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hazza-bear-care · 4 years

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Stay Safe (2/3)

LOVE IN AN ELEVATOR

Summary: Nova retaliates with giving Spencer a blowie in the elevator after work.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (male receiving), semi-public sex

~~~~~

The BAU was buzzing with talk about the most recent case as everyone settled in for a long night of paperwork. Hotch and Gideon decided to spend the night in their respective offices, occasionally coming out for coffee refills and bathroom breaks. Nova fell into a steady pace, her secretary side coming out in full swing. Sitting across from Spencer, however, served difficult in terms of trying to concentrate. No matter the movement, something as simple as watching the way his fingers flexed around his pencil just made Nova melt, the memory of his fingers buried deep inside her keeping her focus on the man across from her rather than the stacks of files on the desk.

“Nova? You got a little drool on the corner of your lip. I know Reid is attractive, especially after that little stunt on the jet, but you have some paperwork to do,” Morgan snickered from across the room as Nova ducked her head into a file in front of her, a futile attempt to hid her blush and avoid questions from the rest of the team.

“Wait, what happened on the jet?” JJ asked, her blonde hair spilling out of her messy ponytail.

“Nothing, JJ. Derek must have been dreaming,” Spencer chimed, a huge smirk planted obviously on his face when he made eye contact with Nova.

“Wasn’t a dream, loverboy.” Derek dismissed the conversation and continued to file his reports.

~~~~

The hours kept ticking away, eventually leaving Nova and Spencer alone in the abandoned bullpen. Slamming her last folder closed, she swept it into the trash can next to her desk with a groan.

“I joined the FBI to get AWAY from paperwork!” Nova declared to no one in particular as she stood to get another cup of coffee. Spencer chuckled from his desk, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading seeing as he had finished his files and insisted on waiting for Nova to finish.

“You know you can ask for help, right?” Spencer called, snatching Nova’s remaining file out of the trash.

“I didn’t know that, Spencer. But either way, it’s my work. Why bother someone else with it?” Spencer looked up from the papers that scattered over his once clean workspace and directed his attention to the young woman in front of him: her hair was deflated and flat, the tips frizzy. She was biting on her bottom lip and tapping her finger tips against the black mug in her hands as her eyes looked everywhere but Spencer. Making a mental note of her anxious tics, Spencer sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Nova, you don’t have to worry about that. We’re a team, right? Teams are supposed to help each other out.”

“Oh so what happened on the jet was just ‘helping me out’? Come on, Spencer,” Nova bit, hiding her smirk by taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’m sorry, I seem to recall you enjoying that, love.” Spencer smiled as Nova’s face heated up tremendously.

“There’s that name again, too. What are we doing here, Spence?” Nova questioned, repeating her tics.

“Paperwork.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Spencer.” The man in question stood from his desk with the completed file in his hand. He traded Nova the file for her coffee cup, placing the now cold liquid somewhere behind him. Nova held the file close to her chest, amazed that he was able to complete it so fast, but also mesmerized by the intense stare she was held in.

“Nova, I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. Maybe over dinner, sometime?” Nova didn’t respond, her eyes glued to Spencer’s lips. She stayed silent, throwing herself into his grasp and smashing their lips together. The file was on the floor, papers scattered everywhere as the couple continued to kiss.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Spencer asked softly. Nova nodded and smiled, agreeing to a date with the famous Dr. Spencer Reid. With a smile on his face, he pulled Nova back to place another kiss to her lips, but this one was softer and faster. He scooped up the paperwork and left Nova cold as he stepped away to put it in a folder by Hotch’s office door. When he turned around, Nova was still frozen in the place she was left, eyes not really focusing on anything. Spencer smiled and snapped his fingers, drawing Nova’s attention and blush. She scurried to her desk and gathered her supplies, anxious to end the day. As Spencer took his time filling his satchel with his belongings, Nova opted to wait for him by the elevator, a scandalous plan cooking in her head.

“Ready to go?” Nova asked once Spencer joined her at the elevator. With a smile and a quick nod, Nova reached forward and pushed the button, leaving the pair to wait in silence. Nova couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face when the elevator arrived, her anxiety levels rising. Maybe she shouldn’t do it? No. She had to.

When the elevator doors rolled closed, Nova wasted no time in dropping her stuff and slamming Spencer into the wall, lips colliding once more. Spencer moaned and adjusted himself to accommodate the height difference between them, the kiss getting heavier. Nova took the initiative and trailed her hand from Spencer’s chest to his crotch, gasping silently at how hard he was with just a little friction. Pulling away from Spencer, she turned and removed her jacket, flicking it up and over the camera in the corner. No one needed to see what she was going to do to the not-so innocent Dr. Reid. Satisfied that her jacket was situated correctly, Nova turned to see Spencer still pressed up against the wall where she had left him. With an evil smirk, Nova stepped over to the young doctor and sunk to her knees, smiling fully when she heard Spencer gasp above her. She made quick work of his belt, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers until they were sitting just above his knees. She took Spencer’s rock hard dick in her hand and kissed the tip, licking her lips to taste the little droplets of precum. Spencer groaned again as Nova dragged her tongue under his dick as she licked from base to tip two times.

“Fuck, Nova, please,” Spencer begged, his fingers wrapped firmly around the strap of his satchel. With a slight smile, Nova dragged her tongue over him one more time, this time opting to take him in her mouth as far as she could go. Whatever she couldn’t fit in her mouth, Nova made quick use of her hands and pumped the rest with one, cupping his balls with the other. She hollowed her cheeks and swirled her tongue, relishing in the noises Spencer was making. He found his bearings and replaced his satchel strap with Nova’s hair, tugging lightly on her light brown strands which earned a moan from her. Spencer dropped his jaw at the vibrations caused by Nova’s moan and he pulled her closer to him. Nova allowed him to control her, but she couldn’t suppress the gag that rose quickly in her throat. That just made Spencer moan louder. His hands readjusted as they left the top of her head and travelled to the back, gathering Nova’s hair into a makeshift ponytail which pushed more of him down her throat.

Nova pushed herself off with a gasp, but quickly placed her mouth back on Spencer’s cock, loving the weight on her tongue. She wished for a memory like Spencer’s so she could remember exactly how his veins felt when his cock twitched. While Nova wasn’t the most experienced with blowjobs, she could tell that Spencer was close. Focusing her attention on his tip, she sucked as hard as she could, pumping the rest of his member frantically.

“Fu-FUCK, Nova. I’m gon-na cum,” Spencer moaned. Three seconds later, he exploded in Nova’s mouth his hands holding her head still as he deposited everything he had to offer in her waiting mouth. Nova swallowed, pulling off Spencer with a pop as she came back up to kiss his lips multiple times, bringing his pants and boxers back up with her.

“How long have you been planning that?” Spencer questioned breathlessly as Nova gathered her stuff from the floor.

“About five minutes,” Nova replied with a smirk, adjusting herself appropriately.

“Fuck,” Spencer finalized, throwing his head back onto the wall. “Don’t forget your jacket.” Nova looked up and removed her jacket and shooting a teasing smile to the camera. The elevator opened on to the main floor and the pair scampered out, hurrying to leave the building before anyone caught wind of what just went down in the elevator. Nova doubted it though; there was absolutely no one left in the building. Even the cleaning crew had gone home before Spencer and Nova had. Once the pair reached the parking lot, they realized their cars were parked on opposite sides. Nova didn’t want the night to end, a heavy weight of regret now settling on her chest like a rock.

“Well, um... I’m this way. Goodnight, Spencer.” Nova turned and started walking to her car after sending a wave in Spencer’s direction.

“Nova! Are you okay?” Spencer called before she could get too far.

“You’re a profiler, Reid. Figure it out!” Nova finalized with a slight smile on her face, the steaming regret wafting off of her in waves.

“We’ll discuss it at dinner Saturday night?”

“Um.. yeah. 7 o’clock sound good?”

“Perfect. See you then, love.” Spencer called, taking three large steps, catching up with Nova and placing a hasty kiss on her cheek. Nova was left in a lurch, wondering how she got into this situation and trying to figure out if there was a way to get out of it.

#criminal minds smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #derek morgan #penelope garcia #derek morgan smut #aaron hotchner #jason gideon #criminal minds imagine #jennifer jareau

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lenific · 4 years

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After the night where he shoved a pillow at her under the guise of muffling her sobs (which, coincidentally, had been her last night in a dungeon cell), Rumpelstiltskin had never set foot in her quarters again.

The invitation she had artlessly delivered, or the clumsy attempt to kiss him that followed, had been ignored, and Belle was resigned to her own company while under his roof.

It could be worse, she often reminded herself.

She could have gone back to Gaston.

Brave as he'd been to come to her rescue, his understanding of her character was reduced to her role as a damsel in need. If offered, Gaston would have kissed her back. He just would never have allowed her on even the tamest adventure. He certainly would have closed his doors to any tagalong she brought back from her most recent outing.

Rumpelstiltskin, on the other hand, had laughed himself hoarse and forgotten himself enough to kiss her cheek in sincere thanks for the unexpected boon.

His good humor, however, seemed to have vanished overnight.

As it had taken along his reluctance to cross her threshold, Belle decided to hear him out instead of tossing a book at him and hiding under her blankets until a more appropriate hour.

"Yes, Rumple?" Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, throaty with sleep.

He gave a long step back, staring at her.

Belle blinked and stared back, waiting.

His arms were crossed over his chest, so she could see the twitch of his fingers before he put his hands behind his back and started to pace. "The sun isn't even up," he grumbled at last.

"Shocking news," she retorted drily, casting a pointed glance at the window.

"Ah, ah, ah! I wasn't finished." He waved a hand in a dramatic circle, successfully reclaiming her attention. "It is not yet daybreak, and someone is singing in the Dark Castle. And trying to be nice. To me!" He scowled. "She was sweeping the main hall, Belle. What kind of creature sings while cleaning? She wasn't even holding the broom right."

A twinge of guilt prodded her. Perhaps she could have been more specific when accepting help. "Perhaps she's a little enthusiastic."

"She complimented my old wheel." His shudder, though mostly for show, was real enough. "I think she meant it."

Belle took a deep breath to hold back a giggle. If anything, she had expected her new friend to come running for help against the Dark One.

"Did you ask her to stop?" she asked once she controlled her voice into hiding her amusement.

He huffed. "And trigger another storm of tears? I don't think so."

That was a good point.

She should have revealed her master's identity before the Dark Castle came into view, but Belle couldn't regret her silence on the subject. All of her reassurances would have fallen on deaf ears while in the Evil Queen's lands.

To take shelter under Rumpelstiltskin's roof was anathema to those who had feared him for so long.

However, to accept the help of his maid must be a loophole worth trying.

(And Rumple had given a proud grin when she tried that argument)

"So, to avoid the sight of tears, you came to get me instead?"

He lifted an eyebrow, refusing to answer the obvious.

"Can't it wait a couple hours?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no." He stepped forward, catching himself before he might even brush the edge of her bed and making a hilarious turn as if he'd planned that move all along. "I mean - Right. That one. No. She must be stopped at once. Stubborn little meddlers, the lot of them. All smiles until-" He shook his head. "Never mind that. Just go."

Belle pushed herself onto a sitting position, considering her words. Fairies were a touchy subject. "She is harmless."

He sneered. "Make no mistake, dearie. Had she the chance, she would have done the same as her elders. The only reason I haven't torn off her wings and cast her into the Infinite Forest is because I'd hate to do Blue's dirty work."

Lie.

The Dark One never demanded a payment on which both parts hadn't agreed.

In his worst mood, he would have denied the young fairy entrance and mocked her willingness to run to the enemy, but he would never have harmed her.

"Of course," Belle said anyway, because Rumpelstiltskin was the last person who should know about his penchant for fairness. It made him eager to demonstrate the opposite, when unprepared for the truth. "There's also the fact that she is... what was it you said..." She tapped her chin as if searching for the words. He frowned at the little show, but said nothing. "Ah, yes. A useful pawn!"

"Terrible memory, my dear. She is close to one," he corrected. "Unimportant, yet not completely useless."

"She has a name, you know."

He leaned closer, as if to share a secret. "I do," he admitted, then shrugged. "And I'm sure she'll be happy I spare myself the use of it."

Belle couldn't deny that. "Nova will appreciate more that you don't use her at all."

"Not in my plans, not at all." He playfully tapped the tip of her nose. "You can tell her that."

Rumpelstiltskin's plans twisted and branched from one eyeblink to the next. He swore it was a precise dance, but that was only when one didn't lift their eyes off the road to the World Without Magic.

Cause and consequence, however, reached much further

Her own presence in the Dark Castle was proof of that. A single whim, a twist of fate, and she'd become entangled in Rumpelstiltskin's plan.

Intention, as Rumpelstiltskin often sneered, was meaningless.

"I should advise her to ask for passage to another land."

"A wise choice. Not one she'll take, as long as she's on her own, though." He smirked. Then seemed to notice how he almost hovered over her and all but jumped back, turning the movement into a wide sweep of his arms. "Isn't true love grand?"

Her disappointment on the subject allowed only a slight smile in response. "All right," Belle conceded, not in the mood to engage in a conversation about romance, even when the pairing was as unlikely as a fairy and a dwarf. "I will talk to her."

By the time she was on her feet, Rumpelstiltskin had retreated to her doorstep, hands held before himself and then hastily shoved behind his back.

In trying to bridge the distance between them, she had only added awkwardness to it.

What a fool.

"Must I rush in, in my nightgown; or can you wait until I've changed?"

Still a fool.

Rumpelstiltskin blinked, his mouth working soundlessly as if he'd just figured out that her outfit wasn't meant for public view.

Cut out from society, he forgot the oddest things.

"I'll await results in the tower," he said at last. "I trust I won't be bothered again."

He disappeared before she could answer, leaving her to wonder: why hadn't he escaped to his laboratory from the start?

#fandom: ouat #ch: rumpelstiltskin #ch: belle (ouat)#rumbelle #ar: the brighter side

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agentditto · 4 years

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My own designs for Ladybug and Cat Noir.

(My AU goes like this: imagine elements from every form of fiction I’ve posted here, melded as one HUGE world where the characters can be...people, to live and breathe, to get away from it all. And the Fictionists are basically fans or haters endued with great powers.) Earth-21!Marinette and Adrien the same as their Prime Universe counterpart, but with a touch of @zoe-oneesama‘s “Scarlet Lady AU” Marinette and Adrien. Basically, she finds that people like Chloe and Lila aren’t worth their time, but some events involving Adrien’s superhero identity being revealed and Gabriel, upon realizing he was fighting his son this whole time, is actually HORRIFIED at all the times he’s attempted to hurt HIS OWN SON and feels immense remorse about this, even going so far as to give him a hug as they're crying...afterwards, Gabriel is taken away, but he tells me to give the Butterfly Miraculous to you, so you could become Monarch and treat Nooroo with the kindness and happiness he had lacked, and to take care of Adrien where he did not...as a final wish before being banished to the Phantom Zone and with Lila stealing the Fox Miraculous and becoming a Dark Fictionist, Marinette and Adrien are essentially banished themselves, due to Lila’s hatred, (Marinette has the Miracle Box), but to my world. Marinette has no idea where she is, but the denizens of Nova-Terria's epicenter and my hometown, Playroom City (my home in the Toy Story universe, located at Galaxy Toys), try to help her as best they can in any way. She continues to fight evil, but it beats fighting akumatized victims! Now Adrien, on the other hand, knew about my world because of Plagg’s information and said kwami suggesting they take refuge with me, but I always join Adrien as his opposite in species, Firedog. We find her and she explais that they were banished and they’ll need to stay here, as it is, I can help them, but they’re still banished. We 3 get along just fine, in and out-of-costume, basically a Mr. Incredible/Frozone bro-ship as Marinette and I become brothers-in-arms.So, in short, Marinette and Tikki are lost in town, my denizens cheering her on and training, helping her while Adrien, Plagg and I are searching as Adrien was now free to do whatever he wanted, and we found her in time.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au

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fernlom · 6 years

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Complete List of My Characters: With Snippits **EDITED**

Hood- Johnathan Satlin, the universe Guardian. Lazy, married to Liz Wright

Liz Wright- Wife to Hood, ultimate Mom with a control over fire and a ghost body guard

Aaron Nitishino- Number 42, The God Killer, adorably fluffy, married to Beth Wright

Beth Wright: Aaron’s wife, will kick your ass, adorable with a kind personality. Will gladly fight for her husband

Tiggs Nitishino: Aaron’s cousin. 9 foot tall black and silver four armed tiger man. Total mad scientist.

Jasmine Nitishino: Aaron’s cousin. Shapeshifter, lynx lady, pan, will stab you and flirt with you in the same minute

Pinstripe: Mafia Hit man possessed by ancient assassin god

Sheriff Waters: wild west sherriff and time displaced Pinstripe.

Sheriff McCreed: immortal western zombie sheriff, total nonchalant asshole.

Deputy Colt 45: super futuristic robot sent to the wild west. Deputy to Waters and McCreed.

Guilty’s Gang: Guilty, Thomas Ralz the pianist, and old man Joe the banjoist. And their swamp monster.

Scorpio: bandito given powers by the zodiac spirit scorpio,

Cheif Kitchi: Blackfoot indian chief.

Vessal: bronze golum, protecter of Kitchi’s tribe, host to hundreds of warrior spirits.

Argon and Neon: nova kids trapped in the Wildwest, brother and sister.

Nobilis Krypton: Anodyne, roman themed, trapped in wildwest with Argon and Neon

Stephan and Justin Wright: Little Brothers to Hood and Aaron respectively. Adopted by Tracey Wright and Hail Tartalgia. The bridges to the multiverse. Cinnamon roll and sin-namon rolls.

Tracey Wright: Hail’s wife and the mother to Justin and Stephan, tired of everyone’s shit and the power over darkness.

Hail Tartalgia: Second Youngest of the Tartalgia family. Shy, ice powers, twin brother to Zana, cinnamon roll. Married to Tracey Wright.

Lightening Tartalgia: youngest Tartalgia, power over energy, super speed. Energetic, outgoing, friendly.

Fog Tartalgia: Middle child of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Storm. Power over all gasses and vapors. Quiet, kind, wise.

Storm Tartalgia: Middle Child of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Fog. Power over weather. Loud, arrogant, secretly a cinnamon roll.

Kujo: Second oldest of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Zoey. Blunt, dry, helpful. Can know everything about an item by touching it, and will know expertly how to use it.

Zana: Second youngest of Tartalgia family, twin sister to Hail, power over water and liquids, equally as shy as Hail if not more so.

Zoey: Second oldest of Tartalgia family, twin sister of Kujo, control over plants and animals. Mischievous and naughty, but still someone to trust.

Hero: eldest of Tartalgia family. Power of adapting to any situation (nearly infinite powers). Outgoing, positive, conceited, loves himself.

Pops: Possibly immortal old man, Looks like 60, but is as healthy as a 30 year old. Street brawler, travels with Launa.

Launa Dandies: Descendant of Waters. Can’t be harmed. Sociopath, angry at everything.

Taurus: Minotaur like being, greatest enemy is Hood, wants to envelop the world in eternal night.

Number43: almost clone of Aaron. An attempt to repeat the success that is Aaron in making ultimate weapon.

Grave Digger: older than time, is death, grim reaper, and the grave all at once. Always drinking.

Arnold: The Graveyard Cat. Zombie cat with the power of decay. Experiment of 100 Project

Ronny: The hellhound, control over darkness and fire. Experiment of 100 project

Damian: Giant Golden Flying Fox, A big ass fruit bat. Kind, gentle, not sure where he is. Clings to Digger

Marty: a mothman, silent, thinking, will fight you.

Vet: time traveling immortal redneck doctor getting into shenanigans

Uncle Sam: ultra patriotic American bald eagle robot. Made by vet

DJ Giz: super sleek robot covered in speakers. Makes noise. Made by vet

Livewire: robot with tendrils coming from his back. not made by vet but saved by him

SARAH: vets body guard. Ultimate fighting robot girl. Very curious about the world and open to learn.

Leao: Wizard cat!

Farmer John Stidham: first of Shattered Six, hard working, blunt farmer

Don Lomas: Second of Shattered Six, mob boss, mysterious, dangerous.

Poindexter Carter: third of Shattered Six, genius, scientist, nerd

Smiley Joe Stidham: fourth of Shattered Six, mixer, dancer, happy.

Dr Dean Lomas: fifth of Shattered Six, doctor, muscular, pretty boy

Agent Carter: Sixth of Shattered Six, agent, fighter, dangerous.

The Fivefold: The Pastor, Prophet, Evangelist, Teacher, and Apostle.

The Big Three: The three who made everything, Austin, Chance, and Fernando.

Curly Satlin: Giant lumberjack with bigger afro. Works for Don and Brigitta Vigarin.

Kristopher Krins: towns person of Keypers Cove, might be santa, definitely Santa, necklace is two candy canes which he uses when fighting.

Galve: flaming skeleton goat man in a robe, comes out from November to February.

Sir Issac Wells: real name of Johnny Rockers. Large bulky man, from Arkansas, used some enhanced cocaine, permanent other personality emerged, sophisticated man of class, still an absolute psychopathic serial killer.

Mr. Hicks: Henry Hicks, CEO of large tech company, travels the world joining fighting tournaments, boxer.

Lord Harlston: Victorian era gentlemen revived as a half plant, half zombie, very kind and polite. Hates rude un-gentlemanly people.

Pedro Gonzalez: former CEO, current Hero of Mexico, very strong boxer, rival to Mr. Hicks.

The Matador: Alfonzo Rivera, fighter, uses a sword and two bull fighting spears.

Wechidna: Immortal butler and warrior, butler to Mr. Hicks, neighbor to Tracey Wright.

Ashura: Ghost of formally immortal warrior, bonded to Liz Wright

Foxcrest: perfect maid

Wolfthorn: perfect Butler

Hawkridge: Perfect butler,

Ursa: Tigg’s main maid. Super strong

Lea: Tiggs’ main gardener. Mastered every last known martial art

Shaun-Li: Tigg’s cheff, poison touch.

Pastor Smith and Juddeep: World traveling Southern Pastor and his Saudi Arabian friend/ex-airport security guard.

Romulin: Son of Anubis, permanent rival to Uncle Sam

Valz: Greek titan of love, passion, erotic pleasure, and drinks.

Issac: Son of Hood, inherited all his powers.

Tommie: Daughter of Aaron, inherited all his powers (and looks)

Tedd: living teddy bear, adopted by Hood.

Ishmael: ancient warrior and shaman. Rival and big brother figure to Issac

The Mesh: large, jumbled robot, created by a deceased boy genius, roams the world looking for a new owner.

Abra: Alternate pinstripe, unknown female who’s theme is magician.

Ringmaster: Circus ringmaster with reality altering abilities

Chuckles: Alternate pinstripe, unknown female who’s theme is clown.

Ragdoll: Hood from a forgotten universe, a patchwork ragdoll like being of pure evil.

Snap: the alpha hood, the original who snapped upon seeing the multitude of various deaths.

Corruption: alternate Aaron. Put on Hood’s sweater, old programming resurfaced, Went crazy.

The Pinstripe Corps: multidimensional assassin group of alternate Pinstripe’s

The OFFKeys: a group of six musicians from Keypers Cove, each represents a different music genre

The entire town of Keypers Cove: hoh boy. Their necklaces has powers

Thunder and Zora Tartaliga: Parents of the Tartalgia Family and founders of Tartalgia.

Ultra42: Alternate Aaron, true ultimate weapon

Omega42: Zombie Ultra, mindless animal, afterwards a depressed former hero.

Aaron+: alternate aaron, controlled with nanites, killer.

Amalgam: an amalgamate of Pinstripe, Fatality, Legion, Patient Doe, Mr Thompson, Scorpio, from a computer world.

Scrap: all of Vet’s robots, mashed into one, torn to shreds by Aaron+ individually before reforming and killing him.

Virus: Vet’s true opposite. Body is home to every last disease, fungus, and bacteria in the universe, complete control over all disease.

Schism: the true embodiment of chaos and order. True equality. A god pretty much.

EL: The elemental. Splits into six main elements, Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Machine, Nature, Light and Dark. Then they fuse into four sub elements. Fire and Water make Energy. Air and Earth make Decay. Nature and Machine make Time. And Light and Dark make order. Then they fuse to make two. Time and Decay make Death. Order and Energy make life. El, the final fusion, is the element of Humanity

Error53: a mix of science and magic, a demonic computer virus.

El guillao: Puerto Rican Gansgter, uses soul flame and machetes.

Fatality: embodiment of fear, true monster.

Legion: former youth pastor turned host to millions of demons.

Train Man: Wildwest Zombie, enforcer of death, rounds up souls Digger doesn’t feel like finding.

Dr. Isotope: former Cold War Scientist, imbued with the power of ten atoms bombs

Xalarn: flaming spikey skeleton man, makes more flaming skeletons for army.

Damian Weaver: form an alternate universe, survivor of zombie apocalypse. Thinks he is edgy, is not edgy,

Justin Carter: from the same forgotten world as Ragdoll. Another patchwork ragdoll man, with a flaming chainsaw for a hand, a hero.

Patient Doe: unknown. A patchwork person trying to make themselves the perfect body, might be alien, no facts known.

Mr. Thompson: really friendly serial killer, animals love him, everyone loves him, everyone knows hes a killer too.

Silver Heart: given a robotic heart that replaces all damaged parts with robotics.

Bob: robot from the future meant to be sent to 1950’s America. Sent to modern America. Typical 1950’s dad but is actually killer liquid metal robot.

Rex: very large man with brain of hyper intelligent dog. Loyal, works with a pirate, but always dressed in a suit.

Leon: demon lion man. Crazy, violent, evil

Captain Longbeard and Shiv: Pirates. Longbeard is very intelligent, pilots a ship from the far future, Shiv is his malfunctioning robot fighter/first mate.

Clove: Skeleton Wildwest gun for hire. Known as the Gunslinger.

Beryl and Obsidian: Gem people. Servants for the Gods.

DOTcom: a program and nanite cloud created by Vet, pilots his TAURTOS.

Talli and Mingan: Talli cant die, Mingan is his giant grey dire wolf who is the real brains of the duo.

Blachidna: Alternate version of Wechidna, evil, arrogant, ruler of planet of factories.

Employee18: leader of worker revolution against Blachinda, favorite weapon :picaxe

Ashuraos: alternate Ashura, driven mad with power, being of pure chaos, body is half liquid energy

The Lounge Singers: 1920′s era smokey ball room band, actually hitmen, Ricky, Big Al, Betty, and Li.

Lukas Muler: Swiss cowboy living in Treasure Canyon. Earth bending powers, loves rocks.

Kopano Pillay: South African mercenary, true soldier, gun for hire.

Malware: a corrupted, computer virus infected Justin, wants to recreate his family using the glitches.

Trojan: a corrupted, computer virus infected Stephan. Wants to make Justin fix their world then kill him, willing to destroy whatever stands in his way.

The Televnagelist: former big name preacher turned serial killer.

The FRESHfold: the fivefold, but Fresh.

Vetster: Vet and Gaster merged together.

Aroodamate: Hood and Aaron, amalgamated

Civilian: mysterious unknown vigilante, no powers.

Galaxes: angelic being made of red space dust and stars, watcher of the world

The Four Angels: A Roman Centurion, a Holy Knight, A Western Sheriff, and a US WWII Soldier. Angels, and patron guardians of The Fivefold

El Monstruo: Mexican Super Villain, villain to Pedro Gonzalez. Basic super powers of super strength and speed. Only wants to bring Mexico to World power status, going about it very wrong.

Cowl: Underfell Aaron

Cloak: Underfell Hood

Charger/Camaro/Mustang: super soldiers made by Group 100 project, large, strong, hate Aaron.

Moses Shamalyan: the Great Devastator, Aaron’s rival, dog man.

Golgatha: parasite, cannibal, mercenary, master chef.

Y’All: parasite that turns people into hillbilly’s

Thomas Burgens: crazed pizza place owner with an army of killers and animatronic suit.

Retro: pixelated knight traveling the world

Fenrif: Old Norse God living as a cowboy in Montana

Mabel Brown: wizard cowgirl, alchemizes her own bullets, each being a different spells.

Rodrick Black: magician, bank robber. Enemy of Hood. Possible real magic? unconfirmed.

Gabriel: angel made of rusted scrap metal, joins Retro on his adventures.

Agent Tell: Government agent infected by alien millipede parasite. Covered in spikes, has flame thrower.

Agarom: former hero, turned demon, back to hero.

LUCAS: comes from the same world as Retro. A humanoid figure made from a random assortment of different sized and colored pixels. Friendly, wants to help.

Emmanuel Rodriguez: Mexican assassin with an affinity for throwing knives.

The Untracables: Robert Gonzales and Shaun Findly, hitman contractor and loser turned killer duo.

Vinny: a business man infected by a parasitic lily that has taken over his body with vines.

Ausham: ego of darkness, creativity, and passion

Chanter: ego of emotions, morality, and love

Eclecious: ego of logic, spirituality, and intelligence

Parsure: ego of depression, anxiety, and writers block

Glossy: ego of encouragement, ambition, and responsibilities

Blake: ego of neutrality, boredom, and disinterest.

Cole: ego of mischief, rage, and hatred

Dull; ego of distraction, absent mindedness, and randomness

Author: ego of humor, nostalgia, and regret.

Buddy Lilly: Ego of music, talents, and boldness

Staliel: Ferns Guardian Angel. Nervous train wreck

JM Drew: former cartoon studio owner turned inky psychopath

Dr Alexander: former life of Ausham, dangerous surgeon and assassin

Chanzer: a twisted corrupted Chanter

Plush: a felt plush filled apex predator

Ratio: TV head in charge of directing messages and asks to the egos and other characters.

Publisher: anthropomorphic cat man made of stars and darkness, lives in the thrift shop.

Officer Lupe Rodriguez: a normal lapd officer who has an instant healing factor making her invincible.

Oasis: a being made of sand that wanders the Mojave desert.

Glitch Angel: A humanoid being made of multicolored corrupted pixels with two large pixel wings.

Black Bishop: mysterious man in a black hooded robe with a staff shaped like a bishop chess peace that can pierce any material and summon minions made of that material. Actually an absolute dork.

Magra: bishops main general. Flaming jackolantern head on a titanium and gold body with vines, hot plasma, and liquid energy wrapped around his body. Also an absolute dork.

#my characters

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leviathan-supersystem · 6 years

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What happened between you and Nova?

nothing in particular, no big Falling Out or anything, we just sorta gradually drifted apart. i know now they’re on a big “only anarcho-communism is real communism, all other communists are Red Fascists” tip now, which obvs is completely not what i’m about at all, so, idk. i’d feel weird re-establishing contact. “hey whats up, how ya been, heard you think i’m evil? cool, cool.”

at the time when we were in touch i was still really deep in my attempt to create a communist/leftist mode of occultism- honestly in retrospect it feels surreal that i was ever so deeply involved in that project, but at the time it made sense- i saw a lot of kids in the Edgy Aesthetic tumblr scene getting sucked in by fascist occultism, wotanism and so on, and it seemed to me like a good strategy to try to create some kind of memetic counter-force, to try to draw young people with an interest in the occult toward the left, rather than toward the right. so i started studying the history of any overlap i could find between politics and occultism, and any overlap between political and occult symbolism, to try to develop a theory of political occultism within a left-wing context.

nova was one of the first people to take any kind of interest in my work, and at the time had a larger following than me, so honestly i was pretty excited that my work was having any kind of influence at all.

at any rate, since then the memetic landscape has changed- the threat of fascist occultism has subsided as the far-right has begun to shift away from that strategy because of all the infighting it was creating on their side between occult nazis and christian nazis, and meanwhile on the left, left-wing occultism has expanded and gained such a high profile that the idea that it would need boosting seems absurd to me. if anything, i’m more concerned about leftist mysticism eclipsing leftist materialism/skepticism.

also a lot of my theories on political occultism and the nature of symbolism don’t seem as convincing to me now in light of new evidence. while my approach was always from a purely materialistic worldview- in the sense of viewing mysticism purely as a psychological/sociological phenomenon, and not subscribing to any literal belief in the supernatural- i did have some theories about the association between symbolism and ideology, and the idea that certain symbols might have inherent psychological associations which overlapped with political ideology.

namely, what i perceived as a correlation between downward pointing symbolism and leftism, and upward pointing symbolism in fascism. this mostly sprung from noticing that the nordic resistance movement, a fascist movement, uses an upward pointing arrow as their symbol, and then comparing that to the downward pointing arrows of the iron front in antifascist symbolism, and in particular the way that the iron fron arrows being used to cover up fascist symbolism could be viewed as canceling out one force with an opposing force.

expanding on this, i noticed tons of stuff that followed this pattern, of downward/inward imagery being used by left-wing groups and upward/outward imagery being used by right-wing groups- also, how this could be applied to tendencies toward chthonic symbolism in left-wing imagery and toward ouranic symbolism in right-wing imagery.

and then expanding on this to explore parallels between this, and various uses of opposition between upward/downward forces as a motif in the occult- alchemy, etc. and then add in hegel’s hermetic influences, and it felt like i had stumbled on something significant.

of course, then those fascist assholes in identity evropa used the dragon’s eye as their symbol, which according to my theories should have been too inherently leftist a symbol for that to even really be possible. and there were other similar examples of symbolism being used in ways that directly contradicted my theories. so what the fuck. all that hard work the fuck out the window, it meant nothing.

interestingly though, it seems that right-wing dickhead jordan peterson arrived at something very similar to my own concepts, just with the ethical perspective reversed- ie, we both seem to have drawn eerily similar correlations about which alchemical imagery matches up to which political forces, but we have opposite perspectives on which side in that is good.

which almost piques my interest in re-exploring that, and seeing if i was on to something after all, but. nah. more likely i ended up drawing the same correlations because they were obvious correlations to draw, not because they demonstrate some kind of ~ooooooo mystical correlations between alchemical archetypes and political concepts.

and as much as i might try to keep this concept grounded and materialist by framing it purely in terms of the social and psychological effect of symbolism, at the end of the day, this is all extremely new-agey. i don’t see any compelling reason to think it’s where i should be spending my time and energy at this juncture.

wooo this got way off the subject you asked about! but yeah nova took an interest in my work very early on, but since then we’ve both kind of gradually drifted apart.

#Anonymous

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friend-clarity · 4 years

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The Men Who Walked Away

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau strode to the podium outside his home in Ottawa and said so many soothing words to a country reeling from the tragedy that had unfolded in Nova Scotia the day before (April 20, 2020). “We stand with you and we grieve with you. And you can count on our government’s full support during this incredibly painful time,” Trudeau said to the people of Nova Scotia. It would have been fine had the PM left it at that. Instead, he used this tragedy to start talking about his gun-control plans before the RCMP had even confirmed that all the bodies from this massacre had been found.

It’s quite the contrast to his reaction when asked several times last week about the blame China’s government should face over its actions and, at times, inactions that led to the spread of the coronavirus and the deaths of nearly 1,600 Canadians and growing. https://torontosun.com/opinion/columnists/lilley-trudeau-gives-china-a-pass-then-targets-gun-owners

Let’s recall the earlier "Montreal Massacre".

M Lépine was born Gamil Gharbi, the son of an Algerian Muslim wife-beater, whose brutalized spouse told the court at their divorce hearing that her husband "had a total disdain for women and believed they were intended only to serve men." At eighteen, young Gamil took his mother's maiden name. The Gazette in Montreal mentioned this in its immediate reports of the massacre. The name "Gamil Gharbi" has not sullied its pages in the thirteen years since. ...

To return to Gloria Steinem, when might a fish need a bicycle? The women of Montreal's École Polytechnique could have used one when Marc Lépine walked in with a gun and told all the men to leave the room. They meekly did as ordered. He then shot all the women.

Mark Steyn, December 5, 2019

Friday December 6th marks the thirtieth anniversary of the "Montreal Massacre" - a grim day in 1989 when fourteen female students at the École Polytechnique were murdered by a man known to posterity as "Marc Lépine". Much followed from that terrible slaughter, including various useless "gun control" measures - and the formal annual commemorations that, three decades on, are attended by as many eminences as Remembrance Day or Dominion Day. The men present in that classroom are now in their mid-fifties; the women are not. I was far from home that December and was not back in Quebec until Christmas. And so I accepted the official narrative of events - until, that is, a few years later, when I looked into it myself.

At which point I marveled at how the Canadian state had succeeded in so thoroughly imposing a meaning on the slaughter that is more or less the precise opposite of what actually happened. I've written about it over the years, although my comrades in the Canadian media complain every time I do so, as if any questioning of the official fairy tale cannot be permitted. Here's what I said on the thirteenth anniversary, in The National Post of Canada on December 12th 2002:

I loathe the annual commemorations of the Montreal Massacre. I especially dislike the way it's become a state occasion, with lowered flags, like Remembrance Day. But, in this case, whatever honour we do the dead, we spend as much time dishonouring the living -- or at least the roughly 50 per cent of Canadians who happen to be male: For women's groups, the Montreal Massacre is an atrocity that taints all men, and for which all men must acknowledge their guilt. Marc Lépine symbolizes the murderous misogyny that lurks within us all.

Ah, well, I would bring that up, wouldn't I? Just for the record, I'm not saying that M Lépine is representative of Algerian manhood or Muslim manhood. I'm saying he shouldn't be representative of anything -- least of all, the best efforts of women's groups and the convenient gloss of that pure laine name notwithstanding, Canadian manhood.

This spring, there was an attempted gun massacre at the Appalachian School of Law in West Virginia. But, alas for the Appalachians' M Lépine, there were two gun-totin' students present who were able to pin down the would-be mass murderer until the cops arrived. Allan Rock stepping forward to recite the relevant portions of the gun registry requirements would have been far less effective. Generally speaking, when the psycho shows up and opens fire, your best hope is that there's someone else around with a gun to hand -- a situation Canadian law has now rendered all but impossible.

Extreme cases make bad law, and just because it's a cliché doesn't mean the Liberal Party of Canada can't take it to hitherto undreamt of heights. Our disarmed Dominion will be the first jurisdiction on the planet with a one-billion dollar gun-registry. It was supposed to cost two million, but, as Dr. Evil learned in Austin Powers, these days that's just chump change, they'll laugh at you. No self-respecting government plan should cost less than ONE BILLION DOLLARS!!!!!

According to police, the gun registry is officially 25 per cent inaccurate. I'd figure that makes it unofficially 40 per cent inaccurate. But last week, while cynical Liberal bigwigs were openly boasting that this record-breaking government fraud would just be another one of those things you hear about for a couple of days that then mysteriously vaporizes somewhere over Shawinigan, the radio call-in shows were full of concerned, earnest, reasonable, moderate Canadians saying that, even if it did cost a billion, it still "sends the right message" on gun control. Which is just as well, as it'll still be sending the right message when it's up to two billion...The gun registry is symbolic not of Canada's predisposition to mass murder, but Canada's predisposition to mass suicide.

But the gun-registry boondoggle is just big-government business as usual. In a certain sense, the men present that day in Montreal were more profoundly disarmed. From my book After America:

Which is the more disturbing glimpse of Canadian manhood? The guy who shoots the women? Or his fellow men who abandon them to be shot? For me, the latter has always been the darkest element of the story. From my column in Maclean's, January 9th 2006:

Every December 6th, our own unmanned Dominion lowers its flags to half-mast and tries to saddle Canadian manhood in general with the blame for the Montreal massacre -- the fourteen women murdered by Marc Lépine, born Gamil Gharbi, the son of an Algerian Muslim wife-beater, though you wouldn't know that from the press coverage. Yet the defining image of contemporary Canadian maleness is not M Lépine/Gharbi but the professors and the men in that classroom, who, ordered to leave by the lone gunman, obediently did so, and abandoned their female classmates to their fate -- an act of abdication that would have been unthinkable in almost any other culture throughout human history. The "men" stood outside in the corridor and, even as they heard the first shots, they did nothing. And, when it was over and Gharbi walked out of the room and past them, they still did nothing. Whatever its other defects, Canadian manhood does not suffer from an excess of testosterone.

Your average Western feminist lobby group doesn't see it that way, naturally. "The feminism I think of is the one that embodies inclusivity, multiculturalism and the ability to change the world through the humanity that women do bring," says Stephanie Davis, executive director of Atlanta's Women's Foundation. "If there were women in power in representative numbers -- 52 per cent -- I think that the World Trade Center would still be standing."

That's a familiar line. If only your average Security Council meeting looked like a college graduating class, or that room at the École Polytechnique after the men had departed, there would be peace on earth.

I don't think so. Look at the current rape statistics under one of the most thoroughly feminized regimes on earth - the Government of Sweden. More from After America:

To those who succeeded in imposing the official narrative, Marc Lépine embodies the murderous misogynist rage that is inherent in all men, and which all must acknowledge.

For a smaller number of us, the story has quite the opposite meaning: whatever M Lépine embodies, it's certainly not (if you'll forgive the expression) Canadian manhood.

In 2009, the director Denis Villeneuve made a film of the story - Polytechnique. "I wanted to absolve the men," he said. "People were really tough on them. But they were 20 years old... It was as if an alien had landed."

But it's always as if an alien had landed. When another Canadian director, James Cameron, filmed Titanic, what most titillated him were the alleged betrayals of convention. It's supposed to be "women and children first", but he was obsessed with toffs cutting in line, cowardly men elbowing the womenfolk out of the way and scrambling for the lifeboats, etc. In fact, all the historical evidence is that the evacuation was very orderly. In real life, First Officer William Murdoch threw deckchairs to passengers drowning in the water to give them something to cling to, and then he went down with the ship – the dull, decent thing, all very British, with no fuss. In Cameron's movie, Murdoch takes a bribe and murders a third-class passenger. (The director subsequently apologized to the First Officer's home town in Scotland and offered £5,000 toward a memorial. Gee, thanks.) Mr Cameron notwithstanding, the male passengers gave their lives for the women, and would never have considered doing otherwise. "An alien landed" on the deck of a luxury liner – and men had barely an hour to kiss their wives goodbye, and watch them clamber into the lifeboats to sail off without them. The social norm of "women and children first" held up under pressure.

Today, in what Harvey Mansfield calls our "gender-neutral society", there are no social norms. Eight decades after the Titanic, a German-built ferry en route from Estonia to Sweden sank in the Baltic Sea. Of the 1,051 passengers, only 139 lived to tell the tale. But the distribution of the survivors was very different from that of the Titanic. Women and children first? No female under 15 or over 65 made it. Only five per cent of all women passengers lived. The bulk of the survivors were young men. Forty-three per cent of men aged 20-24 made it.

"There is no law that says women and children first," Roger Kohen of the International Maritime Organization told Time magazine. "That is something from the age of chivalry."

If, by "the age of chivalry", you mean the early 20th century.

As I said, no two maritime disasters are the same. But it's not unfair to conclude that, had the men of the Titanic been on the Estonia, the age and sex distribution of the survivors would have been very different. Nor was there a social norm at the École Polytechnique. So the men walked away, and the women died.

Whenever I've written about these issues, I get a lot of e-mails from guys scoffing, "Oh, right, Steyn. Like you'd be taking a bullet. You'd be pissing your little girlie panties," etc. Well, maybe I would. But as the Toronto blogger Kathy Shaidle put it:

When we say 'we don't know what we'd do under the same circumstances', we make cowardice the default position.

I prefer the word passivity – a terrible, corrosive passivity. Even if I'm wetting my panties, it's better to have the social norm of the Titanic and fail to live up to it than to have the social norm of the Polytechnique and sink with it.

~The above includes material from Mark's book After America. If you disagree with Steyn and you're a member of The Mark Steyn Club, then feel free to have at him in the comments.

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floraexplorer · 5 years

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A Haunted Guide to Lunenburg, The Spookiest Town in Nova Scotia

At first glance, the little town of Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, is picture-perfect.

Under bright skies, tourists flock to Lunenburg to eat ice cream, shop for souvenirs, and learn about the town’s rich maritime history at the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic.

Lunenburg is famous for its brightly coloured clapboard houses lining the narrow streets, and for its picturesque harbour, home to the famous tall ship Bluenose II. And as one of the best surviving British-built colonial towns in North America, the whole of Lunenburg’s Old Town is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

But as the sun begins to set, the streets of Lunenburg seem to mysteriously empty.

What you don’t see in the daylight is Lunenburg’s spooky side – because this is a town filled to the brim with ghosts, witches, and spiritual stories. Every night, the streets of the Old Town are lit up by lanterns as the braver tourists set out on the Haunted Lunenburg Walking Tour.

Lunenburg is an historic town – but it’s also a haunted one.

A history of Nova Scotia: why is it so haunted?

Over the generations, the people of Nova Scotia have grown up in close proximity with death.

The province’s maritime history is largely responsible: as almost all of Nova Scotia’s landmass is unsuitable for agriculture, the economy has always been based around fishing. When sailors left shore they’d be gone for months at a time, and there was no guarantee they’d return.

Storms, shipwrecks and drownings often occurred. Those lost at sea were commemorated with granite memorials in the places they hailed from – and the bodies of victims who made it back home were buried in cemeteries right in the centre of towns, not shunted off to the outskirts.

It’s been said that Lunenburg has more folklore, witches, superstitions and ghost stories than any other place in Nova Scotia. And when you stand in the town’s 300-year-old cemetery at the top of a street named Gallows Hill, you get the feeling it could be true.

Read more: the most beautiful cemetery I’ve ever seen

A turnstile at the entrance to Garrison Graveyard in Annapolis Royal, NS

Although we’d only been in Nova Scotia for two days when we arrived in Lunenburg, Kim and were already getting familiar with the province’s spooky past.

In Halifax the night before, we’d enjoyed a fancy dinner at the Five Fishermen Restaurant – and in between bites of lobster mac and cheese I’d been on the lookout for poltergeist activity. The Five Fishermen building used to be a funeral parlour and mortuary back in the 19th century and prepared dozens of the Titanic victims for burial.

And just that morning we’d visited the lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, famed for the ghost of a woman in a blue dress named Margaret. Her husband was lost to the sea, and she’s wandered the rocks mourning for him ever since.

So we were well-prepared for some haunted goings on in Lunenburg. Or so we thought.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

A spooky night on the Haunted Lunenburg Walking Tour

The sun had already set when we met our guide Kerriann beside a splintered bench. A tiny sign hung above it, advertising the tour; a collection of lanterns sat on the steps beside her, candles waiting to be lit.

Kerriann introduced herself as an eighth-generation Lunenburger, and a direct descendant of the Moreash clan. Many of her ancestors called these same streets home, and their names cropped up repeatedly throughout the tour.

A bored-looking teenager with his parents walked towards us. They were the last three members of our little tour group, and after Kerriann handed out the lanterns we set off together.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

From the moment she began to speak, it was clear that Kerriann had worked extremely hard to perfect her storytelling skills – and I realised that it wouldn’t be fair for me to give away the specifics of her stories in writing.

What I can describe is the atmosphere she created.

As we wandered past ornate houses and looming hotels, Kerriann told us ghost stories about Lunenburg’s long-dead residents: the disgruntled hotel owner tormenting guests; the murderous husband who was the last man hung beside the jail; the young girl forever standing in a ‘Lunenburg Bump’, waiting for her long lost love.

The ‘Lunenburg Bump’ is a curious architectural wonder in the town – an extended dormer window built into the top floor of many Lunenburg houses, it first began as a way to provide a bit more light and air, but quickly gained pace as neighbours took the idea and developed it.

Nowadays Lunenburg is filled with Bumps of all varieties, and it’s all too easy to imagine them as a type of ‘widows walk’. How many wives, fiancees, mothers and daughters of sailors and captains have patiently stood watch up there, waiting for their seafaring men to come home?

Superstitions are still alive and well in Lunenburg

The widow’s walk is just one of many superstitions to still hold weight here. The residents of Lunenburg are a tight-knit community, which means they’ve been raised with an oral history.

Familiar stories passed down through generations are responsible for shaping the behaviours of thousands of Lunenburgers – and alongside her ghostly tales, Kerriann explained the amount of superstitious belief which has influenced much of Lunenburg: how wearing grey mittens when fishing would bring grey skies, or how Lunenburg houses were built with identical front and back doors to confuse the devil, who only entered through the back door.

We learned that it’s legal to spit in public – but only when you’ve seen a single crow. The sight of that one bird is bad luck, but spitting on the ground invites a second crow to join it. Unfortunately the governors in Halifax cottoned onto this belief and introduced a fine for spitting in public in their city, which was often referred to as the Lunenburg tax on account of who often ended up paying it!

Kerriann told us that flipping things is bad luck, as it mimics the action of a boat capsizing. That means eggs are always cooked ‘over easy’; food comes out of a can with a spoon instead of being turned upside down; and women serve freshly-baked bread by taking it straight from the oven, running a knife around and lifting it out.

These superstitions make sense when you remember this community revolved around the sea – a place full of unpredictability and danger. Sailors have always been renowned for their superstitious nature, but it’s fascinating to realise that many modern-day Lunenburgers still wholeheartedly believe in these things, and abide by them too.

Read more: traditions and superstitions in the South American mountains

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

The mysterious stars of St John’s Anglican Church

As darkness fell, we made our way slowly up Gallows Hill until we reached St John’s Anglican Church.

This Gothic building was the first church built in Lunenburg in 1754 and the second oldest Anglican church in Canada, but it was tragically set on fire by arsonists on Halloween Night, 2001. The precious stained glass windows had to be smashed to gain access to the church and attempt to fight the fire which ultimately destroyed half the building and all the contents within.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

Inside, we stared up at a domed ceiling above the altar which was covered with stars. Kerriann told us that during the post-fire restoration (achieved by solely using salvaged wood from the wreckage), historians realised the spacing of the stars seemed somewhat strange – so they called in star experts. Eventually they realised it was the same constellation visible from Lunenburg on 24th December, the night Jesus was born.

Somehow this significant fact had slipped from history – but thanks to the fire, it came to light again.

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

The haunted graves of Hillcrest Cemetery

At the very top of Gallows Hill sits Hillcrest Cemetery, a sprawling plot of land where the oldest grave marker dates back to 1761, eight years after Lunenburg was established.

We approached the cemetery beneath the pale light of a watery moon, and I could feel the air of unease settle around the group. Being in such close proximity to a lot of very old graves felt rather vulnerable.

I stepped onto the damp grass, holding my lantern closer to my face – I didn’t want to trip over any gravestones and give myself a heart attack – but luckily Kerriann knew exactly where she was going. She picked an easy route between old slate gravestones with German names until she reached one surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. It was the grave of Sophia, a 14 year old girl who died of a broken heart.

While Kerriann told us the sad story of Sophia’s untimely death after she was accused of stealing $10, I looked furtively around at the neighbouring graves. Did Sophia still wander this patch of ground?

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

The basement ghost of Lunenburg Academy

The ‘Castle on the Hill’ is a massive, three-storey building which dates back to the 1890s and has housed the local primary school for centuries. It’s also just opposite Hillcrest Cemetery, meaning generations of children walked past these graves on their way to and from class.

Lunenburg is a landmark building for both historical and architectural reasons – it’s imposing enough just to look at – but as you’d expect in this town, it’s seriously haunted too.

The basement was nicknamed ‘The Dungeon’ by scared students, thanks to an evil feeling which pervaded the space and the rumour of a monster inhabiting one of the toilet stalls. Little boys were dared to enter alone, goading each other on despite the fear, while girls refused to go inside unless they were in pairs.

But the more compelling ghost story is about Sidney Kernickle, a school janitor who was such a strong spiritual force in the Academy that a ghost hunters show paid $50,000 for a local to show them around the building, eventually capturing an image of a face in one of the windows. When the image was circulated around Lunenburg, someone pulled out a yearbook from 1960 and identified Mr Kernickle!

[Photo by Kim Leuenberger]

As Kerriann told us about the ghost of Lunenburg Academy, I glanced over at a car parked in front of the building. There was a middle-aged man sitting in the car’s front seat: he was disarmingly still, and I wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. Neither was the moody teen from our group, who slouched his way towards the car to investigate. I could see the tension in his shoulders as he approached, peering through the window to get a closer look.

I turned to Kim and whispered very quietly, “There’s a man in that car…” She jumped a mile in the air and everyone began to laugh, the ghostly tension dissipating for a moment.

But as we walked away from the dark red bricks of Lunenburg Academy which towered above us, I felt a chill run quickly down my spine. There were so many windows. Who knew if Sidney’s ghostly face was peering down at our little group as we walked away?

Info about Lunenburg Walking Tours

Lunenburg Walking Tours offers a selection of daily tours from June 1st to October 30th – ‘Essential Lunenburg’ at 10am & 2pm and ‘Haunted Lunenburg’ at 8.30pm. Their tours are also available year-round via reservation.

All the Lunenburg Walking Tours take about an hour and have the same prices:

Adult: $25

Youth: $15

Family: $75

I can personally attest to the quality of both these tours – we received complimentary tickets for the Essential Lunenburg tour, and loved it so much that we immediately paid for the Haunted Lunenburg tour that same evening!

Read more about my adventures in Canada here

Pin this article if you enjoyed it!

NB: This trip was in partnership with Tourism Nova Scotia – but the ghost stories and haunted streets are all down to Lunenburg’s long-gone residents…

The post A Haunted Guide to Lunenburg, The Spookiest Town in Nova Scotia appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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fernlom · 7 years

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Complete List of My characters with snippits

Hood- Johnathan Satlin, the universe Guardian. Lazy, married to Liz Wright

Liz Wright- Wife to Hood, ultimate Mom, has control over fire.

Aaron Nitishino- Number 42, The God Killer, adorably fluffy, married to Beth Wright

Beth Wright: Aaron’s wife, will kick your ass, adorable and kind personality.

Tiggs Nitishino: Aaron’s cousin. 9 foot tall black and silver four armed tiger man. Total mad scientist.

Jasmine Nitishino: Aaron’s cousin. Shapeshifter, lynx lady, pan, will stab you and flirt with you

Pinstripe: Mafia Hit man possessed by ancient assassin god

Sheriff Waters: wild west sherriff and time displaced Pinstripe.

Sheriff McCreed: immortal western zombie sheriff, total nonchalant asshole.

Deputy Colt 45: super futuristic robot sent to the wild west. Deputy to Waters and McCreed.

Guilty's Gang: Guilty, Thomas Ralz the pianist, and old man Joe the banjoist. And their swamp monster.

Scorpio: bandito given powers by the zodiac spirit scorpio,

Cheif Kitchi: Blackfoot indian chief.

Vessal: bronze golum, protecter of Kitchi’s tribe, host to hundreds of warrior spirits.

Argon and Neon: nova kids trapped in the Wildwest, brother and sister.

Nobilis Krypton: Anodyne, roman themed, trapped in wildwest with Argon and Neon

Stephan and Justin Wright: Little Brothers to Hood and Aaron respectively. Adopted by Tracey Wright and Hail Tartalgia. The bridges to the multiverse. Cinnamon roll and sin-namon rolls.

Tracey Wright: Hail’s wife and the mother to Justin and Stephan, power to control and manipulate darkness.

Hail Tartalgia: Second Youngest of the Tartalgia family. Shy, ice powers, twin brother to Zana, cinnamon roll. Married to Tracey Wright.

Lightening Tartalgia: youngest Tartalgia, power over energy, super speed. Energetic, outgoing, friendly.

Fog Tartalgia: Middle child of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Storm. Power over all gasses and vapors. Quiet, kind, wise.

Storm Tartalgia: Middle Child of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Fog. Power over weather. Loud, arrogant, secretly a cinnamon roll.

Kujo: Second oldest of Tartalgia family, twin brother to Zoey. Blunt, dry, helpful. Can know everything about an item by touching it, and will know expertly how to use it.

Zana: Second youngest of Tartalgia family, twin sister to Hail, power over water and liquids, equally as shy as Hail if not more so.

Zoey: Second oldest of Tartalgia family, twin sister of Kujo, control over plants and animals. Flirtatious and fun loving.