to make an entrance.
thenightetc
Yes
thenightetc
"there go the townfolk, singing a mean song about me again"
Me
No wonder he's awful to them. I would be too.
thenightetc
I admit, it's a bop, though
Me
So is Little Starbot, but we don't sing about him.
Isn't it though?
thenightetc
"Uh nothing, we weren't singing about you again"
.....
thenightetc
Ha!
I mean, it's awful, but
thenightetc
Yeesh
Me
Indeed.
thenightetc
Haha
thenightetc
he has no eyes!
Zephra85
I'm here!
Me
Zephra human! Hello!
thenightetc
Hello!
Zephra85
Hi everyone!
Ugh I'm not getting any video on my end?
thenightetc
It's fine over here
Zephra85
Yeah I'm trying to figure it out
thenightetc
Why was he even carolling there, though
I mean, the entire town knows what Scrooge is like
Me
Why is anyone bothering him?
thenightetc
They've all memorized a song about how terrible he is!
Zephra85
BLAH I can't figure out what's wrong, I'm going to try refreshing the page
Me
That might help.
thenightetc
Uh
thenightetc
Oh my god
Me
They're chipper about this.
thenightetc
hahahha
thenightetc
Ah, so they ARE visiting from hell.
Me
Oh, that line was creepy.
thenightetc
Yesss.
Me
This is all gloriously creepy.
thenightetc
It is!
thenightetc
Oh my gosh
Hahhaha
Me
Minicon privilege.
thenightetc
Any better, Zephra?
Zephra85
Well, refreshing only got my keyboard stuck in shortcut mode the whole time so I had to restart my computer, and video STILL isn't working on my end.
thenightetc
Well, ouch.
Me
That's odd!
thenightetc
Have you tried a different browser? It wouldn't work for me in Firefox....
Zephra85
I'm in Chrome, but I'll give Firefox a shot
thenightetc
No, Firefox was the one it WOULDNT' work in
I have to use Opera for it
Zephra85
Yeah but I think for me it has to do with my bf's adblockers and stuff?
thenightetc
Ahhh
Zephra85
Which are different from chrome vs firefox
alright giving it a shot
thenightetc
Good luck!
She is... eerie
Me
At the end of the night, she takes his eyes.
thenightetc
Hey hey hey
Zephra85
WHELP that didn't work.
Me
The Pit?
thenightetc
Awwwww.
Zephra85
Now Rabbit won't even let me connect to the stream
just the chat
Me
It *sounds* like an adblocker issue.
Zephra85
Yeah that's what I'm thinking, my bf's adblockers are a mess and I don't know how to deal with them. (google searching is proving fruitless. )
Me
If you'd like to follow along on another tab, I can pause and give you a timestamp.
Zephra85
Nah it's alright, I technically didn't really have time to be here anyway? There's a bunch of chores and errands I'm trying to take care of but I decided to try popping in for a stream since I haven't been to one in forever.
So I think I'm just gonna jet
thenightetc
Awwww!
Well, good luck
Me
Well, it's always good to see you, muppets or no muppets!
Zephra85
Thanks guys, and thanks for the offer Knock Out!
Enjoy the movie, everybody!
Zephra85
Say to Breakdown and Impact for me, Knock Out!
Me
Will do!
thenightetc
GAH
Me
Seconded!
Me
They cut out the song!
Not on my watch, you don't!
thenightetc
They're going to sing?
Me
And how!
thenightetc
Man.
Me
Ouch.
thenightetc
If the food starts singing........
Me
It will be worse than the haunted baby doll ghost.
Me
Gah!
thenightetc
Did he just... die?
Me
That's been happening a lot in this movie.
Me
I mean, it's not as though it said "Here lies Ebeneezer Scrooge -- He was a great big spike choke."
thenightetc
Shhhh.
Dear Unicron, his dancing.
thenightetc
It's probably hard to dance in a puppet costume
Me
Oh, his puppet dance is fine. It's Scrooge's I was talking about.
thenightetc
Ohhhh
thenightetc
Is it Scrooge
Hahhahaha
thenightetc
Harsh, but fair.
Me
This wouldn't make me want to socialize with them.
thenightetc
Well
thenightetc
Well.
Me
Ouch again.
Me
"Please don't hurt me."
thenightetc
Right?
Me
Scrooge, you know exactly where this is going.
thenightetc
You'd think?
thenightetc
Ouch.
"Might be"
thenightetc
:<
Me
Spirit's not dignifying that with a response.
Me
"Tell me I'll never die!"
thenightetc
Pfffff
Me
I mean, it's not as though it said "Here lies Ebeneezer Scrooge -- He was a great big spike choke."
thenightetc
Shhhh.
Me
It would be funny if they couldn't do it all in one night and he wakes up on the floor of his house a week later.
Covered in filth.
thenightetc
Haha!
Me
That needed to start cooking four hours ago.
thenightetc
Well, it might be morning.
Me
True.
thenightetc
...it's coal
thenightetc
I mean, I know that's what they asked for, and yet
Me
He's a little confused, but he's got the spirit.
thenightetc
...Really, Scrooge
Me
This isn't the kind of joke that makes anyone feel better, Scrooge.
thenightetc
Right?
Me
"It's funny, because I made you think you were about to be starving and unable to feed your dying son!"
thenightetc
The punchline is relief!
Me
Either none of these other people have homes and Christmas plans or they heard that Scrooge is high on the opium and feeling generous.
thenightetc
I can't argue with that.
Me
Why is there a snappy pop cover of this?
thenightetc
He could have just said, "Here's a turkey, and I'm giving you a raise"
thenightetc
Instead of making it a "prank"
Me
Got to squeeze in that one last little reminder that Scrooge owns his entire life.
Me
And that's that!
thenightetc
Still--overall, good movie!
Me
Glad you enjoyed it!
Me
Let me just grab our usual high note, and...
thenightetc
Pfffff
thenightetc
Ha!
Me
Humans are fun.
thenightetc
WELL
but hey at least the top of the tree is reachable now
thenightetc
Hahahaha
Me
Dear Unicron.
thenightetc
......
Me
And that's the note we're going out on, for better or worse.
thenightetc
Well!
I mean, vine compilations tend to be both
Me
You know, they really do.
thenightetc
Thank you for the stream, as always : )
Me
Thank you for coming, as always!
thenightetc
And goodnight!
Me
Good night, night human!
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Nightmare Horror Anime Harem
OH BOY! WOWEE WOWEE!
Buckle up ya kiddos I got a story for you! I just had the weirdest dream/nightmare thing I’ve had in a long time and it was so vivid I remember all of it so here we go!
Weird Ass Dream under the Read more
I was tromping through the woods at like midnight with a buddy looking for spooky abandoned places to explore and record while doing so. We come up to this weird looking farmhouse and barn and it looks like it’s dead, like falling a part half of it looked burnt to a crisp so we’re like:
“Dudes, let’s go and check this out see what we find!”
And we make our way up to it filming the whole thing like trying to see if it’s haunted while telling the camera:
“Okay so these parts of the woods are known to be really bad guys like do not come here, it’s bad. There have been reports about cults murdering people out here, a few years back those creepy clown people where spotted and dude really it’s bad!”
So we get into the barn and it looks ya know kinda gross and smell HORRIBLE! I make a comment that it smells like copper, like how a lot of old blood would smell. My friend agrees and we split up right, ‘cause we’re dumb.
Well They find slaughtered animals in a pit and start freaking out and screaming when I find dead people parts. YUP and I do the smart thing and try to stay calm and hide and be like:
“Okay guys, we need to get out of here, this is a bad place--” “AHHHHHHH! RUN!”
Then you can hear gun shots and some old deep man voice yelling that we better get off his property or he’ll kill us. So we start to hide, he only thinks there is one person there ‘cause he only hurt my friend freaking out.
So I hide in this weird place of the barn next to like his murder machine right? I have on ripped jeans a puffy hoodie and a scarf ‘cause it was kinda cold.
My friend is still freaking out trying to get out gathering all his attention when he’s peeking through the windows and shinning his light RIGHT ON ME.
I keep still and silent, recording the whole thing still. Not once does he see me.
My friend make their get away and break through some side door and as they run away and get chased they scream: “YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN NOW!”
Great.
Now he knows I’m there.
So I have no idea what happened to my friend and I try to get out but he comes back with his buddy to try and find me. I’ve moved spots and he’s shinning his light in being like:
“I got a gun you ain’t gunna get outta here a live ya shit.”
I’m scared, still recording.
After what seems like forever he gets distracted and I manage to sneak out the side of the barn... however I knock something over and he starts coming after me. I’m faster and duck into the woods running as fast as I can.
As I’m running away I come to some weird wooden construction sight and start making my way through it, this is where I lose the weird barn guy. I finally have a moment to just clearly walk through all this weird structure.
“Okay I think I lost him, I have not idea where ---- is but hopefully they are okay. I just need to get out of here and home. I need to report that guy to the police or something or just...”
I go quiet ‘cause now I’m on a weird playground.
In this play ground are three figures just standing around on the equipment. All three of them dressed like broken dolls and clowns. I’m freaking out ‘cause HUGE fear of mine.
I calmly state to the camera: “Best thing to do in these situations is to not run, they find enjoyment in that just walk calmly and tell some bad jokes they like bad jokes. Try to call someone just ignore them they’ll leave you alone.”
So I do just that I walk right past them pulling my phone out as if I was talking to someone: “Yeah and like he told me this joke once.”
And I just start telling HORRIBLE dad jokes and the clowns follow slowly behind me but end up leaving me a lone after like A MILE of walking.
I finally get away from that place and am now walking through another part of woods near a cemetery and am like panting. I’m almost home, my camera is dead and I’m thirsty.
That’s when I noticed I’m being followed again, but this time by a wood nymph looking thing, a ghost boy, and a pro-typical looking anime school kid who’s a cursed being of some sort? It was REALLY weird.
I start singing and acting as if like I know theses guys? This is weird the dream flipped into Horror Anime Harem, like all three of these things like Yandere with with me and all wanted me but NO ONE ELSE COULD or they would go all RAWR on them. The wood nyph/fairy girl was my favorite and the ghost boy and cursed child had a thing for each other but both wanted me as well?
Well anyway I sing some weird ass song to the fairy to woo her and make her fall in love with me.
Something a long the lines of she had a fine ass and pair of tits? things get blurry around here... ‘cause I woke up shortly after like WTF did I just dream man?
I want to draw some of these characters ‘cause they looked neat...but boy howdy what the fuck brain?
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island of the dolls
The Island of the Dolls is an island located in Xochimilco, Mexico. The canals that lead to this island are said to be haunted, with stories of sailors being lured to their deaths by spirits and even one account of possession. Signs reading Contenido maldito (Cursed content) warn any people who approach of the bad energy surrounding the area. The island itself is a small, man-made structure created by the Aztecs for crop cultivation, though now it is filled with decapitated, grimy, and otherwise creepy dolls hanging from trees and nailed to posts.
In the 1950s, Don Julian Santana Barreras, persecuted because of his religious beliefs, abandoned his wife and daughter and moved to the island to live in isolation. One day, he claimed to have seen the body of a little drowned girl floating in the canals of Xochimilco, unable to save her. A few days later, he found a doll, most likely the girl’s, floating in the same place as her owner. He nailed the doll to a tree in one of the islands; though some believe that he did this as a sign of respect to the girl, others claim his motivation was to appease the spirit of the girl and protect himself from it, or to protect the girl’s spirit from any demons in the afterlife. However, for reasons unknown, he began to collect the dolls and hang them everywhere on the island, even going as far as to trade produce and other necessities for dolls. Those close to him believed he had been possessed by an unknown force that compelled him to obsessively collect those dolls: the little girl. Eventually, after fifty years of isolation on the Island of the Dolls, Don Julian reportedly began to claim the dolls were possessed, claiming they would talk to each other, move their heads and limbs and open their eyes. Suddenly, in 2001, Julian’s nephew Anastasio Velasco went to visit his uncle in the island, only to find him drowned in the exact place where Julian had found the little girl fifty years previous. According to legend, the dolls (or the spirits that inhabit them) killed Julian.
Though some people believe that demons or other beings haunt the island, Anastasio simply believes that the spirit of the little girl inhabits it. He says he hears a little girl’s voice at night, along with the sounds of his uncle’s cane hitting the ground. Though sightings are reported in all parts of the island, there is one specific area that is said to be the most spiritually active: the doll shrine. This shrine, built by Julian himself, is located in a small shed on the island, and is where he reportedly kept all his favorite dolls, including the original one he found back in 1950. The shrine, complete with candles, drawings, and flowers, has hundreds of dolls hanging from the ceiling, pinned to laundry lines, and nailed to the walls. The mystery surrounding Julian’s death remains to this day: was his drowning a by-product of his old age or was it the little girl’s spirit, compelling him to meet the same fate she did?
#dolls#creepy#scary#spooky#mexico#october 31st#october#ghosts#ghost#little girl#julian#shrine#island of the dolls
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