#para:deadmansparty

[anastasiastabbington]

DEAD MAN’S PARTY → ANAPOLEON

TAGGING → Anastasia Stabbington & Napoleon Darling (@napoleondarling)

TIMELINE → Monday, October 23, 2017

SETTING → Halloween Festival 

SUMMARY → Napoleon drags Walt’s resident scaredy cat into a haunted house at the Halloween festival. RIP Weenastasia.

Anastasia hugged her arms around her chest as she paced the Walt Halloween Festival, wondering if enough people had seen her there for her to get credit for attending. She'd even picked up a souvenir -- stolen, of course, rather than won from carnival games -- that could prove she'd done her time at this stupid, spooky carnival, and she was all set to walk out the festival gates and head back to her cottage before the sun could go down fully and the scarers could start popping out at her and making her feel like she was on the brink of peeing her pants. Instead, though, she came to a halt at the sight of Napoleon Darling, the person who'd been her companion for a large portion of Walt's last festival. "Ew, what are you doing here ?" she asked, spying the Haunted House sign standing just beside him. "Anyone who voluntarily goes in to scare themselves silly is nuts, if you ask me."

Napoleon had shown up late to the Festival - he was doing his homework but if anyone asked he was prepared to come up with a much cooler sounding excuse. He didn't mind missing out on the carnival games really, you didn't need to be a genius to know they were rigged, but arriving as the sun was setting was the perfect time to haunted house it up. Maybe he'd even get scared this time, who knew? He wasn't expecting to see Anastasia there, knowing how easily she was to scare, but he smiled at the nice surprise. "Call me nuts then, because that would be me," he laughed. The idea of Anastasia of all people entering a haunted house was too funny to pass up and so he had to get her to come with him. "Going alone is lame though. I was looking for the perfect tagalong and I think I found her," he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pivoting them so they were facing the house head on. "You'll have me there to fight any monsters, come on. You aren't that much of a weenie, right?" he dared.

Anastasia tensed as soon as his arm was around her, both from the barely-familiar feeling of his touch and the direction in which he was trying to drag her. She tried to dig her heels into the ground and stay in position, but he was a lot stronger than he looked and she felt herself inching in the direction of the haunted house at his guidance. "Going alone is lame, but using it as an excuse to get a girl who's way cuter than you to cling onto you for five minutes is even lamer," Anastasia protested, trying to hit a weak point or anything that would change his mind. She had wanted to sound suave, but her words came out stammered as fear started to seize her up. She hated jump scares, she hates spooky masks, she hated her hands being shoved into peeled grapes that felt like eyeballs... even knowing the tricks, she still felt sure that she would end up having a heart attack inside of that stupid house, so she let her arm go around his waist and dug her nails into his side, hoping he'd pause and let her go. "I'm totally that much of a weenie, you can call me Weenastasia for all I care, just don't make me go in there."

Napoleon snorted at her protests, but he felt bad the second he felt her tense up under his arm. He liked to make fun of Anastasia like she liked to make fun of him, but she was clearly, like, seriously afraid. Of a haunted house. It was a hard concept to process, even seeing it in front of him. The jump scares and spooky masks and all the tricks were so expected - her nails in his side, however, were not, and he jumped, his arm not moving. "Weenastasia? Really? You'd take that, for the rest of your life? I'd get it on your tombstone somehow. Here lies Weenastasia, scared to death." He kept the joking lilt to his voice, even though his eyebrows flattened in concern. "Come on, Anastasia. No one's gonna hurt you in there. They aren't allowed to even touch you. And you're gonna feel so much braver when you get to the other end, I promise. Come on. What do I have to do to convince you?"

Anastasia chewed on the inside of her cheek, biting so hard she was sure any second it might start bleeding. She hated being a coward, but most people just let her get away with it; it seemed, though, that Napoleon Darling wasn't most people. "Cool, be sure to put that in the yard of your cottage for your trick or treaters to see, then you don't even have to wait until I die to have way too much fun with the new name," she sighed, wondering if he knew when to quit. The more he pleaded with her, the more she almost felt a twinge of guilt... almost. "Pick me winning lottery numbers, bake me a weed cake, steal me the great Hope diamond... hmm, you intimidated yet or should I keep listing?"

Napoleon raised his eyebrows. "That's not a bad idea," he joked, though he was now seriously considering that tombstone as a Halloween decoration. If Anastasia made it through the haunted house successfully it'd be a fun reminder of the day instead of picking fun at her weenieness. Now that he'd started asking her to join in, going in without her would feel like a failure, and he wasn't good at feeling like a failure when he was sober. "I could probably try the winning lottery numbers, that's just probability and statistics, and the weed cake is totally doable. The Hope diamond is something I cannot do, but I can probably take one from a dwarf kid, is that good enough?" he asked hopefully, rocking on his feet a little bit. "And I'll leave you a giaaant tip the next time I'm at the Snuggly Duckling, and I'll slay any monsters in there, I promise." He blinked hopefully, not quite sure why he cared so much, but if the gulp in his throat was any indication, he really didn't want to go in alone.

Anastasia was pretty used to people putting up with her shit, even when she was being difficult; Gio was the most laid back person in the world, after all, and she'd spent the better part of the last few years around him everyday. Still, it felt stranger coming from Napoleon acquiescing -- they weren't tight like that, unless there was something seriously different going on in her brain than there was in his. "Okay, cool, win me some money before we go in the haunted house, we'll come again next week," she suggested, attempting to duck out from under his arm but not putting up much of a fight. She knew damn well that by next week the festival would be closed, but it had been worth a try anyway and she wondered if he'd fall for it. "Wow, somebody really wants my company, it's too bad you're just darling and not charming," she teased, although she hadn't actually made any steps backwards. "What, are you scared too?" Ana finally asked him, glancing towards the door and wondering if she left, if he'd go in at all or just ditch.

Napoleon didn't have to be smart to know the haunted house wouldn't be there next week, and he quirked a brow at her, silently asking if she'd really thought he'd fall for that. "I'd have to be more creative in finding a haunted house by next week, at least this one has guaranteed fake ghosts instead of, you know, real ones," he warned with a laugh in his throat. "If I was Charming, I'd be skateboarding in there right now without you. Darlings travel in packs," he insisted. He considered her question and no, he wasn't scared, but the odds of her going in with him seemed higher if he agreed. "Don't tell anyone, it'd ruin my reputation as a total bad-ass," he joked, letting her think he wouldn't go in alone. "But it's good to face fears head on. That way you can tell yourself you deserve whatever you get afterwards to cheer yourself up."

Anastasia let her eyes dart upwards, asking, "Is that my problem? You could always just make one inside of your house, since you seem to like them so much. I'm sure your cottagemates would just lovethat." Not that she'd considered visiting him anyway, but she'd definitely never step foot inside of his cottage if he gave it a scary theme. He'd have to be seriously weird to take her up on that kind of suggestion. "Skateboarding in the dark, wow, it's like they have a death wish or something," she replied drily, saying, "Ugh, you're really not going to let me get away with just going home, are you? Fine, but I get to call you Weenapoleon for a week if you scream first, since apparently I'm not the only scaredy cat around." She didn't know if he was serious or not; she didn't even know what she was trying to prove by agreeing. All she knew was that he was being kind of pitiful and she could relate to that on a spiritual level; the least she could do was put him out of his misery and just suffer through three or five minutes of misery of her own.

Napoleon shook his head. "Haunted houses aren't made, they're found. As far as I know, no one's died at 1159 Wizard Way, it'd make for a very dull time," he smiled. It was too much effort to make a haunted house anyway, but he didn't need to say that outloud. His heart started beating faster when it sounded like Anastasia was going to agree, the thrill of victory imminent, and he resisted the urge to fist pump his hand in the air when she uttered the word 'Fine'. "If I scream first you can call me Weenapoleon forever," he promised, already calculating in his brain whether it'd be better for her if he did or didn't scream first, and what would make her more likely to talk to him again afterwards. "But great, let's go!" He didn't want to manhandle her further as they approached the entrance so he dropped his arm, settling for lightly steering her by the elbow to the front of the door. "Ladies first."

Anastasia showed no reaction to Napoleon's statement, although a part of her did end up wondering if there was a whole history of deaths in Walt that she'd never bothered to look up before. Knowing her luck, she'd be living in the room of like, Walt's very own Moaning Myrtle or something, and it would probably be better for her not to go digging into that later... yet she made a mental note to do so anyway. She smirked at Napoleon saying he could call her an awful name like Weenapoleon forever if he screamed, and she even started to calculate a way to make sure that happened -- but she quickly discarded that as fear flooded her veins the closer and closer they got to the front door of the haunted house. She was too scared to be clever and they hadn't even crossed the threshold yet. "Oh, hell no," she protested, pushing Napoleon in front of her and wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. She buried her head in between his shoulderblades, murmuring against him, "This is the right way to go through the haunted house, right? Using you as a human shield." The door swung open for them as house attendants invited them to view the horrors inside, and she shuffled along, still attached to Napoleon, silently praying he'd just let her cling to him like this instead of forcing her to be brave.

Napoleon found it so hard not to laugh when Anastasia attached herself to his back. It wasn't what he was expecting, but at least she was going into the house - if he was forcing her out of her comfort zone it was the least he could do to let her use his body as a shield. "Are you kidding? All the cool kids are doing it," he promised, entering the house and feeling weirdly personally safe with someone's arms around him. That is until the first jump scare. Whether Anastasia could see it or not from her spot in his shoulderblades he didn't know but he found herself wishing she couldn't, because the weird and spooky bloody person who jumped out of nowhere was way freaky looking. He stiffened, one of his hands automatically rushing to Anastasia's arms as if to grab her hand. "Shit," he murmured in lieu of screaming. "Can you see anything back there?" he whispered, deciding it would probably ease both their nerves if they were speaking.

Anastasia didn't dare admit to Napoleon that it wasn't just his back that was shielding her from whatever had him tensing up; she'd also squeezed her eyes tightly shut, too. "Nope, not a thing, but I'm guessing we're about to bump into something completely horrifying," Anastasia whined, feeling his hand closing over her arm -- it didn't help her to relax at all, though, it only made her more worried. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest as she imagined a wide array of horrible things, and she slowly peered around her, swallowing a scream that threatened to erupt from her lungs at the sight of the bloody, harrowing creature in their path. "It's not too late to leave," she coughed instead, air having gone down the wrong pipe as she'd fought back the urge to yell. "We can just turn around, head the other way at a nice power walk or, you know, all out sprint... I won't tell anyone we're both weenies if you don't."

Napoleon couldn't help but chuckle. "Good guess," he said softly, wondering if he was more scared than he'd usually be because he was sober or if it was because fear was contagious. Maybe he deserved it, to be a little more afraid, maybe it was karma for dragging Anastasia in. But when she suggested leaving, his head shook instinctively. "Or we can power walk till the end," he reasoned, dropping the hand that he had on her arm as they turned another corner. "I mean, at some point we're closer to the end than we are to the beginning and running back to the start means spending longer in here." He was fairly sure they hadn't reached that point yet but he wanted to finish what he'd started. "Do you think anyone gets punched in these things?" he asked casually, trying to calm her with conversation as they traversed down a cobweb ridden hallway.

Anastasia grumbled but finally unwrapped her arms from around him, deciding that the fear of the unknown was worse than just seeing more horrible monsters firsthand. She just had to keep reminding herself that this was fake, this was fake, this was fake... and more importantly, she could just glance over and see the fear in Napoleon's eyes, too, and at least remember that she wasn't alone in this. "We've only seen one gross awful thing so far, there's bound to be like at least twelve more until we're free -- unlucky number 13, I'm calling it now, should we start counting?" The idea of counting helped Anastasia to stay calm, although not for long; they started to mosey forward, Anastasia by his side now instead of behind him, but just the sound of her own breath was enough to have her grabbing his arm again and clinging to it with both hands. "I'm going to punch you if you're not careful," she hissed as they rounded a corner and something from above her fell. She didn't look up to see that it was as fake of a spider as could be; she didn't have time for anything before fear took over and she let out a blood-curdling scream.

Napoleon let out a sigh of relief when Anastasia let go of him. Now she was braving the haunted house head on, like it should be - and besides, he was more scared that her grip would become tight enough to tear him in half than he was of the stuff in this house. "I like ten better," he grinned. "It's a more even number. We should count though, definitely. Whoever's closer treats the other to ice cream." He thought the mention of ice cream might make the girl relax, but the way she grabbed onto his arm suggested otherwise. He almost laughed at being threatened by her before something fell from the sky and honestly, Anastasia's response was scarier than whatever was up there could be, and he almost instinctively pulled his arm free and threw it over her shoulder like a shield. "Two," he counted loudly, hurrying them past the fake spider and out of the webby room. "I wonder if they get faker looking with each room," he rambled, trying to maintain some level of composure. "I wonder if they spent their budget on the front of the house and the rest will be just bargain basement scares."

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Even, schmeven, Halloween is all about the scares and 13 scares the crap out of people for whatever reason," she pointed out, knowing that the number was enough to set her hair on end when it was paired with the day 'Friday'. Napoleon probably should have guessed that by now, though; she had done a completely rubbish job of hiding just how much of a scaredy cat she was from him. "But sure, you're on -- my favorite flavor's cherry," she teased, although her voice still sounded unsteady. It was impossible to really relax in here when scares could be around every single corner. Napoleon, however, seemed more at ease every second, and she was sorely tempted to hit him for real when his response to her embarrassing screams was just to count off that it was the second scare they'd seen. "Ugh, eleven more to go," she grumbled, leaning into his touch, only slightly comforted by him being even closer than before. "They probably save the best for last -- which means that'll be the loudest scream, I'll forgive you if you want to cover your ears," she said as they entered into a room with an eerie red glow. "Vampires?" she wondered allowed, trying to guess what would pop out at them next.

Napoleon wrinkled his nose - he hated cherry ice cream. "That's scarier than anything we could find in here," he commented. "It's ice cream, why do you want it fruit flavored? It's caramel or no dice," Napoleon shot back with a laugh. He wasn't totally sure if he was making her feel better or not, but her voice sounded maybe less shaky in his wishful thinking, and she was returning conversation which was a good sign. "Thank you, but when we get to the final scare, I"m just running out of here. I'm more scared of going deaf than I am of any rando pop out creature in here." He nodded at her assertion. "Vampires. Or maybe a werewolf." She was right, though, and not even ten seconds later a vampire popped out from behind a corner and lunged at them like it was going to suck their blood.

Anastasia would have glared at him if she weren't so busy staring straight ahead, facing her own impending doom. "Ew, caramel? No way, just because I didn't use a mainstream fruit doesn't mean people don't eat fruit ice cream all the time, strawberry and orange are so popular. And if I was going to eat non-fruity I'd do mint chocolate chip, definitely not caramel," Anastasia corrected him, thinking that maybe Napoleon deserved for her to just shove his gross tasting ice cream in his face for dragging her through this heart attack house anyway. "Running away from the house or running away from me? Because if you leave me alone and traumatized I'm totally cancelling you, just be prepared," she hissed, although the hiss turned into a terrified squeak as the vampire came at them. Fortunately, at least, it didn't target them for long; it slid right back into the shadows and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Three... God, I hope they were cheap this year and there are only like five. Do you really think there would be a werewolf next?" she asked, peering up towards the ceiling for some sort of sign of a full moon.

Napoleon shook his head. "Then everyone who eats fruit ice cream is wrong, it's that simple. Save that for fro-yo, ice cream is supposed to be decadent." He actually really liked mint, but it was easier to be at odds with Anastasia. "Caramel would kick mint chocolate chip's ass in a wrestling ring and that's just the facts," he responded before laughing. "Running away from the house. Hopefully you'd be running with me, leaving you behind would rest heavy on my conscious. So if I start running, come with me," he laughed, sucking in a breath at the sight of the vampire. "I don't know, vampires cover the classic monster trope pretty well. Werewolves might be extra." The next room was strangely empty-seeming for too long, it felt like it was building to a major jump scare with all the suspense.

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Highly unlikely, caramel's not nearly as solid as the chocolate chips are, it wouldn't be able to get a solid punch in." Anastasia perked up at the mention of running away; she wished they could just break into a run now; she really wouldn't have minded being far away from here, even if the company really wasn't terrible. Still, if she was going to keep running into Napoloen Darling everywhere she went, she was going to have to start trying harder to avoid things one or the other of them hated. "Werewolves and vampires seem to go hand in hand these days, didn't your sister ever force you to watch Twilight?" she hissed, the stillness of the room making her nervous. She felt compelled to whisper as she waited, waited, waited, her heart the only sound she could hear as it pounded in anticipation. "Nope, I can't take this anymore, come on," she said, starting to drag him at a faster pace right as a figure reached out and stepped in front of them, its arms high in the air, it's disgusting mouth open as it uttered the word 'braaaaaains'. Anastasia wanted to scream again, but instead she fought to hold it back and let out a squeak of fear instead. Somewhere in the whole transaction, she'd leapt onto Napoleon's back, jumping in the air because she'd been scared out of her wits, and now she was in piggy back position, impressed that he hadn't just immediately let her slide right off. "Get me out of here, get me out of here, I hate zombies, go," she pleaded, sure that if she got back down her knees would be all wobbly and she'd sink right to the floor for the fake-zombie to fake-eat her very real brains.

Napoleon lifted a finger like he was explaining something of vital importance. "Ah, but caramel's density would make any hit mint chocolate chip landed stick to itself." He didn't really care about the physics of which flavor could beat up the other one, but it was more fun to think about. It was almost like they weren't even in a spooky house. Almost. He wrinkled his nose at the Twlilight mention and shook his head. "My sister is an artist, she has taste," he insisted. The silence had reached a boiling point and Napoleon, who liked thinking several staged ahead, was taken aback by a few things - first of all, the zombie. Not at all what he'd expected. Secondly, though, was Anastasia finding her way onto his back. His arms fell back to support her and doing as she said was surprisingly easy, hurrying out of there as fast as he could with a girl on his back. It was only a few more turns until he saw sunlight and an exit appeared. He worked his way over there, relieved to be outside again. "And that concludes your ride on the Napoleon express," he joked, lowering himself a bit so she could disembark easier. "See? That wasn't so bad," he grinned, removed from the scary stuff now and ready to joke about it.

Anastasia squeezed her eyes closed as Napoleon took off at a brisk pace, trying to block out the whole rest of the stupid haunted house. She'd screamed enough for one day, and she didn't even care if he called her Weenastasia for the whole rest of her life, as long as she got to escape. Once they were in the sun, she blinked her eyes back open, sure that it couldn't be a part of the house anymore. Anastasia's first temptation was still to smack Napoleon for making her go in there in the first place, but instead, she slid off the ground and threw her arms around him in a hug instead. "Next time you're so desperate to hang out with me, Darling, let's do it somewhere that doesn't make me want to die, okay?" she muttered before pulling back, a little embarrassed by the unfamiliar show of affection. "I'd say thanks for getting me out of there, but well... you're the only reason I was stuck in there in the first place, so hopefully you'll understand if I pass."

Napoleon was totally expecting an eye roll or a sock to the arm or something for basically forcing her into the hanuted house - he definitely wasn't expecting a hug, but he didn't mind. Adrenaline was responsible for weirder things than hugs, he knew. He put an arm around her in return, chuckling a little at her request. "Oh, but that still limits too many options," he teased, though his brain was already wondering what sort of place they could go to next that didn't end with, well, her on his back and screaming. "I don't even get credit for running us out of there?" he asked fake-incredulously. "I'll remember that the next time you have monsters that need slaying."

Anastasia almost replied with a 'see you never, then,' but a tiny nagging part of her brain told her that if she said that and he agreed, she'd be disappointed. Disappointed about not hanging out with a big nerd like Napoleon Darling! She couldn't believe it; she wasn't sure at what point she'd gotten actually a little bit attached to him, but she supposed there were some things you just couldn't do without liking the other person a little bit, and going through an entirely too terrifying haunted house was one of them. "Fine, I guess we'll just have to do something you hate instead," she teased, flipping her hair over her shoulder and shrugging innocently. "One look at this beautiful face in pain and you'd run right to my rescue, don't even!" she teased, finally giving in and swatting at his arm. "And speaking of rescuing me, I seem to recall ice cream?" she added, arching her eyebrows at him meaningfully, still too close to the haunted house for her own comfort.

Napoleon could think of a million things he hated doing off the top of his head, but the thought of doing them with Anastasia Stabbington wasn't too bad. She was funny, and it was so easy for her to make him smile even if she didn't realize it, and they'd never do something that could result in one or both of them dying, and that was all great news. He was aware part of his fondness for her might have to do with the adrenaline still going through him but if he was being honest with himself, he'd had a great time with her at Waltfest too, and he was having a great time of chuckling at her antics. "Ice cream, there we go! That's something I could hate. Want to go get some fruit-flavored frozen milk right now? I think I'm done with the carnival," he admitted.

Anastasia rolled her eyes at Napoleon, linking her arm through his similar to how she'd done at Waltfest. It was nice to be the one dragging him around again, instead of being dragged into a weird tower of terror, and she scolded, "Only if you're in the mood for some caramel, yuck." She tugged him in the direction of the ice cream shop, glad to put distance between her and the carnival, thinking her day was only bound to get better from here.