#halloween snippets

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinking about witch of the wilds reader, about whom so little is known the story changes depending on which villager tells it.

hunters say she embodies everything beautiful about nature, forgetting its fickle, volatile, dangerous side.

travelers say she disappears into the shadows of the trees, running naked except for the flowering thorns woven through her hair.

the young men say whoever catches her can have her a night, but she's as fast as a minnow and wily as a rabbit.

the old women say men venture into the forest to find her and they don't return.

storytellers say you'll never find her unless you're not seeking her--that she must be a nymph or a dryad, a daughter of Baba Yaga by a forest god.

children say she hinders fools and helps only those pure of heart--pure like children understand it, because pure does not mean well-intentioned. it only means free of distraction and distortion; obsessive; all-consumed.

venture out to find her and you might find that the gap between beautiful wild maid and dangerous sorcerous trickster is vanishingly small.

these stories are all blown a bit out of proportion, but who are you to deny the legends that give you such a steady stream of human travelers to toy with?

masterlist

see also: shapeshifter familiars 141 + witch reader <3

[writtenbyan-aries]

Just thinking about sitting outside on your porch with Matt, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watch him hand out Halloween candy to each kid that comes running up with their bags and buckets with so much excitement.

No warnings at all, just pure a fluffy snippet/blurb

‿෴Ѽ෴‿

“Trick or treat!”

“Whoaa! Nice costume buddy!” Matt smiles, reaching out to drop the candy into his bag, “Here you go! Happy Halloween!”

You smirk, smiling at the little girl that comes running up to you, “Trick or treat!”

“Look at you! You look beautiful!” You smile, letting her pick out a piece of candy, “Happy Halloween!”

You glance over at Matt who is sitting there looking at you. You smile shyly, “What?” He shakes his head, “Nothing, just.. thinking..”

He turns his attention to the group of children running up giggling, “And who do we have here? A firefighter, a power ranger and someone who has the same costume as me!”

“You’re a cowboy, too!?” The child asks, “Where is your hat?”

“My hat? Oh, yep. I forgot I took it off.” Matt looks around, grabbing his cowboy had from beside him, “Here we go, how about that?”

The child smiles and nods, “I like it!”

Matt smiles big and drops some candy into their bags and buckets, “Have fun tonight, kids!”

“So..” you rest your chin in your hand, your elbow on the armrest of the chair, “You were.. thinking.. about?”

He sighs, “what it’ll feel like to take our own kids trick or treating someday. what they’ll want to be.” He shrugs, shaking his head with a slight laugh, “It’s dumb.”

“It’s not stupid, Matt.” You stand up, moving your chair closer to him, “In fact, I think it’s really sweet that you’re thinking about a future with me.”

He looks over at you, giving you a smile and he sighs, his tone going into country mode, “Aw shucks, darlin’ why don’you, bring those lips over here t’mine.”

‿෴Ѽ෴‿

Thanks for reading. I love you so much. Catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[yoonjae20]

A series of snapshots of how the public views Danny’s return [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I can't believe it's been already 5 days since I last written something. University has kept me so busy.

Anyway — on to the next part! I tried something different for the first half, I hope it's not too jarring. I thought it would be fun to have a sort of outside view of how the public see Danny and Bruce.

Read on ao3. Masterpost.

Previous. Next.

“Did you guys see the interview Lois Lane did with Bruce Wayne and his husband?” 

“I was so shocked when I heard the news. They do look cute together though!”

“I still can't believe that the most eligible bachelor of Gotham had been married all along! It does explain why he never dated anyone.”

“I know right! But they must be super private for it to only come out now.”

“Actually they said in the interview that his husband was busy with other affairs outside the country.”

“Don’t you think it almost makes it sound like he’s a royalty from a far away land? He was so serious when he said he needed to take care of his duties and responsibilities.”

“No way you are believing that conspiracy theory. There’s a thread that debunked it already. Apparently he’s from some no name city in the Midwest.”

“I did think he had an accent I couldn’t place. Did you watch the clip of the interview where Lois Lane asked who proposed first?”

“Wait, what? I can’t believe I missed that, I hadn’t had time to watch the full interview!”

“Me neither.”

“Here let me pull it up.”

“-So who proposed first?”

Danny and Bruce look at each other for a moment and the latter groans at the expression his husband wears.

“Please not, love.”

“But it’s such an adorable story!” 

“Now I’m only more curious,” Lois chuckles. 

“Well we were quite drunk that day to be honest,” Danny laughs. “It was almost midnight when we decided we needed a hotel. Unfortunately all rooms were booked other than a Love Suite.”

Lois leans forward, eager to hear more.

“The receptionist said they don’t have a room for us both unless we are a couple-“

Bruce buries his face into his hands.

“And Bruce said and I quote ‘Actually we are fiancées.’ I don’t know if the receptionist or Bruce was more flustered when we woke up in the morning.”

“Wow!” Lois exclaims. “I never thought I’d see the day where Bruce is embarrassed.”

Bruce still doesn’t look up from where he hides his face. 

“Yeah he couldn’t look me in the eyes for the entire following day,” Danny snickers. “I actually asked him when the wedding would be while we were eating breakfast. He almost choked on his food!” 

The clips ends and the girls giggle.

“And still people believe Bruce Wayne isn’t a huge himbo.” 

“I do wonder how his youngest came to be. Did he cheat while his husband was away on business?”

One of the girls opens her mouth but before she can share her opinion the other interrupts.

“If you tell me you believe the rumors he’s a clone too then I’m gonna hit you, Sarah.” 

“I’m just saying that we never saw his mother in public!” 

A loudspeaker announces the next stop.

“Come on, we’ll have to hurry to get the bus.”

Their voices fade as they leave the subway. 

“Huh, isn’t that Bruce Wayne’s husband? Who is that next to him?”

“I think that’s Jason Todd, you know the one who died and came back a few years ago? Apparently he was in witness protection or something.”

“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize him. They look so familiar with each other.”

They watch as the older man cackles as he throws fries in his mouth while the younger scowls and playfully punches the man’s forearm. 

“Yeah I heard that now that he is back in Gotham he has been on several outings with the rest of Bruce’s kids.”

“Even with his youngest?”

“Yeah they went to the zoo. With his oldest son he visited him at work I think. He also went to his daughter’s performance. I’m not sure if he did something with the Drake boy.”

“Talking about the devil…”

The door to the Batburger opens, Tim Drake as well as the rest of Bruce Wayne’s brood following him. The older man cheerfully greets them, ruffling the hair of Tim as he sits down next to him. Soon their happy chatter fills the fast food restaurant and the ones watching them move on to other topics. 

“I was skeptical but they do make a good pair.”

Bruce Wayne and his husband are greeting their guests for the charity with matching suits and beaming smiles. Bruce leans to whisper something in the man’s ear and he nods. He politely excuses himself before he hurries out of the room with a champagne glass in hand. 

“Indeed. I’m a bit surprised how well adjusted his husband is, considering I can’t recall ever seeing him at a gala.”

Bruce watches the man go with a genuine smile before he turns back to the people surrounding him.

“That brings me back to when Mr. Wayne first returned to Gotham. I can’t help but feel he looks more at ease now.”

“I know what you mean. He’s mellowed out a lot over the years. To think he had a secret lover he had been hiding all this time…”

“And he seems to be getting along with his kids too. Talking about them-”

Damian Wayne approaches his father, telling him something. Bruce hums before he excuses himself and his son as they go in the direction his husband had gone too. The two high society members quickly forgot about the strangeness of it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tim Drake so serious.”

“To think that Mr. Wayne would have died without his husband there- It sickens me.”

“The fact that his son has to hold the press conference must mean his injuries are even worse than speculated.”

“I heard that he might need to relearn to walk too.”

“His husband looked furious when the reporters swarmed them once they arrived at the scene — honestly I would be too.”

“They have no shame.”

“I wouldn’t want to be them or the Clown now.”

“I can’t believe Red Robin and Signal let him slip away. Where were Batman and Robin anyway?”

“I have no idea either. And here I thought Batman favors Mr. Wayne and his family.”

“It did seem that way. If the Clown washes up dead, I’m betting on Mr. Wayne’s husband.”

“One can only hope.”

Danny opens the door with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Those damn vultures. If he had known how annoying they would be, he would have convinced Bruce to go live with him in the Infinite Realms — although he knows that despite their love for each other, his need for revenge had outweighed everything else once he finished his travels across the world. 

He shakes his head and steps in the room, eyes trailing to the bed — Bruce should be still out on pain medications-

“Bruce!” Danny chides when he sees the man struggling to stand up from where he is seated on his bed. “What are you doing?”

He hurries to the man’s side and helps him back into the bed as he groans.

“What happened?”

Danny frowns as he sits down the chair next to his bedside. It pains him to see Bruce so obviously weak, face drenched in sweat — if he finds that Clown, he’ll-

“There was a Rogue attack during the charity gala,” Danny explains as he pushes away the dark thoughts — he can plan with Jason later. He is sure the boy will take him up on the offer. “Don’t you remember?”

“What about the target?”

Danny sighs as he leans back, eyes tired — he hadn’t slept a single wink since the incident, but leave it to Bruce to be concerned about anything other than his own health.

“Tim and Cass managed to detain them. We got surprised before you and Damian could change into your costumes.”

Danny knits his eyebrows together as Bruce raises a hand to his temple, obviously straining his memory to recall what happened. 

“You should rest, darling,” Danny leans forward and puts his hands over the man’s left hand. “My ectoplasm sped up things, but you were quite hurt. I'll tell the kids that you are awake.”

He moves to stand but Bruce grasps his wrist before he can move from his spot. It’s feather light — nothing like the reliable, strong grip Bruce normally has. Danny gnaws at his lips as he waits for Bruce to compose himself. 

“Stay,” he says, voice exhausted before he murmurs, “please.”

If this were any other circumstances Danny would have snorted at the man’s display of rather lacking emotional vulnerability, but this is also the first time in many years that he has seen the man seriously hurt and had been powerless to prevent it even though he had been right there. The comfort Bruce is seeking right now — it’s also something Danny needs. To make sure the man is still alive. 

The man scoots over as Danny climbs in the hospital bed and pulls him closer once Danny makes himself comfortable. Danny falls asleep to the rhythmic, slow sound of the man’s heartbeat.

Danny wakes up to hushed voices talking. He keeps his eyes closed as he becomes aware of his surroundings.There’s a hand in his hair and he can hear the rumble of Bruce’s chest as he speaks-

“-He looks too exhausted.”

“You should have seen him when he brought you to the ambulance,” Jason chuckles. “I thought he was gonna bite the next reporter that shoved themselves in his way.”

“We can be glad Daniel was there Father,” Damian says before he hesitates. “I don’t think I would have been able..:”

He trails off and the atmosphere turns somber. 

“Has there been a press conference yet?” Bruce asks as he shifts to hold Danny a bit closer.

“Yes, Tim took care of it,” Jason says. “He and Dick will come by tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Danny can feel Bruce nodding. “Go return to the manor, it’s getting late and I’m sure Alfred won’t appreciate you coming home after curfew.” 

Danny doesn’t need to open his eyes to know Jason is probably rolling his eyes.

“You say as if all your kids aren’t running around as vigilantes at night,” Jason says. “Besides I’m going to one of my safe houses for the night.”

Bruce grunts, displeased and Jason sighs. 

“Fine I’ll go to the manor,” he gives in. “But only because these are special circumstances.”

Bruce lets out a hum, now obviously pleased.

“Should we wake Danny?”

“No, Iet him sleep,” Bruce says, before a bit of amusement slips into his tone. “I’m sure the nurse will let it be once she recognizes him as Bruce Wayne’s husband.”

Jason scoffs, but doesn’t protest. Damian says goodbye to his father before both of them leave. It’s several minutes later that Bruce chuckles.

“I know that you are awake.”

Danny opens one eye, peaking at Bruce who is looking at him with a soft smile. He’s propped up against the headboard and Danny is relieved to see him looking better than when he stepped in the room a few hours ago. 

Danny sits up and raises an eyebrow.

“My breathing?” he asks and Bruce snorts. 

“It doesn’t need a Detective to notice that you suddenly started breathing again although you didn’t while you were asleep.”

Danny huffs out a breath — that tell is the only reason why Danny can never deceive the man. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” Danny says as he leans against the man.

Bruce frowns as he tucks Danny into his side.

“Have they-”

“They all have been very accepting and lovely Bruce,” Danny interrupts. “You have good kids. I just feel bad that I have been monopolizing their attention. After all, you are their father even if some of them try to deny it.”

“You are now too,” Bruce says, surprising Danny, “if you want.”

Danny smiles as he answers, “I know. But that’s up to them.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone who can refuse you.”

Danny snorts.

“You are just biased, darling.”

Bruce shrugs, expression content. 

“Guilty as charged.”

Danny laughs as he shakes his head. 

Yeah, they’ll be fine — no matter what others might think about them. (And if he has to kill a Clown for that to happen, he will gladly do so.)

[slowd1ving]

[INAMORATA] SNIPPET . *࿐ SUNDAY, MOZE, SOMEWHAT JIAOQIU??

more jiaoqiu and moze being a little creep, male incubus reader

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Of course you don’t end up stealing a kiss outside the building—Moze taking the opportunity to clean the bathroom obsessively while buzzing from the liquor, while you walk Jiaoqiu out. 

Of course you don’t mean to, but you’re drunkenly complaining of the professor for your statistics module, and he’s merely gazing. When the sun’s long gone to its slumber—and the only light available is the halo around your head from the flickering streetlamp—who can blame him for the way his eyes drink your pout in, the way he’s getting lost in the way you smell? Menthol cigarettes and something sweeter, something his nose picks up that could be caramel but could also thrum deep in your veins to intoxicate others. 

He cuts you off when it gets too much for him, right when you push your glasses up to continue to ramble comfortably. 

“—every lecture, I swear—mmph—” 

You swear up-and-down you weren’t planning this; you’re taken completely aback as he surges, pressing you up against the rough brick of the building. He’s warm, you think deliriously—with his hand cradling your cheek and his other nestled in the back of the loose pullover you’re wearing, you’re warmer than you’ve been in weeks. 

It’s not desperate, but you can feel the build-up of emotion behind it: taste the cherry on your breath, the tequila on his. Alcohol may have prompted this, but even a fool could savour the heavy yearning on his tongue. 

“Jiaoqiu,” you mumble, but he merely tilts your head, nipping at your slicked lips with an eagerness he only seems to display when it’s the witching hours. He’s shorter than you, yet tonight he’s the one caging you in an inescapable lock—so hungry, so avaricious and naturally, you oblige, raking your hands in his pink hair. 

You taste blood. You taste life as you feel his steady pulse against your body, lust as he groans and melts into your touch, desperation as he entwines his arms around you with the sole goal of pressing himself into you even further. 

You are equally insatiable, gradually feeling the vivid colours flow from his tongue onto your own. 

You are equally gluttonous, but your work isn’t going to finish itself and you’re quite a good demon, if you do say so yourself. 

You are equally voracious, and perhaps completely degenerate, yet still you wistfully and regretfully ease your lips from his—though your hands remain white-hot on his body. 

It’s enough energy to get through the rest of this day and then some. It’ll do. It has to do. 

“I’ll see you at the Film Festival,” he murmurs, but the two of you know the encounter between you both will be sooner—a clandestine encounter between sheets, in fact. 

He’s walking home, so you watch him disappear into the night—and when his small figure is swallowed up in the void space between street lamps, you watch a little while longer. 

Unbeknownst to you, someone else has been watching this entire time too. 

[defectivehero]

The hero is taking their nephew trick-or-treating tonight for the first time, and they’re a bit nervous. Their nephew, Danny, is a great kid and well-behaved. The hero just isn’t used to acting as a guardian.

But as the afternoon begins, they start to relax as they see how much fun Danny is having. They watch as he runs up to a rather nice house, returning moments later with candy.

Then the hero sees the homeowner motion for them to come closer. They see that familiar form—almost seeming misplaced in civilian clothing—and their heart drops. Out of all the people they could’ve encountered… they just had to find the villain.

Gritting their teeth, the hero tells their nephew to run to the next house and stay within eyesight… before they walk up to the doorstep of the villain’s house.

“I didn’t realize you had a child,” the villain hums casually.

“Don’t,” the hero warns them.

“What?” The villain asks, having the audacity to look offended. “It was just an observation.” They blink innocently.

“He’s my nephew.” The hero spits out. They must be doing a bad job of hiding their distrust, because the villain sighs theatrically.

“Trust me, if I were up to something, you’d know,” the villain huffs. “Besides, I have… other priorities tonight.” They glance to the side and, in a few seconds, a child heads towards the doorway. The hero blinks. This must be the villain’s child.

“Um. Hi.” The hero says awkwardly, still reeling from the realization that the villain has a child.

The kid has the same eyes and nose as their parent. The resemblance is startling. “That’s a bad hero costume,” they remark helpfully. “You’re missing the amulet.”

They are missing their amulet, ironically. The hero self-consciously puts a hand to their collarbone before sighing. The villain looks endlessly amused, and also a bit wary of them—as if worried about their behavior in front of their child. The hero resists an eye roll at that, before glancing down the sidewalk. Their nephew is running back to them, bouncing on his heels impatiently as he evidently wonders what’s taking them so long.

“Hi,” the hero greets their nephew, placing a hand on his shoulder. He settles down a little, but still looks eager to go to the next house.

“Hi.” He answers. Then he looks curiously at the other child and smiles at them. The villain’s child smiles ever so slightly in response. The hero studies them for a moment, taking in those familiar hazel eyes on someone far more innocent and pure hearted than their enemy. Then they notice the kid’s costume and the slight frown on their lips and wonder if the villain has taken them trick or treating yet. It doesn’t look like it, actually—and that would explain the envious glances the kid is shooting at Danny.

“You know,” the hero says, crossing their arms over their chest. They’re already making the offer before they can think about it. “I was going to take Danny here trick-or-treating anyways… I’d be happy to take your child too.”

The villain studies them for a long, long time. The tense silence is only broken by a movement from the child at their side, who hesitates for a moment before crossing the threshold of the doorway and standing next to Danny.

“Do you want to go with them, Kel?” The villain asks; their child nods brightly in response. The villain lets out a long-suffering sigh, turning their attention to the hero. “Very well. I’m trusting you to ensure their safety.”

“Of course,” the hero responds sincerely. “I’ll have them back by curfew at 7.”

“6:30,” the villain argues.

The hero squints at them skeptically, before glancing down at their watch. It’s only 4:45 p.m. That’s plenty of time. “Fine.” They agree.

“If anything happens to them-” The villain starts.

“I know,” the hero interjects, before they can utter any threats in front of the children.

“I’m trusting you,” their enemy repeats gravely. “Don’t make me regret it.”

The hero nods, understanding just how much faith the villain is placing in them. Then an idea comes to mind. “Get your phone out.” The villain stares at them for a moment, before doing as requested. From there, the hero gives them their phone number. Then they reach into their own pocket and turn their phone’s ringer on. “Okay?” They ask, looking at them pointedly. The message is clear: Call me if you need anything.

The villain is staring at them with a complex expression on their face. “Okay.” They respond. Then they look to their child. “Have fun, alright?”

With that, the hero turns their back on the villain and watches as their nephew and their enemy’s child excitedly race ahead to the next house. They can feel the villain’s gaze watching them, even as they turn the corner and head out of sight.

©2024, @defectivehero | @defectivevillain, All Rights Reserved. Reblogs are greatly appreciated—just don't steal or share outside of Tumblr, please.

thanks for reading! happy halloween!!! 🦇🧛🏻

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[magenta-somethings]

trick or treat!

treat! (aka a snippet fic i ended up writing on the bus about tim asking yj for advice re: the huntress/nightwing/oracle situation)

“So, wait, Nightwing is dating Huntress?” asks Cassie.

“I don’t know what they’re doing!” Tim replies. “That’s half the problem.”

“And do we like Huntress?” asks Cissie.

“Yes—no—it’s complicated,” Tim replies. He’s doing a lot of replying and he doesn’t entirely like it—more out of an instinctual avoidance of being on the interrogatee side of an interrogation than anything else—but he had been the one to ask for advice. Which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake, but it’s one he’s now committed to. “I do like her. But she struggles with following Batman’s rules. I mean, we all do, but she struggles with the no killing aspect of it specifically.”

“But has she, like, actually killed anyone?” Kon asks. He’s floating in the air, cross-legged, with one of Cassie’s pillows hugged to his chest. It’s kind of cute—especially with his oversized Superman t-shirt, because, thankfully, he doesn’t actually sleep in his costume.

Not that Tim would ever say it’s cute out loud. 

“No, not since we started working together properly.”

Kon shrugs. “Then I don’t see the problem? Yeah, it’s majorly screwed that she’s killed but it also sounds like she’s changed." Tim might be imagining it, but he almost sounds wistful? "And being able to stand up to the bat seems like a point in her favour more than anything.” He pauses. “Plus, based on the picture you have of her, she’s a total babe.”

Tim just knew visual aids would be a mistake. This is on him for not being able to resist a corkboard. Cassie, acting on behalf of the team, throws a pillow at Kon. It does smack him in the face—he still needs to practice his catches—but before it can fall to the ground his TTK catches it and now he’s hugging two pillows and maybe that backfired slightly. 

Tim puts his corkboard face-down on principle. Huntress probably doesn’t even know he has the photo—her foot in the middle of kicking a bad guy’s face, her fist breaking the jaw of another. He doesn’t have much time for photography anymore, but sometimes he just itches to go out and capture Gotham and its heroes.  The photo of Nightwing, meanwhile, is him shoving his face full of pizza, a hand reaching out to try, in vain, to block the camera lens. 

Oracle, of course, is represented by her icon. He still hasn’t started thinking of her as Barbara.

“It’s not all about looks,” says Cassie. “Even if she is really hot.” She pauses. “Like, really hot.”

“Okay!” interrupts Tim. “That’s enough of that.” He did not need his friends calling his co-worker hot.

“Yeah, it really doesn’t matter,” agrees Cissie, and of course he can count on her to have his back. “Especially since Nightwing is way hotter than her.”

A part of Tim dies inside. Just shrivels up and expires, there and then.

“Okay, but Nightwing is hotter than, like, everyone,” points out Kon. That part of Tim is currently being cremated. “And cooler, and more badass. Or whatever.” 

“Most documentaries on 20th-21st century heroes talk about Nightwing’s attractiveness at least once,” says Bart offhandedly from the corner where he’s playing Polyp-mon. It’s one of his first contributions to the conversation. The part of Tim that died earlier is now having a funeral held in its honour. Suzie, at least, is still absorbed in the game. She’s spent the conversation peering over Bart’s shoulder, occasionally asking him to catch a specific polyp-mon. Though he doubts her additions would be worse than what is currently passing for advice.

“Guys, please,” Tim says, desperately trying to course-correct the conversation. God, it’s so much worse having them talk about how hot this co-worker is. “Stay focused on the problem.”

“Is that you like Oracle more?” asks Cissie.

Tim hesitates. Oracle is one of the most impressive people he knows, and getting to actually spend time with her—especially when it’s her teaching him about tech—is awesome, and she’s saved his life more times than he count or probably even knows about. But he’s only known her face-to-face for a short time, while he’s been fighting side-by-side with Huntress almost as long as he’s been acting properly as Robin. 

“That’s not what’s important,” he deflects. “What’s important is what’s best for Nightwing.”

“Right,” says Cissie. 

“What if they all just dated each other?” asks Bart

“You can do that?” asks Kon, at the same time as Tim says, “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t fix it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that would make it worse.”

The silence stretches. 

“Well, good luck with that!” declares Cassie. “Now, who wants to watch Xena?”

Tim sighs, but let’s the hang-out move on. What’s happening with Nightwing, Huntress and Oracle is such a mess that there’s no way a bunch of teenagers are going to be able to untangle it, especially when most of them don’t have much experience in romance or life or both. Tim certainly doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to having non-messy relationships. He’s sure Dick will figure it out. Eventually.

Kon floats down next to him as Cassie and Cissie go looking for the VHS, with that grin on his face that Tim just knows means he’s come up with some terrible joke. “Look on the brightside! When the divorce happens, you’ll have not one, not two, but three Christmases. Not four, because I’m pretty sure Batman doesn’t celebrate, but three is still pretty good.” 

“Yay,” says Tim, voice as flat as he can make it.

[loquarocoeur]

happy halloween! trick or treat?

Considering I'm running out of things I'm willing to share with you, I will be creative, and you get three things yours verse lestappen fought about this week:

How to pronounce 'anemone'. They looked it up and were in fact both wrong

Whether they should name their hypothetical future daughter Emilia or Charlotte (after each other) They eventually settled on simply having two hypothetical daughters

Who's turn it is to be the man of the house and remove the spider from the bathroom wall. They ended up calling the concierge, who was not very impressed, but did indeed remove the spider

[formalmess]

i rly want halloween to come sooner so ive been thinking abt spooky stuff these last few days and i thought: i might as well post my vampire and vampire hunter au... lord luigi (turned by antasma) and vampire “hunter” peasley

[ghcstao3]

is it really true love if your bf isn’t choosing your next murder victim while you clean the blood out of his clothes? no i don’t think so

[capric0rnie]

🎃trick or treat! 👻

(Snippet form your practical magic AU?)

thank u for the ask !!!! this story is a monster and still unfinished but here is a cutie little snippet as a treat!!

“You’re wearing the jeans.”

I turned to look at Prim, who had peeked out from beneath the covers. “What? Yes, I’m wearing jeans.”

“No,” said Prim, sitting up slowly. “You’re wearing the jeans. The jeans that Johanna told you to buy because they make your butt look great. You never wear them because you think she’s ridiculous and you don’t want anyone looking at your butt. And that sweater! You never leave the top buttons undone. You usually make sure it’s closed tight all the way up to your neck.”

My cheeks flushed as I stared at myself in the mirror. Prim was being silly. I’d just put on the first pair of pants I’d seen, and the sweater… I was in a rush and didn’t feel like fastening all the buttons. No big deal. No deeper meaning. Had my hair looked this awful the entire time I spoke to Peeta Mellark?

I attacked the mess on my head with a brush, further delaying the inevitable. Prim opened her mouth to speak, but paused when the bedroom door creaked open to reveal Buttercup. He quickly jumped on the bed and meowed, nudging Prim’s hand with his head. Her eyes widened comically, and even though I couldn’t understand what Buttercup said, I had a pretty good guess what it might’ve been.

“Who’s here?”

That stupid cat had such a big mouth.

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Trick or Treat! 🦇🎃👻

AW WHAT A CUTE BUNNY! Please accept this snippet as your treat! I'm so sorry it's a day late but I hope you like it all the same!

Hero put the final touches on their mermaid costume just as a knock sounded at their door. Hero practically skipped over to open it.

“Hey! Right on time!” they grinned.

“You look great,” Villain said, “you ready to go?”

Hero nodded eagerly. They stepped out, locked their front door, and headed down the street with their nemesis.

“Superhero throws the best parties,” Hero said, “especially for Halloween!”

“So, you’ve been telling me,” Villain said, “and you’re sure they won’t mind that I come?”

“Hey, tonight you’re just a pirate, not a villain,” Hero said.

“Good point,” Villain smiled.

As Hero and Villain talked, they passed by several little trick or treaters and accompanying adults. They nearly bumped into an old woman dressed as a witch.

“Oh! Sorry!” Hero said, “great costume, ma’am!”

“Costume!?” the old woman looked quite offended, “how dare you! I’ll teach you some manners!”

The old woman produced a wand from up her sleeve and aimed it at the pair. Hero glanced at Villain, who seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. The old woman mumbled something unintelligible, and a blinding light assaulted Hero’s eyes. When they opened them, they weren’t in the neighborhood anymore.

The ocean greeted them from every direction. The pair seemed to be on a large, 18th century ship. Hero had fallen on the deck. When they tried to stand, their legs wouldn’t cooperate. As a matter of fact, now that they got a look at themselves, they didn’t have legs at all. Instead, a shimmering fish’s tail took up their lower half.

Villain looked down at them, mouth agape. Their pirate costume suddenly looked much more authentic than before.

“Um…” Hero started.

The old woman’s voice echoed loudly over the waves.

“This will teach you to call a witch’s attire some costume! If you want to return to your original forms, you’ll have to do something for me! Bring me these ingredients, and I’ll return you to your time and place. And while you’re at, learn some manners!”

A scroll floated down out of nowhere, with a list of items that sounded completely unreal when Villain read them aloud.

“Well, Hero,” Villain sighed, “you always wanted to go on an adventure together… it’s going to be some Halloween.”

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit

[wolfsbanesparks]

Trick or Treat!

*Throws 2 candys at you and steals the bowl of candy*

Happy Halloween!

I hope you're not squeamish! This one includes descriptions of a dead body (obviously from Pretty Little Thing)

Blood dripped down his face, slipping down from his nose and mouth, leaving dark red trails down his cheeks, almost like tear tracks. His head lolled to the side, his unseeing eyes boring into Billy’s, silently begging for help, silently damning him for not saving him. He almost wished they would come back, that they would go back to torturing him, anything not to be left alone with the body, the reminder of how badly he had failed, the promise of what his future would hold.

[slowd1ving]

[INAMORATA] SNIPPET . *࿐ SUNDAY, MOZE, SOMEWHAT JIAOQIU??

for some additional context reader is an incubus and also joined a class on catching/apprehending monsters in the modern world as a joke, but now is doing a project on said monsters (cough, incubi) thus is in a really fucking awkward position rn anyways this will probably be the last snippet before I actually post the work so enjoyy

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

“…edit it documentary style. It’s professional, organised, and will suit the Professor’s tastes.” Sunday’s mellifluous voice washes over you as you sit in the campus library with your classmates, desperately trying to look engaged. 

It does not work. 

Sunday’s fountain pen wavers in the air and turns on you, and your heart jolts and skips past a few beats—it looks far too close to a weapon for your liking, and you would not trust an angel with a dagger for the life of you. Or without the dagger. He does not inch it closer, but it’s rather an unconscious mirroring of his thinking that betrays that he’s about to scold you for falling asleep. You’re thankful for the table that separates the two of you, but you fear wood can only do so much to counter flames of divine punishment. 

But before he can lecture you, Moze beats him to it. And for the record, you don’t know how he ended up sitting right next to you, and you’d like to complain. 

Leaning across his chair, he gets unnecessarily close to talk to you, and it’s not like whatever he’s saying is important. 

“Do you have anything to add—” and here his leg ghosts up against yours, but you don’t flinch. At least, you don’t think you do. “—or did you not get enough sleep last night?”

His voice is low—enough that there’s an undercurrent of tension without him even trying. You choose not to reply directly to him; instead, you look at Sunday once more, and you swear you feel a spike of irritation from the angel. But, surely not, right?

Mulling your words over, you carefully select a sequence that won’t land you a one-way ticket back to hell. There’s a certain trick to this, you see—and that’s crossing your fingers and thinking of an escape plan in the event you fail, or the shameless cowardly demon approach. It may not land you a spot among the Lieutenants, but it sure is better than being skewered by some angel. 

Especially one named Sunday. You disguise your grimace. 

“Uhh,” you wrack your brains, before settling on the first thing your mind falls upon—yesterday night, all cozied up with Jiaoqiu. Fuck. “A horror movie.”

You can feel Moze’s stare burn into dermis, sizzle a bit, then singe your very bones.

“That’s an— unconventional idea,” Sunday coughs, and you remind yourself that angels are way meaner than you’d expect. 

“If you think it’s ill-founded, then I would like to remind you our professor’s maturity doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll enjoy an orthodox style,” you argue, suddenly remembering that angels are also ill-suited for debates and ‘gotchas’, and also that incubi can honey their tongue to saccharine degree.

Fuck. You’ve really spent too much time in the human realm. 

Before Sunday can get a word in, you keep talking, desperate to look enthusiastic to discuss incubi and possibly give yourself away. “If it’s being entered into the Film Festival, a mockumentary or a horror film could be both informative and entertaining. Or even a silent film.”

“It’s succubi and incubi,” Moze mutters. “If there were more people I’d bet there’d be one group submitting porn.”

You stifle a cough, but you don’t think you did it well. 

“What, with Hopkins as the intended audience?” you glance at him, and see the traces of laughter on his mouth, and suddenly your own feels somewhat dry. Just a little. 

“Yeah, imagine,” he matches your airy tone—and the proximity forces your heart to lapse. Just a little. 

Sunday’s glare bores into both of you. “Can the two of you take this seriously? We are absolutely not doing that.”

If you ever forgot he was an angel, this is a poignant reminder. Should you squint, you think you can see a faint halo around his head, but that could also honestly just be the library light causing the incandescence. 

“Yes, which is why we should do horror or a mockumentary,” you interrupt. This is the only fight you’d ever attempt with an angel, and boy do you deserve a medal for it like the humans do. “The topic isn’t particularly… uh… safe for work, so horror would convey the right message that we investigate in each class, while still having space for detail. Think something like found footage horror films or something.”

“You raise a good point,” Sunday deliberates—if there was anything good to say about angels, it would be that they are gracious with their concessions. Some concessions. “Fine.”

Fine. 

Fine.

Fine. 

With glee, you save the moment to brag about when you next visit downstairs. I got an angel to agree with me. 

But simultaneously, you compose your face, knowing the next item on the agenda will inevitably be the very topic of the proposal. 

Suddenly, you no longer feel the glee of just a minute ago. 

Oh shit. 

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Trick or Treat!! :D

Trick for you all!

"What happens to you then? Billy, your family-"

"They aren't- They... It won't be like me. They don't have to worry about what's waiting ahead for me. I'd never- I- I honestly blame my stupid heart." He laughs, humorlessly, his hand over his chest like he's massaging away a pain. "Too good to drag them down with me. I just, I love them, I want to have them beside me for the rest of this, but I can't be selfish."

[foxspirit1928]

Miss Fisher Snippets (216)

Happy Halloween to all whether you believe in ghosts and spirits floating in our realm or, like Jack, you are cynical in the face of mysteries you can’t explain.

(Posted 31-Oct-2024)

[kevin-day-is-bi]

i just saw that halloween ask game you're doing for this month 👀👀

so trick or treat, dealers choice on ship 🥰🍬

- mel 💜

Dick absentmindedly pressed on the cut on his arm as he watched his target. The man was standing in a small office in a warehouse, talking on the phone. He didn't look happy. Dick could relate.

"Nightwing, report. Your tracker is offline."

Ah, that had been an argument and a half. Of course, if Bruce would stop sneaking tracers onto Dick's suit, Dick wouldn't have to keep ruining them. They couldn't be cheap.

"I'm on a case."

"Your tracker should be online. I need to know your location."

In the window, the man hung up the phone. He was smug now. He had never made that expression, before.

"No, you don't," Dick responded, before pulling the comm out of his ear. He glared at the device in his hand before gently tucking it away in a pocket.

The man was gone. Dick straightened. This could be a chance to place a bug in his office. Not really Dick's style, honestly. He preferred the physicality. But with any luck, he wouldn't have to get physically near the man ever again. Without fully meaning to, he pressed on his wound again.

He heard the footsteps a split second before the voice spoke.

"You're getting awfully snoopy, dick."

Dick stood from his crouch slowly, hands out and low. He turned head first, the sight of the white streak of hair still sending a wave of shock through his heart.

"Jason."

Jason had a gun aimed at his head. Not particularly surprising. Dick had been trained out of being startled by guns a long time ago, but that didn't mean he was stupid. It was still a loaded gun.

"You have ten seconds to say what you're doing here."

"I wanted to...to see you." Dick was a little unhappy to be so truthful so early. He wanted to fire a quip off, maybe some clever wordplay.

Jason cocked the gun. He wouldn't shoot Dick. Maybe.

"Why."

God, Jason looked...he looked exactly how he was supposed to. The rage that had been present in his fifteen-year-old self had looked so out of place, but now the hard line of his mouth fit him perfectly.

"I want you to-"

Come home. No. Dick didn't, really. The Manor hadn't been his home in a while, longer than it hadn't been Jason's. And what would that achieve? An argument ending in a fight ending in a trail of bodies. Dick didn't want Bruce to have Jason. He wanted to have Jason.

"I just needed to-to make sure it was..."

Jason tilted his head, looking every inch the villain that the Red Hood's file painted him out to be.

"I'm sure the old man ran a dozen tests to make sure it was me."

No, that wasn't what Dick meant. He couldn't find the words, didn't really want to find the words. Jason had sliced open Dick's arm. Dick had felt him, felt the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his body. Dick...missed that, maybe? Having Jason close again had felt like a drug, and now Dick was pretending he wasn't craving it.

He hadn't touched Jason all that much before his death. Too much teenage angst, not enough clear roads between Blüdhaven and Gotham. There was no precedent for this.

"I missed you," Dick said, aiming for honesty. As close to it as he felt capable of getting.

Jason laughed. It was a creepy sound that died too soon in the cold air.

"Last time you saw me I beat your ass. Time before that you didn't know it was me. Time before that I was fifteen. You either have a death wish or haven't gotten the message yet. Robin doesn't exist anymore." Jason's shoulders stayed low and his voice remained even. He sounded a little bored, actually. It felt like there was a hook behind Dick's ribcage, yanking him forward. He needed to be interesting. He couldn't have Jason leave again.

"The first thing," Dick said before he had really planned to say anything at all.

Jason scoffed. Dick kept going, distantly aware of the fact that he was tripping down sentences without actually knowing where he was going. "Maybe you're just really good at fighting. All my bad guys this week were too easy."

Jason's chin dropped. Dick had been rubbing the bandage on his arm against his hip without realizing it.

The gun wobbled. Jason's chest rose and fell.

"Take off your mask."

Dick blinked. This felt like a test. Slowly, he reached up and peeled the mask off. It hurt like hell, and he was left blinking in the altered light. Jason kept the gun trained on him.

"Say it again. Look at me and tell me again why you're here."

This was Dick's chance. Honesty could win. He still wasn't sure what winning meant, but whatever. He would make it work. He stared at Jason's mask and said,

"I miss you."

"What's your goal here?" Jason sounded amused, which wasn't what Dick had been aiming for at all. Annoyance and frustration mixed in his stomach.

"I don't know, okay? I just-" Dick gestured helplessly. Jason's face, half amused and half blank, was no help. "I want...I want you..."

He had nothing else.

Jason's face was doing something complicated. His mouth couldn't seem to agree with what his forehead wanted to do.

"Will you do anything to have me?" Jason's voice was a little too loud now.

Dick hesitated. He imagined Jason pressing the gun into his hand and shuddered.

"No," he whispered.

"No, you wouldn't...let's say for example, shoot a drug dealer for me."

Dick felt sick. There was something about that for me that made him want it horribly. He wanted to do things for Jason.

"Oh," Jason said, and then he started laughing so hard that the gun wavered. "Oh, if only Bats could see you now. That's pretty damn pathetic."

Dick needed to leave. He had well and truly lost control of the situation, and he needed to get the hell out. But when he started to take a step back, the gun went back to being steadily present.

"Don't. I will shoot you." Dick froze. Jason started moving forward, each step solid and loud. "I think we should play a game. You want me, huh? Then let's see what you're willing to do to get me."

Dick contemplated what would happen if he hurled himself off the roof.

"On your knees."

Dick dropped to his knees. This was a very bad idea.

"Take out your escrima sticks and toss 'em over here."

Dick hesitated for half a second before doing so.

"Unzip your suit. To your stomach." Dick's pause didn't go unnoticed and Jason sighed. "You used to wear that stupid suit where the neckline when halfway down your torso. Don't get shy now."

Dick undid the hidden catches and pulled the zipper down. And then, for good measure, he pulled his arms out so he was topless. He needed some sense of agency.

Of course, now Jason was masked, armed, fully dressed, and standing above Dick. Dick obviously could fight like this, but there was something...

Jason kept moving until he was right in front of Dick, so close that he had to bend his elbow to keep the gun trained on him.

"Tell me again why you're here. The full reason."

It was so cold. Dick's stomach was churning.

"I miss you. I...I want you."

Jason's breath hitched. He was shaking. The shock of it made Dick's mouth drop open.

"Please come back to me," he whispered, barely knowing what he was saying.

Half certain Jason was going to blow his brains out for it, Dick reached out and laid a hand on Jason's knee. The nearness of him was intoxication. Dick wasn't really sure he would tell Jason no to just about anything right now. He wanted to see Jason's eyes.

The gun moved and Dick shut his eyes. Several seconds after a shot would've happened, the knee under his hand moved, and he opened them again. The gun had been sheathed. Jason crouched in front of him, face inches away. Dick could still feel the shaking.

"Are you cold?" he asked. He needed Jason to see that he cared about him, noticed the shivering, wanted to help.

"Always," Jason said, barely an actual word. Dick's heart broke, and then his thigh felt like it was on fire. He yelled, unprepared for the sudden pain, suddenly leaning on Jason as the pain spread. Jason's mouth was parted slightly. Dick looked down to see a knife embedded in his thigh. Jason wrenched it free and Dick made a breathless noise of horror. Jason ripped one of his gloves off and sliced the knife across his fingertips. Dick hadn't processed what was happening yet, his brain still stuck on "Jason stabbed me?", so he just watched as Jason shoved his bloody fingers into the wound. Dick screamed, the pain mounting and spreading in waves. He hadn't been prepared, he was usually better than this.

"You want me?" Jason asked, fingers still pressed into the gash. "Fucking have me."

His other hand came up to pull Dick closer, digging his face into Dick's neck, and then just as suddenly he stood, leaving Dick hunched over and breathing unsteadily. He held up his bloody hand.

"I'll treasure this. Maybe make a painting with it. The Failure of Yet Another Robin. Every time I see it, I'll remember how the original came crawling to me, thinking he could fix me."

Dick didn't understand what was happening. Jason's blood was inside him.

Jason brought his hand up to his face and his tongue flicked out, tasting the blood. Dick's stomach roiled. He was really beginning to think that wasn't disgust.

"Mm." Jason grinned. "Taste's like B's disappointment. I can't even tell our blood apart now."

He turned and walked away. Dick was starting to hyperventilate a little. He heard Jason's steps pause, and then, from a small distance away,

"Next time you come a-stalking, I'll see if you look this pretty with a bullet hole inside you."