#it was a tombstone myers too

[hostiae]

sometimes i want proximity chat just to holler at other survivors when they think myers is being playful.

[riotinthesheets]

He’s a tombstone Myers. I’d run too

[myers-meadow]

Floral and fading: RZ!Michael x OC/Reader

Title: Floral and fading

Word count: 3051 w.

Warnings: smut, 18+, very light choking, possesiveness, canon-typical gore/not explicit but there is a dead body in the house. Michael Myers is his own warning with this stuff. Implied kidnapping.

Summary: Waking up in the old Myers house could have been worse. The killer that has his hands on you, reminds you of a past lover, rather than of brutal violence and that is where it begins.

Female OC or reader, first person perspective. Not much about apprearance is mentioned.

Hope you enjoy! I'm v proud of this piece :)

AO3 link

Link to my writing masterlist.

Waking up was a chore, and it was unclear where I was when I regained consciousness. What was the last thing that happened? Sure as hell was not in a bed, and I groaned as I stretched my sore back. It was dark and smelled of dust and earth and rotten wood. My hands found sand on the floorboards as I scrambled to my feet. Something was wrong with my ankle. Some light filtered through the cracks in the walls and ceiling, although everything was remarkably grey-scaled. This was not a place someone lived. It was old and falling apart and the wood creaked dangerously beneath my boots. Behind me, what had been by my head as I was asleep, was a headstone. On it was written only a name: Myers. As if I had lain on a grave. The tremble in my knees was almost audible in the silence, and my heart beat uncomfortably irregular against my chest. That tombstone was a threat if I’ve ever seen one. Moving to the only door proved a little awkward, as not only did my legs feel like that of a new-born giraffe, one ankle sent stings of sharp pain through me each time I put weight on it.

As soon as my hand touched the knob, it swung open, making me stumble for balance. The man who opened it was huge. It was impossible to see behind him into the hallway, that was how much of him covered the door opening. His movements were stiff as he stepped inside, no expression on his face. But it wasn’t a face. It was a mask.

My voice didn’t work when I tried to speak, but it regained its volume after having spoken half the sentence. “Can you- can you help me? Where are we? I seem to have-”

The words had no effect, and instead the man stepped further inside the room and shut the door behind him. My heart fluttered as he crowded me. I stepped back, but his steps covered considerably more ground. When my boots hit the sand, I tripped and fell on my butt with a wince.

Only then did I see the knife in his hand. It was unusually large for a kitchen knife and my throat dried up. The headstone behind me was an ominous omen and it did not take more than a moment of realisation to know what would happen next. What were the options, I wondered as I frantically scrambled to get up. Fight the giant? Or escape?

Just as suddenly as he had been there behind the door, the knife dropped on the floor, a muffled thump broke the silence. The man dropped to his knees, and with filthy hands, he reached behind his head to take off the mask. The mask was discarded as the knife was. His long, tangled hair and the dim lighting obscured most of his face, but he could not be much older than me. Slowly, he reached into the chest pocket of his overalls and took out a piece of paper.

Momentarily forgetting my predicament, I leaned in to see it better. It was a photograph. A young boy holding a baby, smiling at the one taking the picture. My fingers trembled as I reached out to take it from him. He pointed to the boy and then himself. On the back of the photograph were two names and a date; ‘Michael & Boo, sept. 1990’.

“The boy, that is you?” My voice sounded better now, less fearful.

The man nodded. Then he pointed to me, and the baby in the photo. I shook my head.

“That isn’t me, I’m sorry. Are you looking for them, for Boo? I’m too old to be them, I was not a baby anymore then.”

Then my brain connected the dots. The Myers headstone, the photo… The man in front of me was Michael Myers, who murdered his sister, her boyfriend and his mother’s boyfriend when he was just a young boy. The countless news articles about him… He was the cause of another debate between psychologists of nature versus nurture; always treated badly by most of his environment, and many asked the question ‘where did it all go wrong?’ There was never any other family mentioned in the articles. That aside, was it a good thing I’m not his other sister? Or was it worse that I wasn’t the one he’s looking for?

Slowly, I stood up, careful to put weight on my ankle. “Is Boo her actual name? Perhaps I know her, perhaps I can help?” I tried.

For a man that bulky, he was fast. He was to his feet in seconds and had his hand wrapped around my neck right after. My back hit the headstone uncomfortably and I clasped my hand around his wrist, digging my nails in. Breathing was still allowed, and it felt more like how it did when Rob used to tangle one hand in my hair and the other around my throat before he kissed me than it did like murder.

There was a breathy sound to my voice that was rather unfitting, as I told him my name, and pleaded with him to please be gentle. No answer, but his dark stare hardened as he bent me backwards. He was a good head taller than me, and leant over me threateningly. His breath was hot on my face.

Something hot and electric fizzled down my spine, and I knew very well what that feeling was. Bravely, I reached a hand up to his face, flinching the moment I suspected he would pull away, before resuming the movement and reaching his cheek. With featherlight fingers, I touched the scruffy beginnings of a beard, then his cheekbones, tucking some hair behind his ear.

With a breathless whisper: “You are so beautiful.”

His response was an almost pained clench of his jaw, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again. He leant into me so much I could feel everything beneath those overalls. He could surely feel me, too. His body was hot and firm with muscle, pleasantly giving in some areas. Especially hot where it pressed against my stomach. I whimpered as his grip tightened and everything in that moment seemed suspended in the air. Then he let go of my neck, instead pawing at my shoulder, pushing down my cardigan from my shoulders. The relief of air flowing back inside me made me feel dizzy, and my fingers tingled as I grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer. He was even prettier with my hazy vision.

“Michael, kiss me,” I said, and everything felt unbearably close. As if all nerve endings were exposed just over the skin, instead of underneath it. “Do it.”

The stone digging in my back gave an edge to the sensations of his roving hands. One settled in my hair, pulling me backwards yet up to him. The first touch of lips was light, neither of us closed our eyes. I pulled him down to me then, all rationale disappearing from my mind. The scruff on his chin scratched, yet his lips were soft. With a large hand splayed over my back, he pulled me away from the wall and into him, as if I might disappear there, in his chest. Experimental nips at his bottom lip were rewarded with a tug of his teeth, then a tongue darted out to meet mine.

Any attempt to pull away for air was prevented by his unrelenting grip on my hair. The fabric of the overalls were rough like denim under my fingers. His broad back was a vast expanse of muscle to map out with greedy hands. I trailed them up to his collar via the spine, then back down to carefully slide my hands over his ass. He groaned and bucked his hips at a knead on his side. The way his body felt, his firmness, was still separated by fabric. He kept us pressed together so tightly I couldn’t reach the zipper. Whimpers and soft sounds escaped me, and only when I moaned embarrassingly wantonly against his lips, did he allow a gasp of air.

“Oh, christ, that’s…” I sighed, still breathless and with a spinning head. Suddenly he bent down, threw an arm around my knees and lifted me up like a newly wedded virgin. I barely held back a shriek of surprise. After kicking open the door, Michael took care that I didn’t bump into the wall, with an almost overbearing hand on my head. There was little to do but hold on tight to his shoulders. Being much higher, I pressed easy kisses to his temple, forehead, brows, cheeks and finally his lips. He let me.

We entered another room, a radio was softly playing something old and vaguely familiar. Before I could process, he dropped me on the mattress. It had a dirty sheet around it, but it was dry and softer than the floor. In the silver moonlight, suspicious dark stains, handprints, on my dress and cardigan stuck out like a sore thumb. When I looked back up at him, he was on me, pressing me down and spreading my legs with his knee.

After a deep kiss that had me panting, he kissed my eyelids closed. His lips found my jaw, trailed along it, before experimentally moving over the pulse points. A lick, a nip of teeth and I moaned softly. To give him more room, I pushed my hair away and looked to the side. Opening my eyes revealed a horrific sight; a young woman, dressed in only a tank top and panties, laying on the hardwood floor in an unnatural position. Her neck was blackish purple with bruises, her skin sickly pale. My yelp he mistook for one of pleasure and he moaned by my ear. Nipped at it, tugged at the lobe, before sucking on the thin skin below, blood vessels breaking. My stiffness didn’t go unnoticed for long, and he pulled back to look at me. With a stern frown he grabbed my face and turned it towards him. A harsh kiss followed. My breathing came in shallow gasps, yet it seemed my response was not to fight nor flight. Before I kissed him I knew he killed people. What did I expect? It was easy to rationalise if it came to saving my life, but I actually wanted this. Now that it had started, there was no way back.

Following the moments of his teeth and tongue felt natural, good even. His hair tickled my face and his broad body kept me pressed into the mattress effortlessly. Another look into his eyes overwhelmed me. They were glinting with something both cruel and loving, something that was too much for me to understand. His hand that kept me facing him, let go and he sat up on his knees, towering over me once more. I didn’t look away. Michael opened my legs around his hips and pulled me to him by my thighs, which caused another embarrassing sound to escape me. My skirt hiked up to the waist and his hands found the seams of my panties. They came undone with a tug from both his hands. I resisted the urge to hide my face behind my hands. Then it was my turn.

The zipper of the coveralls slid down with ease and I roamed my hands over his chest. Trailing each bump of muscle, pushed myself up to sit in his lap and kiss his neck.

Breathy whispers: “You are so beautiful, have me, have me…”

He forced my mouth back to his, all tongue and heat. Grinding on one another, until it was unbearable. He pushed me back down and before I could kiss him again, the tip of his cock was at my vulva. He groaned as he bit down underneath my jaw and pushed in shallowly. With arms wrapped around his shoulders, I kept him pressed to me. His cock slipped out, instead gliding along my clit and it was like a shock through me. It made me tremble, and he noticed, smirking against my skin.

A large hand pushed a leg back, so he could touch me and make me moan louder. With a little adjustment with his hand, he sank in deeper, and it seemed his length was never-ending. He went at a snail’s pace, and I breathed through the stretch – the circles of his fingers on my clit made it a delirious experience. To feel so much at once. Not long after, I begged him to move, and he rewarded me by bending over me and kissing me. I was almost folded in half, hips in his lap, his hands on my waist pulling me closer for every thrust. It allowed him so deep inside.

It was as if nothing but him existed then, to be caressed by those hands covered in blood and grime – and admitting that it was blood was easier then – and hear his groans filled me with a primal sense of purpose. It felt right. I clawed at the sheets as my legs twitched from pleasure. The heat and wetness rose ever higher, and it was punctuated by his breaths in my ear and his teeth on my neck and his hair, silver from moonlight and his cock filling, filling, me completely. It had been so long. Had it ever felt like this before? Where everything was so right, so complete, so perfect, yet all too much?

And I felt it, zeroing in on me, unescapable as each thrust pushed me higher. His hands squeezing at me, and I moaned his name, again and again. And I desired even more, arching against him, wanting his skin on mine, the sweat dripped down his back, and I wanted his hands everywhere, and I clamped around him and grew quiet and breathless and I came. He must have known, as he gripped my hips harder and increased his pace mercilessly. I shut my eyes and hid my face as he rode out each shockwave and each twitch and whimper of my orgasm with that unforgiving pace.

The overstimulation made me breathless, but he kept going. He shifted us, pressing me down with one hand on my stomach, and the pressure there made me squirm. Possessively, his other hand rested against my neck. He bit at my lips until I tasted blood, moaning softly. With an ever increasing pace that hit as deep as it could, he grew more feral. I felt small under him, and for the first time that night, realised how much control and trust I had given him. A new spiral of pleasure tightened around me, made my hips follow his movements, to have him slam with even more force. His groans grew louder, as did the pressure on my neck, but my light-headedness was from the rawness of my nerve endings. Suddenly, he stilled, moaning, bit down on the side of my neck, before riding out his orgasm with shuddering hips and sweat cooling on his shoulders. And I, in those final trusts, felt the new heat and new wetness, and the sting from his teeth was like an embrace, a promise, and I came again, clenching around him as my half of that promise. Panting while waves of pleasure washed over us, I kept his head pressed against my chest, playing with my hair. He stayed inside, bent at a rather awkward angle, but seemed to have no intention to change positions.

Finally, when he shifted, slipped out – and I reminded myself not to react to the sticky feeling of his cum – he laid down next to me. I moved to get up, feeling even more spill out and soak the sheets. Michael pulled me down into his chest, folding his arms around me tightly, allowing me little room to move.

“It’s actually better for me to-” I started, but then sighed and relaxed against him. His fingers in my hair made me realise the tiredness. He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Thank you, Michael. You are wonderful.”

Waking up felt like waking up from a terribly realistic dream. It was not a dream however, as I was still in the old room, on the filthy mattress, not wearing any underwear. There were hands touching me, tracing over my facial features. It smelled different, and it was bright. Sunlight streamed in the room. An emotionless white face looked at me, but it was Michael, who had put on his mask from before. I leaned up on my elbows and pressed a kiss to the mask. Something fluttered in my belly.

“Good morning,” I said, “did you have a good sleep?”

His fingers pressed to the corner of my mouth, I was smiling, and it was a relief to see they were clean. He nodded in response to my question and sat up too. To the side of him were drag marks, probably where the body had laid, but I was glad it was gone. Instead there were chipped mugs, a teapot and bowls filled with cereal and milk.

After eating, he refused to leave my side. Or let me leave his side, rather. He caressed the bite marks on my neck and jaw with careful, trembling fingers, then showed me the bruises on my hips. With an unreadable look in his eyes, barely visible through the holes in the mask, he pulled me closer with a strong hand and I gasped.

There were a hundred things to do when I got home, but I was not home yet. Perhaps it was nice to stay for a bit longer. I eyed the bulge in Michael’s coveralls. My hands inched closer to his zipper, and I trailed kisses on the exposed skin as I pulled it down. His hand on my throat stopped me and I looked up at him in surprise.

With sure fingers, he grabbed my leg, pushing up my skirt. Trailing his finger over it, he drew letters on the sensitive skin. Those letters formed words: mine to keep. They sent a shiver down my spine, but I leant into him as his muscular arms enveloped me once more.

[fandom-imagines]

Escape Artists

Fandom: Halloween/Slashers

Pairing: Michael Myers X Reader

Warnings: Murder, mention of parental abuse, lightly-written smut (not too descriptive).

Words: 2.4k

He had seen her around the hospital numerous times. She was always sat surrounded by those weird beads that she made designs with, only to have to hand them to one of the nurses who always seemed glad to iron the pattern for her.

Despite having seen her and observed her, Michael had never actually interacted with the girl. Sure, she was interesting, seemingly too innocent to be sat in Smiths Groves, but he wouldn’t talk to her; he wouldn’t talk to anybody. This was how he lived. Day in, day out. Never talking to a soul and nobody willingly talking to him. That was how Michael liked it which is why he couldn’t help but be irritated by the person who was interrupting his mealtime.

“Hi,” in front of Michael stood the bead girl, nervously fiddling with her fingers. “I-I made this for you.” Before he knew it, Michaels hand now held a beaded blushing panda.

He was tempted to snap the poor thing in half, and he would have had he not felt a piece of paper stuck to the back with the crappy tape the sanitorium provides.

“Don’t look yet, look when you’re alone.” She said, leaving with a short nod.

He listened to her words, going to the bathroom, the one place he was allowed to be alone, to read whatever note was scribbled on the paper.

Do you want to escape with me, Michael?

Confusion overtook his mind, the creaking of the tiled walls being the only thing he could fully register.

Not only did she know his name, but she also wanted to escape with him?

Weirdo.

He simply shrugged it off.

*

“Morning, Y/N,” a kind nurse awoke the young girl from her peaceful slumber, something that was rare for her. “Here is your medicine.”

“Thank you, Nurse Green.”

Her small hands grasped the bottle of water they provided her each morning, spare hand now filled with the medication she took daily before gulping down all nine of them with one mouthful of water.

Yesterdays interaction with Michael still plagued her mind.

She knew what he had done to his sister, everybody did, but still he was the only person she somewhat trusted her. Not that she had ever actually spoke to him of course, even though she was exceptionally kind to all those on the ward. She simply hoped he had read the note.

*

Lunchtime came round quite quickly, Y/N refusing to part with her beads and Michael nowhere to be seen, something that wasn’t uncommon.

Her fingers picked out another green bead to add to her new creation, a soft smile gracing her lips as she fit the final bead into the pattern, creating an amazing leaf. She looked up with a smile on her face, ready to show the nurse only to be met with Michael face, head tilted to the side.

“Oh,” she spoke quietly, evidently shocked at the older boy’s presence. “Hi, Michael.” Her kindness didn’t falter however, the shocked look on her face quickly forming back into the smile she wore previously.

Michaels hand reached out to grab the box of beads, pulling it towards him along with a square pegboard. He quickly got to work making a pattern, something that was done in mere minutes, pushing it back towards Y/N before leaving, not sparing her a single glance as he went back to his room.

Confused, Y/N pulled the board towards her. On it was a perfectly designed tombstone, yet it was masked as a grey brick, something Michael knew the nurses wouldn’t pick up on, only someone that was looking or expecting it would. However, beneath the board was a small slip of paper, something that caused her Y/E/C orbs to widen, quickly yet carefully sliding the paper into the pocket of her knitted sweatshirt.

*

“He what?” Loomis’s voice was loud, booming throughout the office. “He interacted with another patient?”

The nurses were unable to tell whether he was scared or happy at this news.

Michael had never interacted with another patient before, never interacted with anyone at all so this was a big surprise to him.

“Leave this to me,”

*

Yes.

This one word was floating around Y/N’s mind for the entire night.

He wants to escape with her? Michael Myers wants to escape with her? It was something she could not refuse, so she got to writing.

*

Over the following months the two shared notes through the beads they would both make. Nobody had spotted this yet, the scheme too smart for the nurses and doctors alike at Smiths Grove. Loomis had been keeping a close eye on the pair, looking for something significant that he could use against Michael but there was nothing yet, nothing at all.

The girl was sat at her usual table, alone for once which was uncommon for her. She wouldn’t have been alone had she not told the usual people that she wished to be alone today.

She was waiting.

Waiting for Michael.

A small sense of glee filled her chest when she noticed him walk into the cafeteria, a small smile following suite. The smile only dropped when he ignored her presence, walking towards where he usually sat. He must have sensed her gaze, glancing up to catch her sight before glancing at the chair opposite him, a silent hint for her to come over which she gladly did.

“Hi,”

Michael didn’t give her a verbal response, something she was used to by now, he instead looked towards her hands that held her most recent pattern: a pink milk carton. She eagerly passed it to him, watching him closely for any sign of reaction as he observed it, the two unaware that somebody else was also watching him.

*

“I want you to cut all communication between Michael and Y/N,” Loomis seemed to have come up with a plan of his own. “We’ll see how he reacts to that.”

“Yes, Dr Loomis.”

*

Y/N sat at the desk in her room, spinning the board around the wood with her finger.

“Why am I stuck in here?” Her tone expressed how fed up she was of being confined her for the entire day. “I’m bored.”

“Why don’t you make something?”

“Why am I here?”

“A doctor wants to see you.”

“I’ve seen all the doctors. Which one?”

“Dr Loomis.”

Oh, so it worked, good to know.

*

A few hours later she was seated on her bed, legs crossed with her pigtails falling down to her knee.

“We’ve met before, Y/N. After you were first sent here.” Loomis did his best to be friendly, hiding the burning curiosity and urge to ask her everything he wanted in one go.

“Yes, Dr Loomis.” Her tone was friendly, also forced.

She was waiting. Waiting for-

An excruciating loud beep blared throughout the entire ward, signalling a door had been opened by one of the patients.

Loomis’s eyes widened, worried that it was Michael who had escaped. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye before rushing off, forgetting to lock the door on the way out, something the pair had planned.

*

Y/N had half expected their planned escape car to be gone by the time she had finished running to the door, Michael probably having using her to escape. Weirdly enough, he was sat there waiting for her, something that made her smile as she hopped into the car.

Their plan, something that had been in the works for an insane amount of time, had worked. Every part of it had gone how they had planned.

“Thank you,” Y/N’s voice was as soft as always, glancing at Michael whose eyes were focused on the road, seemingly dismissing her appreciation.

He wasn’t however. He was silently grateful for her. She had stuck by him, his quiet and rude self. She knew what he had done and had still accepted him, he could see it in her face. He assumed she was simply in for depression or something of the sort, uncaring as to why because all he cared about was leaving and finishing what he had started, but something about her drew him in and he began getting somewhat attached to the girl.

*

The pair drove for hours, having to stop by to get gas before pulling into an abandoned place far away from the main road so that nobody could find them.

“Do you want a drink?” Michael gave her a confused look as she sat on the car, hand stretched out to hand him a bottle. “It’s weird you know,” she continued speaking after he took the bottle from her hand and sat beside her, “I never thought I’d make it to adulthood.”

This further proved his point of her having depression.

“Not that I’m depressed or suicidal or anything. I just thought I’d die by now.” This simply confused Michael. If she wasn’t in there for depression, what was she in for?

The nights sky hung over the pair, stars being one of the only things lighting the place, supported by the car’s lights.

Y/N seemed to sense his confusion.

“Oh, you don’t know what I’m in for? Well, was in for.” Michael simply shook his head.

“I killed someone. My dad. He used to hurt me, physically, mentally, emotionally and a few other things. My mother just watched it all happen, so I tried to kill her as well but she got away and I was dragged there.”

Michael nodded as to show that he understood.

“It’s weird. When I was younger, I always thought I’d be a popular eighteen-year-old with a boyfriend, a lot of friends and all that stuff. I never thought I’d be here,” her gaze fell on Michael, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if I am a virgin.” Y/N made sure to finish her sentence off with a joke, hoping to ease the tension she felt whilst expressing her emotions whilst continuing to stare up at the sky, oblivious to the thoughts running through Michaels head, his face not showing any signs either.

Y/N jumped at the cold sensation of Michaels hand touching her bare thigh, goosebumps rising beneath her dress. “Michael?” She turned to face the unmasked man, only to be pushed to lean against the back of the car with attempted gentleness. “Michael?” She repeated, growing even more confused as he lifted himself over her, able to feel her heart pound.

She didn’t fear him, she had never feared him; he’d never given her a reason. Sure he could be rude towards her, but never fear-inducing, never to her.

“Michael?”

Her words were silenced as Michaels body crawled onto her own, his chest pressed against hers, both hearts racing, despite Michael’s calm composure and Y/N’s confused look. Her eyes widened as she felt Michaels lips against her neck, roughly sucking with such force that she knew it would leave a mark.

A soft moan left her lips when Michael’s hand wandered down to her chest, lightly toying with her nipples before grabbing her breast, massaging it as he did so. The moans that left her lips simply increased Michael’s urges, his desires; he wanted her, and it seemed like she wanted him too.

“Michael-“she murmured, fingers looping themselves in the strands of his hair as he nipped at her skin.

Her free hand ran down his front, searching for his clothed erection which she soon founds, enjoying the breathy moan that Michael made as she slid her hand into his pants. It was quiet, but not quiet enough. Michael’s own hand reached into her own panties, finger soaking up the wetness that had formed at his touch, something that almost made him smirk.

Another moan fell from Y/N’s lips as Michael’s fingers began to explore, the tightness she felt was almost too tight, yet Michael was surprisingly gentle considering who he was. This time Michael couldn’t resist his smirk, being thankful for the fact that his face was buried into the crook of her neck, marking her as his and his only.

Her grip on his hair tightened as he slipped another finger inside of her, giving her a moment to adjust before slowly moving. It wasn’t long before pleasure began to consume her, grip tightening on his hair further as she neared her end.

“M-Michael,” she moaned. “I want you,”

He seemed happy to comply, fingers leaving her heat to unclothe his member. He waited for a moment, searching Y/N’s eyes for any sort of hesitation before sliding in, giving her time to adjust.

“I’m ready, you can move.”

His movements were slow to begin with, giving it his best attempt at not hurting her, something that was incredibly hard for his rough self, but self-restraint can be a magical thing. It wasn’t until the word ‘more’ left her lips that he finally increased his movements.

The cold of the cars metal caused shivers to run down Y/N’s spine, made worse by Michael’s cold hands running across her, now bare, body as moans filled the air.

“I-I’m close,”

Her words only increased his movements more, desperate to reach both their ends. Michael’s hand moved down to her clit, harshly rubbing in hopes that in would held her meet her own release, which it did and she came with one final moan, her sudden tightness triggering Michael’s own orgasm as he came inside of her, their juices mixing together.

Cheeks flushed, both Y/N and Michael wordlessly laid against the car’s windscreen. Deciding to test the waters, Y/N leant herself against Michael’s shoulder, silently pleased when he showed no sign of rejection.

He was surprisingly warm, heating up her cold body in the cool night’s air; she never expected him to be so warm. She lightly wrapped her hand around his upper arm, snuggling herself into his shoulder before falling asleep.

Michael stared at the sleeping girl, confused and shocked at how she had so much trust in him, despite what he had done. It was oddly reassuring to him. Once certain she was asleep, he raised his hand to move a stray strand of hair from her face before falling asleep himself.

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

[livingonyoghurtandspite]

Rules: Make a new post and spell out your URL with song titles, then tag as many people as there are letters in your URL (we‘ll just ignore the last part)

Lydia by Highly Suspect

Irgendwie, Irgendwo, Irgendwann by Nena

Vernissage by Pisse

Into The Unknown,, idk by who but it’s from Over the Garden Wall

New Invention by IDKHow

Gun. by MCR

Over My Head by Sum41

Numb by Meg Myers

You‘re Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring

Oh Ana by Mother Mother

Greed by Sopie Powers

Holy Image Of Lies by Sum41

Until It Doesn’t Hurt by Mother Mother

Rät by Penelope Scott

Terrible Things by Brick + Morter

Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

Nightmare by Set It Off

Drunk by The Living Tombstone

Still Waiting by Sum41

Phobia by Nothing but Thieves

Issues by Mindless Self Indulgence

The Free Life by Turbowolf

Everything Went Numb by Streetlight Manifesto

this took me way too fucking long but @lightfulonion thank you sm for tagging me!!

@ineffable-ink you have homework now i’m sorry (i’m tagging you btw if that wasn’t clear you’re tagged you have been tagged good day)

[rosieroseblossom]

Chapter One - Dream Date

Eleanora

Finally, it was here Halloween at last it falls on the thirty-first. This One however, comes around and reviving this hollows eve. Every inhabitant resident that’s lived in Mystic Connecticut had, suddenly, changed, once Halloween comes for a midnight bite at their toes. The whole village was captured in a spell, like, the town has been put under. Their maintained lawns are completely transformed into ghoulish graveyards. The ancient tombstones had rouse up on the earthly soil; with rotting human remain draped in crimson covered every olive jade bushes. Just on top are giant cobwebs glittering in the pale ghostly light, in total darkness suspend in the mild air. A gust of wind moves across the white porches, above the decorated ceilings where vampire bats hanging down with their big black eyes glowing in the blackness. However though, on the other side of the street are decaying and rundown mansions, as they loomed but there was one with their solid windows are glowing, crimson shooting past the glass. Others chose to display outdoor lights, sweet pumpkins, as they automatically switch colour. Their where also ghostly ones too, that had hanged over the edge of their roofs shining into the deeply darkly night. At each street porch step facing the white fences a plump, orange jack o' lanterns. Each one carved with a shrill blade. All fixed with permanent grins, and their ample eyes, they stare blanky in the midnight. Shooting out of there obscure eyeballs. A milky yellow flicker of waxed candles burnished. Awaking once again the mighty fiery fury of hollows eve. The radiance of the convex horned moon beams against the deep sapphire water that is surrounding Mystic. It silent and there no, massive surges are splashing like a dozen crystals onto the dark sand. Just a calm night and feeling merely excited, and as tradition to go door to door collecting bags of enjoyable candies, chocolate bars, lollipops and red apples in toffee coating. As cold air blows. Drifting a carmine drape; it was floating in the gust of air. A cloud of grey mist slips through the rose window the long silk of a moon and sun print black curtains.

Creeping into a haunted forest, instead it was of a large bedroom. It was a dark dim room having the wallpaper of a dark misty woods, with naked tress but on the walls are black Victorian photo frames, inside them are finely inked pend Illustrations of gothic dark art, but some others occult alchemy symbols and stunning drawings. Around the massive room all the furniture pieces, is very transparent except, at the open window is a mesh red wine claret winged armchair, prompted near the wide window, but quickly across is a big black dresser on top. Absent from their small cardboard boxes all lined up of small-scale of funko pop vinyl figures, and I mean after all, it is Halloween. I’d heard on the TV; that a mental asylum had accidently let loose some of cinema massacre's little terrors. Jason Voorhees wearing his icon famous hockey mask, holding a bloody drenched machete in hand, Michael Myers in a navy boiler suit with a steak knife, and Carrie a honey blonde wearing her prom dress, her silky light pink silk dress, even with Carrie’s smooth golden hair drips in dark crimson. Then there was Reagan, her bright amber eyes, looking right at you, her blazing ambers glare menacing look and oozing, at the corners the small lips of dripping green vomit seeping off it and onto the white laced collar. Just behind them is a beautiful range of paper bound books with, in between a phoney human skull on top. Pulled up alongside is a lucent red-cherry dressing table. Above is a bevel encircled mirror that limpid on a vanity drawer was raised on squat cabriole legs between the gap in the middle of it, a mesh black cushion chair is placed at the of the dresser.

Sitting their motionless on the soft seat and facing to the vanity mirror. Arms bent outwards and seated on the polished wood, with the elbows are placing at the ends of the lucent cherry table and gazing through at a solid looking glass mirror, a reflection stare backed. A glimpse of a light-toned skin girl, with exquisite long auburn hair as it fells and curls past under her shoulders, Eleanora Thornton, a Mystic high school student, but mostly though, she is a confident reigning queen for the goths. She has an oblong face, thin carrot top eyebrows and gorgeous sapphire eyes and heart-shaped blood-rose lips. Eleanora is a kind and slender, but. Dark, no, no she is defiantly not a blood sucking vampire or a moon hugging werewolf, that was far from the truth, rather that she had loved everything that is spooky. Though having long wavy auburn strands, and her smooth mouths stained in black, painting her rosy lips in a midnight gloss, and selections of lovely mini dresses are, which are not all entirely black, but rather red, white, brown and yellow. Eleanora has been a goth for over five years. It all began when I fell in love with horror movies, with creepy ghouls and undead creatures, the ones in fanfiction stories and films, she guesses that Eleanora was exposed to the dark aesthetic side but feels that she has turned from light to darkness. Also, for her father, is a heavy rock and metal music lover, he would be down in his man cave, booming and blaring Alice Cooper, Metallica, Guns and Roses. What sweet music they made. My childlike self so thoughtfully. Then on that day, Eleanora went out and with all my pocket money, left over from Christmas by her grandparents. Eleanora brought her first spiky choker but, the long silver claws weren’t very long just small. Only just at the age of six and Eleanora felt amazing. She could remember on that day when both of her mum and dad’s jaws immediately dropped, when they captured their little six-year-old Eleanora in the hallway.

She then realized, did she make a terrible mistake and I nearly sobbed, but as she looked up, they’d began to smile and told her on how rocking, and beautiful her choker is and since then. They accepted her, for all her strangeness, individuality she was a beauty queen, but. That all changed when she attended Stonington Middle School. Starting at a brand-new school was terrifying. It was a different atmosphere, new teachers, new students but, for me it felt like I was a small fish swimming in a big pond swarmed with deadly sharks. However, it did not stop her love for the darkness, Eleanora’s style blossomed like a red rose to a morning rose, she returned home back, from a lengthy day of school. Eleanora brought for the first chucky heeled creepers, Eleanora was filled with delight and thrilled. After having them they had lasted her through the entire winter. Though when at, middle school, they did not accept weirdoes in black creepers. However, feeling brave to be totally different, to be unique, she did not pursue any popular trends, like the other school students wearing their expensive designer outfits but, still it was not easy for her to make, a lot of friends, Eleanora was a very terrible shy. It did take her a while but, that was when, in fourth period and in her class, she began to listen intently just behind her desk. Visible whispers and a low giggling of nasty explanations about Eleanora and at that moment she felt her heart sank uncomfortably, then I feel the corners of my eyes to water and that day, was the start of the taunts of school bullies.

Before school could start for the day, Eleanora would walk her usual way and then, unexpectedly, she quickly turned back and saw two female students one had dyed blue hair, but the other had medium brown shade hair with cat green eyes and there were striding just after Eleanora, and they were glaring angrily, right at her. She turns back and continued to walk, but then, a pounding of railing squealing catches up to her, then all the, suddenly. She sensed a touch of two hands grip on her arm, ‘ouch’ Eleanora winced the long fingers wrapped around her. Eleanora glanced back and gasped, she gaped in horror, it was the girl with the dark cat green eyes narrowing madly towards Eleanora and then she began to drag hard down on my arm, and I felt my body bending uncomfortably to the side, pulling me harder and then harder. When Eleanora begun to buckle her knees and tumbled on the charcoal pathway, I could then feel her hands released violently of my arm. Eleanora fell completely faced down, lying totally flat, lashed into the solid path and a huge cramping stabbing gushed on me. Then I sense my pulse starts to become slowly faint, almost breaking down, and as Eleanora try manging to break her eyes wide open, just then a burst of wild childish laughter breeze down rhythmically in the far distance. 

The very next morning, Eleanora is striding casually down in the endless hallway, the soft closing of grey lockers echoed the halls, every student is getting ready for their first periods and then I hear, ‘EW! who did your hair, I would so hate to be a ginger’, ‘Yeah me too, I’d be so disgusted if my mum had red haired and passed it to be, I’d be ashamed’ somebody added nastily and fell into laughter. That was just the beginning when, after lunch the day and is nearly at an end and when I was stirring past the row of lockers when abruptly, Elise Collins, a tall girl having short toned fair-haired and with olive skin and forest green eyes, she asked me to borrow my handbag, which at that moment found very odd, on one had ever asked to use my bag before, especially the one I was holding, though. Eleanora did have a spare on in her locker, thinking nothing of it, Eleanora gave it to Elise, and she turned quickly and walked around the corner of the lockers. Eleanora, thought innocently, that they could need my bag for something special! Once when school was finally over at last, Eleanora is sitting on her bed and scrolling on Instagram, she had made the account only a while ago and it was something of a creative outlook to express and be myself more, until unexpectedly to my shock, she saw a video and to her surprise. To see a black and white printed strip body bag, her bag lay on a rusty ash grill. They a big lighter and a match and then, a soft flame pirouetted upward across her beautiful bag. It became in gulfed to a big bronze glow the black leather turning dark brown at the flickering of the burning flames, at that moment Eleanora grabbed for her pillow and dropped her head into it and burst into tears. The unending hollow of freak, weirdo, nobody likes you why can’t you accept that. It all crammed up into my mind for endless days like it is a constant reminder, I just did not understand what was wrong with me, whenever Eleanora is getting to school it was another roller-coaster ride, a bump after another. Hoping that everything will get better soon, but not as everyday was the exact very same, name calling, tugging my hair back in class and the horrible laughter which become so unbearable to my ears. Wishing that Eleanora could stay at home, just for a day, but it was not option. Soon it got even worse, like even if it could not be, for that her gorgeous auburn hair become the main centre of attention.

Basically, I was sitting at the lunch table in the cafeteria, and I sat alone. Eleanora was hearing giggling in the far distance of the school cafeteria trying to ignore it. Until something cold suddenly poured right down my long hair, it did not take me to long to realize that it was milk! Eleanora peered over her left shoulder and saw a short girl, having navy long jet hair, she had black round glasses, in an iced-blue cheerleading uniform. Glancing at me and told me, with a so not sweet, oops, ‘my bad’. A grin appeared on her face, and she chuckled and smiled triumphantly, proud of what she did. Eleanora feels the cold dripping of the wet white milk, drip off the ends of my hair and I frowned unhappily. She walked away and joined the rest of her squad and I immediately rose and ran leaving my warm tray of food, to go cold. After that incident, I was chased home by the angriest mob, she had ever seen, it was like something out of a Frankenstein movie where she had felt Eleanora was a monster. When Eleanora got home, she began to sob uncontrobely, feeling the corners of her eyes go wet and the tears slowly falling off my cheeks, about an hour later, my parents found me lying on the floor crying and exhausted. She began to them everything that had happened, at first Eleanora was much too scared to tell her mum and dad what did occur today, but I could not conceal my long agonizing pain another moment. After a few minutes just to calm down, they both wrapped themselves around me soothing and gently told me something that I thought I’d never got to hear, Eleanora, every time those voices shooting out horrible names or laughter, you just say to yourself. “Be yourself, don’t take anything from anyone, and never let them take you alive” Gerard Way, that was my mum’s favourite singer and now that I hear that, it is like a calm breeze the words felt so comforting, it had made me feel warm and quickly I felt safe again, safe to be me once more.

Until one unexpected day, Eleanora’s life was about to transform. About five weeks later, and she had met an assemble of amazing and unique individuals, they were dressed in head to toe in complete black, blanker than anything else, she could barely imagine in her entire life that she, would have ever meet the traditional goths, their big, jet black frizzy hair, their dark makeup with eyeliner, wearing leather jackets, fishnet tights and other styles of leather jackets but with beautiful gothic patches, that are stitched here and there. When I first set my eyes on them, they were the birth of the 70s punk, Eleanora felt so honored and so humbled, the very first person I had talked to was. A boy with short-cut brunette hair and hazel eyes. He raised his left hand and firmly shook mine; his name was Charlie Hardy. We both to smile at each other. Until Eleanora had discovered a remarkably but, familiar face, she was amazed to see that it was, Maire Underwood. She was once a former cheerleader, only for a few years but, since then she has changed. Her life turned around and she threw her icy pompoms to a side and now turned full goth, she was once a cool ice blond but is now a winter jet black. Maire, Charlie and Eleanora soon developed a close friendship, that would last forever. At the beginning I was alone, a lost soul trapped in a very dark place when at last a shimmer of bright light, appeared and I had realized, maybe I am not the only one after all.

About a week later we got invitations written in fake-blood, of course. My heart is thrilled when I got invited by the romantic goths, the romantic is more on the loving side but to me, they were equally as royalty and they were beautiful, but focus and drawn to the dark things of life such as graveyards, the moonlight, ravens and dead roses. It was so kind of them to invite us to the Elm Grove cemetery which was on the outskirts of town. A splendid resting place for the ones that already have passed over, they were our beloved loved ones once. I always found that place very sleepy quiet, where the sky is a blue and pink casting and blending in perfectly as if dawn is setting in, in Mystic. As we went inside past the giant stoned gate, she listened carefully to the rustling in the large pine trees, but as the warm rays of sunlight dimly streamed through the thick dark green leaves, Eleanora and the other goths started strolling along the sandy stony path when we came to abrupt halt. When we spotted up the path, we then saw three silent figures standing with their backs turned toward us, but as we approached them slowly. All three whirl their heads around and stared a boy, he stood at about average height with curly black hair, light indigo eyes and was dressed in a flawless black velvet buttoned loose-fit long-sleeved shirt, black trousers and right, on the shirt is a red diamond brooch on him.

His name is Sean MacBride. He stood casually arms folded, next to him where two other girls, one tall with very long, dark brunette hair but tinted at the bottom where bleached highlights, Ivy Green, she was always in my maths class. Adored in a stunning floor-length hourglass gown which looked exquisite, it even fitted her like a glove it even was in a bloodlust red at the bottom of, is black, too. Across her long, slender neck, a lacy choker with black stones dangling on her glowing skin. But the other girl was much shorter than the other two. Jade Frost, she had the coolest silver eyes, as they resembled as a wolf’s stare, I could just imagine her at this moment, staying up all night and start howling at the moon and not caring when the sun was going to rise, but they were cold and dark and having her black wavy hair flowing under her shoulders, she wore a white long dress with ruffled sleeves. Across Jade’s face was a stunning Colombina Barocco Silver White Masquerade Mask. In the air the wind was picking up a sweet strawberry perfume of roses. I can then feel the curling of late autumn leaves, cutting under at the palms of my hands as they fall one by one off the branches of the rows of old ancient pine trees and weeping willows still looming over us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Elm Grove cemetery. It gives me such delight to meet you all” said Sean in a charming and pleasant tone. He sounded so courtly like something out of a different century.

Eleanora must have forgotten. It sounded so old fashion. Which she had forget too, that the romantic goths loved gothic poetry, I mean, I cannot blame them for their fondness and affection. Eleanora replies.

“I am really glad to meet you, all as well”. After a few minutes, we all got together, and we all made our way through the giant cemetery. Eleanora could not believe on how beautiful the graveyard looked in autumn. No matter what the day, week, or whatever month it was, Eleanora stroked the ground was soft and green, instantly she saw something long, thin and covered in dirt sprouting above onto the earth.

Which was a worm with muck casing its slender body, it moved around the mud very slowly then in a second it sinks back into the earth. “We’re just about to make some pot of tea” Ivy said with a chuckle.

“What! Come on Ivy isn’t this like our sixth tub of tea already today” said Vlad raising his eyebrow to Ivy, still continued to smile not caring what at all.

“Well, I am sure, that our lovely guests here would love to have some of our warm tea” said Vlad once again crossing his arms back, at that moment Ivy turned to him.

“Oh-why-yes of course, please do excuse me,” said Ivy. So, Ivy walks away and vanishes behind the pines. “I’d just wanted to say, thanks for inviting us to your tea party, it’s just so madly magical,” I said. “We’ve been planning this for a while, we don’t have much time here,” said Vlad, but Vlad's tone was glum as his smile fades. “But we only come here once a year. After, “he paused. “A-after,” trying to get the words out but Vlad cuts her off, "After, the entire cheerleading and football team came and ruined it." Vlad murmured. “It had taken us almost a year to fix this cemetery, we had to skip school trips just to fix this area back together, another whole month to grow back every beautiful flower, of every kind, in this graveyard," Vlad then paused. "But we did get help from the rest of our community,” said Jade abruptly. “I mean what about, the massive oak tree,” said Maire. “Well, that’s the last thing to worry about, as it was never touched. They say that our oak tree is haunted! quite foolish is not it, Vlad laughed. This awful and horrific story started when a frat boy fell of the trail from his group, he had become lost inside the largest forests of Mystic, he walked for miles of trees, tress and tress. When he saw that the moon is full, and a white beamed down on a giant magnificent oak tree.

It was at the centre of the shadowy woods. Swarmed with dark tress, his eyes fixed on the oak like a jewel thief had happened upon a lavishing diamond. He froze. He stared at it almost fascinated, as if he had never seen an oak in his whole life, almost easily being taken by it. It was so far away from the others, as they looked like dark shadows completely sombre. Something about that, oak tree made it stand out from the rest of them. Maybe those faded brown leaves, dipped in blood are blowing through the nippy air, floating in the midnight sky. As he stood for what seemed like an hour, continuing to stare, eyes growing wider. The black eyes expand in the bright light of the moon glistening his sapphire eyes brightly. Until he unstiffens and finally, he would step forward but only for a few inches, though they were large steps forwards. Until he unstiffens and advanced his way past the perennial ryegrass.

That was going to be his biggest mistake. As he got closer to the tree, still eyes wide and locked on its gripping crimson beauty. Then the tall dark trees were swiping of its spindly branches and with the red leaves brushing in the wind, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, then, suddenly moving out his arm forward, and slowly stretching wide his long fingers onto the leaves. When the fingertips touched the leaf, then the brushing, stopped! The gust of the air died down and the night become ghostly quiet, for a moment and the Justin, a honey blonde, hazel eye boy, was not even sure what was going on and he still had his hand on the crimson leaf. Until a very faint. SNAP! The boy spun his head round, but when he did. It was only to a hole of darkness, with the rows of pines wrapping around the thick blackness, soon he had ignored it and turned back to the tree. There it was again. SNAP! It happened again. When he whirled back.  Nothing there. Justin took a deep breath and got focusing back on to the oak, once again. SSNNAPPPPP!!!!! The noise made him jumped out of his skin and he whirled around, there was nothing, only the moonless darkness, but then, Justin heart began to hammer as he tried to stare through the thick blackness of the night. When it became quiet again, he had immediately gone back on over to the oak and with his hand which is still imposed on the blood arrowhead. Everything around him is silent, dead silent, at that moment he become motionless.

Nothing was going to happen. When, a quiet rustling was moving slowly underneath him. He did not look down! instead, keeping his head raised and the eyes gaze on the tree. Completely as if been put under a spell, a powerful force is drawing him near and nearer to the tree! Is somebody or something just waiting for him on the other side. Until something hard and wooden came tugging at the bottom of his jeans, Finally, taking his eyes off, off onto the ground and to his horror! he saw a tree branch, it was curling around the dark denim. Straight away of the boy's eyebrows rose, instantly there is a look of fear. His eyes began to bulge out of its sockets almost about to burst, at that moment he could feel his teeth chattering. Until the thick and heavy branch started up its way onto him and began to crawl slowly up, up and up. Carefully wrapped around his stomach, then making its way up to his strong shoulders and then roping around, his thick neck. The boy wanted to scream but he could not as his throat begin to squeeze tightly around him. His voice became raspy and wheezy, trying to get the any words out. Only the sound of frosty air could be heard from the boy's lips. Abruptly the whole brunch started to pull him up and he popped open his eyes. The night sky was even more divine especially on this midnight. Though the moon shone more on this night on the boy could not escape the horrors he is facing. His heart was still pounding and his body shaking uncontrollably like a leaf, Justin tried to loosen the branch as it snaked around him, but then the wooden grips were just too strong for him. He returned his attention back on the tree and now looking up closer. Every leaf rustled, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. He looked down then, saw, the branchlets extending wide and spreading onward.

He gasped. The tree branches started separating. As it then spread, the entire trunk moved, and he had expected to see a white glow radiation like a glowing portal. After a silent moment, and then the tree suddenly became a statue. Then he felt a slight loosening of the long branch. Justin calmed as he could get some oxygen, however it roped him once again. As my throat feels raspier. Although he can freely move his neck, locked tight in the arm of the branch, and as Justin looked up and there, a hollow pitch darkness, the deepest depths of blackness he could ever stare at. A few minutes nothing happened and feeling scared enough, until. He saw it, something, or somebody in the total darkness, when it emerged. A small figure it lingered forward. Emerging behind the naked branch was a blonde boy Justin squinted his eyes through the darkness, and then, his light brown eyes are shot with fear. Inside the tree, every limb, every leaf but, something else as well. Sitting there, above the boy she looked much older than the young boy, adorned in an electric blue dress. I felt my stomach bubbling up with trembling fear. Then, the boy, began to stand slowly, slowly up, which made my legs go totally ice cold. I feel a cold breeze slip down my spine when he sees his skin. It looked abnormally pale, with dark black rings under them. When he realized at that moment, the boy and the girl, both, had competently, jet black eyes. Justin gulped hard, he could feel the beads of sweat sweep over his forehead and as Justin gazed back. They are glancing right back at him. They caught him gawking at them, at that very second, the girl and boy both then started to smile an unnatural grin on their faces. My heart then dropped. They’re abnormal smiles look cold and dead expression and expressionless, the eyes were looking as if, straight into my soul. Justin made that mistake of taking his eyes off them. Continued to look, until he caught a glimpse at the corner his eye and saw, a glimmer of something sharp and lying there on the branch when instantly, the black eye boy picked it right up, off the leaved branch, no longer invisible. My heart is beating almost out of my chest and that was when, he saw it, that it was of, an axe.

When I took my eyes off the boy and saw that the golden fair-haired girl, sitting there like a queen on the wooden wing treating it as if a throne. With her elegant electric blue day-dress, which looked like a Victorian period, Justin could not see her face entirely since it was in darkness. All the sudden, she leaned forward carefully, and my heart is beating, faster and faster than ever before. Justin’s jaw suddenly dropped when he saw the girl’s lips are stained in. Wet-BLOOD. Blood. The word screamed in my head, as it was dribbling off her. Drip, drip, drip, sprinkling off on the dark grass. Even with my staring at them was not making things better neither, by the hour trying desperately to try and wiggle free but to my failure, I am caught in the spiders’ web. Then the girl stood up too, and my gaze at the fair-haired left arm. Which was behind her back when she did reveal of that of a severed head. At this very moment I wanted to throw up, it was Alexia Bullwinkle, the cheerleaders captain and a good friend was now all limp. Those evil monsters! How could they do this. Justin helplessly stared, but he could not help but stare, looking right at her lifeless head, the strands of chocolate curls falling in the air and her mouth unresponsive, but the tongue was still inside. A flow of red blood running down her dyed pink roots, what scared me at that second was her alluring green eyes. They were a couple of obscure crimson holes, empty, exactly like the boy and the girl were. Did they scoop them out? like it was ice cream, but rather torn as if ripped out entirely, developing the coldest chill up along both of his arms and then, suddenly, coming over towards him. Justin instantly closed his eyes shut and grinded hard on his teeth. In a second the bloody head began to fall slowly out of the solid black eyes of the girl, her pale iced cold hands and the head began to roll, roll down onto the greenery.

Walking confidently down the dim corridor and Eleanora unsurprised of seeing those familiar faces. All grown up, quiet chattering in big groups. Eleanora, the petite flaming red-haired high school student strides down the endless hallway when abruptly, she remembered that it was back at the last twilight. She looks on back that nippy evening when she was at home and it was a full moon night, a good time to heal all the wounds. A perfect time to discover the odd and the peculiar, Eleanora started using for the first time, tarot cards, my mum told me that I should never play with evil but, as she shuffled them around on her table in her bedroom in the dim, she had carefully placed one down and then the next, then the next one after. After a minute of doing this, they started to open a door for her once she began to unfold them. Now that it is the next day and thought back to the ones that she had used the night before, it was laid out in front of her and as predicted, everyone was staring at her.

She was unfazed by their evil stares, gazing at Eleanora like she had done something harmful. I took a deep breath and closed her eyes, for a moment I cracked them back open, then I lifted my head like a powerful Queen when little rays of light are cascading, as though by magic. As if, I am wearing a jewellike crown over my head. However, I only conjured that, in my mind. I mean, Eleanora is indeed the queen and as she kept on strolling through the endless corridors wearing dark velvet, Dolls Kill, high chunky platforms and hanging off them of silver N' cross accents. The echoes of click clanking of heels against the marble flooring and as I am just about to turn the corner, that is when I had, accidently bumped into him. He was around about my age, attends the same high school, too. He was handsomely lanky, his complexion was a ghostly pale, and his hair were jet-black was shoulder-length, which that is unkept, he had those gorgeous lapzil eyes and he was very slim build but not too skinny and instantly I knew at that moment, my heart was skipping a beat, wait! what! My heart fluttering, she did not predict this at all, you will find love when you least not know it, one of the cards stated. I mean, we’ve have been best friends ever since kindergarten, I had just turned seven and he saved me, resecuring her from a group of immature girls, who were hissing and spitting across the sand box and thinking that it was never going to end. Then, someone showed behind the playground swings in high-top red converse came running and jumped into the box deep into the dark yellow sand, and Eleanora saw that it was Jared. I could not think of what ever happened next but, he was my hero.

As the time passed and quickly learned that he too, is a goth exactly like Eleanora! She is indeed a queen after all, since she had found last week that she is to rule a dark reign among the goths. Although needing a king at her side. She finally found her dark angel at last; Eleanora had never given a thought about it, she never had the thought about finding love ever especially with anyone or anybody, she never taken a glance at any smoke hot boys, well, Eleanora did, though they would always turn her down in a minute. It was simply because, she is a red haired or perhaps a ginger and no boys in her school would never go out with a ginger, the other reason was easy, they weren’t interested, and they would probably find Eleanora incredibly boring until now! and as she continued getting ready underneath the big vanity mirror of her red cherry wood dresser. Expecting to see a range of her expensive designer makeup displaying along the red table but surprisingly. A layout of very coloured candles casting long shadows along the walls, in the middle of the table was an old wooden box, of a walnut wood, a rusty golden metal decoration all around it. Inside this crate of abundance of dried herbs, dead flowers in corked glass bottles, crystals such as a bloodstone, lapis lazuli and the essential oils like Lavender. At the bottom of the box was a Raspberry Leaf, then Rosemary directly from my garden. Beside her, a large black makeup bag and as Eleanora began to unzip and withdraw a long onyx eyeshadow brush. As she added an extra layer of smoky eye, smearing across my smooth lips a dark rouge saint Laurent blood-red lipstick, my mouth felt like it is dripping of crimson, so blood licking she thought. As if began burning its beauty consuming from within it against my lips. Over an hour of transformation, she saw back, glancing at my own reflection, Eleanora is astonished, feeling more stunned she could not believe her eyes, on what stared back at her.

Eleanora rose off her soft chair away from full view. Still was in disbelief on how glamorous she was. My light-toned complexion was even lighter, her lips are ruby, the mascara was black and fuller. Eleanora is wearing a sexy long lace, sheer flare sleeves crop top, with a spaghetti black top under it, having a translucent ruffled trim skirt with a skater also placed there. Eleanora’s gloomy glam, of platform punk creepers, with fishnet ankle socks. As she straightens her black leather four-layer collar choker in the mirror. Eleanora admires the long copper hair, in the thick mirror, they pass down her shoulders, curling at the bottom like red rose, when something rather odd happens. A smile came over her face, like the kind you do not ever see from goth girls, some people might say, goths don’t smile well, we do smile. The room completely silent, but all the sudden my cheerful smile is whipped off when a shuddering of a loud, BANG. Made Eleanora jumped out of her skin. When another big, huge, BANG, she started to get a biting chill prickling up along her arms, as she stood there, but then, BANG, she whirled back around to see my wide window, the long curtain blowing slowly.

I feel all my hairs stand up on ends and a cold chill slip up my spine. The crashing was much more aggressive now. Then perceive a cry that was other-worldly, it did not sound human like at all through the thick glass. Finally, Eleanora pulled back the curtain and to her surprise! That it was just a branch hitting against her window and with a cool sigh, and as she went back to the dresser, but she halted. Eleanora heard, another creak but, it was outside her bedroom door, she froze for a second. Then, now, heavy and loud footsteps striding in the darkness. Going boom, boom, boom. A moment of silence fell in the dark room, she tried to remain still and quiet, but her eyes were fixed at her door, rather the doorknob, then she sees the handle turning. Her door then creaked opened. Eleanora's hands began quivering. Eleanora ran fast back to her bed and now, until a big thump, at that moment she could feel her heart exploded, she still froze at beside her bed. Then Eleanora slowly turned back, and the door was open, fully, A small bright light was moving past the open door, and she saw a tall, long black figure. Eleanora squinted her eyes through the darkness, when she was hit with a warmth sense against Eleanora pale skin. When a flame was coming… coming... closer and closer, and then Eleanora’s heart sank.

She looked up quickly and then light formed into a single, white candle a flame and as it lowered below her face, Eleanora feels her cheeks going torrid. Finally! she makes out, who was there and then for an instance, I knew exactly who it is! seeing beyond the draped shadows. That it’s only her older sister, Claire. The candle is luminating her face, glowing up her flawless complexion. She was a princess Arial, long velvet hair, stunning Caribbean blue eyes and a round shape face, Eleanora then noticed that Claire adorned as a Día de Muertos dress, her whole face painted in a sugar skull, she looked spooky-splendid having black fine detail, wearing a perfectly fitted slim KIllstar maxi decelerated dress, Victorian dark lace, the stunning strap detail on the neckline, also matching a modesty lining on the waist, and bust. A pair of shiny pointed toe Stilettos heels and her straight ruby hair was braided and staring at the curls, looking as if like blood-red roses. Eleanora darted to her bedside lamp and switched it on and as the light blared, but not overly bright and the room looked dark, at last Eleanora becomes steady and soon her heart slowly eases.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark?" putting down the candelabra beside the dresser and sat down on the edge of my bed, Eleanora then settled next to her, she crossed her arms and legs. There is a pause between the two sisters and as the silence breaks in.

"I like, sitting in the dark, its more soothing," I said in a low deep tone.

"Oh, okay, that sounds rather pleasant," she said, but Eleanora rolls her eyes.

"Anyways, he should be here soon, I hope he isn't running late," I said with an anxious tone. As I took my eyes off the window, and I stare down to the floor and feeling sombre. Then Eleanora notices her sister puts both of her hands, as they were in a long black glove, she placed them over my shoulder, and I instantly glance up.

"You'll be fine sis, I’m absolutely sure tonight, will be dark and romantic for sure," she said with a reassuring look, and I smiled back at her.

"I think he'll take you over to a creepy cemetery, or maybe, maybe to a forbidden forest and underneath an orange oak tree, you'll have a picnic together. Oh wait. Then make-out in an abandon mansion," she said as we'd both burst out laughing.

"WOW, Okay, this is our very first date, we're not going that fast," I said. But for a long thoughtful moment, I did have a thought about it, it had been playing on my mind all day, what if, he, he does try to kiss me? I then felt a bag of dancing spiders jumping in my stomach. Eleanora picks up her head and starts to feel sombre again.

"Claire," I pause and as Eleanora stared back to her sister. "What if, he tries to kiss me, what should I do, I mean, I’ve never been kissed before I’m just," my throat is feeling croaky.

"Well… If he thinks about moving his move on you, make sure to take a breath afterwards, trust me," she said.

"Although I do not think you should, must worry too much, just enjoy the moment between the two of you, because it will not last, forever. She then added.

Eleanora rose from my bed and walk straight to my dresser. On the table is the gold candle holder, I had noticed that it had with a low flame had not it moved at least, but for over an hour the flame hardly even flinched, it was still against the wind. Then Eleanora goes over the dresser and as she pulled from the bottom draw a small, glass bottle that was labelled and written in very fancy writing on it, inside the bottle is a melted fluent, in a purest gold, Eleanora then removed the cork of the bottle, and then she brings it down towards her lips and took a whole gulp of it, taking every drop of it.

"Is that one of your newest potions, you'd just created?" asked Claire still crossed legged on the bed, but she had unfolded her arms.

"Is that what it called, potions. I mean, isn’t it just, quite strange on how ever since I was just a little girl, I could do all that and even look longing at the moon for hours," I said. Claire did not replay to my unanswered question, instead slips her black laced gloves as they stretched past the elbows.

"I got to admit Eleanora, but I really don't know why, but we would never judge you, Eleanora." she said with a pleasant smile. I took a breath and took a step forward towards the mirror and began staring once again, at the copper gold candle holder, with its tall, wax, candle. Eleanora stare down at it, the huge low flame was even brighter amber, I feel my eyes bore into the small yellow glow, Unexpectedly, the flickering flame began to, move, I nearly jumped out of my skin, and my eyes widen in surprise, when she feels no gust of air in her room.

"What the-," Eleanora stopped mid sentences and placed her hand over her chest. It got even stranger. When my eyes are glued to the red flame like both of my eyes are catching fire, though for some reason, Eleanora lifted her left hand and loomed across from it. Over the wax light I felt a warm heat source off it. Behind it was another white, waxed candle and swiftly as if instructed, they all ignited and sparked on fire! Eleanora jumped back with a loud yelp and quickly pull my hand away.

"What the bloody-hell was that" she exclaimed.

Then abruptly Eleanora and Clair heard somebody running outside the hall and then into her bedroom. She turned to the front door and sees in the doorway is a boy, he was about average height, with carrot top frizzy hair, a round face and light chestnut eyes. He was not wearing a spooky Halloween costume like Claire, which surprised me at first, but instead. In having a plain orange t-shirt, skinny blue jeans and a black beanie. Bill Thornton, he was a skater, going to parks, riding with his skateboard and hanging out with his good friends and always creates a fire blaze along the skating ramp. Eleanora and Claire both looked up at him, then we notice he had a first aid plaster on his nose. "Bill, you’re not wearing your Halloween costume, you’re going to Colby's house tonight for that party,” Claire said. At first, he does not say a word to her, then Eleanora and Claire both exchange glances with Bill, as he slips both of his hands behind the back pockets of his ripped denim jeans and stared down to the floor.

"Don't tell me that they've cancelled on you," she yelled in a trice voice and raised off the bed. She stood up, in front of him.

"Well," he begins with a huge gulp. “David and Scott had grounded for two months, so it seems that I can't go tonight" he admits. Although, me and Claire are after all being sisters, we know that Bill has been up to no good, and are starting to doubt, but I did not know what to expect from my sister and who knows fully-well that they are something odd for this postpone, of the party of Halloween.

"I mean that sounds really odd they're grounded, what is the reasoning for this," Claire's blue eyes creates massive tidal waves. "Is there more to than to this, that I don't know." Her eyes narrow. Bill went flustered. "It's not anything bad, it is just, Max and Colby got into a big fight back at the park today," he said removing his hands from the back pockets.

"What! about?" she asked him. Bill shrugs his shoulders and looks down at the floor once more and as Claire walks up to our troubling brother, with a serious expression and Bill instantly puts down his left hand, Bill's cheeks go quickly icy cold. Eleanora remained herself at her dresser and watching the blazing candle, go dim.

"Alright! Fine! over a packet of cocaine," he said, which caused both of the girls to jaws drop. Was Bill taking drugs? I could not have imagined seeing him take any types of substances, Eleanora has known him all her life and ever since the day she was born into this family and for Bill, doing anything like that. Although, she knows he can get very extremely stressed at school, especially with homework which me and Claire must help him out on sometimes.

"Please, don't tell me, you’ve started taking drugs and those dangerous stuff, if you are, I am telling mum," Claire's eyes get redder. Her face is filled with strong rage. I could see little drops of water pouring down Bill’s worried face.

"No, of course not, but the boys got into a fight as one of David's friends is passing them around to each other, soon Colby felt forced to take one, he turned it down, but they didn't seem to like that," he said sombrely.

"So, everyone got into a big struggle and then Colby punched David's friend, but David was really angary and then hit him across the nose," he continued with, whilst Claire is giving him a look for concern.

"What happened? How where they punished?" Claire then asked.

"I saw that they're grandfather and grandmother walking in the park that afternoon, with the both of them witnessing to it all, eventually confessed about the drugs," Finally. Bill takes a breath and Claire soon relaxed and sighed. Bill was going to binge horror movies all night, eat popcorn, drink gingerroot bear and then go straight to bed. However, mum and dad are going out this evening, but tells them, that dad is staying in. Because he had to catch up on work. Still, mum is heading out with all her friends, all wearing black pointy hats, long witchy black flowering capes, grabbing wooden broom sticks. Flying on over to the witches’ paddle, Eleanora then thought about Claire. Hoping. She was not thinking about going to cancel on her date tonight, there is to be a party too, which I knew and that she had been waiting to go on. Claire had been talking about it, for weeks, Jake Clarkson, her attractive beau. Eleanora certainly hoped that Claire and Jake where still going. Though, in a few minutes hoping and expecting to see, Jared, he was going to pick up Eleanora at any time now, she had been thinking for over than last twenty-four hours thinking nothing but him. It makes my stomach flutter with a million butterflies.

Everything was ghostly-quiet. Claire and Bill departed from her bedroom and Eleanora sitting at the dresser, the chiming of the old grandfather clock, outside in the dim hall. When a voice is calling from the darkness, "EL-ENA-AROA," It was mum, Eleanora then rose quickly. She darted to the door, for a moment. She froze once again; Eleanora felt a swept of fear. Should I be afraid right now, but about what? I mean, this is just a date but, not just any date, it’s her dream date, Jared Donovan, and the night is fast and whatever could happen, but nothing bad was ever going to happen, although. At this moment Eleanora might be thinking this and soon, she will feel the true terror of Halloween. As she is adjusting the silver strap and at last wrapped it around her shoulder.

"Eleanora. He is here," Inna yelled once again.

Eleanora took another deep breath.

"Okay, I’m coming.

I hope you've enjoyed chapter one of my first book. Please comment and like it too, also give me feedback on what was good and excellent about the book or the first chapter and what should I do even better to improve my writing skills which is not totally perfect, not my best as I found it hard to make my spelling and grammar for years now but don't worry I am planning on going back to college to study English spelling and hopefully I'll get ten time better at my creative writing.

[erofanart]

I remember many many months ago, people were complaining how Bubba was the worst killer in Dbd. Mainly because not only he's an insta-down killer, but the fact he's literally the best killer to camp survivors at hooks, ect. And now centuries later, people are complaining about Nurse's two add-ons or Nurse in general.

Sometimes I begin to think that even if there are people who doesn't go against Nurse players as often as others, there seems to be more complaints about killers and their certain abilities that players have problems with...just because some can't play properly against them.

Take Pyramid Head for example. He may be weak to some of these pro players/streamers judgement, but he can have some strong abilities. There's people who hate going against him because of the fact that once you get tormented, injured, and downed to use your DS, Unbreakable, or even the Exponential Boon, his cages can easily cancel that out.

Another example: Pinhead. There may be players who hate going against him due to not wanting to deal with the annoying chain hunts and waiting for that one survivor who just doesn't or can't work on solving the box.

Sadako: there may be players out there who hates going against her because they have to do extra tasks to prevent themselves from getting killed early out of the game.

Spirit: if she's played in the right hands, there may be some players who hate going against her because she can easily track scratch marks quicker and sneak up on you quickly. I would say she's like a alt version of Nurse in a way. She just can't teleport through walls, ect.

Blight: because he's speedy af. Who wants to deal with a sonic player?😆

Nemesis: even if it takes time to reach tier three, he can still be insanely good with his whips and avoid/break pallets easily.

Myers: was usually a hated killer a while back. Still is in some cases. Mainly because he can kill everyone and/or tombstone them once in permanent tier 3. Some thinks that's not "fun gameplay".

Legion: because people are tired of mend their injuries...which has been a thing for 6 years. Might as well say "I don't like to get injured and heal myself 10k times in a match."

Ghostface: hates getting follwed and marked every so and so seconds....while some players aren't even paying attention.

Doctor: ....what's something about him people hate the most?

Huntress: some players hate going against her due to how some mains are good at precise aims and hits. Calling good players stream snipers and cheaters/hackers. I guess that's the new norm.

Trickster: going against a good main sets some people off when vaulting windows and their DH becomes useless.

Oni: he switches to his alt too quickly...which is something he's suppose to do if you aren't even healed.

Dredge: so many things to say, but some if not many hates the fact he's a good teleported killer that can take advantage of lockers. Watch when some say his locker perk is too OP.

Like to me there's always SOMETHING that many just don't like about the killers...and I would say that's normal, it's fine. I mean...all of the killers has to be different in some way, right? Aside from the fact quite a few are M1 killers, having them with different abilities and requirements to reach those abilities is what makes them unique. But the fact when a certain part of the community nitpicks one thing that they don't like, probably because it doesn't work in their favor to have an 'easy game' or because they simply don't commit to avoid it, they end up making it like it's some sort of crime. Like all of the killers are suppose to be the same with weak ass abilities.

Even if Nurse were to be removed or her add-ons were to be tweaked, what comes next? Would that even change how she works, or just makes the players who mains her better? Especially when her add-ons aren't even basekit. They're options players can choose to make her level up in some games. Especially if she's in a very large map like RPD and the bird map, for example. It just all comes down to the smallest things people try and seek in their gameplays against certain or all of the killers...it becomes a very big deal when it shouldn't. The game doesn't revolve around you, just because you may have a hard time.

And this whole "well some killers like Nurse isn't that hard to play" speaks volumes on how people are trying to defend their word. Like just because it may have been easy for you, doesn't mean you can use your narrative to speak up for every person who mains her in the community. That's like saying your first few days of driver's ed was easy and you gotten your permit and all that, but a few other people had difficulties, so they try and try again. Your opinions doesn't always necessarily make it agreeable, if other people had different experiences with playing Nurse or other killers.

Some people are fast learners. Some people have to take their time. Sure it might've been easy for you if you're not only spending 30 minutes of learning her, but it also comes down to what kind of teams your playing against. Are they playing the game seriously, or are they just goofing off and not knowing what the heck they're doing?

Not to mention, the certain things people may hate against some killers, may be the reason why they see many gameplays end so fast. Because they're just giving up. Some don't want to go against Bubba, Nurse, or Myers, all because of the certain abilities they have is what makes them win matches quicker. Especially when you have survivors giving up on their first hook, they're literally giving the killer mains the upper hand in the matches. And then they rant on Twitter on how OP the killer is when they've barely had 3 chases with them because they choose not to play the game anymore.

Least there are people who tries to commit into matches and not just say "okay, get me out of this match! I'm done!" And if it isn't Nurses that gives them a headache, they'll complain about a Bubba or Myers. So sometimes I think are people complaining about the killers they face, or do they really want to blame people because they choose to play Nurse, Blight, or Artist? Because if it is, it makes me think you want to tell people who to play because you don't want to expose too much of your entitlement.

That's like saying as playing survivor you hate going against Nurse or Bubba...but as soon as you switch over to killer, you either use the add-ons you hate or play the killer in general because of the benefits they have. Or saying how you're glad Dead Hard is getting nerfed as killer, but when you switch over to survivor, you don't say a word when you see your teammates using DH. I will never understand that logic and it's best that I don't. 😐

[theplagueraven]

Based on a SWF incident. Nea was mocking a supposed “baby Myers” and was about to call out that “he’s going the wrong way!” or something to that effect, when he suddenly turned to look at her and POP, Evil Within tier 3! The way the “he’s” drifted into “shit” was hilarious. The tone. The beautiful slide. The confusion when we thought for a moment that she was saying “he’s shit.” The glory as we all got Tombstone’d one by one because we were all laughing too hard to function.

Don’t mock the infinite tier 3 tombstone Myers, kiddos.

[gretavanhoney]

Hi bb. I'm not yet sure if I'm sending in a question in tomorrow, so here's a long one today. Take as long as you need to answer it!

What do you want etched onto your tombstone?

Which horror movie scarred you for life?

In the zombie apocalypse, what would be your weapon of choice?

Which horror movie murder did you find the most disturbing?

Who is your favorite fictional serial killer?

How long do you think you would last in a horror movie?

Does the sight of blood make you squeamish?

What is the scariest Halloween costume you have ever seen?

What is the scariest Halloween costume you have ever worn?

Is there any horror movie you refused to watch because the trailers scared you too much?

If you were stuck as the protagonist in any horror movie, which would you choose?

What is the most disturbing song that you have ever heard?

Who is your favorite horror author?

1. Here’s lies the bitch that always wanted to see some ass

2. I don’t think any horror movie has but if i watched hereditary i think that one would scar me. I won’t watch it tho 😂

3. i would pick a baseball bat with nails on it

4. I don’t think i’ve found any disturbing.

5. I love michael myers and jason voohees

6. I think i would survive until the end

7. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t. It depends because i want to be in the medical field and it doesn’t faze me but seeing my blood is horrible.

8. I’ve seen someone dressed like the nun and i was very afraid. It looked just like her and they had contacts and everything.

9. I’ve barely worn costumes so my scariest was either georgie or beetlejuice

10. I refuse to watch hereditary. It’s a no go for me no matter what anyone says.

11. The one who leads the group.

12. It’s not really disturbing but i like this song “Lotta true crime” - penelope scott

13. steven king is amazing.

[asmolavender]

Who the brothers would play in dbd: Killers edition!

Lucifer: michael myers, you think he wouldnt run a tombstone build and ROYALLY fuck survivors over with ruin and devour hope and shit? he likes to bring the PAIN, and at least doesnt run no ed

Mammon: he would play like blight or demagorgan, he likes to move it move it and spooking survivors and causing instant downs is the way to do it, if he gets too many pallet stuns in one match he will drop the game for a week before coming back.

Levi: we all know who i will say? are you thinking Oni as well? you fucking should be, he is a weeb with rage issues. he LOVES playing oni, it has speed, it has rage, and ITS FROM JAPANNNNN (be more chill refrences, when im 19? more likely then you think) he also plays spirit if he is having a good day.

Satan: HA, its hillbilly or leather face, chainsaws and rage is something he is made of BABYYYY. he also uses the add on broken chain on leather face cause he likes to be even more of a bitch.

Asmo: Pyramid head slash trickster main, im getting those vibes from him. plays killer more casual and wants to have cool outfits or to be sexy tbh, he thrives off pyramid head and trickster simps.

Beel: you think im going to say leather face dont you? well not i dear reader, i am thinking more of a hag or pig kinda deal. make the survivors sweat as your stalk or set traps around the map heheh.

Belphie: clown or freddy, he works with screwing with survivors by any means, he likes to use good add ones and make players DC.

[lupienne]

The Reality - Negan and Lucille

Hey guys, here’s a little Halloween fic of Negan and Lucille. I started it like two years ago and never felt motivated to finish it. So I finally sat down today on Halloween and wrote the end of it, and while I’m not really happy with it... whatever. Here it is anyway! I think it’s kind of bittersweet, but that’s just me. 

-

The Reality

Gourds were on porches, leaves on the ground, and the stores were filled with pumpkin-flavored everything. The crisp air was a slap to the lungs, in a good way.

I'd always loved Fall, and I'd always looked forward to Halloween. That night when reality wavered on the edge. When you could be dark or light, the opposite of yourself – when you could be anything for just a few hours.

I hadn't been a fan of the days passing by lately. Dread sat like a tumor in my stomach.

The reality was... that reality fucking sucked.

I watched my breath puff out white as I came home on Thursday. Maybe it wouldn't fucking rain this Halloween. We might get snow instead.

After dinner, I polished off a few apple cider donuts, then settled on the couch to watch TV with Lucille. She was quiet and sleepy-eyed as the clock ticked towards my bedtime. The holiday was days away, falling right splat on a Saturday.

“Tony said he found some fuckin' booze flavored like Candy Corn. I hope that's not all he's gonna have, because that's gross as fuck.” I yawned. “What do you think I should dress as? Fuck, I shouldn't have waited until the last minute.”

We always attended Tony Synder's party down the block. I wasn't really crazy about the guy, but I'm not gonna pass up free food or secretly laughing at the neighbor's costumes. (I always looked fucking amazing.) I liked to switch up my style, but Lucille usually dressed as a witch. And not some sloppy, warty green hag...but a hot fucking witch. Her slim figure in a black corset, her tits pushed up, her cascade of black curls falling over one eye. In years past, we'd come home from that party partly drunk and ripping each other's costumes off as we stumbled through the door. God damn. I was almost getting hard thinking of it.

Almost. The past few years, Lucille had me at arm's reach and I couldn't blame her. I was shit, I was an unfaithful piece of shit, but she-

That shit didn't matter anymore.

“He-Man,” she said with a chuckle. “I want to see you rocking that little leather harness.”

“Goddamn, that's right on the edge of indecent exposure. Isn't he practically naked?”

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

“I would make a hot blond.” I slid closer to her, and she nestled against my side. “You gonna be my Bewitching Beauty as always?”

She was quiet for so long I thought she'd fallen asleep.

“...think I'm gonna sit this one out.”

“But why?”

“I don't know. Just not up to it, I guess. But you go, have fun. Maybe you'll find a hot date.”

I swallowed hard. After everything....I couldn't laugh at those types of jokes.

“...Stop that shit. You're the only hot date I want. I don't wanna go alone. We don't have to stay long.”

“Look, Negan, they won't want me there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Tony adores you, which is why I ain't his biggest fan, cause I know he's always wanted to stick his dick in you-”

She let out a laugh that was more of a scoff. “Doubt he feels that way now. Nobody wants a dying woman at their party, making things awkward.”

I felt like I'd been punched in the goddamn balls. My stomach went to my throat and I roiled with sudden nausea. Eyes burning with acid. I fought it, I fought it motherfuckin' hard . My jaw clenched like I was in rigor mortis, my body shuddering.

“Don't...don't say fucking shit like that.”

She nudged my ribs. “God, calm down, Negan. What about this, huh? I don't have any hair.”

“It's Hallo-fucking-ween. Everyone is wearing a motherfuckin' wig right now. You'll fit right in.”

She leaned her head on my arm. “I'm tired. I'll think about it. Ok?”

That meant no. But it wasn't official yet, so I was gonna stop at the party store and buy that fucking He-Man getup and the best witch wig I could find. She'd change her mind right quick once she saw me in that loincloth.

As she went to bed, I stared out the window at the orange light of our Jack-o-lantern. The nausea had settled back into my bones. A constant undercurrent, moving through my veins like poisoned blood.

Too many tricks, life. Not enough treats.

---

Friday night. I stopped at the party store. The cashier rung up my purchases, then looked me over with a twinkle in her eye. I refused to be flattered – ok, I was kind of fucking flattered. The wig for Lucille was the most expensive they had. If you squinted, it looked nearly like her natural spill of curls.

At home, I put my hand on the package, and felt a rush of fucking darkness come over me. I had to fucking sit there, like so many nights, fighting the thoughts that stung like needles. If I let them keep stinging, the tears would come – the fucking breakdown would follow.

So I fought it. I shut it down. I fucking locked it up, because Lucille doesn't like it when I fall apart – and why should she? I'm the man. I'm supposed to be her rock. She hates it when I cry. I hate it when I cry.

So I fucking smiled when I walked in the door. I smelled Chinese food. Lucille was already piling mine onto a plate – the sweet n' sour chicken I love. All she ordered was a tub of Wonton soup. I frowned, but said nothing. At least she's eating.

She looked at the bag in my hand, and she too, said nothing. “Dinner's ready. And I rented some Halloween movies.”

We ate and watched Child's Play and Micheal Myers and a leprechaun who makes bad jokes. I didn't mention the costume or the party, but I knew I'd be going alone. I spend the last movie wondering how I'll excuse my wife's absence, and how the fuck I'm gonna endure the pity in their eyes. It fucking pissed me off. That they're putting her in the ground already. That she's putting herself there.

“Honey,” she rubbed my tense arm. “You ok?”

“Yeah, babe. Just...indigestion.”

And damn this woman, she got up to make me a cup of peppermint tea. I sat there numb, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do without her.

----

“By the POWER OF GRAYSCALE, behold my glorious sword! ...and by sword, I mean dick.” I adjusted He-Man's fake-fur loincloth. Played with it, flipped it around. I wore some black boxers under it, but I was still worried about...slippage. I looked so fucking ridiculous.

I slid on the blond bob wig, examining the hot mess in the mirror. “Haha, oh yeah! What a fine motherfucker. Jesus H Christ. I am a glutton for punishment. Ok, babe. I'm decent! Come check me out before I head over there!”

“It's Grayskull, not Grayscale. Get it right, Negan.”

The bedroom door swung open and my mouth dropped. My Lucille stood there, the black wig cascading over her shoulders. Her body, slimmer than ever, hugged by a slinky black dress and purple corset. Glitter dusted her chest and cheeks.

“Goddamn, woman.”

“I couldn't miss out on that Candy Corn booze.”

I smiled, but we both knew she wouldn't be drinking that. She'd be spending the night over the toilet. I had to banish that thought fuckin' quick. She already spends too many nights over the toilet.

“I'll taste test it for you first. Let you know exactly how fucking disgusting it is.”

-

We headed down the block, passing early Trick-or-Treaters. The rain had come after all, but merely presented as a pathetic drizzle. The mist in the air diffused the street lamps into yellow balls of light. I wish I'd brought my coat to drape over Lucille's bare shoulders. Spooky music played from our elderly neighbor's house and he waved at us. Lucille waved back.

Tony's yard had become a graveyard of cardboard tombstones and dry ice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy shiver.

“Want me to go back and grab a coat?”

“Don't be dumb. We're almost there.”

On the porch, Tony's tween kid sat in a lawn chair with a bowl of candy. No costume, how quaintly rebellious. She looked bored as fuck until we rolled up, and then she snickered openly. Dear fucking God. I hoped my loincloth was in place. My nipples were like fucking pebbles on either side of the plastic harness. I quickly banged on the door.

Tony opened it. “Negan! And Lucille! Very nice, very nice. Love the costume, although I'd never call you a witch. Or anything rhyming with it.”

We did an obligatory laugh. The tween rolled her eyes.

“You look cold, Negan. Better step inside. I got the lager ready to go.” Tony had the same damn smirk as his kid.

“Why did you pick this costume for me again?” I muttered. We passed through the entryway strung with a beaded curtain of bats and spiders. The living room was bathed in red light and Monster Mash blasted from the stereo. Tony's wife always went all-out with this shit. A skeleton sat in the armchair and fake cobwebs were every-fucking-where. I hoped the dry ice didn't affect Lucy's breathing.

Wifey Tanya came over, hugging Lucille and complimenting our costumes. I glanced down, wondering how they saw her. Did they know the shadowed eyes and gaunt cheeks weren't make-up? Did they notice the weight she'd lost?

I still saw beauty. The cut flower, vibrant and blooming –just don't think of the future, the withering-

Freeze that shit in time. I closed my ears to nothing but the soundtrack of screams and creaking doors, back-lit with the wailing of ghosts. Party guest voices blabbered over it all. We melted into the past. It was another party like the parties of years before. Slightly pathetic in that 'thirty-something's hanging out' kind of way. Laughing too loud. Secretly sizing each other up.

At least the lime green jello shots were good.

So yeah, it was just another lame party, and because of that, it wasn't. Because for a while...we were normal. Lucille laughed. I saw her smiling. Within her costume, she wasn't the Sick One. She was the mischievous witch, mingling with devils and cowboys and kitty cats.

Mrs Tillerman from school was there. She drank too much of that nasty Candy Corn atrocity. I caught her checking me out and I felt – for maybe the first time ever – ashamed. Other women looked at me too, making slightly-tipsy comments in my direction. I was glad Lucille was across the room, no doubt bored out of her mind listening to Ms Crouch talk about her fucking kids. And by kids, I mean her cats.

“Mmm, hello, He-Man. Nice sword. Remember that time after school?” Mrs Tillerman, winking and nudging.

“Sorry, He-Man has no fucking recollection of that.”

She'd sucked my dick once. Just once. That was really enough for me. I think I'd only allowed it because I could. Now, I saw what a fucking piece of trash I was. Hopefully, when she sobered up, she would too.

“You don't?” She took another swig from her solo cup and let out a burp. I quickly turned her in the direction of the bathroom. Just in time, because Lucille was drifting my way.

“Motherfuckin' crowd is getting drunk. There's probably going to be barf in the apple-bobbin' water. As if bobbing for apples isn't fucking gross enough.” I had to yell as The Addam's Family theme blasted from the speakers.

“Yeah.” She looked pale under the glitter.

“You had enough?”

I knew she had. We'd done it, we'd made our appearance, we'd given proof of life. I squeezed her hand, then found our host. I was tired, had papers to grade, been a great party...you know the bullshit, Tony.

-

We walked home silently. I wanted to ask how she was feeling. It was a lump in my throat. She'd probably just be annoyed. Say I was worrying too much. Say she was fine.

The warm glow of our porch washed over us. It sparkled the glitter on her cheeks, flushed pink from the cold. I wanted badly to kiss her. Instead, I fumbled in my He-Man boot for the house key.

Kids screamed and laughed on the street, swinging their bags of candy. It was just another Halloween in a long line of them, stretching out into our future. Maybe ten years from now, our kid would join the others.

Tomorrow, I wouldn't think like this. But tonight – fucking dammit, I was going to pretend we had years ahead of us.

I got the door open, got us in, shut it against the chill.

“Fuck. Don't know if that was worth going to. You have fun?”

The orange glow filtered in through the glass panel of our front door. Moonlight through the windows, silvering the interior. Everything was dark, but sharply edged with white. Lucille turned to face me. She discarded her witch's hat, the wig – no...her hair, looking real and soft and luscious, spilling onto her shoulders. She slowly drew one hand up my naked stomach and my skin shivered under the touch.

“He-Man,” she rasped. “I've put you under my spell.”

“Lucille...?”

“It's Lucianna. Maiden of the Night. And I've cast my spell upon you.”

I imagined she'd gotten that crap from those dumb novels she liked to read. The ones with guys who wished they were as hot as me on the cover. “Oh yeah? What spell is that?”

Her hand drifted under my loincloth. I let out a breath. Shit. I hadn't felt her touch me there for weeks.

“The spell of Lust. I'm irresistible to you.”

She didn't need a spell for that.

She rose to her tiptoes, her cold arms against my chest. “...Negan. Make love to me. “

“...but...Lucille...”

It's too strenuous for you. You'll be tired. I'm afraid I'll hurt you -

She didn't look tired. Her eyes were dark and wide, her skin sparkling. The chilled hands sliding under the plastic harness were strong and sure. Her lips hungrily pressed to my chin. “...Don't resist me, He-Man. Give me this night – a Halloween like we used to have.”

I fucking melted like the half-frozen rain under the burning Halloween moon. What could I do?

“By the power of Grayscale, I pull forth my sword, Lucianna!”

“That's Grayskull, He-man!” She laughed as I backed her to the couch, my hands fumbling at her corset. “Ooh, that's such a big sword you have. You sure you can lift that thing up?”

“Witch, I'm gonna impale you so fuckin' deep with my hard steel. You just fuckin' wait.”

“Oh, I'm waiting, but you still have your clothes on.”

Heh. Good thing He-Man was half-fucking-naked already. The witch was helpless to my brute strength as I lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

-

To be honest, there wasn't anything rough or hard about it. Even on devil's night, I had to maintain some sense of restraint. My hands gently stroked ribs under frail skin, planted kisses onto delicate shoulders and licked along a ridge of collarbone. Lucianna, my withering flower, her beauty stretched across bones.

Her hands, digging hard into my shoulders, her legs, wrapping me like squeezing pythons – well, they felt anything but weak.

After, we lay breathing and nestled together. The light outside came and went, broken up by drifting clouds. Lucille's sharpened features were softened. Her wig was still on and still looked real as fuck – money well spent. Her eyes, half-lidded, were tired, but tired in a good fucking way.

“Not a bad fucking Halloween, huh, Lucy?”

“Pretty damn good fucking Halloween,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, and I watched her, drowsing there in the dark. Her spell was slowly melting away; her magic could only veil the truth so long.

But for a few hours, reality shifted and wavered on the edge. She was alive, she was here, and we would spend our nights beside each other, just like this.

For just the brief span of our last Halloween night, I could have it. It was my reality.

And the reality was... that reality was fucking great.

[halo-jpeg]

I hope I didn’t leave a bad impression with my last ask, gah, I’m not good with social interactions. I wanted to make it up to you by giving you a happier ask! What if slashers (any of them you want to write for) with reader who isn’t an S/O but rather a really good best friend who was there for them since the beginning?

Oh, what was your last ask, if I may inquire? Either way, this idea is absolutely adorable, I’d love to write it!

Michael Myers

Michael grew up with you. Your mother and his were great friends, so the two of you were kind of forced together.

He wasn’t too fond of you at first, but you grew closer as the days passed. It was inevitable.

You grew even closer as school went on, always there to run away from bullies or patch up any wounds thst were given. Sadly, being friends with Michael is a one-way ticket to Freakville.

I can imagine that the two of of you would spend lots of time in his forest together, building forts out of branches and such.

Now, in the current day, you provide shelter for your murderer friend, spending the nights watching movies or painting homemade masks together.

He keeps you safe from anyone and anything posing a threat to you, following you around whenever he can, and making sure you’re never harmed.

You patch up his wounds, feed him, and make sure the police don’t come sniffing around your house. Even if they did, you talk them into leaving without suspicion.

You know Michael could never bring himself to hurt you, so he lets you boss him around quite often with no more than a glare and a huff.

He’s like a tsundere, but platonic. He’d never admit that you’re his best- and only- friend, but it’s the truth, and he loves you like family.

Jason Voorhees

Jason was so, so shy, but something about you made him want to be your friend. You were so... normal, and be admired that.

It took quite some encouragement to actually go talk to you, and he had Pamela at his side through it all. He was so afraid you’d hate his face.

The moment you choose to be his friend he’s attached to you. He’d put all of his trust in you, and he’d see you as a sort of protector.

Ever since he started hanging out with you, less people have bothered him. Probably because he was usually out in the forest with you, away from prying eyes, playing hide and seek or tropical explorers.

You came back to Camp Crystal Lake every year, even after he died. You couldn’t bear to leave the memories. You spoke to Pamela a lot, too, keeping Jason’s spirit alive between the two of you.

When Pam died, you went to the lake to pay your respects at her tombstone. You had never guessed Jason, big, scary, murdering Jason, would greet you with a great big hug.

You moved out to the lake on a whim, and Jason moved in with you, patrolling the grounds at night and helping you with chores or gardening during the day.

He’s just as clingy as ever, but now, he’s your protector, and he always will be.

He doesn’t like when you swim in the lake, but he battles down his fear and acts as a life guard whenever you insist on taking a dip.

You patch up his wounds, making sure he’s clean and healthy, and in turn he keeps any pesky teenagers at bay, as well as keeps your crops nice and strong. He’s a great farmer.

Billy & Stu

Billy and Stu were best friends from the beginning, and they weren’t opposed to having a third party join their group.

Even as kids Billy was super popular, so both you and Stu were in the clear when it came to bullies.

You spent most weekends sleeping over at each other’s houses watching all sorts of movies. Horror, comedy, action, romance- you name it! Because of this, you’re just as much of a movie buff as the others.

When other friends like Sidney, Tatum and Randy came along, Billy and Stu made sure you knew you were still top priority.

They didn’t hide their murderous plans from you for long, unable to bear seeing you so worried for your own life.

Once you knew they were the killers, you couldn’t be angry or scared of them. Although, you did feel slightly guilty as your friends died off around you. Anyone would.

As adults, movie nights are still inportant, and you find yourself watching movies as you patch up their bumps and bruises from their hunts.

They keep you plenty safe, and the three of you together have the best fun. You’re all meant to be.

Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson

Danny was an outcast as a kid- he preferred photographs over people, but something about your face was next to irresistible.

Confident little Danny strolled right up to you one day and asked if he could take some pictures of you and your pretty face.

You and him clicked at that very moment, and he even taught you some of his photography skills.

His mother loved the hell out of you, and was always happy to have you over for dinner.

The night that Danny killed his mother and father, his first instinct was to go find you for help. Let’s just say you were surprised to see a bloody, terrified Danny crawling through your bedroom window at 3 am.

He ditched town for a while, finding shelter and solace in an old shack he’d stumbled upon, you taking up the job of bringing him food and whatever else he would need to live.

His Jed Olsen days were just fine, him showing his face again and living with you until people linked the Jed alibi to the murders. Then he was hiding again.

You hid with him, being the errand boy/girl, and spending most days chilling around with him doing who-knows-what. You were like a sister/brother to him, and he was just the same to you.

He trusts you with his life, and he kills off anyone who bothers you. You can even make requests, like you would to a rad DJ at a party. Although this was different... being murder and all.

Any and all S/Os of yours must pass the ‘Danny Test’, wherein he sees if they’re good enough to date you. Most fail. He’s picky, and overprotective.

Brahms Heelshire

The first day your parents brought you to the Heelshire residence to spend time with their friends, Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire, both you and Brahms were reluctant to meet another child.

Living a life of seclusion Brahms never imagined meeting someone hed actually care for enough to consider a friend. He was proven wrong.

He wanted to see you every day, and you wanted the same. You ended up having play dates every second day or so, and Brahms found himself actually growing very fond of you.

The fire was devestating, and you couldn’t sleep for weeks and weeks. In the future, an ad for a nanny job seemed like a shockingly nostalgiac idea, so you took the job to see tbe house where you made so many memories.

Brahms recognized you almost instantly. He basically rushed his parents out of the house so he could see you in action, in a natural environment where you could be yourself. He needed to know if it was really you.

Upon confirming that it was you, (Y/N), he showed himself that same day without fear. All it took for you to burst into happy tears was him saying your name in the same voice he had as a child.

Now, Brahms loves to reenact the old days, having tea parties and playing in the forest like he had as a child. He’s so happy to have you back!

He’s a very jealous man, so he’s never going to be fond of your S/O, but he’ll tolerate you having one as long as you promise not to leave him.

He won’t go in the walls very often anymore because he’s not afraid of you. He also won’t wear his mask much. His trust in you is infinite!

Pyramid Head

Before Pyramid Head became the monster he was, he had a normal life in a human world, with you glued to his side like two peas in a pod.

At school, he would keep you safe from bullies, using his abnormal height and strength to scare them off.

He always inwardly groaned when people would say the two of you were cute together, because neither of you liked each other like that.

The day P.H. went missing, you had been heartbroken. Who knew you would stumble upon him again years later in hell on earth?

When first running into Pyramid Head as we know him now, neither of you recognized each other. How could you, after all those years?

You would have been dead if you hadn’t spoken, and if he hadn’t recognized your voice. He was completely shocked.

Unable to speak, It was more than difficult to tell you thst he was him, your old best friend. After plenty of struggling you finally realize.

Now, he’s your ultimate bodyguard. Nothing and no one will ever hurt you. He knows Silent Hill like the back of his hand, so he’s like a guide as well.

He’ll do his very best to train you to defend yourself. He can’t lose you, not after you’ve finally returned again.

He’s got serious attachement issues, so he never leaves your side. Despite all the défense training, he won’t leave you alone for long.

Amanda Young

Amanda lived a rough childhood, so it was fantastic to have a friend like you to help her through it.

She was defiant, even as a child, so she stood up to anyone who would try to tease either of you. It usually resulted in a harsh beating, but she always walked away alright.

As she fell deeper and deeper into a dark spiral, she ignores your attempts to help, and before she knew it she was addicted to drugs. She wishes she’d have listened to you and your warnings.

When you heard she had been kidnapped by the infamous Jigsaw, you were horrified. You had never in a million years expected her to walk out alive, yet she did.

She kept her mentoring with John Kramer on the down low, keeping that new identity hidden. You were just glad she had gotten off of drugs.

Balancing a stable life with you and enough time with John was difficult and strenuous for your relationship. Sooner or later you grew curious as to where she always was and demanded an answer.

She told you. In a moment of vulnerability she spilled her guts, telling you everything about her gae with Jigsaw and it’s outcome, how she was training to kill. She had cried, afraid you would leave her or turn her in to the police.

Of course you did neither. After a bit of a rough patch where you had to get used to the idea, you and Amanda grew closer than ever. You even helped her with some traps and devices for her games.

You saw how she looked up to John like a father figure, glad that she had someone like that in her life again. John grew fond of you as well, and before you knew it, he was training both of you to be his disciples.

You and Amanda regarded each other as siblings for the rest of your days.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

Would you mind telling us some of the un-picked/left over titles please?

sure! theres a ton so i’ll put them under a cut

some of them were planned main storyline oneshots that i cut, or alternate titles for oneshots for example

a monologue shot underwater - the flashback conversation between Durant and Greta in even to the edge of doom was originally going to be its own, separate oneshot with this title, from Depression Is Funny Like That, by Reagan Myers. It was going to go between like my pulse beneath it and a field of burning lavender

becoming ash without ever having been coal - Greta’s “yeah im definitely an actual witch” conversation at the end of for who would inhabit this bleak world alone? was going to be separate, and the fight Virgil rescued her from was with humans, not an ogre. its from Head Over Heels by Emi Mahmoud. was going to involve a lot of Greta making macabre “burnt at the stake” jokes

it is the habit of the living - original title for might have cherished you more wisely, from The Translation of Grief by Hieu Minh Nguyen

armfuls of poppy blossoms - another alternate title for might have cherished you more wisely, from Life In Reverse by Gray Thomas

a love that was more than love - the cut Patton backstory discussed in this ask, from Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe

sweet moment stay with me - a royality bonding oneshot that was going to be after what you choose to put in the ground and before confuse my tongue with your tombstone - i may eventually re-write this as an Extra, but at the time i was concerned about taking too long to get to the actual LAMP part of my LAMP au, and i was worried people would lose interest. from Hold You In My Smile by Ernestine Northover

not sleep nor dreams nor peace - essentially the original title of Sleepsong, which was going to be part of the main storyline - virgil’s perspective of the time in the casket. from Remember by Michael Lee

the future has been at war (but its coming home so soon) - an epilogue after of quiet birds in circled flight, before i’d decided i was gonna write the extras. from The Future by Neil Hilborn

hold on when there is nothing in you - alternate title for even to the edge of doom, from If by Ruyard Kipling

let me be my whole self tonight - alternate title for hoping that the whole makes sense, from Hangover Thoughts by Matt Coonan

and finally i waffled for AGES on what i wanted of quiet birds in circled flight to be titled - options included but no man can help you die (Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox), life means all that it ever meant (Death Is Nothing At All by Henry Scoot Holland), no prayer nor bells nor any voice of mourning (Anthem for a Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen) and finally, and this all mourners know (from A Dream Lies Dead, by Dorothy Parker)

some others that i just liked/ wrote down but didnt have any planned use for

and with no need of tears - A Happy Man, Edwin Arlington

in the center of me hangs a small bell - What I Told The Doctor The Second Time, Sabrina Benaim

God let me be this happy again - Replay, Jesse Parent

I’m so soft i cant be broken - The Shotgun Cabinet, Alex Dang and Dante Douglas

death owns everything i love - Cancer Suite, Talia Young

the only way up is to hit the ground - Bathtub, Asia Samson

if today were the last today - This Woman, Alysia Harris

held together by prayers- Eddie the Butterfly, Hasani Harris

as you can see i uhhhhh really like poetry aljksajlkd

[zippiestdraws]

Choking Curiosity Ch 15

Michael myers x ftm reader

read on ao3

You’ve grown comfortable in his presence, no longer jumping and walking on eggshells with a look of trepidation in your eyes. It makes Michael feel normal. Something inside him is picking a fight with it. Halloween is growing closer, and the energy that comes with it has Michael craving something that you’ve stopped supplying. The entertainment that comes with fear.

Your head has felt stuffy since your evening jog through the rain, but you’ve been doing your best to push through it because you still have shit to do on your day off. You’ve finally made it to the point where your neighbors are putting out fake tombstones and nobody looks twice at the running spray paint marring the front of your house. You don’t have much, but there’s some left over cardboard from boxes that you can cut up and write on so it looks like you have a day of crafting ahead of you.

You haven’t seen Michael since yesterday and it’s starting to piss you off. He’s disappeared like this before, when you weren’t as involved, but now...you can’t help but let your anxiety get the best of you. Both for his sake and the civilians of Haddonfield.

One of your brown cardboard bats flies down the lawn in the wind as you try to tape another around the front door. You turn to drop what’s in your hands and go after it and see a lithe man in a seasonal pullover drop down and snatch it from the ground with his one free hand, look it over, and jog lightly over to return it.

Setting down the tape and walking over to thank him, you see a professional looking camera in his off hand. You thank him as he hands it over, but his grip lingers a little too long on the other end of the cardboard.

“You’re the person who lives in the Myers’ house, right?”

The question catches you off guard, and you’re almost offended. The man pushes up his square glasses and brushes his mop of brown curls back into his beanie.

“Ah- sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Jed Olsen from the Haddonfield times.” He extends his hand expecting a handshake.

“(Y/n),” you say. “And yes, I live here. How did you get my address?” You shake his hand cautiously and out of societal obligation. It feels normal at first, but when you try to withdraw he holds onto it steadfast.

“Hm, Laurie said she’d call to let you know” He hums and finally lets go of your hand. “But as for the address, any man who calls himself a journalist knows the site of the most famous murder in all of Haddonfield!”

You cringe at his words. At least it wasn’t famous enough to garner tourists, only the occasional curious local. Jed’s eyes were bright and energetic, betraying his excitement, so you can only assume he’s one of those true crime fanatics.

“I got the basics from Laurie, but it sounds like you’ve got the main scoop and we’re looking for first hand accounts here. So, whaddya say? Up for an interview?” He pull his camera up and gestures towards you and the house.

It dawns on you that this may not be a great idea. If your name, or the house even, is mentioned in the paper you could be branded as crazy. You aren’t one to dwell on reputation, but you know how people in the tabloids are treated.

“I don’t know, it might come back and bite me if I put my name out there…”

He pouts a little and lowers the camera.

“I don’t write libel, but if it makes you feel better I can make it completely anonymous.”

You grimace and begrudgingly agree.

“Excellent!~” Jed exclaims in a sing-song voice that annoys you more than it should. “Do you mind if I record this?”

He’s already fishing in his pocket and pulls a chunky hand-held tape recorder into your personal space. In his other hand, he fumbles a small notepad and nearly drops the camera if it weren’t for the cord attaching it to his neck.

“I guess…” You’re surprised by his pushiness that contrasts with the look he’s constructed.

“Can you walk me through what happened the night you saw the man dressed as Michael Myers in your home?” He angles the tape recorder to his face slightly before pointing it back at you, already putting you on the spot.

“Uh, yeah, let me retrace my steps a little bit.” You gesture for him to follow you to the front door and he just about skips behind you. You wrack your brain for the details that you tried to forget, Jed snaps a couple shots of the house.

“I had gotten back from meeting Laurie around three; I think it was a little over a month ago.” He writes what you assume is the date into the notepad. “I had a repairman change the locks, so I wasn’t alone in the house until at least four. I think he waited for him to leave.”

“Could I have the name of the repair man to corroborate your story?”

You immediately furrow your brows, slightly affronted. “Why would I lie about something like that? It’s not even important to what happened.”

“Why are you so defensive?”

You cannot believe the nerve of this man in your own home, no less.

“Oh yes, it’s going to be anonymous, that makes sense. Please, go on.”

Crossing your arms and biting back a retort to kick him out purely for Laurie’s sake, you continue.

“I was upstairs getting...uh...undressed,” furious scribbling from Jed. “And after I took my shirt off I was pushed into the wall really hard-”

“May I see where?” He’s got the pen balanced between his hand and his chin, looking at you innocently. You hesitate, and ultimately don’t know why you say yes.

It’s easier to demonstrate, standing where it all happened.

“He started to choke me, pulling me up off the ground right here-he had his hands around my neck.” You take a shaky breath, slightly uncomfortable with sharing a traumatic event with a stranger. The scratching of pen on paper is distracting.

“I don’t know how long it was, but my vision started spotting and right before I thought I was gonna die,” you gesture to the floor. “He dropped me.”

“Incredible. Do you think there was a reason he stopped?” Jed stand in the middle of your bedroom, fingers itching around his camera.

You swallow. Of course you know now. Or you think you do.

“No. I don’t know.”

Jed narrows his eyes as you look away from him. He can read you like a book, albeit you’re trying to be closed off, but he’s got a press pass to what you’re thinking.

“And then what happened?” he licks his lips as you turn away from him.

“He left while I was on the floor. When I was done coughing I jumped up and locked it.”

“That’s it?” your story disappoints him. It doesn’t sound like his Michael to give up on his prey, but it’s the best lead he has.

“Yeah.” you nod, cutting it off there, the rest doesn’t matter. Jed ends the tape and tucks it away, gesturing that he’ll follow you out.

“Actually~” he stops with his notepad again. “Do you mind showing me where you were when the locks were being changed?”

“Sure.” You say kind of strained, anything to get him out of your room quicker.

The stop in the kitchen is quick, and you rub your temples as he stops to jot down notes.

‘Back door unlocked’

“Thanks! That should be all I need for now.” He claps the paperback shut and tucks the pen behind his ear.

You take a breath of relief when he finally steps back out the front door.

“Oh, and if you think of anything else, here’s my card.” He smiles at you in a predatory way when you take it. “It was nice meeting you in person, sweetheart.”

*** Michael listens to the last dying struggles of the person underneath his knife, savoring the ending moments of its frenzied fear as its last breath wheezes out.

The thought of you hasn’t been leaving his mind as he killed anymore, making it harder to ignore the growing fantasy of what you would sound like with a knife in your chest and all your other delicious noises of pain.

But he doesn’t want you dead, which is the frustrating part standing in the way.

Wiping the blood off his knife on his sleeve doesn’t clean it off well, the jumpsuit already wet with the blood of multiple people tonight.

Michael stalls on the journey home. He knows what he wants, it burns under the surface in a low roil that becomes hotter in contact with you. He hasn’t acted on it, but the reaction he provoked accidentally didn’t feel as good as it should have.

It’s because he wasn’t in control.

Instead it felt like when you lean too far back in a chair and start to fall. He scared himself more than he scared you. He won’t choke on his restraint this time.

The back door slams behind him with purpose, smelling the familiar air of the house suddenly pervaded by the blood on his body. Blood and mud mingle in tracks on the tile and wood.

When he stands in your doorway, you look up from where you sit on your bed with a book.

“Michael?” inquisitive. His knife slides easily in his slick hand so you can see it.

You groan and chastise him for making a mess in the house, dancing around the subject of his activities. Getting up from the bed, you move to skirt around him and grab a towel.

But you're not scared enough of him anymore to give him that look of fear.

His left hand shoots grabs you by the neck and pins you to the door frame with force, coagulating red smearing across your skin. The way you grunt in response electrifies him, but when you speak it’s with confusion and it makes him angry.

Your small body is easily tossed to the floor, not hard enough to bruise because he’s toying with you. When you try to rise he plants his knee on your chest.

He can see it in your eyes, you’re trying not to be scared, but it’s human instinct and he knows exactly where to press. More of his weight down upon you and you wheeze like so delightfully. Michael looks hard into your eyes, only met with steely defiance that drives him mad.

The knife slams into the wood next your head, sinking in and sticking. The whiff of air blows your hair around your face and you flinch hard.

That’s what he was looking for. When you open your eyes, you’re cringing to hide the hurt, but the red dripped onto you looks so beautiful.

Michael slowly lifts off of you, sliding the knife out easily and staring you into the floor. Pinned by eyes until he huffs, sated, and leaves you on the

[whatsortofschoolisthis]

HPMA MC (Short Version right now)

Name: Doria Ann Cox

Gender: Doria refers to herself as a weirdo when asked but she use she/her pronouns.

Age: 12

Birthdate: October 30th

Blood Status: Half blood

Sexuality: Aromantic Asexual

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Ethnicity: Irish

Nationality: Irish

Residence: Her families Lighthouse.

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ESFP - The Performer\

Wand: Ebony, 11 inches, bendy, and a unicorn hair core.

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

Boggart: The sea in a storm

Riddikulus form: The sea turns into Jello and tosses ships comically around.

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?): Sea spray, water lilys, and old paper.

Amortentia: (What do they smell?): Doria would probably smell Honeysuckle (its her favorite flower) and sawdust. If she smelled anything at all.

Patronus: A whale

Patronus Memory: Sitting outside and watching seals in the family cemetery with her older brother Timmy before he left for the mainland.

Mirror of Erised: Her brother home again with no one mad at him.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Reparo- Doria breaks her glasses a lot.

Serpensortia- The best prank ever, just climb up in a tree and drop a snake on some poor idiots head

The Ebublio Jinx- Uses this on bullies and then pops it with her slingshot, dropping them from great heights.

Spongify- Her Da would be so disappointed if she went to Azkaban for murder, so she casts this spell before dropping bullies.

Lumos- Its useful.

Appearence:

Glasses

Voiceclaim: Eva Whittaker

Height: 4 ft tall. Timmy says she's a waif

Weight: 80 lbs

Physique: wiry from years of clambering up and down rocks and swimming.

Eyes: Blue and warm..”

Hair: Jet black.

Skin Tone: Light and covered in freckles.

Body Modifications: Pierces her own ears on a dare and wears studs in them.

Inventory: Carries her wand on her, a picture of Timmy, and her slingshot. The slingshot looks a bit like this

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Professions: 

Cashier at Zonko’s Joke Shop (4th year-7th year)

Alchemist (18- death at age 98)

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: A Charms: E DADA: E Flying: E Herbology: A History of Magic: O Potions: O Transfiguration: O

Electives:

Ghoul Studies: O

Xylomancy: O

Quidditch: Chaser.

Extra Curricular: Frog Choir and Alchemy/Mad Scientist club.

Relationships:

Thyme  ‘Timmy’ Cox

- Slytherin

- 16 years old, birthday is April 9th

- Doria adores him and he loves her. He affectionately refers to her as Waif.

- He had a fight with their father due to Timmy’s disturbing interest in Dark Magic which led to Timmy going to live with Aunt Calliope

- Good singer, was also in Frog Choir. Helps Doria practice.

Eric Cox

- Hufflepuff

- Was a spy for the Order during the first and second wizarding war. Quite a bit older than his wife.

- Has one child from a previous marriage: Gwen Applegate. His first wife Marie, also a muggle like Sorcha , died of cancer.

- He’s a quiet man but very kind. Loves his children and was upset about the fight with Timmy and Timmy leaving.

- He appreciates his youngest’s energy but is slightly concerned about her tendency towards violence. Takes her with him everywhere.

Sorcha Cox (Nee Riley)

- Muggle, attended Nursing School and works as a midwife.

- Adept Sailor.

- Has no idea what to make of her husband or her children, or her stepdaughter but loves them anyways.

- Sorcha is really interested in Magical History and Doria often teaches the subject to her mum which is how she gets O’s in it.

Aunt Calliope Cox

- Lives in Dublin.

- Slytherin

- Doria and Calliope are very similar in personality and get along quite well. Calliope calls her “The Imp” or Impling

- She dabbles in Dark Magic but generally tries to discourage Timmy from getting too interested. 

- Owns a magical tattoo parlor.

Gwen Cox-Wu

- Eldest girl at 24 years old.

- Ravenclaw

- Fond of her younger sister but doesn’t always understand her. They bond over a mutual love of books. She calls Doria ‘The Pixie’.

- Has a daughter named Aoife and a son named Peter ages five and four.

- Tutors children in Hogsmede where she lives with her husband.

Jason Wu

- 26 years old

- Gryffindor.

- Loves his tiny chaotic sister in law and gives her Ideas, much to everyone’s chagrin.

- Owns his own Bar in Hogsmeade and works as a Bartender there. Calls it ‘The Fireball’. Has a friendly rivalry with Madam Rosmerta.

Aoife Cox-Wu

- Wary of her Auntie, she’s clearly trouble. Will accept books from her however.

- Well behaved child.

- Future Ravenclaw

Peter Cox-Wu

- Loves LOVES his Auntie Doria.

- Prankster in the making.

- Future Hufflepuff like his grandad and Aunt.

Love Interest: None.

Personality:

-Doria is a bit eccentric and does her own thing. 

-Tends to be quiet around people she doesn’t know well but then you get to know her and WHOO BOY she’s actually a little off her head.

- . Mischievous and likes to cause problems

- Odd fascination with death and dying, very morbid sense of humor.

- Human version of the horrible goose.

- Gets away with a lot because she’s quiet.

MISC:

- Her father brought her an owl she named Archimedes. He follows her everywhere if she doesn’t cage him.

- Knows a lot about Marine Biology and can answer any question about marine animals. Wanted to be a Marine Biologist or a Mortician before getting her Hogwarts letter. Now Doria would like to be a Gamekeeper like Hagrid or own a cursed object shop like Borgin and Burkes. Or be a Mortician

- Loves the TV her dad charmed to pick up any station and really likes the old Twilight Zone show and the Rupert the Bear cartoon. Her whole family also watches Muppets.

- Joined Frog Choir with a toad she caught near the Black Lake. His name is Robin.

- Likes to take charcoal rubbings of tombstones at Hogsmede and seeks out the Hogwarts House ghosts to ask them questions.

 - Delighted with Peeves. He often uses her to play tricks on people since no one ever suspects Doria and they like each other.

 - The lighthouse has its own cemetery. Doria likes to go out and ‘visit’ with her paternal grandparents. She also visits her great-great-great aunt Doria Manus who Doria is named after.

[officious-seeing-eye-bitch]

Opinions of the Killers

Trapper - nice artist, shouldn't have snitched and become a de facto union buster

Hillbilly - man is literally just my neighbor. You cannot scare me with that. Also I'm hillbilly so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Wraith - good tree man who has never done anything wrong, ever. Bing bong

Nurse - we are all one bad day away from becoming her at work

Huntress - giant Russian hatchet mom I love her. Just wants a daughter but has never taken a patenting class or read a book

Doctor - a walking violation of the Hippocratic oath, probably participated in MK Ultra 

Hag - swamp witch bog body. didn’t do anything wrong

Ghostface - WHAAAZZZZZZZUPPPPPPPPPP

Oni - no talk me i angy. big sexy tho

Spirit - literally the most innocent person here. anger issues are hereditary apparently

Legion - edgy teens who kill, clearly never saw Scared Straight 

Pyramid Head - HOW does he see. nice body but like. he has no face.

Michael Myers - every step you take, i’ll be watching you

Demagorgon - idk it looks a carnivorous plant. i have never seen stranger things

Pig - proof that the shorter someone is the meaner they are 

Plague - weaponized projectile vomit. super pretty, even with the rotted face. babylonian babe 

Leatherface - BUBS!!! trantrums sound like angry elephant, hilarious running animation 

Clown - obligatory clown killer. get this man an inhaler. 

Deathslinger - miner ‘49-er. sam elliot’s understudy for “Tombstone”. not my huckleberry 

Nightmare - bastard. burn him again. 

Blight - has science gone too far? get him a napkin for the drool