#paranormal fiction

[bansheebooks]

Fine. Plenty of time for a cup of tea. Then we find ourselves a ghost. 

[tabortrillion]

My first novel is available now! A link is available on my website along with a link to my self-published poetry collection! Here is a summary for What Came After:

To outsiders, Hannah has it all. She's taking college classes, holding down a fun job, and dating one of the most sought-after boys in town. But Hannah has secrets-secrets about herself and her past, the people she's hurt, and the people who want to hurt her.

When an unthinkable tragedy blurs the line between the natural and the supernatural, Hannah finds herself trapped between the world of the living and the dead.

As a spectator of the only life she's ever known, Hannah watches her own murder investigation from a different dimension of life-a place where no one can see or hear her aside from a mysterious boy named Art.

Will Art be able to help Hannah uncover what is keeping her in limbo? Or is there more to the situation than either one of them dares to imagine?

Click over to my website for What Came After, my poetry collection - Sides of the Mind, and book reviews!

[moonandris]

What, in your opinion, is the difference between paranormal fiction and supernatural fiction and which genre do you prefer?

🔪🩸👻 🧛‍♀️👽

I've been looking for a good way to define the differences in the genres but I can't find a good example online, so I thought I'd ask my writeblr friends since y'all are into this stuff like I am! Please lemme know what you think makes these genres different and why you like a specific one, please! 😊❤️

[devil-in-the-details-ay]

15

A night that was supposed to be romantic is taking a wrong turn....

There had been an ache first in his chest that had told him something was wrong, an almost burning that seemed to grow the longer he stood at the bar.  A pull of hurt that grew and twisted, it had no reason for being, and that confused him, briefly distracting him from his anger.  Then he looked over towards Yara for a moment just to see how she was doing since he had been gone for longer than he had anticipated or intended to be.  Her posture gave it all away, making the ache suddenly make sense to him.  It was through their bond and caused by her upset.  Whatever had bothered her earlier had gotten worse, and he had a feeling that Argona had not helped it.  Turning away from Argona without another word, he strode purposefully towards his wife without another word to the succubus.

“Come, we are leaving.” He gently touched her shoulder, his voice matching the softness of his touch.  Astaroth wasn’t upset with her in the slightest, and he didn’t want her to misinterpret that he was.  “You are sitting here looking dejected on what I had hoped to be a fun evening out for us, Yara.  I am sorry for whatever has upset you.  I’ll call the car and we can go back to the cabin and talk.” His expression was soft, as was his voice, but his eyes were studying her meticulously.   

“Don’t you need to finish your conversation?”  Her voice was a little cold and a lot distant.  Yara looked everywhere but at him, uncomfortable,and if he had not been supernatural, her voice would have been too quiet for him to hear. It was all she could do not to cry as she shifted in the chair a little.  The last thing she wanted was him feeling sorry for her, pity was worse than anything.  “I don’t want to ruin your evening, I’ll be fine.  I always am.”  She swallowed, fighting her emotions that were having a full fledged war within her.

“It is finished, and I’m not going to leave my wife sitting here looking and feeling dejected in order to talk to anyone.” His brows drew together, not understanding her discomfort and avoidance of him.  He hadn’t done anything that he could think of to hurt her, or upset her.  Jealousy or insecurity he could understand, but now he was confused.  Was this part of that?   Was he misunderstanding her reaction?   He wanted to support her, but how?

“I'm fine. There is nothing wrong.  You do not have to end your conversation with your friend due to me.” She wouldn't look at him, and her voice was anything but convincing.  If she met his gaze, he would see the lie plainly in her eyes.  At least looking away from him kept it hidden for a few more moments.  Actually saying that she knew that he’d prefer to be with anyone in the club but her, would break her.  Her father forcing the marriage had been the ultimate punishment on her.  Not because Astaroth was cruel, but because he wasn’t.  However, he was male.  A male that she was quite sure wasn’t oblivious to the fact that many beings in the establishment were lusting over, and most of them would be a better companion for the evening, or for any time, than her.

“Yara, what is wrong?” He waived over a waitress; he needed a drink badly.  He took one of her hands gently, still not understanding why she wouldn’t even look in his direction.  It felt like they’d gone all the way back to the beginning again, even farther back than the beginning honestly, and he was starting to become frustrated. “You’re lying and I know it.  I’m not going to stop asking until you give me a real answer.”  For the moment he was able to keep his voice calm, but it was a war that he did not know how long he would be able to win.  Her avoiding answering was causing his frustration and anger to rise, and it was not like he’d ever had to contain it before.

“Nothing.  I said I'm fine.” Still not looking at him, her chin lifted, and she ordered a blood wine when the waitress came.  “You don't have to stay sitting, go finish your conversation.  I believe the alluring blonde is still over at the bar.”  Now there was an undertone of bitterness that was so palpable in her voice that a deaf being would even have felt it.  Yara tried to pull her hand back that he’d taken, but of course he wasn’t going to let that go either, much like the conversation.  Once more she swallowed down her emotions and tried to put up walls.  Somehow she found that far harder with Astaroth than with anyone in the past.  After their previous conversations, the way he had treated her, and the way she had hoped things would be, it now felt like she had been a fool and that stung.

He ordered a demon's brew, neat. After the waitress walked away he leaned in and spoke right next to her ear. “Fine, I will not argue with you here.” His fingertips caressed her upper arm.  “I was not having a conversation, I was waiting for the bartender and being annoyed by the bitch of a blonde.  If you want to be mad at me for that, I can't stop you.  However, you’re not getting rid of me.  So, be mad.” He kissed her neck just below her ear then sat upright. His breath had been hot against her neck and ear, fanning out with each word.  

Astaroth could have said everything sitting up and she would have heard him.  He could have refrained from touching her.  The kiss was not needed since at the moment she was doing her best to attempt to pretend he wasn’t there.  However, he knew one thing: sometimes you had to gently push someone to pull the truth out of them.  It wasn’t something he’d ever done often, but he knew just enough to be able to do it.

She felt a wave of desire flow through her for him when his lips met her skin. There was no doubt that he had known just what he was doing.  He wasn’t fighting fair, but then neither was she by not saying anything.  She guessed they were even.  “I'm not..” Yara looked down, as he took her hand now in both his and laced their fingers. “What are you doing?” Now her head turned to look at him, brows drawn together. What WAS he doing?  And WHY?

Smirking, he leaned over until their foreheads were touching as he replied, “not allowing you to push me away because you misread a situation.”  When she tried to pull her hand back a second time, he held tighter between his two. “I brought YOU here to have an enjoyable night.  If you wish to ruin it, I won't stop you.  I, however, will also not argue with you. I’m not leaving your side, and I am still going to show the only woman here who I care to be with, the affection she deserves.”  Pulling her hand up, he kissed the back without breaking eye contact.  “Together.”

She sat blinking at him without saying anything.  What kind of game was he playing? Why did she feel so confused?  There were new emotions and feelings flowing through her and she didn’t know how to handle them.  Everything was so overwhelming.  The words of Lucifer battling the words of Astaroth now in her head.  Astaroth’s actions battling her father’s words of foretelling. 

While he waited for her to say something he was glad their drinks were delivered.   He needed the strong demonic liquid to help him deal with whatever set this round of emotions off.  He was perplexed by her behavior and feeling suddenly closed off from her. Why did she suddenly think that he was looking to be with someone else after they’d had this conversation.  They’d agreed.  This had been covered.  Did she not trust him?  What had he done to deserve that?

“Asti, I…” suddenly she felt unsure again and her head dropped away from his; so that her eyes were looking at her lap, “I mean you don't have to…”  She sighed, and her jaw worked.  Why had coming here made her feel so off balance suddenly? 

“Have to what? Act like we're married?  We are. Act like your husband? I am. Act like I like you? I do.  Act like I care?” He reached over and took her chin gently to turn her face to look at him. “Papilio, we may not be madly in love with one another, but I do care about you and want you happy. I’ve told you that before, I don’t know why any of this should come as a surprise.  I wasn’t flirting with that female, if that is what you think, and there isn't anyone else here I want to spend time with. I don't know why you're now feeling insecure, but I am yours.” Astaroth leaned over and softly kissed her cheek.  He was starting to understand, remembering what she had told him about things Lucifer had said.  This was their first time in public.  Maybe a place with fewer people would have been better.  A wine bar instead of a nightclub.

“Only because you are being forced.” Suddenly her voice was colder, she was fighting tears and she didn't know why.  She was trying to put on her millennia old mask of indifference and condescension but it wasn’t working. “We both know I'm not the one in this bar you'd be with if you had a choice.” Her eyes again swept the women lusting after him, then could not meet his afterwards.

His eyes followed hers and he sighed. “I cannot help how others look at me.  Just like I can't control the men who are ogling you.” They quick whip of her head, to look at him, told him she hadn't even noticed. She had been so caught up in her own jealousy and insecurity that she had not noticed anyone paying attention to her.  He found that intriguing.  She had been afraid of losing him.  It had never occurred to her that there were others within the bar that would have been glad to take her away from him.  It still bothered him slightly that she was taking her insecurity out on him, even if he was beginning to understand.  “Why are you getting upset at me for what they are doing?” Astaroth wasn't sure where this patience was coming from, but he was thankful for it.

“I'm not.” Yara protested. “I just know how this goes.” She saw one of his brows raise so she continued with how her thoughts went.  “Once you find a way out of…” a finger landed on her lips very softly, but it was the darkening of his eyes that gave her pause more than that.  She knew that look.  She’d seen it during their wedding.  She’d seen it with her father.  This was anger.  Deep, dark, anger. The fact that what she had started to say evoked that emotion so strong and deep told her one thing: she was very, very wrong.

“I have not, nor do I plan to look for a way out of this. I have tried making plans for the future with you today about the house.  We will be visiting someone who can tell us about your mother.  Do not finish that sentence if you truly want things to work out between us, even if just as friends in this arrangement.  Because if that is what you truly think of me, then there is no future of anything but resentment and discord.” He was angry but trying not to lash at her the way he normally would at someone who insulted him like that.  A temper tantrum from her was the last thing he fucking needed. 

[onemorechapterandcupofcoffee]

Episode Thirteen

Craig DiLouie

If your guilty pleasure is watching ghost hunting tv shows, you'll love this book. The story of a paranormal team investigating a long abandoned house that is the center of a decades old mystery will intrigue and delight. If you're an audiobook lover, then you're in for a treat. This audiobook is fully immersive. From background music to a full cast. You won't regret giving it a listen. 4.5/5 stars, would definitely read again.

[ekbelsher]

I’m so excited about this book! It’s called The Second Death of Edie and Violet Bond (by debut author Amanda Glaze) and I was honoured to do some promotional art for it 😄 (This print is part of her preorder campaign. Book comes out October 2022)

[cljordan-imperium]

Bayou Witches - 3

Heaven Shelby belongs to @call-sign-shark “Follow.”  Mel grinned, biting her lower lip as she beckoned Heaven with all the fingers on her right hand, backing towards the staircase to the lower floor from the doorway of the blonde's bedroom.  The women had ended up spending the day shopping in the nearest small town with Mel’s mom and sister, both named Marie, having fun and exploring all the little shops.  Heaven had thought the place reminded her of something out of one of those holiday TV movies that came to life, where everyone was super friendly and all had the most amazing accents.  Not to mention there were plenty of places selling delicious smelling treats that tasted even better.  Now she wondered what her new friend was up to, there was no missing the impish grin that lit up the brunette’s face, all the way to her oceanic blue eyes.

“What?”  Heaven started to reach for her sandals, when Mel rushed forward to grab her hand and pull her forward before she could. 

“Nope.  Tonight is barefoot.”  Mel’s grin grew.  “I promise you don’t have to worry about delicate feet at all.”

“Meeeelll…”  Heaven drew out her name as she started to follow, laughing and wondering what was in store.  

“Adoption ceremony time.”  Mel spun, her patchwork skirt flaring out in a wide circle around her as she did.  

“I’m sorry, what?” Heaven’s eyes went wide as Marie suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere and take one of her hands.

“You are now a bayou witch, child.  Come and meet your ancestors.  They have been waiting a long time for you to show up.”  Marie’s heavy Creole French accent made her words sound rich and aristocratic.  Her face though, it showed all the love a mother could have for a child as she gazed at Heaven and placed a kiss on her cheek.  “It is time you meet all of your family.”

Heaven watched Mel almost bound down the steps of the interior of the mansion with child-like enthusiasm, while Marie gently led her.  Marie II was a the bottom of the stairs waiting for her sister.  A tight hug was exchanged before Francois and Dontanion also stepped into view, hugs once more being exchanged.  Then the two sisters scampered off like children towards the back of the house.

“Do not worry about Arthur, he is in Alexander and Cade’s capable hands for the evening.  They are very familiar with how important family ceremonies are.”  Francois offered his arm to his new little sister.  The last time there was a new female LaVeau had been the birth of Melania.  They were rare.  Heaven would be the only adoption, and she would be just as loved as those born into the bloodline.

“Your brothers will escort you to the ceremony, child.  Welcome home, Heaven LaVeau-Shelby.  You will always have family in the Louisiana bayou.”  Marie kissed both Heaven’s cheeks before leaving her in Dontanion and Francois’ care.  She, like her daughters headed for the back of the mansion.

“Tonight, you will meet aunties, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews within the line of the LaVeaus.  Then you’ll meet the ancestors.  No one tonight will mean you harm. We perform the same ceremony when there is a birth only then the baby is carried by its parents, you get escorts.” Dontanion explained in his accent that mirrored his mother’s.

Heaven was led across the back lawn of the mansion towards the bayou.  She could see a golden glow within the cypress trees that hung with Spanish moss and the low mangroves that were dotted among them.  As they drew nearer, she could hear the beat of the drums, and words in a language that she didn’t understand.  The closer they got, it was no longer discernible whether the singing was coming from in front of them, or from all around them.  It was as if the ancient cypress were singing themselves, the drumming coming from inside them.  The firelight made the shadows cast by the spanish moss to make the trees look alive.  It was like the entire bayou was welcoming Heaven home, and in a way it was.

Finally, they were close enough that Heaven could see the circle.  In the center was a bonfire, the wood piled so it was highest in the center.  Around that danced all of the females of the family.  Long skirts that brushed the ground, and like Melania’s, they all flared out when they spun.  Behind them were the males and the drums of all kinds.  Some were small enough to be carried, while others had to be placed and the drummer stood behind.  It was a sight unlike anything that Heaven had ever seen before.

When the three reached the edge of the firelight, everyone fell silent.  Marie came to the front, her rosary in one hand, her small staff with a silver head in the form of Baron Samedi in the other.  Twirling her rosary and moving the staff in a rhythm, she began to do a chant in the same language that Heaven had heard as they’d approached.  One of the drummers with a drum came forward to match the rhythm that she was indicating.  After two times through whatever incantation that Marie was doing, the other women and girls joined in.  There was also an intricate kind of line dance that the women did as they moved around the fire, making sure their skirts did not get too close to it. It started slow at first, then slowly began to increase in speed, but the rhythm stayed the same.

As Heaven watched and listened to the beautiful song, she started to notice what she thought were shadows moving across the waters of the bayou at first.  Later, she realized that it was the spirits coming out of the bayou and joining in the movements with the members of the LaVeau family. The spirits each carried a candle, a yellow flame atop each one.  Their voices echoed like soft breezes through the leaves of the trees as they joined in with the living LaVeaus.  Over 300 years of family came together to welcome their newest member to the fold.  The love almost palpable in the air as the members of the family, both living and passed on, now surrounding her in a circle.  It was a ritual that had been performed countless times over the centuries and would be performed  countless more in the future.

See blood did not make one a LaVeau, it was more than that.  Amongst those, living and dead, that were in  the bayou that night, there was an energy, a presence, in the very soul, the very being, that tied them all together.  It was a bond that even death could not break and  distance could not thin.  Time did not diminish, and the more members that came into the fold, the greater it grew.  Love is what made one a LaVeau and once you were one, all of those who came before and after accepted you without hesitation and loved without reservation.  Never, no matter where you were in the world, would you walk alone, because your ancestors would walk alongside you.  Tonight, Heaven became a LaVeau, and forever more she would be one and get to experience everything that came along with it.

@blind-the-winds @saltysupercomputer @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @dreaminggoblin @toribookworm22 @korblez @aziz-reads @evita-shelby @call-sign-shark @cillmequick @raincoffeeandfandoms @spookyceph

[magical-mistakes-vm]

"Are you having trouble breathing, Mahala?" Baldur was concerned, and was relieved when she shook her head. That was at least one thing they weren’t going to have to deal with. The inability to speak and that damn big bruise, they were. Why weren’t they healing? He had tried more than one type of healing and reversal spell and enchantment and it didn’t seem to be helping. This was normally something he could do without hardly a thought. He had to figure it out and do it fast if they didn’t want Vollrath to know about the situation. "Don’t you worry about a single thing, we are going to fix this, babygirl. It's resisting my healing right now; but, you're going to be okay, I’m just going.. "

"To get the fuck out of my way." Vollrath interrupted him abruptly, with a voice that was a low and almost feral growl; and he saw Baldur visibly flinch when he did. As his friend stood and turned to step away from the couch, Vollrath grabbed his shoulder, "when it comes to her, don't EVER hide something from me again." He didn't yell or raise his voice, he didn't have to. Baldur knew how serious he was, and nodded. The only thing keeping Vollrath from leveling his own office was knowing it would just put her through more pain, and she was currently dealing with enough.

"Close your eyes, my little witch." Vollrath told Mahala, as he replaced Baldur, sitting on the edge of the couch with his hip right up against her. His fingers gently traced over the deep pink, purple, and blue bruise that seemed to be darkening as he touched it. It was the opposite of what should be happening, and it frustrated him. He had no clue what Jonathan had done, but he had the power and control to be able to make it so she would be just fine. There was nothing Jonathan could have done that he couldn’t undo, that’s part of what made him who and what he was. The warlock down in a containment room would be dealt with later, by someone else. With his anger, he’d kill him if it was he that handled things.

Mahala nodded as she felt his gentle and light touches; she trusted him. Her hand went over to rest on his thigh and she felt one of his rest on top of it. The warmth of his hand and the way he cradled hers softly was comforting, it almost felt caring and protective. Surely it was her imagination though, it had only been less than a day since they’d met. It seemed like ever since she had returned to the town where her mother had grown up, one thing after another had gone wrong, but so far the morning in Vollrath’s office had been the worst. That’s why it was so perplexing that the man himself was able to ease her worries and upset. It put a very slight smile on her lips as she lay and waited for him to fix everything.

His palm ghosted over the skin of her throat, barely touching it, as he tried to not put too much pressure on the bruise that would be painful even if there had been no magic behind it; Vollrath closed his eyes to focus his magic on not only healing but reversing whatever spell or enchantment had been cast to silence her. He could feel the resistance to his mystical powers, and that only served to feed the rage that was building within him; he used that frustration to fuel his efforts to heal her. A slight whimpering from Mahala, as he increased his magic to force back Jonathan’s, made him instantly come to a complete stop with his efforts. He now knew what had happened and why nothing was getting better, and he was going to need one of the other men to fix it. As with handling Johnathan, his solution would be to simply kill him, which would no doubt not make the Coven Counsel happy, and they would now have to be involved.

“Shhh…I won’t do anything more that will cause you pain.” He gently caressed her cheek with his fingertips, then her forehead as he tried to sooth her. “You can still breathe without any problems?” He tried to keep his expression soft and warm, as was his tone, so he wouldn’t upset her any more than she already was. When she nodded, he was relieved that at least it was not getting worse. Vollrath could feel some of the tension in his body ease, as he was reassured that she was not in danger of suffocation. It was just temporary pain, not a risk of death. That he could deal with.

For a moment he thought about which of his friends would be better to send on the required errand for him. “Baldur, can you please come here for a moment?” He heard both men start to approach, which made him chuckle lightly. Both of them were worried; a fact that both warmed and amused him. He knew that they’d gotten off to a bad start that morning, but it did seem they were trying to make up for it. This is why they were his closest and oldest friends, while all three of them were far from perfect, when they made mistakes, they were ready to make amends without question.

“What do you need me to do, Vol?” Baldur was ready for whatever Vol had to say, or so he thought. He looked down at Mahala who looked even smaller than she had before, swaddled in Vollrath’s jacket as she lay with eyes closed. Guilt gnawed at him for how everything up till that point in the day had gone. If he and Elmar hadn’t good naturedly tried to provoke their friend, she wouldn’t have been alone in the office, for everything to have happened.

Vollrath turned, so he was looking at his two friends, his expression instantly changing and becoming malevolent and dark. Both men stepped back and gave him wary glances, not sure if one of them had done something, or if there was another problem. His eyes grew darker to an almost chocolate brown, his brows coming lower and closer together, and his jaw harder and more set, which only added the dark edge in his voice when he spoke. “Go down to containment and knock the asshole there unconscious. If he accidentally hits his head too hard and dies, oops…” His lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “He was trying to kill her when she defended herself and he’s still tied to her because of it. I’d go, but I WOULD kill him.” Vollrath’s jaw clenched again and there was no doubt in either of the men’s minds in front of him that he was serious. That they could see his one hand still lightly caressing the side of Mahala’s face was both unsettling and impressive.

Baldur’s lips thinned, his eyes now darkening as well; not only with what he’d been asked to do, but also with what he knew would have to come later. He’d been in the Coven long enough to know what Jonathan’s actions meant for the Coven as a whole. “I’ll call the counsel when I’m done. We’ll hold the meeting in the main conference room after hours tonight, for judgment on punishment. I’ll make sure he doesn’t wake up until then, and I’ll add another band.” He nodded to Vollrath, and turned and exited the room, his hands balling to fists as he did. Whatever had caused Jonathan to attack her, there would be no justification for almost killing her. If she was human the sentence would normally be death. That she was a new witch coming into the Coven complicated matters greatly, but he had a feeling that the judgment would be exactly the same.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Elmar looked at Vollrath, who he could tell was having a hard time staying calm, and not lashing out at Jonathan through the floors that separated them. Elmar himself was having problems staying still. He needed to be doing something to help. He hated feeling useless.

“Pull down the surveillance feed onto my laptop. Once Jonathan’s unconscious, it should stop back-feeding the spell, that has her voice trapped and the bruise darkening when I’m trying to cancel it out. I want to know exactly what happened in this office, but I don’t want to put her through having to relive it. We’ll also know what the Counsel is going to see tonight and where we need to clip it to keep certain things…private.” His jaw was flexing as Vollrath was trying to control his temper. Elmar could see that somehow, Mahala was remaining calm next to him. No matter what he had said after calling Baldur over, she had not started getting upset again. The woman truly was an enigma, and he was now convinced she was the Lioness to Vollrath’s Lion within the Nachtnebel line.

Baldur reappeared at the door a few minutes later, “you’re clear. He won’t be waking up for….a while.” A tick started in his jaw that had Elmar’s brows raising, and he headed over to Vollrath’s laptop quickly. Two of the most powerful men he knew physically and magically both pissed to the edge of reason, sure he wanted to be near them…like he wanted to be in front of a raging rhino!

“Hold still, love, and this will be over in just a minute. It shouldn’t hurt again.” Vollrath picked Mahala’s hand off of his thigh, turning it over and kissing the palm, before replacing the palm of his other hand against her throat. Closing his eyes, he focused his energy and power, causing his hand to glow and a warmth to spread over the whole area. He could hear Mahala’s breathing deepening, which meant she was relaxing, and that reassured him that this time it was working.

After approximately five minutes, the glow faded and Vollrath pulled his hand back. Baldur was now standing and looking over his shoulder. Both men could see the bruise gone, hopefully this meant that all Vollrath had been doing had been successful this time.

“Babygirl, can you say something so big guy here doesn’t kill someone?” Baldur finally said something, when Vollrath didn’t, earning him a glare from his friend that had him rolling his eyes.

“You’re loud, asshole.” Mahala said softly, making Vollrath laugh.

“She’s not wrong.” Vollrath kissed her knuckles and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest, sweetheart. I think Elmar’s ready for me over at my laptop. We won’t leave you in the room alone again.” That got him a thumb’s up, so he stood and headed over to his desk, followed by Baldur, who still looked ready to commit murder in an instant.

[sidhewrites]

Happy Monday! Are you missing those Halloween vibes? Do you like lesbians? Do you like cats? Do you like ghost lesbians who love cats? Read on!

Kaz Pine is a skeptic. She's spent the last three years working in a historical graveyard, and never saw a single ghost. Still hurting from her recent breakup with a believer, Kaz decides to sabotage a high-profile ghost hunt, where she meets and recruits the enigmatic Lucy to join in on the prank. But when Kaz's co-worker (her cat. His name is Renfield. She'll show you pictures later.) disrupts a seance, things around town start getting a little…spooky.

Chapter 9: Renfield was a very good boy at the doctor. Josie provides vital updates, and Kaz feels the side effects of two all-nighters in a row.

Read I Met a Girl in The Graveyard on AO3>>

Updates weekly!

Genre: Comedy, Supernatural, WLW Romance, Sight Horror.

Themes and Tropes: Friends to lovers, personal growth, dumb lesbians, gay and bisexual main characters. An old cat as a major supporting character. Ghost hunters. Jock MC. Halloween/autumn vibes.

See ramblings and nonsense in my Graveyard Lesbians tag

[weremoose]

PREVIEW: Paranormal Deertective #1: The Laundry Room Haunting SUMMARY: Elmer's a deer down on his luck with a passion for the paranormal, Finnick's a single sheep dad trying to take care of his son, Finley, and Liam's a young rooster who's the new kid in town. When Elmer's elderly neighbour starts speaking of a ghost haunting the apartment's laundry room, the four of them work to solve this paranormal case, all with the help of an authorless book specialized in contacting the dead. WORD COUNT: 734 PREVIEW IMAGE:

Feedback and constructive criticism is much appreciated; just please be respectful!

The door, greyed with age, screeched loudly in a way that made Liam cringe out of fear of being caught. Once Finley swung it open, they were greeted by the sight of a dark, dusty room, cobwebs littering every available space on the ceiling. There were books scattered everywhere, tossed haphazardly into random piles, although there were some stuffed into cubbies with no particular care. 

While Finley proceeded to walk in, Liam instinctively went to flick on the lights. Despite flicking the switch up…and down, and up, and repeating that several times in rapid succession, there was no response from the ceiling lights aside from the dimmest flicker.

“Don’t bother,” Finley eventually told him, “They don’t work. Just leave the door open.”

Liam wasn’t particularly fond of that idea given that it’d make it far more likely for the teachers to catch them, but he wasn’t fond of being stuck in the dark in a creepy room, either. So he did as Finley said, and moved on.

Glancing around at the mess, Liam was both puzzled and a little disturbed. He really wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that he wasn’t meant to be there or the decrepit condition of the room or both. Whatever the case, he felt uneasy. However, he couldn’t deny that he also found himself incredibly fascinated.

“Why does the school even have this place?” he asked genuinely.

Finley shrugged his shoulders. “No clue. They got lots of books here, though.”

Hesitant but morbidly curious, Liam approached one of the tall book stacks (well, more like a book pile. Or perhaps even a book hill). When his foot tapped against something on the floor, he instinctively looked down, finding a book at his feet.

Kneeling, Liam picked two books up, the dim lighting requiring him to squint to read the titles.

“‘The Health Benefits of Recycled Teeth?’” Looking at the book in his opposite hand, he lifted it closer to his face to read it better. “‘Top Ten Bugs That You Eat in Your Sleep.’”

“That one’s kinda boring,” Finley said casually. He appeared preoccupied with looking through the cubbies, clearly searching for something.

Liam quickly put down the books with an unsettled expression, as though they were burning his hands (which, frankly, with such cursed titles as that, it wouldn’t surprise him if they did).

“Why do they even have these?” Liam questioned. “Who would read this stuff?”

“Me,” Finley replied at once.

“But why?”

“I think they’re neat.”

Finley then pulled out a book, holding it out to Liam to show him.

“This one’s my personal favourite,” said Finley.

Curiosity still evident in his gaze, as though he’d already forgotten the absurdity of the last couple of titles, Liam took the book from Finley’s hands and read it:

“‘How to Contact the Dead?’”

Turning the book in his hands, Liam tried to find any sort of other text on the book’s leather bound cover.

“There’s not even an author,” he observed.

“I know. Cool, right?” Although Finley’s voice was fairly monotone, the excitement in his voice was still evident, complete with his fluffy tail wagging.

“It’s very mysterious.”

Liam’s curiosity persisted, and he decided to flip through some of its pages. A brief glance of its contents

showed that the book contained a lot of large words — definitely ones that weren’t elementary level — and written in a version of English that wasn’t exactly modern.

From what Liam could understand, it appeared to be very meticulous in its instructions. The author — whoever they might have been — was trying really hard to sell this whole ‘ghosts are real’ thing.

“Do you think any of it’s actually real?” Liam asked earnestly.

Finley merely shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve never encountered a ghost before to really confirm.”

“Do you want to?”

“If given the opportunity, I would take it, yes.”

Liam eyed the pages once more, then decided to hand it back to Finley at last.

“I don’t know if I’d want to see one,” Liam said decisively. “Sounds kinda scary.”

“They’re not that scary,” Finley said casually, “They’re just dead people.”

Liam shuddered, his feathers puffing up as he echoed in disbelief, “JUST dead people?”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re probably just like me and you, only deader.”

“And you’re okay with that? That thought doesn’t freak you out at all?”

“No. I’m not really scared of anything.”

“Huh. Wish that were me.”

[lou-wilham]

Saving the world really is a thankless job...

And it doesn't come with a good retirement plan either. But Eric, Tony, and Hunter really have no other choice.

Sometimes the hunter becomes the hunted.

Overworked, and underappreciated, Eric Marcelino just wants to hunt the vampires plaguing Ironport, keep his students out of the field, and somehow make it home in enough time to get a full 8 hours of sleep. . . maybe 6.

Tony McMahon and his sister arrive in Ironport looking for a fresh start. Only Tony didn’t count on the instant attraction he feels toward the Huntsman’s golden boy, Eric, nor being drawn into an ancient prophecy set to end the Huntsman forever.

Something strange is brewing in Ironport. With bloodsuckers, the Council of Creatures, and his students breathing down his neck, Eric has to wonder if he’s in over his head and if a potential boyfriend might be the final nail in his coffin. This is gonna suck.

Overkill is a mm paranormal romance perfect for fans of Buffy, and DN Bryn’s Guides for Vampires.

The Hunters of Ironport is a series set in the same universe as Witches of Moondale (just a town over), and thus will have crossover characters from time to time. That being said, it can be read separately if you so choose. For more information on how Hunters of Ironport and Witches of Moondale fit together please visit the author’s website.

Purchase Link | Goodreads

[amayadartan]

12

While Olly has been taking care of Amaya, things are not so smooth elsewhere in the Palace for Dartan...

“I want to see her.  I need to make sure she’s alright.” Dartan’s voice was raised as he was arguing with Arioch not far outside of the apartment of rooms he’d been given in an unused wing of the Palace.  He was being guarded, and, as soon as he’d tried to leave, Arioch and Mithos had been alerted.  For the time being, all agreed keeping him segregated from everyone was the best option, given his surly disposition and what had happened to Amaya.

“No one thinks that is best for HER right now.  She needs rest and quiet.  Olly and Arch will be attending to her, along with Abriella and possibly her friend Cassandra, who we have learned has healing abilities as well.  You need not worry about the sweet witch.”  Arioch had to admit he had a soft spot for her.  The previous night she hadn’t reacted when some of their glamour had slipped a couple of times, and she seemed sweet.  What problem Dartan had with her was his own.  She was now stuck there, confused, scared, and didn’t look at the scar down his face with disdain like some had.

“So other men are given the ability to see, touch, and care for my wife, but I cannot.  Do you hear yourself?  How ridiculous is that?!”  Dartan’s voice raised again, and he took a step towards the fallen.  He did not know why he was so angry at being kept away, except he wanted to apologize, to explain that he had not meant for her to be hurt.  If he was bound to her, the least he should be able to do is talk to her.

“You want a divorce, so technically you're her ex-husband as soon as someone figures out how to do it.  Trust me, we’re working hard on that, by the way.  Then we’ll send you home, much to the relief of all of us.”  Arioch was losing his patience.  He was not patient on the best of days, and the Demon of Vengeance wasn’t having the best day with his friend Asher having been tortured by Lucifer’s son, then the hunt for Amaya, and her healing last night.  He was tired and wanted to be done with the spectre in front of him.

“I’ve changed my mind.”  The look on Arioch’s face was one of pure, complete, and unadulterated shock.  Dartan had lost his mind.  The fallen was now sure of it.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”  Arioch blinked twice, sure he had not heard the damned spectre correctly.  “You. Changed. Your. Mind?” He repeated the words back slowly, still staring at Dartan as if the other male had grown a second head.  If he had, that might explain this new development.  NOW he changed his mind?  NOW!  “Could you have maybe done that BEFORE you lost her in a forest full of creatures who think of humans as snacks?  Hmm?  Would that, I don’t know, possibly, have been too inconvenient for you?”  The sarcasm was so thick in Arioch’s voice it was almost palpable in the air between the two males, as they faced off against one another.  

“Don’t even start with me, demon.”  Dartan’s voice held warning.  Not that he knew what he’d do to the other male.  “It’s not like I had a lot of time to think about things.  And she…”

“She what?!” Arioch was completely flummoxed on even what to say at this point, and damn near at his breaking point.  If he didn’t think that snapping the neck of the being in front of him might harm Amaya, he would have.  “She made a mistake?!  You mean like you did abandoning her in the forest of a foreign realm where there are vicious animals?  That kind of mistake?  Or one that just inconveniences your royally egotistical dumbass day?” Now the demon was growling, a slight glow starting around him.  Had Dartan considered who he was speaking to, he would have remembered Arioch was the demon of REVENGE.  As in payback.  So getting payback for an innocent left to die in a forest would be right up his alley. Funneling any of the feelings Amya had towards Dartan regarding her treatment would FEED him.

"I didn't ASK to be married to her, but here we are, and I AM.  SHE. IS. MY. WIFE!" Dartan roared back, still not considering who he was dealing with in the slightest. He took a step towards Arioch, his hand coming in front of him, one at chest level palm down and the other at his waist with palm up. Between them a colored mist started to swirl. Fuck this demon, and fuck anyone else who got in his way.

Arioch was not one to be threatened or to back down.  The spectre wanted to dance?  He'd dance, and they'd see if Dartan could die a second time.  Patience completely gone, Arioch shifted into his full, fallen demonic form in an instant, and his talons were buried in the side of Dartan’s neck; purple blood began flowing down the spectre's chest.

Dartan’s eyes were wide as pain cascaded through his body.  Every nerve was lit up as if chain lightning was traversing through every fibre of his entire body.  It was then he realized he'd made a very grave miscalculation on who held the upper hand betwixt the two of them.

[ckatwriter]

If you're in the east TN area, come say hi and maybe pick up a copy of my book!

Say the Tumblr secret code for 2 dollars off 😜

Bring me a present for 50% off 😝 /hj

Book summary:

The Afterlife has a flyover state, and it's called Purgatory.

Overlooked, often misunderstood, and exactly where Terry ends up.

After taking her own life, Terry isn't met with pearly gates or fire and brimstone, but with gray office buildings and a crummy apartment. She wakes up on Purgatory's lowest level with no memory of her life, a lot of questions, and a job to work off the years she had left on Earth as a Soul Shepherd in the hope of achieving a better ultimate destination.

She meets Dean, her quippy, sarcastic manager who evades her questions at every turn, but whose help Terry will need if she ever has a chance to move forward or find out who she used to be. And with the help of new friends who know what it's like to be stuck in limbo, she's determined to make the best of a weird situation.

Besides...she's already dead, what's the worst that could happen?

TW: mentions of suicide but not shown on-page, depression, death, and (alluded to) transphobia

[kaylaauandromedus]

• House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland 🪦

• aesthetic owned by me pictures are not

• Booksta: Kaylaauandromedus

[devil-in-the-details-ay]

14

The first half of their date went well...but how will the rest of it go?

Being Death, Astaroth had a permanent invitation to the top floor Immortal VIP Lounge of the club, so that is where he led Yara.  Maybe getting out of human eyes, where they didn't have to be quite as careful, would help her relax.  This was supposed to be a romantic evening for them, and while dinner had gone well, somehow the mood had changed.  In their conversations, they both had revealed that “normal” relationships had not been a thing for either of them, but it was something they desired trying with one another.  He had hoped this would be the start of her relaxing and trusting him more.  Whatever had upset her since then, he would fix it.

As they reached the lounge, Yara tried to relax, let go of the jealousy and insecurity,  and just enjoy the time with Astaroth.  It wasn’t like she’d never been to a club, or with someone that was the object of desire; neither of them were firsts for her.  However, the person she was with hadn’t been her husband before, and she hadn’t cared if they wanted to be with someone else.  Questions came to her mind,  causing old and deep seated fears to rise once more to the surface.  No matter what had been said by them before, they hadn’t been the ones to choose each other, they were just trying to make the best of it, right?  He was being sweet to her, and romantic, but that was all, right?  Was it just because they were stuck together?  Now that there were others obviously interested in getting his attention and being with him,  would he choose someone else for the night? Could she stop him?  Were they really in this together?  TOGETHER...

Astaroth didn’t miss that something was bothering Yara.  The look on her face said that while she was there in body, her mind was somewhere else completely.  He looked around the lounge, not seeing anyone from Hell at all, there wasn’t even anyone from Heaven.  Could it be someone from her past that was upsetting her, or bringing up a memory?  He was getting worried something else was wrong, that maybe he had done something wrong that he wasn’t aware of.  “Papilio, what is bothering you?  Please tell me, so I can help” 

“Sorry, nothing…I’m fine.”  She tried to put on a smile and her fake mask that she always wore. Yara failed completely at both, and Astaroth saw straight through her.  The problem was she didn’t know how to express to him what the problem was without sounding like a fool.  How did she tell him that she was falling for him after such a short time and was jealous? He obviously wasn't jealous over her,  not that she could see anyone paying her attention.  She was a DEMON.  Demon’s didn’t fall in love.  Not like this.  Did they?

Now he was even more bothered as he looked at her.  After all they’d shared, now she was choosing to hold something back?  What could suddenly be so major that she wouldn’t share it after everything that she had shared?   Maybe if he gave her a minute, whatever nerves or upset had happened could calm down.  Forcing her would just make him like her father.  “I’ll go get us some drinks.  Why don’t you sit here, and enjoy the music and view of the dance floor below?  We can go down there in a little bit if you want.”  He kissed her temple softly and headed to the bar.  Maybe she’d decide to tell him what was wrong when he got back.  

As he was standing at the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish with another patron, Astaroth felt a hand on his arm.  Thinking it was Yara, he looked over with a pleased grin on his face, and was surprised to see a familiar face, but not one he wanted to see, standing there. Argona, a succubus that he had hooked up with a few times, but that had been the farthest thing from an actual relationship, had somehow found him on the one night that he wished for any female other than Yara to leave him alone.  From the look on her face, she was wanting to rekindle their past affairs, something that even if he had not been married to Yara,  made him recoil at the thought. Her body moved in a seductive  motion meant to elicit desire, and in the past it might have. Now, it did not. Now it made him want to make her drop where she was standing, in her impossibly high heels; however he knew the owner of the club, and did not want to create bad blood.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Argona?”  One brow rose as he looked at her with a rather indifferent expression, his grin gone. His voice was flat, completely lacking effect.  Whatever reaction she had expected from him, this was NOT it.  He hoped that she would get the hint and leave.

Back at the table, Yara saw the captivating woman in a dress even smaller and more alluring than hers, approaching Astaroth in a clearly seductive manner.  When the woman laid her hand on his arm, and her further seductive movements after she was acknowledged, but he didn’t pull away; there was an ache that started in her chest that she didn’t like. Then the doubts started even louder in her head, and for some reason those doubts came in Lucifer’s voice now.  Did she really have a claim on him?  They were only married because of the contract they'd been forced into. Why would someone like Astaroth look at someone like her? What could a Lord like him have in common with her?  WITH HER?  And then there was the sound of her father’s laughter that almost made her teleport herself straight out of there without a thought as to where she'd even go. 

She kept reminding herself that they had agreed that they would not have anyone else besides each other. So that would include one night stands from a club, right?  He had seemed concerned that she was upset, so he wouldn’t entertain another woman in front of her, would he?  Yara felt so unsure and she hated it, she hated the laughing and taunting voice of her father in her head.  Astaroth was starting to mean something to her, and that scared her because that meant losing him would hurt. Her head started to swim and she felt queasy, panic started to set in and she wanted to leave.

Back at the bar, Argona was smirking at Astaroth seductively.  She was not one to give up easily, especially when she had her eye set on someone specific.  Her voice came out soft and seductive, like velvet against his ears.  “I think you know just what I want, my Lord.  Why don’t you and I get out of here and we can reconnect like old times?”  She was running her hand over his forearm, letting her fingertips caress the back of his hand.

Now Astaroth did pull his arm away, he did not like her assumption of familiarity.  Not that he could say exactly why this was, other than his blooming affection for Yara.  It wasn’t like he had not been in situations similar many times in the past, and done just what she was suggesting.  Then he saw the black band on his finger, the lights from over the bar hitting it and throwing back green sparks, and he couldn’t help but see those impossibly green eyes of Yara’s and it was like it sparked a fire in him.   “I’m married.”  His voice was cold and hard, he held up his hand so that she could see his ring, the one he had crafted himself to remind him of Yara’s eyes, and it had worked like a charm.  “I have no need or desire to leave with you.  I am quite content with the female I came with.”  His smile tight, voice sarcastic.

Argona was not deterred.  Instead, she saw his rebuffing her as a challenge. “You know as well as I do that marriages of our kind mean very little.  I don’t believe you want nothing to do with me.  You always did enjoy our time together, so very much. Maybe she’d even like to join, you might both enjoy.”  Her smug look didn’t falter as her chin lifted, and she reached out now to run one hand over his bicep.  “Stop. Touching. Me.” Astaroth bit out in a low growl through gritted teeth.  He was tired of her arrogance and her disregard for his marriage to Yara.  Yes, it may not have been by choice, but his respect of it was.  They had agreed to things, they would make the best of their marriage, TOGETHER.  Together meant not fucking others, especially not arrogant bitches like Argona.

Yara saw the continuing conversation, and the woman’s continuing touching, and her head dropped in defeat.  She couldn’t muster anger, for some reason the hurt in her chest was too great.  Lucifer’s words over the years just seemed to echo in her ears louder and louder.  The woman was far more beautiful than she was, and it was clear there was some kind of friend or acquaintance of Astaroth’s.  Why would he choose her?  She was loud.  She threw temper tantrums.  She was a child that not even her mother wanted.  No one wanted. She was a female that her father had to force someone to marry because none of the Princes or Dukes of Hell had come courting.  No one would ever love her, no one ever had.  Her father had told her often enough, and it was setting in that maybe he was right.  As she sat there with the thoughts echoing louder and louder, trying not to cry, and trying to decide where the best spot to teleport out would be, so Astaroth could enjoy his evening; Yara didn’t know that he saw her and somehow he knew.

[txfeline720]

Attention Tumblrs, lend me your ears and take heed of a potentially great show recommendation.

The show in question is Lockwood and Co. Based on the book series by Johnathan Stroud.

Summery:

(Copied and pasted from Wikipedia.)

"In an alternate version of present-day Britain, ghosts who are deadly to the touch have been rising from their graves for the past 50 years. Adults cannot sense the ghosts, but children can, so teenagers have been organized into licensed ghost-hunting agencies to detect and dispose of threats. Lucy Carlyle, a psychically gifted teenager, has run away from home and come to London in the hope of catching on at an agency. Running out of options, she applies for a job at a tiny outfit run by two boys from an old townhouse: Lockwood & Co."

It is on Netflix. If you like Detective and Thriller tv shows mixed with Supernatural content and of British origin, go check it out and see if it strikes your fancy.