#sheehalloween

[ded-and-gonne]

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Devil’s Night

A Ded & Gonne miniseries

Written by @firstpersonnarrator | Originally begun for @sheehalloween 2022 | Devil’s Night header gif by @salvador-daley | Sheehalloween prompt by Anon: Klaus behaving badly, genfic

AN: It’s Devil’s Night and Ben has no idea what that is. Until he becomes embroiled in a plot cooked up by his not-brother, Klaus. This Devil’s Night miniseries starring Klaus Hargreeves and Evil Ben is part of the Ded & Gonne family of stories. If you’ve been reading Ded & Gonne, this chapter follows immediately after the action in Chapter 6. Don’t feel like catching up? Devil’s Night can be read as a standalone fic. All Ded & Gonne works are genfic without exception.

TWs: Creeping dread (hopefully). Flirtation between two not-brothers. Swearing. A not-so-bright, mildly omniscient narrator. Made-up words and made-up tenses.

Ded & Gonne || Devil’s Night || Start || Next

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Part 1: Afraid of the Dark

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“Benneriiiinooooo.” Calling toward the hallway, Klaus is in his room waiting impatiently for Ben to “Get the fuck over here alreadyyyy!” Klaus has been curled up on the divan, working on his costume with his tongue poking out, all afternoon.

Ben’s head peeks around the door, sees Klaus half disguised as Jesus, and decides that it will go better for him if he picks his battles. (Never tell Ben that he’s at Klaus’s beck and call. It wouldn’t go well for you. Wrong Ben.)

The current Ben — Evil Ben — makes his way in, committing his entire body to looking both sarcastic and bored.

“Save me from my costume! I hate sewing,” Klaus wails. “Maybe I could have knitted Jesus.” Klaus punishes his costume for being annoying by throwing everything angrily in the general direction of his bed. He smiles with satisfaction as the pins and needles scatter on the floor, then turns to Ben.

“Ok, so, Bennerino. It’s Devil’s Night, and it’s cold cuz you won’t let me turn the heat up. So now I’m all snuggled on the divan where you apparently have no plan to join me. Sucks, but ok. Why?”

Ben curls his lip up in disgust. “For reasons, Klaus. It’s magenta velvet. And I can tell exactly where you always sit because the velvet has your ass permanently imprinted in it.”

“My eyes are up here, mister,” Klaus winks at Ben.

“Christ, Klaus.”

“Exactly!” Klaus decides to forego all the blaspheming he could do right now. He’s saving all his blaspheming for the kids on Halloween.

“Hurry up and pop your popcorn, Ben. We will not be stopping halfway through the first story for popcorn-popping. I mean, I know you live to piss people off, but that? It’s irritating. Just thought maybe that was something you could work on. You know, for the future.” Klaus smiles as if he’s indulging a child. “You’ll get there, buddy. You’ll get there.”

Ben is too busy being both taken-aback and off-put to say nasty things while Klaus is saying supportive things. Instead, he looks like a lost little boy. “I don’t live to piss people off.”

“Yes of course you do. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“But that doesn’t- Isn't pissing people off a bad thing?” Ben asks, looking confused and a smidge annoyed.

“Yeah, but it looks great on you.” Klaus seems to be feeling affectionate toward Ben again, judging by the smile.

“If you ruffle my hair, I will end you,” Ben warns.

Klaus retracts his hand.

Followed by Ben rolling his eyes, dropping heavily next to Klaus with a bounce, and waiting expectantly for the tv to come back to life.

After a few moments of uncomfortable yet companionable silence, Ben senses he’s being observed. He turns to find Klaus sitting there, expectantly staring at him with a ‘mommy bought me cotton candy’ vibe. All excited and hungry. It’s a little creepy, honestly.

“Uh, Klaus?”

“Yes, Benny Bear?”

Klaus can literally see Ben biting his tongue. “Great!” Klaus praises. “Look at you! You kept yourself from threatening me! And you held back the nasty! That’s progress. You’ve come so far, Benji.”

“Stop trying to provoke me, Klaus. It’s not what I’m going for right now.”

“Ok, fine, have it your way. I’ve taken the threat level down to just defcon Medium Meanie from defcon Big.”

Klaus goes back to staring eagerly at Ben.

This is normally when Ben would just hang up on Klaus. But now they live together. Like, together on the same hallway. Not, like, together-together. There’s a wall. Right in-between them. A wall, ok? Jesus. Whatever.

“So…” Ben prompts, hoping Klaus will start at the beginning. He’s feeling lost.

“I’m waiting for you to start, silly!”

“Start what, Klaus? Start talking, I’m bored.”

“Your story. But, don’t rush it. We’ve got well over 24 hours before it’ll start to be a little sad, missing Halloween entirely because of a creativity vortex.” Not as threatening or effective as a kugelblitz, though.

“What story? Klaus, I’m going to count to five,” Ben snarls. “Trust me, you don’t want to know what comes after five.”

“Ho!” Klaus’s eyes explode out of his head metaphorically, and he frantically begins scanning his bedroom. “Wait, wait! Where’s my bingo card?”

“Your,” [long dramatic pause] “what?”

“My business card.” Good save. “You know what, Bennerino? You don’t have to go first if you’re nervous. I’ll go first.”

“What are you talking about, Klaus? You’ll go first at what?”

“It’s Devil’s Night, Benny Bunny, and I will be your very own little devil for the night. I’ll-”

“Klaus, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

“I know, I’m really good at it. So anyway, where was I? Oh, right, I’m going first.” Klaus bounds out of his seat and Ben is plunged into darkness.

“Pffft,” Ben says, scoffing at the darkness. But then he hears the door creak and the lock click into place.

It’s probably not very kind to point out right now that Ben is already scared. He wouldn’t want you to know about that. So, moving on.

“Klaus?” He gives a quick swivel in his seat, and there’s nothing to see. Quite literally. “Why do you have blackout windows, Klaus?” It is utterly dark. No difference between eyes open and eyes closed. He reaches up to touch his eyes, making sure they’re actually open.

Ben starts fidgeting. He jolts when he notices the clock ticking. Suddenly, he realizes he never bothered to notice much of anything about the room around him. No idea what the layout is, or where the furniture is. Or the piano.

It’s just, whenever Klaus is around, he tends to fill the entire room. Like some obnoxious, yet exotic, tropical bird. All rainbows, pink feathers, and glitter briefs.

Ben starts to tap his foot in time with the ticking clock. It’s a good calming technique. Become part of the music of time and see how long you can keep the beat.

Ben’s tapping foot is sort of spastic, now. He either can’t keep up with the beat, or maybe he’s jumping ahead. He can’t tell which is which. The clock is gaslighting him.

Yep, it’s crawling.

His skin is now crawling. Officially.

Outside, a cat screeches and hisses. Because of course it does. It’s Halloween. Or Devil’s Night, whatever that is.

How could he hear hissing from this bedroom? That was outside, wasn’t it? He’d swear there’s a faint scratching on wood. Through the wall, maybe. His entire being is focused in his eardrums. Trying to gauge the nearness of the cat is more difficult than it should be.

Ben doesn’t hate cats. In fact, Mean Ben is a sucker for cats. They’re aloof and condescending, and yet you still do everything you can to get them to snuggle you. A lot like Ben, the snuggling snuggler, apparently. He definitely wants his benny bear at this point.

See, the thing is, the yowling sounded kinda far away and muffled, like through a wall, a few rooms down the hall, or down the street. But the scratching? That is a lot closer, and more claws than paws. Little scratches, but Ben tries to talk himself down by reminding himself that it’s an old building. Old buildings make sounds, right?

Ben huffs and rolls his eyes, which only serves to remind him that he literally can’t see anything. Nothing. The darkness is utterly complete. No crack of light below the door. No tiny shaft from between the floorboards. Just the scratching. The scratching that has him peering every which way, but the darkness is thick as ink. Almost oily.

Just darkness. Something small, scratching. Small? The ticking. His foot tapping. His heartbeat in his ears.

There were windows, right? Yeah, sure, there have to be, Ben reassures himself. But he vaguely remembers how very many objects Klaus has strewn around the space, creating traps that could be waiting just next to his feet. Like Klaus’s old lady taste in furniture — tufted and tasseled and poofy velvet all over the place. Coffee tables with legs and corners, supporting precariously perched bongs. And bongos. And ashtrays. And scissors. Klaus has to use scissors to sew. Has to.

But there are windows in here, right? There have to have been, right? Klaus wouldn’t choose a room without windows. He thinks he knows Klaus well enough by now to predict the man’s actions and motivations.

Underneath the patchouli oil, the sharp and keen sense of smell that makes Ben win every bake-off, senses something musky. It’s kind of like something evocative of freshly turned earth. Moist, but also tinged with a rotting smell.

The rotting smell is not coming from the same direction as the scratching. Or the yowling.

Ben reaches out with all of his senses like Pogo and Luke Skywalker taught him.

Beneath all of it is something dank and vegetal. And a slight drip coming from behind him. But the hallway is the only thing behind him. Isn’t it?

The scratching has stopped. Now it’s just the ticking of the clock and the droplets of water and the scent of mold, with something sickening-sweet just below it.

His blood is rushing in his ears. And nothing, fucking nothing, matches up. It’s like one of those old, creaky wind-up toys. The jack-in-the-box, cranking, cranking. The horrible clapping monkey, clanking its cacophonous cymbals. It’s an imperfect monkey, slightly out of time with his eyes rolling and the tune and the clanking and clanking. But the ticking clock is so close to the tempo. No, wait. It’s the clock keeping time. He can’t tell which is faster, and suddenly his entire body senses space — every hair, every brain cell, it’s all so wrapped up and jumbled. Which one is out of step with the others? But they’re all out of step and he feels like his ears are stuck in one of those 3D puzzles, the optical illusions your eyes sink into, by design. Suddenly there’s an entire space hidden to the eye, just beyond the length of his arm’s reach. Is there a table in front of him? He can’t remember.

And all of this jagged clicking, and tapping, and breathing, blood rushing in his ears, heart thudding out a tell-tale beat.

Ben’s feeling a little tippy. And he’s already sitting down. He lifts his hand to his face. It feels like something tiny has landed in the space between his nose and lips. Bringing his hand instinctively to his face, he’s surprised to find pebbling droplets of perspiration.

“Fuck!” His hand jerks up and slaps his upper lip. Hard. He pulls his hand back and with it comes a formerly living creature. A small spider. Or maybe a flea? Or a gnat. It had been crawling when he smashed the fucker’s little carapace against his skin. Too tiny to tell how many legs. Wings? Antennae?

Or if it’s alone.

Immediately following that unnerving thought, all the nerve endings in his body go on high alert. The springs in his seat complain when he jolts at the sudden awareness of sensation.

He feels a tickle or a tingle in tiny pinpoints, anywhere his skin is exposed to air.

Ben is starting to squirm. All the tiny hairs on his face and neck seem to get triggered at the same time, no rhyme, no reason. He quickly raises his hands to his face to wipe away all the sweat, and oil, and hairs, and crawlies, telling it all to shut the fuck up and get off his body. Ben finds himself compulsively itching around his neckline.

Everything feels like it’s moving. Ben feels nauseous. His eyes are rolling again, with nothing but thick ink to meet him in every direction. He wants to hug his knees to himself. He almost starts rocking himself; a self-soothing habit he abandoned years ago. But of course the minute he admits weakness, Klaus will undoubtedly return, already talking as he turns the light back on. But his shuffling footsteps can’t yet be heard out on the hallway’s ancient floorboards.

He can’t calm himself. Can’t soothe himself. Ben isn’t weak. He’s evil, for God’s sake. He can’t let Klaus see him like this.

Ben frantically wipes his palms on his jeans and again clears the sweat from his brow, trying not to think about all the little spiders he has just pushed off his skin and straight into his hair.

Ben literally sits on his hands to avoid scratching at his face. His neck. His scalp. His eyebrows. In the corners of his mouth.

No, Ben. No, that’s not a breeze. No. There wasn’t a breeze a minute ago, and there isn’t a breeze now. A prickling. Right behind Ben’s right ear, Klaus whispers, “Boo.”

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Ded & Gonne || Devil’s Night || Start || Next

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[firstpersonnarrator]

I’ve got a job for you:

🎃🎃 Sheehalloween 2022 🎃🎃 Prompts

I’ll be joining Sheehalloween 2022, and there are so many possibilities. I need your help. This is my first time ever using prompts, so I’m shaking in my boots. Which is season-appropriate, so I’m going with it.

Prompt List: 9 Days, 9 Ways

Greetings Robert Sheehan fans and all his hard-core feasties! Klaus shall open the WooWoo Room with tarot for you beasties. Hear a frightening fortune for the Robbie of your choice, until the witching hour does bring an end to our rejoice(ing).

Choose one from each of the three lists below.

Note: Please specify if you have triggers

>>>>>Sheehalloween Day#<<<<<<

1. Seance

2. Trick or Treat

3. Scary Movie

4. Reanimation

5. Free Space (I am taking this quite literally. Choose outer space or inner space or free rent.)

6. Ghosts

7. Ouija

8. Possession

9. Magic

>>>>>>>>Choose-a-Rob<<<<<<<<<

—Nathan Young

—Vladek Klimov

—Klaus Hargreeves

—Jack (The Messenger)

—Simon Lewis

—Kai (Season of the Witch)

—Mark, bog man (Lowland Fell)

—Archie Eden

—Luke (Cherrybomb)

—Billy Delaney

—Vincent Rhodes

—Duncan Taylor

—Cormac MacNamara

—Louis XIV

>>>>>>>>>Scare Factor<<<<<<<<<<

1. Death

2. Murder

3. Betrayal

4. Unrequited love

5. This is just the beginning… / relentless

6. Hunger / craving

7. Chaos

8. Ruin

9. Haunted

10. Envy

11. Ritual

12. Grief

13. Madness

14. Heartbreak

15. Tragedy

16. Self-sacrifice / martyrdom

17. Prophecy

18. Lies

19. Helpless / trapped

20. Black out / amnesia

21. Your own worst enemy / multiplicity

22. Sacrificial

23. Accidental

24. Blood sport / hunted

25. Gaslighting

26. Aliens

27. Old school creature feature / here there be monsters

28. Natural disaster

29. Fear the McGuffin / evil object

30. Cult

Note: I’d include stalking, but I’m afraid of giving myself ideas.

Eek, I’m skeered. 💀

[endiness]

SHEEHALLOWEEN 2022 🔮 Day Five: Free Space

[mokolat]

POV : you're the new probation worker

Prompt : Trick or treat Illustration for the @sheehalloween

[salvador-daley]

I’m immortal 💀👻

Shehalloween Day 4: Reanimation

[winter-seance]

Sheehalloween 2022 | Day 1 - Seance

“You know, come to think of it, he did mention something about my potential, and how I've barely even scratched the surface of my...”

[i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky]

And this is what it is to die I hope you had a nice goodbye

Sheehalloween | Day Four: Reanimation @sheehalloween

Klaus Hargreeves + The Hearse Song by Harley Poe

[seancekitsch]

Ouija Board Man: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader fic part of the Prize Buck series!

a/n & warnings: this is shorter than i normally write bc i’m busy and tired, smutty,  this is just me thirst posting really if you look at it, f/m stuff, overstimulation, for @sheehalloween​ for the prompt Ouija

Klaus’ hands were something you noticed immediately in the clinic. It was the way they didn’t shake or bounce like other peoples there. Sure, he fidgeted, but it wasn’t the unsure and timid way other people did. He was comfortable putting his stamp of “Hello” and “Goodbye” on everything. From your bedding, to the extra socks he would snag for you, to the sobriety chips he played with and flicked across the tables in the rec room. 

Klaus is tactile, always touching.

Sometimes you wish the tattoos weren’t permanent; you wish they were  so you could see just how much he touches you in a day. Ink on your skin showing all of the trails he makes in your skin, the patterns of his affection from morning to night. You could see the way his palms paint your sides before you roll out of bed for work, the way he lingers on your hip, the imprint of words as he parts your thighs. As Hello gropes your chest, Goodbye digs it’s fingers into your hip.

“C’Mon Doc, gimme another one,” he begs, voice husky and tired.

“fffuck,” you whimper, writhing beneath his touch. He has you splayed out on the kitchen table, silk robe unwrapped around your form and dangling over the edges. He’s relentless in his pace, his grabbing and prodding of your body.

He grips your hips firmly, pulling you further to the edge of the table. You yelp as you slide against the cold top of it, the smooth wood soothing the fire Klaus was stoking inside of you.

“Yeah, give me another,” He begs as his fingers delve into you again. He says it as if you are a drug for him. He’s already spent himself, after two rounds on top of you and one round in your mouth, but still he has the energy to work you over and pull screams from your lips. You don’t even know how you have it in you.

After the last one, the phone rang. This was the fifth time this afternoon someone called. You looked at the receiver, briefly distracted from Klaus’ mouth on you. He only perked his head up from between your thighs and chuckled.

“They’re not gonna save you from what I have planned for you.”

And he went right back down, this time almost aggressively in his movement, his lips immediately finding your clit and harshly sucking.

That was already forty five minutes ago. You're sore all over, and in some places, you can't even feel your skin. Everything on fire, everything ice cold. 

He wasn’t all rough, no. Those same hands making you scream are the same ones getting you fresh water after every round, smoothing tears from your cheeks, and holding you gently while you shook and came back to earth. Klaus is generous and kind when he wants to be. It’s like one of those fuckin’ candies, sour and then sweet, when he touches you. Hello and Goodbye as much a threat as they are a promise against your body. 

“C’mon, one more,” he coos, picking his pace back up. Klaus’ fingers, the middle and ring on the Goodbye hand, push into you again, meeting no resistance.

“Oh, fuck you're so wet,” he sighs, a shiver rolling down his frame. You can tell just by his voice that he’s getting just as much pleasure from this as you are. You wonder, are his underwear wet and sticky and stained? Or is he painfully hard and throbbing and aching?

He cuts off any thoughts in your mind by curling those two fingers inside of you, grazing along a spot that makes your legs shake.

Klaus keeps doing it, a fluid motion, a pulling a beckoning for your pleasure. 

“Fuck, please please please,” you chant, but for what? if it’s a break, you don’t get it. Klaus dips his head down once more, the tip of his tongue just barely teasing your clit. You whine desperately, voice trapped in your throat.

Klaus chuckles to himself, doing it again and again to earn that same whine over and over. He picks up the pace with his fingers, wanting to hear any other noises you’ll give him.

You grab onto your chest, the table, his hair, anything you can to keep you tethered to this earth. His fervor, his unrelenting energy feels like he’s trying to exorcise something from you with each orgasm.

You feel once again that tenseness in your core, your muscles spawning ready to snap.

“‘M gonna,” you slur, barely able to get the words out before another moan swallows them. You swear you can hear him mumble some praise, but the sound is overwhelmed by the rushing in your own ears.

He thrusts, and curls, and thrusts, and curls his fingers on the Goodbye hand, his Hello hand holding open your legs that threaten to close with each spasm of your muscles.

Climax overtakes you quickly, his hands and tongue knowing exactly how to get you off. You scream, loud enough that the store below can probably hear, and maybe even the people in the street. Klaus doesn’t care, he never has, he just slows his pace, and lets you down easily. He takes great care, not wanting you to black out or to have your muscles cramp.

Slowly, he pulls himself away, but not too far to reach. He lets you slowly come back to him, let’s you relax. He’s done his onslaught, for now. No guarantees for later, you know that well.

“I had to christen the new table somehow,” Klaus laughs, pulling your absolutely exhausted figure close to his. He smooths down your hair and hugs you closely, his toned frame comfier than any pillow right now. His palms flat against your back, once again Hello and Goodbye staining your skin. 

“Is this gonna happen with every piece of furniture we get?” you ask, already knowing the answer after recalling how you treated the couch, the bed, and the coffee table. 

“What do you think, doc?” he chuckles, and you join in. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[sheehalloween]

This is Sheehalloween…

Everybody make a scene/fic/gifset

Psst, Sheepeeps, remember last year when we brought you Sheehanksgiving, well this year we're back with something new...

✨ Introducing: Sheehalloween! ✨

What is it?

Nine whole days of spooky fun from October 23rd - 31st, featuring our favourite gorgeous Irish actor, Robert Sheehan. Once more hosted by your favourite neighborhood Sheefanatics, Salv (@salvador-daley) & joz (@seanfalco)!

The Prompts:

This time we're doing things a little differently and have chosen general prompts for each day that you can interpret and use in any way you like, or throw them out and do your own thing entirely, if you'd rather.

🔮 Day One: Seance

🔮 Day Two: Trick or Treat

🔮 Day Three: Scary Movie

🔮 Day Four: Reanimation

🔮 Day Five: Free Space

🔮 Day Six: Ghosts

🔮 Day Seven: Ouija

🔮 Day Eight: Possession

🔮 Day Nine: Magic

The Rules:

☛ This event is open to all creators: whether you’re an artist, a writer, a gif-maker or someone who carves sculptures out of mash potato. If you make fanworks relating to Rob and/or his characters, we want to see them. If you’ve never made a fanwork before, now is your chance! We welcome collabs, first-time artists, established writers, people from peripheral fandoms… this event is open to everyone.

☛ Please tag your work appropriately and hide any NSFW content behind a read more. If you are creating NSFW art, make sure adhere to tumblr's rules so your art won't get flagged.

☛ There is no word limit on fics, however, if your fic is longer than 500 words, please use a readmore so as not to clutter the dash.

☛ The only thing we ask is that you don’t submit noncon or underage content. If you are a minor, please do not submit NSFW content as it will not be shared.

☛ When posting your fan works, make sure to tag your work with #sheehalloween 2022 & also tag us here at @sheehalloween so we can share your works!

[seanfalco]

welcome to hell | part one.

[ masterlist ]

When you win VIP passes to Scream Fest, a traveling horror carnival, you convince your fellow ASBO-mates to join you for a night of fun and harmless scares, but the horrors turn all too real when a masked serial killer begins to target you and your friends.   Luckily at least one of you is immortal.

Word Count: 2.6k  Tags/Warnings: slight nathan x reader, light sexual themes, violence, stalking, blood/gore, character death (mostly nathan lol), part of the Bad Kids’verse/reader has same power   

a/n: I’ve been dying (haha) to write this fic since last Halloween and I’m so excited to actually get to it this year!  Based on the film Hell Fest, I thought it would be the perfect environment to place our favourite Misfits (and you!) in.  A huge huge thank you to both @santacarlahorrorshow​ & @super-unpredictable98​ for being my sounding boards and helping me brainstorm this bad boy out.  You guys are the best.  <3

The chill of autumn clung to you despite your jacket, misting your breath as you made your usual early morning trek across the estate to the Community Centre.  Most of the trees you passed were shedding the last vestiges of autumn already, their colourful foliage scattered across the concrete beneath, at the mercy of the breeze while their empty gnarled branches twisted toward the sky, leaving the Brutalist landscape around you feeling starker than usual.

However, today, not even your approaching community service hours could put a damper on your mood.  

“You’re in a good mood today,” Nathan observed as you walked into the locker room to change, a noticeable spring to your step.

“Yeah, what’s up with you?” Curtis asked, shutting his locker door while Alisha turned from studying her reflection to watch you.

“You get laid last night or somethin’?” she asked, her glossy lips twitching mischievously as her eyes flicked to Nathan who stiffened slightly, peering at you warily from his own locker door, silently hoping that wasn’t the case.

“No, even better,” you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up as you pulled out the envelope you’d received that morning in the post to hold aloft.  “I won VIP passes to Scream Fest this weekend!”

“What’s that?” Nathan asked, thanking the lord he still had a chance with you. “You don’t know?” Alisha scoffed, throwing him an incredulous look while Kelly rolled her eyes.

“It’s only been advertised like everywhere since th’beginning of the month,” she added.  “Where’ve you been?”

“Well excuse me,” Nathan shot back, pointing across the room at her, “I haven’t exactly been payin’ attention to th’tellie lately, seein’ as I’ve been livin’ in the Community Centre!”

“There are posters for it plastered all over the estate, we’ve been scraping them off the Community Centre walls all week,” Simon pointed out, to which Nathan made a face at him.

“It’s like a traveling horror night.  There’s rides and games, and haunted mazes,” you explained, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.  “I’ve been dying to go since it was announced they were comin’ to Wertham this year, but the tickets sold out like th’moment they went on sale.”

“You said you won the tickets?” Simon asked, running a hand over his hair to make sure it was straight before shutting his locker door.

“Yeah, I entered this drawing and I won th’grand prize!” you answered, letting your gaze sweep the room.  “You guys wanna go with me?”

Curtis looked to Alisha who gave a shrug.  “Yeah alright.”

“Sounds like fun,” Kelly replied while Simon’s face lit up at the idea of being included.

“And you?” you asked Nathan, cocking an eyebrow at him.  “Or are yeh too pussy t’come?” you teased.

Nathan made a face as he let out a huff of air as if he couldn’t believe you’d said that.  “I’m no pussy!” he exclaimed, sauntering across the locker room to throw his arm around your shoulder.  “Course I’ll be there, you’ll need someone t’hold your hand when y’get scared, after all.”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Great, that’s settled.”

——

“I heard that a year ago a girl was murdered at one of these haunted attractions and they didn’t find the body for several days.  Everyone thought it was just one of the props,” Simon said as the six of you waited in line to get into the park.

“Oh my God, why would you tell us that now as we’re about t’go in?” Alisha exclaimed, throwing Simon an incredulous look and drawing her arms around herself.

“That’s bullshit, it’s probably just an urban legend,” Kelly dismissed, but Simon shook his head.

“No, it’s true!” he insisted.

“Stop freaking everyone out, man,” Curtis exclaimed, putting an arm around Alisha’s waist.

“Who’s freaked out?  I’m not freaked out!” Nathan insisted, slinging his own arm around your shoulders protectively, though the way his voice went up in pitch made you wonder otherwise.

“Well, if there were a killer on the loose, it’s not like you can die,” Simon argued and Nathan made a face at him.

“Yeah sure I’m immortal,” Nathan agreed with a scoff, “but it ain’t like dyin’s a cakewalk or anything’!  I ain’t lookin’ t’be killed just for a laugh.”

“Guys, c’mon,” you groaned, afraid your friends were about to bail on you.  “What are th’odds of that even happening?”

The others looked at each other and shrugged.  “You have a point,” Kelly agreed.

As you got closer to the entrance, you passed out everyone’s tickets and VIP wristbands.

“Oooh VIP, fancy,” Nathan giggled, looking down at the neon pink band you placed around his wrist.  “What’s this for?”

“This’ll let us skip the lines for the rides and mazes,” you explained, putting yours on last.  “Plus, there’s a whole section of the park that you can only get into if you have these.”

“What’s so special about that section?” Curtis asked and a wicked grin crossed your face.  “The scariest maze is in there and the actors are allowed t’touch you,” you answered, wriggling your fingers for dramatic effect.

“They can touch us?” Alisha cried.  “Eh, no way am I goin’ in there!” she exclaimed, obviously worried about the actors accidentally activating her power.

“Oh, don’t be such a pussy!” Nathan laughed, letting out a playful shriek and backing up when Curtis turned to him angrily.

“You know what happens when people touch her!” he spat, shoving his finger under Nathan’s nose and you hurriedly stepped in to calm your friends down.

“When we get there, you can give her your jacket to wear,” you suggested.  “As long as her arms are covered there’s nothin’ t’worry about.  Right?” you asked, turning to Alisha who reluctantly nodded.

“Yeah alright,” she agreed.  “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s th’spirit!” Nathan joked, steering you toward the main gate.

Once you made it through the line to the entrance, your tickets scanned, you stopped in the midst of the park’s main thoroughfare, gaping at the sights around you.  Performers dressed in different horrifying costumes and masks roamed the area just waiting to startle park goers, creeping through the colourful smoke that blanketed the ground and swirled around your ankles, obscuring everything like a fog.

“So, where d’you wanna go first?” you asked, opening the map of the park so the others could see.  “There’s a pretty tame haunted maze right ahead,” you mused, checking the ‘thrill meter’ next to the attraction’s name.  “Shall we start there and work our way up?” 

“Yeah alright.”  “Sounds good t’me,” several of your friends agreed.

“If y’get scared, you can hold onto my arm,” Nathan offered, wearing a shit eating grin as he leaned in closer, puffing his chest out.  “I’ll protect yeh.”

Just then, an actor in a clown costume came up behind you, lunging at you with a bloodcurdling shriek as he passed and Nathan let out a high pitched scream in response, hastily stepping behind you to put you between him and the clown.

After your initial spike of adrenaline passed, you couldn’t help but laugh, turning to give Nathan a playful shove.  “Oh sure, you’ll protect me, huh?”

Barely keeping an amused grin from his face, Nathan shrugged, throwing his hands up.  “I was startled, it was a reflex!”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you jumped again as almost immediately another costumed performer jumped out of the bushes on your other side to scare Alisha and Simon.  Kelly merely glared at the guy in the Scream mask, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an unamused eyebrow.  The actor pantomimed shrugging exaggeratedly before hurrying away to scare another group nearby.

Noticing she’d grabbed onto Simon’s jacket instinctively, Alisha scowled and quickly moved closer to Curtis who shook his head in amusement.  “Y’know, th’more you scream, th’more they’re gunna mess with you, right?” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know!” Alisha snapped back, annoyance lacing her tone.

“It’s fun bein’ scared,” you laughed, your voice carrying, “as long as its all make believe, anyway.”

Little did you know that not far behind you, your words had caught the attention of a passing stranger in a mask, his head down and hands shoved into the pouch of his dark nondescript hoodie.  Raising his head in your direction, he stopped, watching you for a moment before changing his course.

“Alright, we ready t’do this?” you asked, glancing at your friends as you stood in front of the entrance to the first maze, the building looming imposingly out of the darkness.

“I guess,” Alisha whined, bouncing on the balls of her feet, practically radiating nervous energy.

“Oh c’mon,” Kelly exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe we should let Kelly do th’honours,” Nathan suggested, gesturing for her to go first.  “Th’first poor sod t’jump us’ll think twice next time after gettin’ a fist to th’face,” he laughed.

“You sayin’ something?” Kelly demanded, rounding on him, raising her hand to smack him.

“Just that you’re th’type t’punch first and ask questions later,” he yelped, dodging her attack.

“Alright, come on then, y’pussies,” Kelly exclaimed, marching forward and you followed eagerly.

Inside, the foyer looked like the entrance to some demonic version of a Catholic school.  Black lights illuminated splotches of neon paint splattered across the walls and floor.  Behind the front desk sat, at what first glance, looked like an animatronic nun until Curtis and Alisha posed for a photo in front of her and she snapped a ruler against the desk, startling them.  

Alisha let out an annoyed huff as Curtis laughed at her and she marched past him, her arms folded tightly over her chest.  “Alright already, let’s get this over with!” she cried, gesturing for you all to follow her.

Passing through the next corridor, you noticed several doors lining the walls and prepared yourself for another jump scare.  When a door to your right flew open and a costumed actor jumped out, you laughed as several of your friends let out shrill screams of surprise, Nathan included.

“Scared?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him as he once more stepped behind you.

“No!” he snapped back, pushing you forward.  “I have nerves of steel, baby,” he boasted, putting on a brave face and puffing his chest out.

“Uh huh, then how come you’re cowerin’ behind y/n, huh?” Kelly taunted, and Nathan’s mouth fell open.

“I ain’t cowerin’!” he shot back.  “I’m just… protectin’ her backside,” he insisted.

“I doubt many of the scares are going to come from the way we’ve already been,” Simon pointed out, a tiny smug grin twisting his lips.  “Just admit you’re scared, Nathan.”

“I am not!”

“Psst,” you hissed, tugging at Nathan’s sleeve.  “If you pay attention, I think the next actor’s gunna come out on the left,” you whispered, giving him a head’s up.

Nathan nodded, bracing himself as the group continued moving forward.  This time when the next scare arrived, it came from a door on the left, just like you’d guessed, and Nathan barely flinched, though his hand sought yours by your side.

Stepping into the next room, you looked around, waiting for the next scare, but nothing came.  It appeared to be a classroom of some sort, filled with desks, most of which were toppled over and stacked in piles.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Nathan laughed, letting himself relax when he found the room empty save for the six of you.

“Maybe that’s what they want you to think,” Simon muttered, his eyes wide as he scanned the corners for any hidden threats while a rather unsettling soundtrack of ambient sounds played in the background, heightening the suspense.

Without warning, a girl suddenly stumbled into the room from the opposite direction, sobbing and clearly distraught.

“I guess there’s your scare,” Curtis said, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“He’s right behind me!  Please, you have t’hide!” the girl exclaimed, not waiting for any of you to move as she scrambled under the blackboard to hide behind a set of curtains.  Moments later, a man in a twisted mask stepped into the room from the same direction, the hood of his dark sweatshirt pulled up, obscuring every bit of his appearance.  His head swiveled from side to side, searching for his prey, until he noticed the six of you and he stopped, staring as if intrigued.

“Oooo scary!” Nathan taunted, barking a laugh, and the masked stranger moved closer, sizing you up, his head tilted slightly. 

“That’s one ugly mask, mate.  I’m sorry t’hafta tell yeh—” Nathan’s words had the man’s gaze swiveling to him and he stepped forward, standing nearly chest to chest with Nathan, looming over him intimidatingly.

“Your girl’s under there,” Alisha exclaimed, pointing to where the frightened actress was “hiding” in an attempt to get the guy’s attention back to his intended prey and away from you.

The masked man tilted his head the other way, his gaze lingering on Alisha before he strode across the room to where she’d pointed.  Kneeling, he pulled back the curtain and reached in, grabbing the girl by the hair and hauling her out as she kicked and struggled in his grip, sobbing dramatically while tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Pulling a knife from his hoodie pouch, the masked man raised it slowly, looking to you as he held it in the air above the girl who continued to struggle feebly.  

“Please, please help me!” she cried desperately until he covered her mouth, her heels sliding and kicking uselessly against the tiled floor.  The actor, however, seemed not to pay her much mind, his shadowed gaze trained on you and an uneasy shiver slid down your spine.

“Just do it, already,” you scoffed, more than a little creeped out by the actor’s intensity; you just wanted him to get it over with so you could get out of there.

At your words, the masked man brought his knife down into the girl’s stomach, his eyes never wavering from your face, and for a moment when he pulled his blade free to plunge it down again, the actress going limp, your mouth went dry and a spike of alarm pierced you.

Even if it wasn’t real, even if the blood that stained her shirt was merely coloured corn syrup, something about the scene unsettled you.

“y/n, let’s get out of here!” Alisha called from the other side of the room, and you turned, finally noticing they’d moved away and you turned once more to the masked stranger, who was getting back to his feet before you.

It couldn’t have possibly been real, could it?

“y/n, c’mon,” Nathan insisted, grabbing your wrist to pull you away when you didn’t move.

As you stumbled after Nathan, searching for the maze’s exit, everything sounded muffled beneath the rush of blood in your ears.  Finally bursting outside, you gasped, doubling over to rest your hands on your legs and catch your breath.

“Holy shit, talk about dedication!” Curtis laughed.

“No kiddin’, that was intense,” Kelly agreed as your friends shook out their nerves beneath a small tree.

Nearby, another masked actor screamed, catching a girl and stabbing her while she shrieked, her alarm turning to laughter when the actor revealed the knife to be fake and you felt relief wash over you.  

“It had seemed so real,” you breathed, straightening; the masked man’s intense stare still haunting you.

“That’s what y’wanted, isn’t it?  T’be scared?” Nathan asked, grinning cheekily and you gave him a playful shove, the rest of your tension melting away.

“C’mon, let’s go get a drink and play some games,” he suggested, slinging his arm around you.

“Sounds good.  You gunna win me a stuffed animal?”

“Definitely!”

As Nathan led you away, his laughter ringing in your ears, you felt eyes on your back and you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder.  Outside the maze’s exit, the masked man stood, watching you walk away.  When he noticed you staring, he slowly lifted a finger to the front of his mask where his lips would be and the vague sense of unease you’d just managed to shake off began to creep back in.

taglist: @super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @firstpersonnarrator​

[badsext]

Treat Yo’ Self

Treat Yo’ Self : An Umbrella Academy family story

Warnings: None

When Allison comes into the kitchen for her morning coffee, she notices a group of little paper bags lined up on the table. Each of them has a number written with black magic marker, reminding her of the way Grace used to pack their lunches. 

These are about a third the size of a lunch bag and decorated with little ghosts and things. Allison suddenly remembers the date, October 31st.

Halloween treat bags. How adorable! 

Halloween wasn’t the same without Claire, of course, but maybe a little Halloween treat might help to dull the pain.

She opens bag number three. It’s gummy bears. Her favorite. She crams a small handful into her mouth, then sits down to check the news and relax with some toast and coffee.

Diego comes in and gestures towards the bags. “These from mom?” 

“I guess so.”

Diego looks into his bag and smiles.

Viktor comes in next, followed by Five in his bathrobe. “Did someone call a family meeting?”

“Mom made us some Halloween treat bags.”

The four of them stand around chatting and enjoying the sweets. Diego notices that the first bag is missing. Luther’s an early riser. Diego figures he must have taken his already.

“Looks Like Luther already got his. And we won’t see Klaus ‘till noon.” 

Allison interrupts. “Hey, um…guys?” She is clutching the table, her eyes wide. “Anybody else feeling kinda weird right now?”

Viktor laughs. The lights flicker in response.  “No…yes…” He laughs again. “Definitely.”

Diego slumps back in his chair. He is watching the second hand on the clock, his eyes barely blinking.

Klaus comes into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, stretching and scratching the bit of abdomen exposed by his cropped t-shirt.

Noticing the unusual behavior, he turns to Five and asks “What’s going on here?”

But before Five can respond, Klaus takes in the sight of the bags circulated around the room and gasps. He starts to panic. “Christ on a cracker!”

“What is it, Klaus? What did you do?”

“Whelp, those are my drugs.”

“Yes. I can see that.” He gestures to the chaos around them. “But why did you label the bags with our numbers?”

“Those aren’t your numbers! Klaus gathers up the bags to inspect what is left. “The bags are labeled with my schedule. You see, THC brownies and gummies at two and three. Just a little wake and bake to take the edge off…It’s opioids at four and six.”

Five angrily holds a crumpled bag in Klaus’ face. “What about me? What did I just ingest?”

“Oh, that was just my lunch. You owe me a new sandwich by the way.”

The lights blink again. Utensils start coming out of various drawers and fly into the sink. The garbage disposal suddenly comes on. 

Five screams over the racket. “I’m afraid to ask what drugs you do at seven o’ clock.” 

Klaus cringes. “Just a few amphetamines for that evening pick me up.”

“Klaus, You imbecile!”

Luther enters looking rather peaked.

“Where have you been? You missed all the fun.”

Luther just groans and slumps over to the sink for a glass of water. 

“What was in his bag?”

“My morning laxatives.”

@sheehalloween​

[ded-and-gonne]

🍂 🎃 🍂 Sheehalloween 2022 🍂🎃🍂

Devil’s Night Part 3: A Green Man

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AN: I’m chopping a huge post down into manageable chunks. Hope you enjoy. Triggers: two not-brothers flirting, my sense of humor, treasure hunts, kitchens. Ded & Gonne is and will always be a gen fic.

Ded & Gonne || Devil’s Night || Start || Prev || Next

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“Is there such a thing as a sub-sub-basement?” It’s Klaus asking.

They’ve emerged from a non-descript door on an oddly ornate hallway. Lots of gilding. Crowns. Mouldings. Cherubs all over the place, a green man, and a gargoyle or two here and there. Wyrd-looking little squidgy symbols in random places, like the carpet, and light switches. A complete suit of armor. Other fancy stuff rich people would buy. For a really fancy sub-sub-basement.

Klaus asks, “Which way, Bennerino? This is your story, after all, and you get the honors of directing the particulars. You could even order me around, if that would cheer you up.”

That would definitely cheer Ben up. He needs to find a way of keeping Klaus willing to be bossed around indefinitely. Problem for another day.

Turning back to his not-brother, Klaus decides that Ben’s facial expression isn’t one to be trifled with. He can put off trifling for a while, for Ben’s sake. “Yes, dear one?” Klaus responds with fluttering lashes.

Turning back to his not-brother, Klaus decides that Ben’s facial expression isn’t one to be trifled with. He can put off trifling for a while, for Ben’s sake. “Yes, dear one?” Klaus responds with fluttering lashes.

Ben swallows heavily. He wants to kill Klaus, but that would be a little too on the nose for Devil’s Night. “Shut up and tell me how the hell this Devil’s Night thing is supposed to be a story. What exactly about this thing screams story to you?” is what Ben had wanted to say. Instead, he attempts the word “story” with a question mark at the end. Unfortunately, the explosive breath required by the word “story” is not available at the time due to losing his vocal chords. So he splutters a bunch of consonants, hoping “s,ry?” is close enough for Klaus to unpack.

Klaus unpacks. “Simple, Ben. We scare the shit out of each other as many times as possible between sundown and sunrise on Halloween morning. And then we get to tell everyone a bunch of awesome stories about how scared we got. Didn’t Dad make you guys play this?”

“Nnn,” Ben rasps his answer, and attempts to sigh a sigh of forbearance. Such a martyr, that Ben. “Storytelling? I’m sorry. But storytelling wasn’t a thing at the Sparrow Academy,” he would have responded, voice thick with disdain (rather than pain). Instead, he gives up and shakes his head, no.

“Really? Dad thought it was really important for our missions and the fate of the world that we tell good stories.”

“Namae nnnsense,” Ben whispers, lip curled, without explosive letters, and eyes squinting in doubt and pain.

“Sure it does. Like, ‘It was a dark and stormy night near Boston, when a short man — about 5’2” maybe, with a mustache, and a muscular build which looked really odd on such a tiny individual. He wore black leather jeans way too tight to hold out hope of ever producing enough live swimmers to father a child one day, a lime green t-shirt, and a lime green Mohawk. A caucasian male driving a 2012 Honda Civic Hatchback — beat me up and left me for dead at mile marker 25 on the Mass Pike heading west, before the Framingham exit. The license plate was suspicious.’ There. That’s a story. A really short and helpful one.”

“Cool story, bro,” says Ben, back to his eye-rolling sarcasm. It comes out more like a tiny, “Lll rrry, ro.” Again, the explosive letters giving him trouble. The humming, nasal letters, not so much.

A sharp left and on down a dark-ish hallway leads them to what Ben is guessing was once the belowstairs area for kitchen staff. A lightswitch proves the electricity still works, shocking, and a few footsteps into the largest room gives them a clear look at their treasure. At an industrial kitchen.

The layer of dust on the kitchen floor alone is at least an inch thick. Like an actual, measurable inch. Walking through it feels like disturbing freshly fallen snow. Plus the room has that eerie quiet that hangs over everything during a snowfall. Not a soul has traversed the room in, well, as many years as it takes to gather an inch of dust. The surfaces are even worse, which, if you really think about it, is not normal. Being abnormal in the sense that it lacks logic in almost every way.

It strikes Klaus as odd that the room lacks any trace of smell. On the contrary, it is a particularly noticeable freshness after what they’ve just come through.

No scent at all. Not musty, nor antiseptic, nor lemon-scented fresh. Nor like shit water, rot, or dead things. Ben smells no scent of freshly grilled and steaming fillet mignon, left to rest in peace, while the drippings are kept at a rolling boil for the Yorkshire pudding. As if food has never been prepared in this room. Not a sign of grunge, nor of stained surfaces. The kitchen appliances, the paint, the cabinets, countertops, all of it appears a lot newer than the rest of the, well, the rest of the entire building, actually.

The cupboards are officially bare. Officially. Not a dish nor a plate, let alone grilling utensils. And certainly no booze. And you know as well as anyone else that Klaus is a pro at finding booze, so, naturally, he’s checked. Like he’s really checked very hard.

Retracing their steps, a sharp right leads them out of the belowstairs quarters. On their way back, they continue beyond their original point of entry, and past more of the wyrd finery. This end of the hall culminates in a formal dining room. Don’t picture the one where Luther and Sloane got married. It’s not that cavernous, nor as twinkly and sparkly. But it’s got something the wedding didn’t. ooooWOOOOoooo

The glass French doors into the room stand open, as if expecting guests. Klaus is struck dumb. (That’s a miracle, by the way. Never happens.) The only occupants of the entire room are one long dining table and enough chairs for a substantial family or two — well over 20 chairs, possibly 30. The opulence of that dining table and its chairs is remarkable. So is the length. “It’s long. Longer than you were picturing, isn’t it, Ben. Like, stupid long,” Klaus remarks. “Normally I’d say who has room for that? But this room has room, so I guess they got what they paid for.”

As with every other room they’ve investigated (peeked into) thus far, the dining room is thick with dust, which kicks up from the floor into swirling eddies as they enter. Even the small panes of glass in the doors are covered in a layer of silt. Not just a dusting, but a mass of it clinging to the glass as if it’s been trapped there in an oily substance.

Ben now has a greater sense of foreboding than the foreboding he’d already been having, because the room, for all its opulence, has no windows to the outside world. Possibly because it’s a sub-sub-basement, but it could be for other reasons, too.

Against the far wall stands a massive, totally unexpected, green man.

“Look!” Klaus whisper-shouts, pointing at the green man. “It’s a green man!” He approaches the huge face. A man’s face, and only his face, Klaus can see that it had been cast in some sort of metal. The pink kind that turns green with age. Copper?

Ben stands back to take in the whole of it. Oval, tapering at the top and bottom. Almost like a huge imitation of a battle shield. Definitely not pretending to be a shield for actual fighting, Ben’s thinking. Not with this kind of ornately sculpted surface. No, this is pretending to be a formal, ceremonial shield. He couldn’t even guess what the weight of this thing would be to hang. He inspects it closely. Nah, that whole thing can’t be solid copper, that’s insane. Could it?

Ben has been fascinated by something other than conflict so rarely in his life, that he doesn’t even realize he’s been sucked in. “What are you on about? What’s a green man?”

Klaus turns slowly around, with the careful excitement of a small child who is in love with a new toy, but is afraid that even though his daddy gave it to him, he is about to take it right back out of Klausie’s chubby little baby hands. “Ooh! Ooh! I know this one.” Klaus stands up straighter, and holds his hands behind his back, while trying not to bounce on his toes. He speaks as if he’s giving a report. Maybe one of those ‘stories’ he likes so much. “They are pagan protector spirits or elementals in the Celtic lands stretching all the way back to the time of the druids. oooooWOOOOooooo, spooky.” Twinkle fingers. “But yeah,” he scritches his beard. “I dunno, though, something smells fishy. Because this big guy over here is a little bit younger than he should be, if he’s a green man.” Scratching his beard, he adds, “It’s not ancient. Not even medieval.” He is correct, it’s neither ancient nor medieval.

Klaus steps in closer to check out the detailing. Leaves grow in place of hair. His eyebrows, likewise, have grown leaves. Like an elemental would do. And the mustache and beard, also leaves. Standing up straight again, Klaus returns to his oral report. “Green Men are said to watch over rivers, lakes, streams, and woodlands. Doesn’t he look like he’s surfacing through his greenery? I don’t know about you Benny Bear, but I’m curious just what kind of greenery he’s been surfacing through. Think he’s got a leaf stuck in his teeth?”

Klaus walks up to only a nose’s distance, just to see what he can see, and starts to fondle the green man.

Not quite how it sounds. He’s running his fingers over bits of it, following every swirl in the lines of the oak leaf on one of its eyebrows. Or the lips, which seem about to speak. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall…that green man sure is tall. Am I right, ben? Yeah!”

Ben agrees. Stubbornly, so he doesn’t make it too easy for Klaus to have him around. Old habits blah blah blah whatever.

Thing is, Ben has been watching Klaus stroking down the length of the nose, and onward to the- the whatever it was they were- what were they- the fingers following sinuous lines. He shakes his head free of the hot, pink cobwebs that have suddenly regrown in the corners of his brain.

Klaus isn’t so much in a stupor as he is completely engrossed in his sensory experience, following all those snaking curves and ridges. “Boop!” Klaus pokes the Green Man in the eye.

Silently swinging open, the green man is a door.

No screech, creaks nor groans, no carpet to get caught on, unless you count all the dust. He would have at least expected the door to sound like metal against wood — whatever that sounds like. Or even a “fwoosh” sound. But nothing. Dead air.

“Ben? I’ve got a feelin, man. I’m thinkin like, maybe we shouldn’t go out there, y’know? This door was, it was way too easy. Right? I mean, that, that’s like a secret door, y’know? It should be harder to open.”

Klaus is actually quite shaken by this. “I’ve seen Indiana Jones and I know what it means when something is way too easy to open. Bad things happen. Bad.”

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Ded & Gonne || Devil’s Night || Start || Prev || Next

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Images: If anyone knows to whom I should credit any of these images, please tell me. Middle green man: john-howe.com

[super-unpredictable98]

I Put a Spell on You (Misfits x Hocus Pocus Crossover)

Word Count: 2k Warning: Strong language, mention of death a/n: Here's my first contribution to @sheehalloween 2022. I hope you all understand I grew up watching this movie in Portuguese and only just recently watched the original, so I have no idea how to write the 1600s English the Sanderson sisters speak lol

(Masterlist)

"I don't see how this is any different from the Community Centre party," Nathan grumbled, hating that unfamiliar feeling from being so far away from home.

"What do you mean? You don't see a difference between a party at the Wertham Community Centre and a party in Salem? The city of witch trials?" Lydia laughed.

That year, she had the idea to take the gang to America so they could celebrate Halloween in style. As fun as the parties were back home, there's nowhere else in the world that takes the holiday as seriously as the USA. 

Kelly, Nikki, and Curtis didn't really adhere to the dress code, simply wearing dark makeup and clothes instead of a proper costume. 

On the other hand, Simon and Alisha were dressed as Lloyd and Yor Forger, his idea mostly because he wanted to see his wife in that black dress. 

Lydia and Nathan were dressed as Fran Bow and Itward from the game he had never played, but more often than not, he would accept whatever costume his wife wanted him to wear.

"Well, I suppose you'd rather do something else then?" Lydia asked. "We could hit a double feature of some old horror films, if you really want to we can try trick or treating..."

"No! We do this every year. Let's find a haunted house, not one with scare actors and shit, a real one! We're in Salem, there must be a real haunted house somewhere!"

"No way, you'll get there and you'll totally shit yourself," Curtis laughed. 

"You're the biggest chicken here, you'll just run away and leave us there," Kelly agreed. 

"Me?" Nathan screamed, extremely offended. "I ain't scared! I wanna see a real ghost!"

"Don't you see real ghosts all the time?" Simon asked. 

"Fine, y'twat! Then I wanna see a real werewolf! A real vampire! A real witch!" 

Right then, a pair of teenagers rushed into the venue. They all looked a mess and were absolutely terrified.

"Everyone! Everyone! Cut the music, it's an emergency!" The girl jumped on stage and grabbed the microphone from the vocalist of the band that had been playing. "We have a serious warning! You are all in danger!" 

"Fire! Is there a fire?" Alisha looked around. 

"Three hundred years ago, the Sanderson Sisters used to bewitch people, now they're back from the grave! The legend isn't a legend, it's real! This boy lit up the black flame candle at the house in the forest, and he's a virgin! I know it sounds dumb, but it's true!"

"He's a virgin? What a loser, am I right?" Nathan snorted.

Nobody was taking the group seriously, but to be fair it all seemed like a bit they planned, like some sort of skit. 

"What are they talking about?" Curtis asked. 

"The legend of the Sanderson sisters, they say three witches were killed centuries ago during the witch trials for eating the souls of children to stay young. They cursed the town with a prediction that said they would come back to life for one night if a virgin lit up the black flame candle," Lydia explained. "I read about it in the brochure, did nobody read the brochure?"

"You have to listen to us!" The boy, allegedly the virgin who lit the candle, took the microphone. "They're coming for your kids, no one is safe. They are brewing a potion to steal their souls! They're right there!"

"These kids are hilarious," Nate chuckled.

To corroborate the idea that it was all an act, the lights flickered and everyone cheered as three middle-aged women parted their way through the crowd. They wore elaborate dresses and makeup, the youngest was a beautiful blonde, the middle one was a clumsy brunette, and the oldest had red hair and huge teeth like a rabbit. 

"Nate was wrong, this party is way better than the ones back home," Nikki clapped, entertained by the act.

"Thank you for the marvelous introduction," the red-headed one said before she started to sing the song that was playing before they arrived, I Put a Spell on You. 

Everyone was laughing and having a great time, except for the poor teenagers and Lydia, who somehow felt like something was wrong. Nobody was that good of an actor, the kids were actually desperate.

"Don't listen to them! They're trying to bewitch you!" The boy pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Hello, Salem! My name is Winifred, what's yours?" The oldest witch climbed on stage, followed by her sisters.

"Nathan, do you smell something rotten?" Lydia asked.

"It wasn't me!" He held his hands up defensively. 

"No, you wanker, like a dead body! We all know that smell quite well, ain't it?" She looked around and her stomach twisted when she spotted a real zombie chasing the teens around the party while everybody danced. "Oh shit, oh shit, they might be telling the truth, we gotta get out of here!"

"What? No, you're bein' paranoid, this is fun!" He insisted. "Tell me you're not believin' this hocus pocus... Aren't you a little too old to believe in witches?"

"We're superheroes! Everyone is chanting what this old lady is singing, don't you think this is a little weird?" 

"Let loose, Lyds!" Simon giggled, looking like he was actually under some kind of spell. He was never that relaxed, ever, it just wasn't in the Bellamy nature. "Just dance with us!"

Meanwhile, on stage, the three witches were talking among themselves, planning their next move when Mary, the middle one, turned towards the audience with an evil lopsided grin as she sniffed something.

"Winnie! Winnie, I smell-"

"Children? Yes, you moron, there is a child right there! Now how do we snatch her?" Winifred elbowed her on the stomach.

"No! I smell... Immortality."

"Immortality?" Sarah, the youngest and prettiest one, gasped. "How come?"

"Oh fuck!" Lydia grabbed her husband's hand and made a run for the door, leaving the others wondering what had gotten into her. 

Seeing the young couple running away left it pretty clear to Winifred who was the immortal one they were smelling.

"Come on, sisters! After them!"

"Where are we even goin'? We don't know the town, we'll get lost," Nathan protested.

"Better to get lost than be eaten by witches! I refuse to have your pretty face fuel those old hags' youth potion." 

"What are you saying about us?" Winifred drawled, riding just above them on her broomstick. 

"Run!" Lydia cried, but it was hopeless. The witches were way faster flying than they were running.

When they reached a dead end, she started to think of a plan. She didn't have to outpower them, just outwit them. How hard could it be to bamboozle three women who died in the late 1600s? 

"What happened to you? What made you cry blood?" Mary asked, taking Lydia's face and squishing it between her hands. 

"Seeing your ugly faces!" She spat.

"Oh, how rude..."

The Fran Bow costume consisted of a yellow dress with a blue bow, a messy brown bob, a jar of red pills (which was actually her purse), and tears of blood staining her face aside from the fake blood covering her hands.

"Is the girl the immortal one?" Winifred asked.

"No, it's the gentleman, the nice gentleman behind this skeleton glamour," Mary said, referring to the makeup for the Itward costume.

"Can I play with him, Winnie?" Sarah giggled, jumping at the opportunity, her hands snaking under his blazer as she drew his gaze to her cleavage. "I love men with curly hair."

"So does my wife!" Nate yelped, not knowing how to react. "Look, you're cute, wouldn't push you off the bed, but I'm married," he flashed his wedding ring.

"That is not a problem, your wife doesn't need to know," she brought his hand to her chest and he quickly pulled it away, turning to check how angry Lyddie was.

"She already knows, I'm right here!" Lydia yelled.

"Is the immortal gentleman married to a child?" Sarah grimaced.

"I'm not a child, halfwit! I'm dressed as a child! I'm a grown woman!"

"They speak with interesting accents, Winnie," Mary pointed out. "Could they be travelers?" 

"Actually we are! We are from England, from a dark horrible place called Wertham. The three of you don't scare me!" Lydia crossed her arms defiantly. 

"Technically I'm from Ireland, but the point still stands," Nathan added quietly.

"Quit the chatter! You look thirsty, boy," Winifred held up a bottle with a smoking green liquid and tried to force it down Nathan's throat. "Just drink it, it'll be so much easier if you cooperate."

"He won't fucking cooperate! You're not gonna eat my husband!" Lyddie demanded. "You stupid old bitch!"

"Oh, quiet! Boooook!" The oldest witch called and a book with a leather cover and one eye flew into her hand. "Did you hear it, sisters? This foolish girl has no manners at all, I think we ought to correct her."

"How, Winnie? How?" Marry rubbed her hands together. "Can I kill her? She looks so plump, she must be tasty too..."

"And then I get to play with her widower!" Sarah added, bouncing in excitement.

"You bumbling idiots!" Winifred pushed the book against her sister's chest, nearly knocking her down. "Let us do to her what we did to the Binx boy, it worked so well the first time."

"You wanna turn me into an immortal cat?" Lydia winced. "Well, good fucking luck!"

"Twist the bones and break the back," she started.

"Itchita kupita melaka mystika..." the other two witches chanted.

Before Winifred could try to get the second part of the incantation out, Lydia punched her square in the jaw and Nathan simply watched it, marveled. It wasn't their first time dealing with supervillains and the solution was more often than not violent and simple.

The older witch fell with a screech and her sisters quickly rushed to help her up, muttering questions to make sure she was okay.

"You pest! Dirty harlot, how dare you?" 

Winifred pointed her veiny hand at the girl and a flash of green lightning left the tips of her long, bony fingers, but before her spell could have any effect Lydia covered herself and Nathan in a force field. The magic bounced back and hit the caster like a gunshot.

"How d'you like that?" Nate taunted. 

"The overgrown child is a witch too!" Sarah's eyes grew horrified.

"Yes! And the immortal warlock is already mine! Fuck off, you cunts!" 

"Warlock?" She gasped.

"I- I'm a man witch, yeah, I totally am!" Nathan nodded, producing a bottle of water out of thin air and proceeding to drink it. "I'm like Harry Potter!"

"Harry Potter? I think we knew him, wasn't he the one who died in that barn fire when he tried to roast a little girl like a pig?" Mary whispered.

"The point is, sisters, he is one of ours. You can't hurt your own, it's... Unethical."

"Unethical? Unethical... What does unethical mean, Winnie?" She asked.

"Clearly it is some sort of word from their corner of the world, how am I supposed to know?" Winifred hissed. 

"Unethical means it is morally wrong, you can't steal from another coven. We are already so few and rare to find, if you kill him for your potion, you are no better than the people who burned you at the stake!" Lydia proclaimed, still covering them with her thin blue field, scared of what they might do otherwise. 

The three sisters looked at each other completely confused. Was she... Right? Besides, wouldn't it be easier to just collect a bigger number of children, who are defenseless and wouldn't fight back? It wasn't immortality, but-

"We were hung actually... That isn't important. How did you become immortal, boy?" Winifred asked finally.

"Oh, that was easy! I was struck by lightning," Nathan explained.

"Struck by lightning, I think we can do that. Book, show me a spell to conjure rain!" 

While they were distracted by the idea to become immortal by other means, Nathan and Lydia ran the other way, escaping the dead end street and finding their friends waiting by the entrance where the Halloween party was.

"Where were you? We've been lookin' everywhere!" Kelly scolded.

"Sorry, we were nearly killed by witches, one of them wanted to turn me into a black cat and eat Nathan's soul!" Lyddie sighed, finally lifting their protection.

"Oh, I guess we've been in worse situations before," Simon shrugged. 

"Definitely, this was nothing compared to the Virtue virgins," Alisha agreed.

"Or the crazy guy from the video game," Nikki held her fiancé's arm.

"Yeah, they were pretty stupid... Does anyone fancy a drink? Just nothing green please," Lydia groaned, followed by the others as she headed to a nearby pub, hoping the black flame candle would go out soon.

Tag List: @seanfalco @firstpersonnarrator @elliethesuperfruitlover

[endiness]

SHEEHALLOWEEN 2022 🔮 Day One: Séance

[mokolat]

"Dave, are you there?..."

Prompt : Ouija - Ghost Illustration for the @sheehalloween

[salvador-daley]

Sheehalloween Day 6: Ghosts 👻👻