#halloween thorns

[a-birdie-on-a-rose]

halloween thorns

[james-p-sullivan]

I'm Gonna Put a Spell on You - Hex Girls

[gjatheshroom]

🎃Forger’s Halloween is going good 🎃

[shadowriel]

ACOTAR Couples & Halloween Costumes: Headcanons 👻 🎃

Feysand: Feyre and Rhys definitely have a cute family costume planned with Nyx, but as soon as they leave him with a babysitter, they have to be the hottest couple in a 25-mile radius. Think Mr. & Mrs. Smith, think mafia AU, think Feyre in a slutty dress and Rhys unable to keep his hands off her

Nessian: Nesta and Cassian start planning their costumes at least a year in advance. No expense is spared, no detail is overlooked. Sure, they get into semi-heated arguments leading up to their favourite day of the year, but it’s well worth it. My vote goes to them being sexy pirates, or a gender bent Hades and Persephone.

Elucien: The thing about Elain Archeron is that she will always be that bitch, so well-dressed that people can’t help but stare. Lucien LOVES it! He’s also more than happy to take off his shirt at Elain’s request. A Greek god (or warrior) and goddess definitely works for their day court vibes (bonus points if Elain is Aphrodite).

Azris: Eris and Azriel famously refuse to put effort into Halloween. Azriel has been known to throw on cat ears. Eris has worn a mask or used fake blood on more than one occasion. Yet, somehow they end up surprising everyone by dressing up as a cop (Eris) and sexy criminal (Azriel). Yes, the handcuffs are fully functional. And, yes, Azriel wears a crop top.

Emorie: Our fave girlies have one goal on Halloween, and that’s to look ridiculously hot. Mor lives by the fact that “hoes don’t get cold” and usually makes a costume out of lingerie. Emerie’s been known to follow her lead or dress in something’s that more comfy. I think they would absolutely slay as an angel and demon.

Bonus addition: Emerie as a witch (and Mor can tag along as a black cat)

Gwynriel: These two always go with a costume that’s ridiculously niche or nerdy. Sometimes, Gwyn will get Azriel to dress up as her favourite male characters. Sometimes, she’ll wear a gorgeous costume on her own (and Azriel will just be there, looking at her with hearts in his eyes). Batman and catwoman is a fan favourite, but Gwyn loves the year she found her new favourite book and got them to dress up as a priestess and shadowsinger.

Elriel: Elain is hot (see above), and Azriel is more than happy to take a supporting role when it comes to couples costumes. Elain wants to wear a fancy dress? Azriel will offer to hold her purse. It’s an Elain Archeron world and Azriel is loving every second of just being in it. I feel like a flower and gardener costume would be cute couples costume for them.

Jassa: Jurian and Vassa are here to have fun. All of their costumes are easy-going and definitely bought last-minute, but they still look amazing. They’re known to find things around the house, and wear a costume that they insist is a pun. Some years, they remember they have these race car outfits at the back of their closet.

Gwynlain: Gwyn and Elain are for the Pinterest girlies. They always have the most gorgeous costumes, and their makeup is impeccably done. Dare I say, they’re the second hottest couple in a 25-mile radius. My brain is literally malfunctioning at the thought of them dressing up like Bloom and Flora from Winx Club.

I honestly could go on and on (and on…)

[All images were found on pinterest]

[agnes-draws]

i couldn’t choose so i did both ✌🏻😎

[foursaints]

ok. rivals-to-lovers rosekiller AU where evan rosier is a posh interior designer famous for renovating antique homes. he was on the cover of architectural digest. his reputation as a control freak precedes him. meanwhile barty crouch jr is the host of a trashy MTV ghost hunting show that’s mostly him fucking around with a camcorder. he’s the tattooed guy on all the paranormal tabloids you see in convenience store checkout aisles. this is all well and fine. until the VIOLENT war of wills that takes place when the beautiful 18th century mansion affectionately dubbed “America’s Most Haunted House” goes on sale

[caeran]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN BBC GHOST FANS 🎃👻🍬

[a-birdie-on-a-rose]

halloween thorns

[shayziee]

IMPASTOR DIP FOR SPPOKY MONTH!!!!!! designs inspired by orangeamoeba u can find thm somewhere here

[cupiowaffles]

It's a spooky month!! 🎃

[gecktonurite]

every animated scooby doo movie

    ↳ scooby-doo! and the witch’s ghost (1999)

i guess you are a witch after all!

[bewitched-bullet]

YES

Why couldn't I have gotten these for Halloween?!

C'mon my fellow Good Folk, lets let our inner fae selves out!

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Feysand  Rating: E  Tags: Smut, Angst, Necromancy & Resurrection, Ghosts & Haunting, Morally Gray Rhysand, Silver Fox Rhysand, Dark Magic, Halloween Summary: Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”

Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”

Her spine stiffened. Prick!

(Or, what would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?)

Read the first chapter on AO3 now! Snippet below the cut.

Feyre Archeron woke with a dry, rasping gasp.

She choked on that breath, the air fighting to reach her lungs as stale as final breaths and wilted grave offerings. It was thick with incense, too, and her eyes watered painfully as she turned her head to the side, coughing around the knot in her throat.

“Easy, love,” a velvet voice murmured above her. One gentle hand brushed away the tears gathering on her cheeks; another massaged her throat until her wheezing turned to smooth, steady breaths. “Easy.”

The fingertips on her cheeks migrated to her hair, brushing back a lock tangled in her lashes. The touch, though it was little more than a graze, was full of something protective, something possessive. Even though she was lightheaded and reeling, Feyre leaned into it, desperate for the safety it promised.

Her eyes burned as she blinked them open to look at Tamlin.

But it wasn’t Tamlin touching her, and immediately, she began to choke again.

Rhysand. 

The High Lord of the Night Court stood over her, leaning over a short stone wall to stare down at her with silver-limned eyes.

He looked nothing like she remembered. The last she had seen of him, he had been frantic, crawling across a throne room with a dagger in his hand and death in his bloodshot eyes. His skin had been ashen, his hair in dusty disarray. His fine black clothes had also been covered in dust and blood, his teeth bared, his face feral, as he launched himself at Amarantha with a roar.

This wasn’t the same male.

Feyre stared at him, and he stared back, seemingly content for once to let her look without a sly comment.

And the more Feyre looked at him, the more she saw. His hair, though it bore an otherworldly blue-black shine that had been absent the last time she saw him, was shot through with silver at the temples. There were fine lines around his violet eyes, drawing her attention to the deep, bruised circles beneath them, but the rest of his skin was a warm, lovely shade of brown that spoke to fresh air and sunshine and good food. 

Night-dark power flowed off of him like smoke, the foreboding mantle of a dark king. It was too dark, though, and writhing in agitation, as if something within his soul had rotted. 

But he was not agitated. No, he watched her with utter adoration plain on his face, soft and awed.

Feyre looked away from his parted lips and the tear lined eyes, suddenly uncomfortable.

But, as she cataloged the width and breadth of his shoulders instead, she found more questions in his clothes. He was clad in black as usual, but the collar of his jacket was devoid of the fine embroidery she remembered, and the brilliant onyx dye was dull, a plain, somber shade. 

Mourner’s black.

The suit of a dark, distinguished widower.

She must have lingered on the jet buttons at his collar—their subtle carving of three mountains the only sign of finery on him—a beat too long, because Rhys’s fingers cupped her face to guide her eyes back to his. It was a touch far too loving for a male who barely tolerated her, and Feyre flinched back.

Her shoulder hit stone, and her uneasy lungs collapsed as she realized where she lay.

Coffin! Her mind shrieked. The memory of a sickening, final snap echoed in her head, bouncing off the walls of her skull. I died! I died! I’m dead! 

“You’re alive,” Rhys told her. His hushed voice was steady, but his lips trembled as he stroked her cheek. “So, so alive.”

She hated the way a knot inside of her chest loosened at the sound of his voice, at the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb lingering near her lips, so she slapped at his wrist. He huffed a dry laugh but removed his hand; at the perimeter of her mind, dark talons she hadn’t even noticed uncurled and retreated as well. 

“You’re alright,” he murmured, curling a brittle lock of her hair around two fingers. “You’re alive, my love.”

But those talons must have been holding her tattered edges together, because the panic surged higher. Higher and higher and higher, roaring in her ears until all she could see behind her clenched-shut eyelids was a jeering crowd, until all she could feel was mud squelching beneath thin boots—

Until a pair of strong arms banded around her shoulders and the back of her knees. She thought she might have made some kind of noise, high and anxious, but the arms lifted her out of her coffin with such care that her heart stopped pounding at her breast and slowed to a throbbing ache instead. They held her tightly, as if she might disappear if they let her go.

A dizzying sense of deja vu seized her, and Feyre shoved at Rhysand until he deposited her on the floor beside the place where she had been laid to rest. 

Her ribcage felt too small for her lungs, and she clutched at it as she watched him from her periphery.

“Breathe, Feyre.”

Feyre responded with a single finger. “I’m trying.” 

Rhysand laughed again, softly this time, and shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched her. 

“I suppose you are a bit out of practice.”

Fuck you, she thought as loudly as she could.

[pharaohsketches]

ACOTAR inspired marker art