#and having this very scary ghost in there

[blackkatdraws2]

They like to visit their favorite human every once and a while. [Original Characters]

The building is haunted, but the ghosts get attached to the workers [specifically the older ones who work there.]

The new workers are afraid of encountering them [most probably don't even know they exist and think it's just a rumor] while the older workers are used to them.

They're especially fond of this one guy in particular. He's been working here for 30+ years. They treat him like your indoor cat and he leans into their affection because he's a lonely starved old man who everyone sees as strict and indifferent.

[Note: This affection only extends to the older workers of the haunted building. (New workers have been reported fainting around their presence.) Others will not be treated as nicely. Please keep your distance and notify guards during an encounter.]

[ghost-proofbaby]

my little scaredy cat

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

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

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stubbornness is admirable. 

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

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

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

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

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s more than fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, he decides to stop speaking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold on, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like me?” 

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

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

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

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

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

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

Right. It’s so fucking right.

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

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

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

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

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 

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

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

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

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

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

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

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

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

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

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

[yellowjacketsource]

Jackie & Shauna (Yellowjackets, S01E10) "End of Beginning" by Djo

[bacchuschucklefuck]

love thinking kipperlilly spends her afterlife looking for lucy in a familiar forest

[prince-of-the-wolf-clan]

Next part of Amphibiuary drawings!

Day 21: Ghost

Day 22: Purple

Day 23: Common

Day 24: Sleep

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

So for spooky season (my favorite season) I wanna write more Ghostmmet oneshots, or at least one or two other ones! I have several ideas lol

But I also wanna write a noncanon crossover with ABYS, where instead of being found in time in ABYS, Emmet dies and becomes a ghost and things get real crazy around the station for a while.

Would people be interested in that, or do y'all think it would be too much? I have. Several ideas, and I think it would be so fun to focus on the spooky horror aspect. Something something a violent end leads to a violent awakening, classic haunting shit, stuff like that. More info in the tags of this post :)

I'd say it would still come to the same conclusion as like. He Trusts You.

But I don't know! Tell me what you think, preferably in comments of this post instead of in separate asks :) Thank you guys preemptively for feedback!

[cerise-on-top]

I love your writing so much, you really captured who the Cod Men are 💜💜

Can I request Rudy with an S/O who likes to steal their clothing? Like I just know this man has soft hoodies and nice button-up shirts that we can use

Thank you 💜

Thank you, I try to write a mix of what I think the requester wants and how the CoD people would genuinely react to something! It's not always easy, but I try! And that's a really cute request! Rodolfo's been getting quite some love as of late, which is nice!

Rodolfo with a Clothes-Thief!Reader

When thinking about the relationship he has with you, Rodolfo thinks about many things: Spoonfeeding you some of his sorbet, cuddling under the blankets while drinking hot cocoa on a cold winter evening, kissing each other on the forehead during soft moments. He doesn’t really consider the bad things a relationship could bring all that often, being fairly romantic and wanting to live those soft and sweet moments with you, as well as remembering them in as much detail as he can. This changes when he notices you, who could usually do no wrong, waltzing around in your home wearing one of his hoodies. And I agree with you, his hoodies are very soft and warm since the fabric is important to him. He also makes sure they stay soft and comfortable since he always thought he’d be the only one wearing them. You opened his eyes, you are a thief.

When he sees you washing the dishes wearing one of his gray hoodies, he’ll simply stare at you for a moment, thinking about whether or not it’s real. He completely forgot that he, too, could be a victim of a relationship and lose his beloved clothing to his beloved criminal. If it’s a chilly morning, then he’ll simply walk up to you and hug you from behind. If he’s feeling especially mischievous, then he’ll put his hands under his article of clothing and onto your tummy so you can feel his cold hands. But that is unlikely to happen. Still! You need to be considerate of your partner as well! If you’re cold he is cold, put him in a blanket burrito!

While he knows exactly who this hoodie or sweater belongs to, he will ask you where you got it from, claiming that you’ve got a nice taste in fashion with a gentle smile. You can then either tell the truth or lie to him. The truth will earn you a chuckle and a kiss to your temple. Lie to him and he’ll interrogate you where you got it from. But eventually he will also ask you if you like his clothing that much. If you do, then you’re more than welcome to take it if he doesn’t need it that day. That extends to things that aren’t just sweaters or hoodies as well. Granted, he isn’t the most fashionable guy, but if he likes something enough he’ll usually buy it and look good in it as well. If you like his shirts as well, then sure, go for it. If it fits, then you can wear it. His clothing is, for the most part, fairly neutral. Lots of grays and lots of blues, so he prefers colder colors over warmer ones. There aren’t many motifs on his shirts, maybe some white palm leaves, but that’s about it.

If he sees you’ve really taken a liking to his clothing, then he’ll buy some more things he thinks you might enjoy, wear them every once in a while, and leave the rest up to you. He sort of does like seeing you in his clothing, in all honesty. You look snug and comfortable in it, plus it gives him the feeling that you do really really like him. When the two of you are roughly the same size, he’ll wear a sweater of yours as well from time to time, just to get some revenge and maybe feel as though you’re with him at that moment. It’s got your scent on it, and what else could be more precious in your absence? In fact, he’ll even give your big pink sweater a try if he really feels like it. You make him feel more comfortable in his skin, so he might even wear stuff like a hot pink and walk up to you so you can see him. If he looks ridiculous to you, he’ll be a bit nervous but laugh alongside you, if you compliment him and coo over how cute he looks, he’ll be a bit flustered and give you a shy smile. So yeah, if the both of you have been with each other for long enough and are comfortable enough, then the clothes stealing will go both ways, if possible.

Rodolfo might try to buy an extra oversized sweater so he can see if the both of you can fit underneath it. Yes, he hides that sweater for quite some time as he’s afraid you’ll laugh at him, but he really does want to try it some time. Maybe it’ll be fun. Maybe it’ll be pleasant. And if it’s neither of those things you have another oversized sweater to call your own. Sometimes you might even go clothes shopping together, just to see which parts of your wardrobe you can share together.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

ghost!toji x reader ….. hmmmm hm hm hm

[ilovedthestars]

Murderbot Fic Rec List: Ghosts

October is approaching, and it seems like a good time of year for some ghost stories!! (These are not all horror, and some aren’t even scary—if you’re looking for actual chills I’m not the person to go to, lol. These are just stories with ghosts.)

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday by TheSteelChimera 638 words, Teen And Up, Creator Chose Not To Warn

Ghosts aren't real, all evidence points to the fact that human superstition is just that, superstition.But wormholes are strange places, and the MNTS Perihelion knows that ghost ships are very real.

A ghost story featuring ART, and the last echoes of lost ships. The mysteries of wormhole physics are a perfect explanation for hearing voices in the void. I also highly, highly recommend the podfic by DevilWithABirdDress, which has some echoes and effects that absolutely enhance the spooky atmosphere.

Ill Omen by avg 5,511 words, General Audiences, Creator Chose Not To Warn & No Archive Warnings Apply

Despite the positive attributes of a ship ghost, there is one omen associated with its presence: no member of a ship blessed by its presence shall ever set eyes on it. It only ever becomes visible to the crew of a doomed ship.

An alternate universe ASR where Murderbot is a ghost!! Binding souls to survey habitats as a security service is absolutely something the company would do if it had that capability. Supernatural suspense and haunting as protection—the fantasy/sci-fi flavor of this one is very cool.

The Stowaway by Masu_Trout 2,712 words, Teen And Up, No Archive Warnings Apply

I wasn't even worried. That, I think, was my first mistake. Far outside of Corporation Rim, Murderbot meets a cargo bot with a strange story to tell.

A gem from wayyy back in the archive, published in 2017 when only ASR was out, but still impressively consistent with the tone of where the series has gone! Murderbot hears a ghost story that it doesn’t really believe, but then again…. This one also has a podfic available. the past is no forgotten promise by lunaTactics 1,942 words, General Audience, No Archive Warnings Apply

"It should have been creepy. I had been in places like this that were really creepy. But this wasn't. Maybe because I knew where the humans and augmented humans who had last used this ship had gone, that their descendants were running around all over this system." How can the ghosts of the past be frightening when they love, and are loved?     Remember us. We are a promise to you that there will always be hope.     You are home. The ghosts of the Pressy speak to their successors. Or, Murderbot is empowered to pursue the ideal SecUnit's rescue because Preservation's ideals support it.

A heartwarming ghost story, to finish off the list. Sometimes ghosts aren’t trying to scare you or keep you away—they want to welcome you home. This one gives me emotions (enough that I made art about it) and also has a podfic available.

If you have any favorite ghost stories from the Murderbot fandom, or otherwise spooky/seasonally-appropriate ones, please feel free to add on other recommendations! There’s several that I haven’t read myself but have heard many good things about.

[cacturne]

my supremely normal and regular feelings about pokemon ^

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

stop it STOP IT STAY HERE

[yearningaces]

I THOUGHT THE GUY LIKED US?!?! WHAT THE FUCK CHANGED???

What makes you think the Patriarch doesn't like you?

[planet4546b]

I’m going to need elaboration on “I lived in a haunted house for 3 years but the ghost was chill with me specifically”

my dorm in college was a building from the 1700s with at least 7 ghosts that was most definitely haunted (i personally encountered windows opening on their own, lights flickering specifically when you were talking about the ghosts, phone calls with no one on the other end to the wall phones in the middle of the night, hearing footsteps on the roof at night. you know the classics) and in my junior year i lived in the room that shared a wall with the part of the house where at least 3 people died (including the ‘original’ ghost) and my friends lived right next to me (i was between them and the ghost location). both of them had some like INTENSE ghost experiences (someone standing over them at night/feeling someone touch their back when no one was there/seeing someone stand outside the door, door rattling) but i never had any of that even though i was LITERALLY closer. only time i heard her was on the night she allegedly died and i heard wailing which was really sad :(. moral of this story is if you live next to a ghost say nice things to her and leave her hard candies and she’ll be your bestie

[marzipanandminutiae]

As someone who owns a doll I have literally seen levitate, but yet have no desire to be rid of because I love her, I wholly subscribe to the theory that you just have to learn what enriches and soothes the spirit and just like… be respectful.

This doll started out it’s life very normally, just one of many my grandmother bought at a craft store because she crochets Victorian dresses for dolls.

It would move around my bed while I slept and it scared me so bad I threw it in my closet. Every night it was in the closet I would hear tapping sounds on the door from inside. It scared me so badly until one night I flung the sliding doors open and it dropped down from eye level while I watched. Hecking spooky, to borrow a phrase.

However, in the cold light of dawn the next day I folded up a scarf into a cushion and sat her upon it, with her hair neatly tucked under her hat and her purse resting around her wrist on her lap, onto a doll sized rocking chair I’d had since I was a baby. There was no more moving or tapping after that.

I’ve had her through four moves now, and as long as she is proudly displayed and has her hat and purse with her, she is so perfectly well behaved. I have even been able to pick her up and carry her around without fear as long as I don’t lose any of her things or try to hide her away.

She still terrifies most of my friends but hey. We vibe. It’s pretty cool. /ramble

And that's the thing of it, for me. Everyone assumes that you should immediately peace out of a haunted house, or ditch a haunted object in the nearest campfire. But these things can be staggeringly mundane IRL, and really no cause for alarm.

Most haunted buildings I've been in have like one or two minor things happen every three months or so. Sometimes the intervals are even longer. Most haunted objects I've found, like your doll, cause very few incidents. Plenty of ghosts are happy as clams if you simply acknowledge them, and will thereafter be pretty quiet.

Okay, so you've got a haunted doll. Can you work out what the doll wants and come to a mutually acceptable arrangement? Great! No need for torches and pitchforks. And now you have a ghost friend, which is always nice.

(That seems like a more likely scenario re: Robert the Doll, to me. As I said, that Ms. Reuter voluntarily kept him around for 20 years. Would she have done that if he were actually violent? Highly doubt it.)

[giantkillerjack]

The cool thing about a horror movie that takes place in a mental hospital and, shockingly, actually turns out to be on the side of mentally ill people is that it avoids all the common disgusting pitfalls of mocking, demonizing, and infantilizing mentally ill people.

The downside is

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

[It's much scarier.]

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

There’s a real paranormal attraction near me open at night!!! :D

…but everything is done in such a tourist-attracting way that the whole business appears to hinge upon sensationalized exploitation of the mentally ill >:(