#suburban spooks

[spookcataloger]

Uncle Tim (2021)

[inkdrinkerworld]

lemon poppy seed cake plz?

Fem!neighbor!reader screams bc of a bug or sm mundane and hotch thinks she is in terrible danger

Hotch hears the scream from your apartment, but he more so feels it in his bones. The shrill, panicking sound of it. Then there’s a crash and his heart sinks. He rushes to his safe, thanking god Jack is at a friend’s house for the night. 

You and him had gotten close over the period of you moving to the quiet little suburban town in Virginia. Close enough where he doesn’t knock on the door and is opening it with a key. 

Something’s wrong, he thinks, gun safety off as he makes quiet steps further into your house. He doesn’t want to spook the potential unsub, but he doesn’t want to take too long in getting to you. 

Aaron doesn’t have to worry much longer because you round the corner of your hallway, another scream on your lips as you realise it’s Aaron and he has his finger to his lips. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you screaming?” he asks in hushed whispers, and you place a hand over your pounding heart. 

“There’s a huge, and I mean gargantuan spider in my shower and it isn’t moving. I don’t want to touch it ‘cos it looks fuzzy.” 

Aaron shakes his head, clicking the safety back on his gun before tucking it into the waistband of his pants. 

“I almost came in here shooting,” he says as you lead him to your bathroom. “Thought someone was breaking into your house.” 

You shake your head, a little embarrassed when Aaron laughs as he spots the spider. It isn’t as gargantuan as you said it was, but it is fuzzy. He traps it between a bowl and a cover and lets it out in your back garden. 

“Sorry about the scream, and thank you for taking care of the spider.” you say sheepishly but Aaron shrugs, a smile playing at his usually frowny lips. 

“It’s no problem, but you might want to think about planting lavender. They don’t like the smell of it.”

[uncle-mojave]

I haven't played this in awhile but here are three things you may not know about me. Two are legitimate and one of them is a lie. Can you figure out what one is not real?

1 - I hitchhiked across a lot of the US in the early 2000's because I was kind of lost in life and had no idea what the hell I would do. I camped out in a lot of sketchy places and met some people I wouldn't even piss on if they were on fire but I also met some very kind people just like me. You could essentially say I was a traveling homeless for a few months. I did have a little money but for the most part I was scrounging meals with a backpack and stupidity and not much else.

2 - I was once arrested because I got drunk in Kansas in 2003 and went to a zoo with a friend and we were making total asses of ourselves and I tried to climb into one of the exhibits and get cuddly with some of the animals but the fence was a bit too high and I was a bit too drunk so I made it past the initial low wall people lean against to see in better but I never made it up the fence. The police came and I was booked into the Manhattan city jail as drunk and disorderly.

3 - I grew up in rural southern Utah for half my childhood and I was in suburban northern Utah for the other half off and on. As a kid I had really bad eyesight and asthma and I looked like a total dork with big glasses until I was riding a horse in the desert and it got spooked and bucked me then when I tried to get up it kicked me in the head. It cleared up my eyesight and I never needed glasses after that but I also had to go to the hospital because I did not get up for a few seconds after the kick and people thought I was dead. Ever since then I've not ridden a horse and have had a big distrust of them but I have ridden several mules since and I adore mules.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

No one caught it last night so here’s the smallest Galex companion piece that goes with the Piarles ficlet 😏

George shows up on his doorstep on Monday morning with a box of donuts and a tray of coffee from the 7/11.

He looks a bit spooked and out of place in his pressed long sleeve polo and pristine white sneakers and he’s got a hesitant, heartbreaking smile on his face - like he’s afraid that Alex will slam the door in his face.

Alex considers it but he thinks about not having to fight his siblings to eat oatmeal and so he opens the door wider and says - far too soft and fond - “better come in, Georgie.”

It’s not one of his practiced sentences.

Good catch, Russell.

Good game, Russell.

Funny seeing you here Russell.

Russell.

Those are all practiced sentences and he’s got them down quite well and that’s why he slips up and calls him Georgie.

Because George has broken the rules of engagement between them and now he can’t…he can’t…

George gives him a funny look as he walks past Alex and into the tiny apartment he’s never seen, but Alex knows it’s not about the apartment. It’s about the name.

Alex waves him through into the kitchen on the other side of the living room and Alicia practically falls out of the chair she’s in, throwing herself at George screeching his name and Alex fails at stuffing it back inside of himself - it. That thing that thrums inside of him every time he sees George. That desire and love and the need to protect him from what’s happening in his life.

Alex watches him open the donut box with an exaggerated flourish and he watches him keep sneaking glances back at Alex and Alex misses the way he would kiss him in the backseat of Alex’s Jeep.

He misses the feel of his soft skin underneath his fingertips and the way George would lay his head in Alex’s lap when they were in the field behind Alex’s childhood home and he would look up at him through his ridiculous lashes and he would say, “maybe we could live in the mountains. You could go to med school in Colorado.”

Alex watches him rinse out a container of juice before putting the plastic jug in the trash just like his mom does and he accepts the offer of a ride to school from him after Alex’s siblings are on the bus.

“I already text Charles,” George says, “told him I was coming by.”

“Oh,” is all Alex can manage as he’s pulling his jacket around his body. He’s not looking at George who is rattling the keys to his truck in his hand.

“Alex.” George says, and Alex refuses to look up because now they’re alone and he hasn’t planned for this and this isn’t one of his practiced sentences.

“Alex,” George says again, but much closer.

Alex looks up and he’s close enough to touch. He balls his fists up instead.

“Pierre and Charles are…” one side of his mouth is quirked up. The two of them always suspected, always talked, but neither Charles nor Pierre ever made it seem like they wanted to expose what they had together.

Alex feels a bit lighter suddenly. “Yeah, I think so.”

George bites the inside of his cheek before saying, “Come over for dinner tomorrow night. I’m gonna borrow mom’s Suburban and all of you can come and I -“ he clears his throat. “I miss you.”

And he’s not just saying he misses Alex’s friendship.

Alex looks at the coffee on the counter that he knows will be made just right and the empty box of donuts and he thinks about…George watching him for months…and.

“Okay,” he manages to get out of his too tight throat. “Yes,” and George clings to the front of his shirt and kisses him hard and Alex is so tired of pretending this is not exactly what he wants.

[kekwcomics]

I have a new album out called DAGON ALLEY.

It's available here: https://kekw.bandcamp.com/album/dagon-alley

It's spooky and brooding, a soundtrack to a lost suburban Horror film, and will probably appeal to people who enjoyed my prose Horror books or my work on Judge Death and the Dark Judges in FALL OF DEADWORLD.

DAGON ALLEY is part of what I call my LOVECRAFT'S YEOVIL cycle of work (there's an art / photography book of the same name currently in production).

It's partially inspired by hidden parts / wrong-angle views of my home town - how it can suddenly reveal itself to me in new, unexpected forms - and my lifetime love of low-budget Horror films and crank literature.

A warped and malignant picture postcard of Yeovil, twinned with Innsmouth. The ink has run, has slid off the surface of Reality like a wet, finger-smudged Polaroid, leaving the image unrecognisable and speckled with mould. Paranoia and a sense of creeping, small town unease. Doors appear in walls, the roads no longer match the map. A 70s painting by Ian Miller.

File under: New Suburban Weird, Horrorscape, Post-Rural Uncanny, Gorestep, Dero Electronics, Spook.

[thesunshineriptide]

Trick or treat!

Happy halloween!

You trick or treat to all the twst boys in their dorms. This is what they react with

Heartslabyul

Riddle: Riddle has prepared for some aspects of Halloween and not others, meaning the things he gives out for treats…is pencils. He gives out supplies relating to schoolwork (pencils, erasers, pens, notepads) and he has enough sense to make sure it’s the FUN ones, but it’s still just more work. He’s happy to let you pick which funky office supply treat you want. He never does tricks

Ace: Ace is the first on this list to absolutely SUCK at trick or treat prep. He hands you whatever’s in his pocket (usually trash but sometimes something fun like two madol) he plays it off like a trick but in reality he’s a little embarrassed and sad he couldn’t give you a good Halloween treat

Deuce: Deuce is actually great in his taste but not in his prep. He bought 20 full sized candy bars and then had to run off to get more candy, leaving him with just fistfuls of salt water taffy. Don’t worry, he made sure to get you, specifically, a full sized bar

Trey: you know this man is making his own fuckin candy. He’s going full suburban mom with cookies, chocolates, candy apples, little carved out oranges, and, of course, toothbrushes to hand out with it so you don’t get cavities. You earn a chocolate chip cookie and a dental care bag

Cater: Most normal. Went and got two giant bags of Halloween candy, sat with them in a bowl and played on his phone or talked to whoever was closest. He gives you some candy with a smile and a selfie

Savanaclaw

Leona: you’re getting a trick. The trick is that he doesn’t really wanna participate. He’s old and tired and tired of these damn kids (/j) no, but in seriousness, he’s carrying candy on him in his deep ass pockets. He mostly carries the shitty candy nobody wants, but he’ll give you a handful with a grin

Ruggie: Ruggie doesn’t carry candy unless there’s little kids, which there aren’t. Instead, you’re getting a trick - he’ll use his UM to make you hand over your candy bag. You have been robbed

Jack: doesn’t strike me as the type to normally carry candy, but he might. If he does, it’s probably on the less sweet side or hard candy, if he doesn’t, it’s a protein bar. But like, one of the good ones. He’s so happy to give you it though, you can’t even reject. Especially since he doesn’t follow it with a lecture (unlike Vargas or Sebek or Riddle or Trey or-)

Octavinelle

Azul: you think this man is giving shit out for free? No, no, you’re working for your candy. He’ll make you do some sort of imitation of your costume, or sing a little song, or do a few twirls. Then, and only after you’ve payed the toll, do you get candy. Good news though, Azul gives out the good shit

Jade: You’re getting a trick and a treat, in that order. He’ll give you a little spook (psychological, not physical. He’ll give you his creepy grin and make a comment on how he can help you become a ghost) and then you get a nice handful of candy and a smile. He also has normal candy, unlike…

Floyd: Another trick, then a treat. Floyd’s more into giving a scare by popping out of a bush or just going “boo!” And then following it with candy. Much like Azul, he has full sized candy bars, but, all of them are off brand, weirdly named candy bars, and some just have a sticker covering what they are. Which means you have no idea what he gave you, other than a heart attack

Scarabia

Kalim: you think Kalim doesn’t go big for Halloween? He’s giving every trick or treater a fucking buffet. He’s the one house that gives out gift bags with candy, toys, soda, popcorn, etc. you leave with a whole meal in junk food. He might throw money in some of them too, just for fun

Jamil: he’s in charge of doing all Kalim’s shit, so count them as a duo project. He’s exhausted and if you insist on getting candy from him alone, he’ll probably just frown and give you something boring (a pencil he got from Riddle)

Pomefiore

Vil: health conscious beauty guru giving out Halloween candy? Yes, actually. And autographs, and stim toys for those who don’t want sugar. Sure, he may not want the candy, and he may not approve of his underlings indulging too often, but…it’s a holiday. It would be cruel not to

Rook: … okay. Listen. He finds beauty in everything, soooooo…he gives out old people candy. Like, butterscotches and those really specific strawberry foiled candies, yknow the ones. Or lollipops. Alternatively he exclusively gives out exotic candies that like 5 people have heard of but are literally so good???

Epel: CARAMEL APPLE KING!! He made them himself, with apples from his family’s farm, and he spent HOURS getting it right. He also carves apples for trick or treaters (including you. You get an apple carved into a poison apple with caramel dripping down from the top)

Ignihyde

Idia: King Candy has arrived. He knows all the best candy and since nobody ever really approaches him, it was a great excuse to buy ungodly amounts and hoard it. He does happily share some of his favorites with you, even if he’s a little nervous

Ortho: Ortho can’t eat, but he does enjoy going around reverse trick or treating. He will give you a Twix bar and take note on whether you prefer left Twix or right Twix, because it is a question that’s absolutely fascinating to him

Diasomnia

Malleus: Malleus has no idea what’s going on. He will, instead, just straight up give out blessings and maybe some candy if Lilia is nearby. You leave with increased confidence due to one of his spells. Hooray!

Lilia: I’d say Lilia gives out old people candy but I think he’s just a bit too young for that. He gives out those candy blood bags, fake candy teeth, other gummy candies shaped like organs, etc. he’s more into the creep than the cutesy and that reflects in his candy choices

Silver: didn’t have time to prep, isn’t in charge of candy distribution. If you ask him for candy, he will give you a stray peppermint candy from his pocket

Sebek: “HOW DARE WAKASAMA AND MASTER LILIA’S BENEVOLENCE NOT BE ENOUGH FOR YOU- oh. Oh, sorry. Uh. Here…” he gives you a handful of jellybeans. They are not in a bag, they are just loose jellybeans from a bucket. They are not all the same flavor. It’s your guess as to what’s going down there

[sasha-chambers]

Short Horror Stories: Blood Water

In a small little suburban neighborhood, a birthday party was in full swing late into Halloween night, many members of the family gathered in the house for an overnight stay and enjoying the pool and a long table of various foods and treats, supplemented by the various bags of treats gathered by the families children over the course of the night. The festivities were cut short, however, as the power suddenly went out, cutting off every light in and out of the house as well as all those around the neighborhood.

For a brief moment there was a deathly silence as everyone attempted to overcome their surprise at the sudden darkness, having little more than the silver light of the moon to find their way around, attempting to locate their own immediate family members and make sure they were ok. It was then that they all became even more tense as the sounds of screaming began to echo out throughout the neighborhood, at first only from one or two places but soon it seemed as if everyone who lived nearby was screaming in terror of some unknown threat.

Then it was their turn to experience the terror as one of the family members suddenly dropped to the ground, their throat slashed open as if by claws, though no one saw what had caused the wounds, and blood was splattered all over the patio. As blood chilling screams rang out through the garden and everyone began to run in panic, more bodies began to drop, only brief glimpses of whoever or whatever was hunting them ever being caught by both victim and survivor alike. Some managed to run back into the house while others leapt over fences into neighboring gardens or dived into the pool simply because it was the closest thing too them.

Soon the garden became silent once more, even the screaming coming from the surroundings seeming to have died down surprisingly quickly, either because the people had gotten away, or they were no longer capable of screaming at all. Those who remained inside the pool found themselves huddled in the center, scanning the garden desperately for any signs of whatever had carved a bloody path through their family in mere moments, the moonlight reflecting off the pool and giving it a glow of its own that barely illuminated the area around its edge. Eventually, one of the survivors yelled out in fear as they caught sight of their assailant and drew the attention of the others towards it.

Sat on the very edge of the light, crouched down on its haunches and staring at them, motionless like a morbid statue, was something clearly not human or any other creature that anyone there could name. Its skin was a pale blue, almost as if it had been drowned and pulled from the waters, its head was stretched and long like that of a reptile, though no skin covered most of its snout, leaving its fanged mouth fully exposed, muscle, bone and all. Two large, round, completely red eyes sat in its skull, un blinking and reflective like mirrors. It was hunched over with sharp spines protruding down its back in a line, one arm relatively human with a long fingered hand while the other sported long, bony blades in place of it's fingers, each one dripping with blood.

The mere sight of the creature was enough to spook one of the survivors as they instantly began to swim desperately for the opposite side of the pool, climbing out and attempting to run, though they did not get very far. The creature sprang into motion almost before anyone could blink, striding around the pool with long legged bounds, quickly reaching the man as his feet left the water and driving its long claws into his chest, dragging him off into the darkness without giving him so much as a chance to scream.

When they caught sight of the creature again it was once again crouched down and still as a statue, only now covered in even more blood with strips of flesh hanging from it's teeth. The fact that it made no effort to attack them made those who remained guess that it was afraid of the water and so another brave survivor made their way into the shallow end of the pool, the creature moving slowly to follow him before the two both stopped, the creature returning to its crouch near the edge of the pool. The survivor lowered his arm into the water and splashed a load of water in the direction of the creature, testing its reaction.

As the water washed over the creatures skin, it didn't even flinch or react in any way, confirming that the water was neither dangerous to it nor was it simply afraid of the water itself, a point that was swiftly reinforced as the creature launched itself into the air and landed on the man that had splashed him. Blood quickly dyed the pool crimson as it slashed and flayed at his skin with a vicious assault. The mans girlfriend almost reflexively launched forward as if to save him, having to be grabbed and pulled back. Though, even though the creature did reach for her as she came close, it suddenly scrambled backwards just before it's feet would slip off into the deep end of the pool.

It was this that the others finally figured out what the creature's behavior was all about, it was a simple animal and was afraid of the pool, or at least its deeper end, because it was unable to swim and did not wish to drown itself. And it was this that prompted a final, brave soul among the survivors to state their intent, to get another to draw the creatures attention for long enough to get out of the water and to drag the creature in when it went for her. Though there was much protest to her idea she quickly shouted it down with a strong authority.

A couple of the others tentatively moved closer to the edges of the pool, grabbing the attention of the creature and splashing water at it so that it had less chance of noticing as the woman climbed out in the corner until she let out an insult to the creature and taunted it to come for her. Once again it sprinted around the pool in only a handful of long bounds and as its claws sank into the woman's stomach, she threw herself at the creature, wrapping her arms around it and dragging it over the pools edge and into the water, giving the rest of her surviving family members the chance to scramble from the pool and run inside the house.

They grabbed what they could begore running outside, meaning to get into their cars and drive as far away as they had too until they found help, only to run head first into a team of armed soldiers. They were quickly ordered into a truck, sounds of gunfire ringing out in the distance as more vehicles moved down the street, some soldiers even carrying away bodies of more creatures like the one that had attacked them. They were quickly driven away from the scene of their nightmarish encounter and it soon became little more than that to anyone who hadn't been there, a bad dream that couldn't be real as any sign of the horror quickly vanished long before the sun came up.

[muertarte]

PARTIES: @muertarte @ronin-for-hire

SUMMARY: Fang is staking out MuertArte for a job and sees her target, Metzli, taking care of a forger. She moves in for the kill.

TIMING: Current

WARNINGS: None

People talk about monsters being frightening to look at it, and it’s a lie. Monsters aren’t frightening to look at. They just look like everyday people, like friends and family, like classmates and professors, like a painter or an art gallery owner, more ordinary than any would like to believe. Of course, Fang was thinking about the spooks that are able to wear ordinary like a mask to hide their true form, that of a hungry predator, of a senseless violent beast. 

When her current employer first approached her with the job, Fang was confused. He sounded more furious that the target crippled his business by killing one of his best forgers than he was furious that the target was a monster and could come after him next. Not all men were born with intelligence, obviously, and by men, Fang meant the entire boring race, not just the inferior half of a closeminded suburban elderly housewife’s ideal relationship. But Fang digressed.

She has been watching her target, the gallery owner, for a couple of days now, and so far, no incident. Fang was almost in the mind to drop the damned thing, but she heard a tiny voice in her head, that of her late mentor, that they never drop jobs. They see them through. At least up to the point where they can confirm its authenticity. Was the gallery owner an actual vamp? Or were they just being targeted by forgers? That was what she needed to find out first.

The week had gone and went, for once behaving. And by that, it only meant that Wicked’s Rest hadn’t thrown ungodly curveballs that Metzli couldn’t catch, or even a single forger for that matter. It was strange, as they were usually a weekly occurrence. But that was fine. Patrons visited and enjoyed their time, even conjuring a few positive reviews for the gallery’s page. All in all, Metzli couldn’t complain. Not that they did anyway.

Surviving was all they could ask for, was all they needed. Years of believing it was better to have a little of something than to have nothing, that having aspirations made one take up too much space was deeply ingrained in Metzli. Complaining was futile. Weak. It was much better to go along with the direction and power the waves came. It was easier. Made surprises that much sweeter when they arrived.

So when a forger came in, at last, Metzli was more than happy to take the opportunity. They took a few liberties, forcing a chase to ensue toward the woods when the burly man made his way to his car, late at night. With the cover of darkness, they felt the embellishment for fun was justified. There was a whole week of monotony to make up for, and a hunt was the perfect treat.

Fang stalked her prey like the predator would its meal. She kept her distance, made sure she couldn’t be felt or seen, even as her only true protection was the oni facemask that concealed her identity. She’s fought, and killed, so many of them now that she knew they also had their tricks. But she had to fast, and she had to make sure she wouldn’t lose them. Otherwise, she wouldn’t get paid in full. It was all that mattered to her these days. Getting paid. What else was there? The slayer had neither a past nor a future. There was only the present. There was only this hunt.

So, she waited for the perfect opportunity. She waited for her target to finally kill a man, to confirm itself as part of the undead plague. It would’ve been horrifying to kill an innocent soul. Or at least in paper it was. Fang no longer believes in such a thing, innocent souls. Outside of the children, everyone has already done something that tainted their souls. But she didn’t deal in souls. She only handled the things that didn’t have them, the monsters in the dark, the boogeymen that slaughtered the weak and helpless and the occasional asshole. Still technically helpless in the fangs of a predator.

Fang could just save the burly man, intercept the attack, but that wasn’t the job. The job was to eliminate the vampire. If the man had to die for Fang to confirm her target, he would. There are no more innocent souls, and Fang was a firm believer that death was more of a respite from the pains of life than an actual punishment. After all, this world is already done for.

The heavy gait of the forger didn’t give him much of a chance. He wasn’t in the shape to run, his body built for immediate confrontation. Which, he was given the opportunity to stand and fight. He didn’t have to sprint away. Metzli supposed that was just nature playing its part. Instead of fight, the idiot chose flight. 

All common sense left him and now he was going to face death. A slow one at that. He could beg for his life, plead for someone to help, but all he would receive would be his own voice ricocheting from the trees. It was a fun song that led the dance, but it was coming to an end. Closing in on the man, Metzli surged forward, colliding their bodies together in a roll that ended with the vampire above him. They hissed above him, a predator a breath away from its prey. Metzli wasted no time in sinking their teeth into in, letting the blood pool on their tongue and slip down their throat. It was a good kill. It was a good night, filled with screams that slowly faded to silence. 

There it was. The confirmation that Fang needed. She took another moment, a few seconds more, and watched as the vampire fed on the hapless idiot. Biting? Check. Bleeding? Check. Screaming until the victim fell unconscious or probably even died? Check. With all those bullet points and more checked in her head, the slayer rushed out of the shadows and attempted to pierce the vampire through the back of the neck, where its spine connected itself to its skull, for a quick and clean finish.

Or so in theory that should happen. Fang has tried this technique before and it never went according to plan. She wasn’t yet sure if she needed to be faster or quieter, but every time she did it, the vampire, her quarry, would always find a way to survive the strike. It was a technique she’d seen her late mentor master, though because their quarry back in Japan were much larger and heavier, it could never kill with one blow. Here, Fang thought it would. Rather it should. She wasn’t able to fully master it before her mentor’s untimely passing. She wasn’t able to fully master a lot of things before the old man was taken from her. “Die, monster!”

The bliss that came with feeding on a fresh kill tended to be overwhelming. All senses quintupled and too much to acknowledge much else. But a predator’s instinct always won out. The need to protect the kill that was rightfully theirs caused the hairs on Metzli’s neck to rise when the earth was audibly disturbed and their would-be attacker announced themself. Horrible tactic, they thought. Perhaps an amateur hunter doing their duty or a noble citizen trying to do what they considered to be what’s right. Either way, Metzli countered quickly. 

Metzli swiveled in their heel, slamming their leg into their attacker. Quickly, they pushed them away, dirt dragging into a trail. Metzli followed it, pouncing onto the stranger and trapping her beneath them. They pressed down on her throat for a few moments before they released her and grabbed her by the ankles. With a yank, Metzli threw the woman several feet away from them, hoping to get some sort of distance for them to assess and maybe get the person to leave before something had really happened. 

“Leave or die. Have job to do.” They hissed, crouching in preparation for the woman’s answer. 

“Yeah?” Fang growled with that deep Batman voice, another mask to keep her civilian identity out of the paranormal community’s grasp. She hadn’t referred to the voice as such, but this town has changed her so much. Back then, back in Tokyo and Osaka, it was just a failsafe, another tool, another weapon, with which to confuse and destabilize the monsters that lurked in the night, their occasional societies and get-togethers. Now, after watching all the Batman movies Sara had, including the one with the vampire guy, it was a paltry attempt at Christian Bale’s version. “Well, so do I!”

It wasn’t enough that Fang was unintentionally cosplaying the Dark Knight. When the vampire threw her, she did a damned flip and ended up doing an even damner superhero landing. For a moment or two, she just stayed there, kneeling on one knee, eyes narrowed at the opposite direction of where the monster was. All that was just further proof that she needed to end it. Before anyone else got hurt. Or more importantly, before it could run and deny her this month’s rent.

Fang bum rushed her quarry, feigning a direct thrust with her katana against the vampire’s chest, only to instead quickly deliver a slash on their leg. It wouldn’t do much damage. With how recent the creature has fed, it wouldn’t take them that long to heal. But that was the problem with these creatures: Being able to heal fast makes them forget to stop until they get put down. “Someone wants you dead. Someone with enough money to pay my rent.” 

Well, the gruff voice was unexpected from a woman so small in comparison to the vampire. Not to mention the getup she sported to fight. Metzli couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if she was trying to be one of those underwear people they saw in books. She wasn’t displaying the colorful garments like they normally did, so they had to gather she wasn’t. Though, she definitely had the acrobatics to be one. 

Metzli quirked a brow and made a mental note to warn Honey about the woman and her antics. “Urgh!” Especially if she had a pinche katana. The slice to Metzli’s leg forced them to their knee, but they had enough resolve to get back up and retrieve one of their knives. If she wanted blood to shed, then so be it. Metzli would paint the ground. 

Carefully, they watched the woman zip around them and blabber on about having to pay rent. Is that all this was? A job? Metzli scoffed a little, just barely relaxing their defensive stance. Inhaling slowly, they found an opportunity and threw their knife, meeting their mark to the nuisance’s shoulder. “If all you want is paid rent then I can pay rent. Am doing my job by getting rid of idiot like him. Not my fault he choose wrong job.”

Without making a sound, Fang winced as cold steel penetrated her flesh. She tried to lessen the weapon’s impact by moving her shoulder back, not unlike a reed against strong winds, but knives weren’t like punches or kicks. Knives don’t just bruise. Knives make you bleed. Instinctively, she squinted at the vampire, clenching her jaw. She should have expected the creature to have a weapon, but knives? She expected more of the same, those grotesque but deadly fangs and maybe even the sharp nails of a familiar monster back in Japan.

But this was not Japan. And Fang could not hate the monsters of this other land as much as she hated the monsters that took her parents from her. She’s made enough of them bleed, took out as many of them as she could in Tokyo and Osaka. These things, the creatures of her new home, her temporary place of residence, they’re not the same as the ones she was taught to loathe. These ones, some were made, not born, and as much as Fang didn’t like them, she didn’t like their hunters either. She was, in every sense of the word, an equal opportunity hater.

“Go on,” Fang indulged the creature’s implied truce, a negotiation that she would have been wary long ago. Her mentor taught her never to trust monsters, but that was before she left to track down his killer, only to fail when her quarry was already taken care of by a local hunter. Most likely why she never got along with the local hunters of this town. They took her vengeance albeit unintentionally and now she was stuck here. Besides, as much as it was a terrible decision to backstab her employer, that guy did smell like rat piss. “Why are you…getting rid of those idiots?”

It was supposed to be just a simple job: Slay the monster, get paid, pay the month’s rent. But the monster didn’t seem like it was just feeding indiscriminately. It didn’t seem like it was just mindlessly satiating its innate thirst for violence and suffering. There seemed to be more bubbling underneath, and frankly, Fang was a little curious and a little more eager not to keep her routines monotonous. 

Even more surprising than the vigilantism, the woman was actually hearing Metzli out. Annoyed as they may be, they understood how it looked. Had they been a worse vampire that night, attacking anyone for a meal, Metzli knew they would have met their demise. Fortunately for them though, there was more in their current kill than just a meal. 

“Run gallery business. This idiot,” Metzli waved over at the dead body, “Thought he could fool me with a fake Rembrandt.” They scoffed and shook their head, absolutely annoyed with the idea. The fact anyone produced fakes irked Metzli to their core. Art was sacred, and worse, there were always seedier undergoings. Even they had to admit that forgery was the least victimizing. 

“Is not that much about money. Is annoying and if you look in his pocket, there is maybe phone or note with more things to do. Much worse than me.” Metzli relaxed at last and put their only hand up to signal a truce. “You leave me alone, I pay double and you no have to deal with body. How it sound?”

Wait, fake Rembrandt? Fang squinted as it slowly dawned on her that she might have been scammed, too. Her employer, that fat fuck, had paid her with a supposedly expensive painting as a downpayment, with the rest of the money to be handed after the job. The slayer didn’t know a lot about art, but for some reason, most likely because of the man’s job, she agreed with that proposal. That and she really needed to pay her rent. Fuck.

So, should Fang just kill this vamp and risk getting scammed further by a professional scammer? The slayer warily nodded toward the dead guy’s pocket and held out a hand, gesturing for the monster to give her the phone or note or whatever was in that pocket. She kept her eyes on the creature, just in case it tried to trick her. 

Fact was, however, her employer had already talked about forgers and stuff. Fang didn’t think much about it earlier since that was their business, but now that there was a much better offer on the table, despite it coming from a vampire, she found clarity in how these things always ended up, how deals with scammers always ended up. At least this vampire promised to clean up after itself. 

“Actually sounds like a good deal,” Fang mouthed the amount she was promised by her employer when a brilliant thought came to mind. “You want my employer’s address, too? Will cost you extra.” Loose ends and all that junk.

Finally, the vigilante gave the vampire some grace, allowing them to pat down the dead forger for whatever his to-do list was on. Finding a wallet and a phone, Metzli plucked them both away and handed them over, a look of I told you so painting across their features. They’d been in the game long enough to know how deep organizations ran. 

No one tried their hand at forgery without building up to it. You had to have some sort of money to try. If you wanted to make a decent fake at least. Not that even the best quality could get by Metzli though. Those idiots still died, much like the man at their feet.

“Okay, so deal.” But of course, there always had to be a catch. Money was always the constant motivator, but to the woman’s credit, she likely needed it for basic living if she was desperate enough to bite the hand who was feeding her. Metzli was just benefitting because she was being handed spoiled goods. They were just happy to get to the source of the filth, hopefully getting rid of them once and for all. 

“Fine. Pay extra for address. How much?” Metzli reached for their wallet and retrieved the max amount of cash they kept, which was five-hundred. “What I have right now.” They handed it over, “Am good on my word. Hate lying. So trust that I will pay you in full. Just need bill.”

“Huh,” Fang dropped the Batman voice but not the oni facemask that protected her identity. Well, at least that was the theory. She was pretty surprised, as she checked the wallet and the phone, to find that the vampire wasn’t lying. At the back of her head, she had thought it was just a trick, an attempt to distract her for the escape or the retaliation. But there was neither, and that proved to her that this business was better business than the one the lying piece of shit had taken to her. She felt very glad she used burner phones for this shit.

Without saying another word, Fang typed the address of her now-former employer on the phone and showed it to the vampire, but not before taking the five hundos. “Listen, this isn’t a threat, just a fact: I know where you live,”—well, she assumed the gallery was where the vampire lived, but she didn’t really care—“...but I’d rather not show up to your gallery thing unannounced and invade your privacy or shit like that.” It just wasn’t her thing. “It’s just not my thing. So, when would be the best time for me to show up announced and peacefully get my $400?”

Fang didn’t really give a shit about the dynamics of the local slayers and the local undead. This wasn’t her home. She was just staying here. At least until she finds a reason to go back home. Well, home was an overexaggeration. She had nowhere else to go to, nothing else to look forward to, except the daily grind at the shop and making the daily payments to live another day. Why the hell would she complicate things for herself by getting involved in local politics? 

“Also, as a side note, and this is for free: I’m pretty sure that guy has, like, three to four other idiots hanging out at his place. One of them doesn’t look like easy pickings,” Fang unintentionally squinted when she remembered the guy. He was pretty big but not too big, obviously athletic, probably had a military past or something that involved killing people as a career choice. “Don’t die before you pay me in full.”

Metzli blinked at the phone, which seemed like a threat despite her saying otherwise. Not a very good one either. “You show up unannounced and I punch you. Message my business and I tell you when to visit, idiot.” It wasn’t a harsh statement. More of a huffed suggestion an annoyed parent would give a child. “Not know how long it take to get rid of body, but you get money. Am not lying idiot like man who give you job.” Shaking their head, Metzli squatted down, took hold of their kill, and threw him over their shoulders in one swift move. 

How much more annoying could the woman get? First, she makes “non-threat” threats, then she tells them to not die while handling a few measly humans? Metzli was more than capable. Was that not obvious? “Not die, idiot. Can handle elder, can handle stupid human men.” They rolled their eyes, adjusting the body on their shoulder a few times before turning on their heel and walking away. 

“Not forget to message me.” Metzli called out, bodies disappearing into the darkness. “Will tell you when I kill your boss too.” 

If this was years ago, Fang wouldn’t have taken that glib insult lying down. She would’ve sliced the monster’s head off right then and there. But this was not Japan, the creature before her was not an entity with a grander existence, and her pride had died when she was too late to avenge her late mentor. A basic slight held no true weight over Fang. That and it seemed to be a consistent part of its language. Not unlike the word “bitch.” The American language can be so…complex. 

So, Fang simply nodded, stowing her katana back into its scabbard as she kept her eyes on the creature. “You’ll hear from me within the week,” that seemed doable, especially if the creature was confident enough to handle…an elder. There was zero concern from the slayer regarding the creature’s fate, as it’ll either succeed or Fang can collect her payment directly from its gallery. Chances were, her former employer would not survive it, and if it perishes during that fight, it would just be like hitting two birds with one stone. “Can’t wait to talk to you again.”

[spookcataloger]

Is that something you really want to do, Anon? (2020)

[valcat--online]

1st release by KINDRED SPIRAL, The Shiver

@aolfanzine on Bandcamp writes: In the thick of a suburban haunt, the shiver haunts our inner child through a hypnotic journey. Surrounded by the trash bag mazes, bargain bin amulets and disintegrated latex, the mischeif maker wanders in search of a spook. The cold percussion and distant howls call upon fellow creeps and outsiders alike to a non conventional dancefloor on a moody night. The sweaty tune blasts off the costumes of the wicked to embody the shiver.

[not-another-walnut]

what podcasts have you dnf’d? or wish you dnf’d by the time you finished!!

(trying to figure out which shows are actually going to be worth my time)

ohh okay!!! obviously this is all a matter of my personal opinion, and if you love these shows I’m so happy they found their people!!!!

-Where the Stars Fell: I found both the main characters extremely annoying and dreadfully unlikable !! the worst part was the Trauma Competition scene of “my life was hard, no MY life was harder, well I’m disabled, oh yeah i’m disabled in this WORSE way, okay but my childhood was hard, no MY childhood was hard” it was just too much, i wish we learned these things more naturally and less transactionally (also that end of season one ‘twist’ was tough 😔…..)

-Weeping Cedars: This one was one of those spooky docu-dramas, that ended up going way too ‘documentary’ and not enough ‘drama’ (or spooks!! which is why I’m here!!)

-The Storage Papers: so I listened up to I think half way through season 3? my main issue was that the story seemed really confused, and I found the main VA’s voice annoying (not his fault! it’s just a little distracting) (also there was an episode where he basically said hitler & the nazis were all possessed by demons which was, yucky)

Ghosts in the Burbs: this is mainly because I do not like the anthology format, I typically binge my shows and and anthologies get really boring and exhausting for me! I especially didn’t care for the theme, which was 200 episodes of Rich, White, Suburban Moms in boston see ghosts (I am not very sympathetic to rich, white, suburban moms) (it was also basically the same five ghost stories over and over again)

The Penumbra Podcast: okay NO hate to penumbra, my main issue with it was that the main character makes out with like, everyone they meet, and the sound of kissing makes me want to literally peel my skin off! I also thought it was a little cheesy?? HOWEVER, I know that it’s cheesy, campy notes are very much beloved by its fandom!!

Ostium: this one hurt, because the first season was SO interesting and mysterious, and then the story just slowly drifted off into nonsense! I also really disliked the main female character (monica?) because it’s like they tried to write this STRONG and SENSUAL and POWERFUL and INDEPENDENT woman, and then produced an awful character who repeatedly sexually manipulates the main character (it’s okay though, they fall in love eventually so she didn’t do anything wrong! /s)

Archive 81: this one is widely beloved, but the first season was goddamn unbearable!! the voice acting was rough, the story is the SINGLE most confusing and lost thing i’ve ever heard, the main character wasn’t likable, and the ending was so predictable and boring!!!! (I legitimately had no idea it what was happening for the entire show and I still knew how it was going to end) (however!! the community says the second and third seasons are good and interesting, but I never had any desires to keep listening)

Honorable Mentions:

-Literally any PNW/PRA show (tanis, the black tapes, rabbits) somehow they will always end up being recommended but they are truly all an exhausting waste of time with poorly thought out twists and endings (if they even end at all 😔)

-Station 151: this is the only podcast i’ve given a one star review, it was so abysmal it made me physically and genuinely angry and had to stop working to rant about it to my beloved 😮‍💨

[dandy-dove]

starter | @ask-organized-chaos

Jacob came to consciousness lying in someone’s backyard. It was nighttime, with crickets chirping loudly and raucously. For a second he was so confused that all he could do was look around, no coherent thought managing to pry its way past his subconsciousness for several long seconds. He didn’t recognize where he was at all, or how he’d gotten here, lying on the ground on his side.

He swallowed, pushing himself to sit up as he looked around again. There was no one around, but there was light, and he was in someone’s yard. That meant that, surely, he wasn’t alone. Help was nearby. All he had to do was seek it out.

His left shoulder hurt. His whole back did, actually, enough to make him hiss when he stood up, reaching up with one hand to rub at his shoulder. Anxiety settled in his stomach. What had happened? How had he gotten here? And most importantly, where was here?

He closed his eyes to focus for a few seconds, leaning on the back of the house. He racked his brain, and the static cleared a little. He’d been out, like he did on the weekends. Horse riding late into the afternoon, on an old trail and alone. He’d gotten—that’s right. That’s why his shoulder hurt; he’d gotten thrown, after his horse spooked and ran. He remembered following, calling out, but very little after that. The fuzz in his brain was too strong to pass the mental block, which was unfortunate, because he couldn’t piece together how wandering down a path in the countryside would in any way, shape, form or fashion lead him to waking up in the backyard of a suburban house in the middle of the night.

Jacob dusted himself off. He didn’t have any significant scrapes on him, luckily, just a bit of dirt and grass stains, and other than the aching he was otherwise intact. He started to round the house that he’d woken up at. The neighborhood was entirely quiet—he guessed that it had to be very late at night, then—and felt… unsettling. Wrong. But that was probably more his anxiety than anything else. Come on, Jake. You’re probably going to annoy the crap out of somebody but it’s better than spending the night outside, he thought to himself. Or at least anymore of the night.

When he came up to the front of the house, though, he was treated with a bizarre sight. There was a police car parked askew in the street, lights still on and flashing, and cars and road barriers similarly haphazardly littered the street. Hope piqued and then dropped again. For what reason would the police be out here? And why was it so quiet if it was? Why was everything so… disorganized?

Jacob walked up to the police car slowly, hand fiddling with his watch. He could hear the chatter of the police radio inside as he got closer, but it was garbled and unintelligible even when he strained his ears. The unsettling feeling in his stomach yawned wide as he tried to figure out any reason that any of this could be happening to him.

He was coming up with nothing.

[thegirl20]

how many fandoms have you been in?

Loads, to a greater or lesser extent. I used to be a bit of a fandom organiser, running communities and organising ficathons etc

I’m drawn to smaller fandoms, or smaller niches in big fandoms. I like when you can keep up with stuff and not be overwhelmed by content. (That’s a double edged sword of course)

Fandoms I’ve written stories about:

Emmerdale (72)

The Witcher (TV) (30)

Once Upon a Time (TV) (25)

Murder in Suburbia (TV) (18)

Desperate Housewives (18)

Glee (16)

Women's Murder Club (TV) (13)

Legend of the Seeker (TV) (12)

Law & Order: SVU (9)

Firefly (TV 2002) (8)

Rizzoli & Isles (8)

Pitch Perfect (Movies) (6)

The Facts of Life (TV) (5)

Game of Thrones (TV) (4)

Suburban Shootout (TV) (4)

Victorious (TV) (4)

Xena: Warrior Princess (3)

Smash (TV) (3)

Eulogy (2004) (2)

Waking the Dead (TV) (2)

Scott & Bailey (2)

The Great (TV 2020) (1)

Scrubs (TV) (1)

Goodbye Earl - The Chicks (Song) (1)

Veronica Mars (TV) (1)

Skins (UK) (1)

3Way (Web Series) (1)

Popular (TV 1999) (1)

Dawson's Creek (1)

Spooks | MI-5 (1)

Kevin Can Fuck Himself (TV 2021) (1)

[taiblogcomics]

Horrors of the Housing Market

Hey there, hidden applications. And happy Thanksgiving, if you care about that! And to completely go against the holiday, we're starting another Goosebumps comic this week. I hope what you're thankful for is spooky stuff. I know I'm thankful the last story arc is over and we're doing a new one~

Here's the cover for our new arc:

Horrors of the Witch House! I think "Witch's House" sounds better, but either way, it'd make a great title for a Martin Mystery episode. Now there's a show that needs a comic book series. But anyways. This is... okay. It's vaguely creepy, but a few spider webs and a silhouette on the threshold do not a scary house make. Go look at the cover to "Welcome to Dead House" or the film Monster House. Now that's how you spook up an ordinary suburban home. Also, set the cover at night. Setting it during sunset like this just makes everything cheerfully pink, which is much less scary~

Here’s an alternate cover suggestion:

That would have much more horror, I think~

So we open with the thrilling concept of the real estate market. I see we're getting to the horror right away. So this Ms. Curry is buying this place, and by the look of the realtor's appearance on the sign, he hasn't sold this place since the '70s. So of course he warns her that the place therefore has all the local rumours about being haunted and such. She says that's just fine, and thus the transaction is completed. That's a twist, usually it's the kid moving into a new house to start a Goosebumps story, not the antagonist~

You can tell this is a small town, because the rumours of a woman buying the old Whaley House are all over the school the next morning. This gives us an introduction to all our characters: Rosie, the small quiet one who goes past the house on her way to school; her crush Carlos, whose brother served her at the coffee shop, and thus wheedled the extremely clunky exposition of her name (Veruca Curry) and occupation (tech millionaire) out of her; and Becca, the skeptic who doesn't believe in haunted houses or aliens or anything. Methinks she will change her mind by the end of this comic.

After a brief scene of a door-to-door salesman trying to peddle his wares and getting yanked inside the house, we join Rosie's family for dinner. The most persistant rumour about the Whaley House seems to be that someone put a curse on it. Given that it hadn't been sold since the '70s, I bet that's not too hard to believe. Another indication of small-town-ness is the fact that they're hosting a welcome party for Ms. Curry that night at Town Hall, so she can get to know the community. Rosie intends to attend, since she has no friends or other social obligations.

Later that night, at the party, the same rumours are still swirling around. I mean, literally the same rumours, phrased exactly the same way as earlier. Becca stops by, and she takes a seat with Rosie, since they're the same age. Becca remains skeptical, but Rosie notes that something is off about the whole situation. And speaking of sit-uations, an enormous dude sits in front of the two girls, wide enough to block their view of the event just as the mayor starts calling things to order.

The mayor introduces Veruca to the crowd, and very quickly, the standard yokels show up to disparage her. You know the kind: blue cap, overalls with no shirt, a dirty reddish moustache, probably named Cletus. "Ain't no good gonna come of livin' in that house!" The lead yokel tells Veruca to take her money and "git out", and she replies that she doesn't care about the money. She holds up a coin for emphasis, reflecting a weird green light off of it. The same light appears in everyone's eyes and they go silent--except for Rosie and Becca, still unable to see around the wide customer in front of them.

We skip a few hours to later that night. All three of our main characters are fulfilling the stereotypical actions of their archetypes: Rosie is reading in her fandom-laden room, Becca is finishing up a sports activity, Carlos got done buying a new drip from the mall... And all three hear enough noise coming from the Whaley House to attract their attention and have them bump into each other in the woods. Agreeing to peek in on their new neighbour together, the kids do a litte trespassing and voyeurism, discovering Veruca sitting at home while a bunch of saws and hammers renovate the house--magically animated and floating in the air by themselves!

As usual, the setup issue is pretty mild. It introduces our characters and characterises them a bit (Rosie gets the most, Carlos gets the least, being shoehorned into the story in the last couple pages). You get some setup for the upcoming mystery and spooks, and let’s face it: Veruca is not a subtle villain. Even in civilian mode, she’s always smirking and has long clawed fingernails. But it is holding a focus way better than the last story, so we’ll see where it goes~

[blue-opossum]

Dreams as Delusions: Another Amnesic King Street Fiasco

        Dreams as Delusions: Another Amnesic King Street Fiasco

        Friday morning, 19 April 2024

        My dream self's natural and predictable physical response to R.E.M. atonia regarding illusory motions begins my dream, as is often the case. Former classmate Johnny drives me to the King Street mansion in La Crosse. I have a Ragdoll cat with me that I plan to put in "my" second-floor L-shaped apartment at the end of the hall.

        So far, compartmentalized virtual amnesia serves up several temporary delusions. I have no recall of my life in Australia (since February 1994) other than the Ragdoll cat, a male, Auberon, that my dream self does not recall died and which mostly stayed with Zsuzsanna's sister.

        Additionally, Johnny lived in Florida, never Wisconsin. In my dream, he waits outside while I am in the house.

        I enter the downstairs area where my former landlady and her husband lived. At first, I talk with her about my rent status. I owe her back rent, and she writes the total of what I owe her but is not angry at this point.

        Suddenly, my dream's narrative contradicts itself. The woman is no longer my former landlady but a young, unfamiliar woman. I tell her that she first appeared as my landlady and pretend to look around for my landlady’s ghost as I say that I now recall my landlady died. The woman seems spooked. Her husband seems cheerful and vaguely reminds me of my landlady's real-world husband but much younger.

        My dream is ambiguously divided into two simultaneous narratives, the second in which my landlady is still alive, and the other woman is also present. My landlady does not want anything to do with me, and I can no longer live in my apartment. Her level of anger and seeming hatred is incredible. I get a vague impression that she might keep my belongings and sell them to get some of the money I supposedly owe her. It includes many hard-cover science-fiction books.

        My vestibular response to R.E.M. atonia becomes predominant. As a result, I ascend the staircase to the second floor. My dream is most vivid at this point (as is typical of illusory physical responses to R.E.M. atonia), several times more vivid and focused (and stable) than any of the other content. However, I have to hold onto the left railing as I ascend, because there is only a narrow part of the staircase present, hardly big enough to stand on. I ask myself why I would want to live here under this condition.

        Even so, my dream's narrative eventually branches off into self-contradicting changes again. When I reach my room, the unfamiliar woman had moved many of my belongings into storage and may throw them out. I realize this when the room is first empty, but then suddenly changes and contains some of my belongings. Again, my landlady is deceased at this point.

        At another point, I argue with the same woman downstairs about how I have the right to live here because my former landlady offered the housing (without me paying rent) if I did not have another place to live (real-world recall). My recognition of becoming homeless in the wintertime becomes part of my "delusional" awareness.

        Even so, I take the Ragdoll cat outside to take him back with me wherever Johnny will be driving me. Atypically, I do not have a recall of the Loomis Street house where I actually lived a few times.

        My dream's narrative changes again, and I demand that the room remain as mine. I tell her that I want everything back in my room. My dream self projects absolute authority at this point.

        I go downstairs again but cannot find Johnny's car at first. I see a truck with an unknown driver driving away. Soon, I see him (in a convertible), and he hands me a plate with two sizeable sandwiches. He is somehow ordering a meal, with drinks, even though we are in the street in a suburban location and no other vehicle is nearby. My proto-cognizance is not viable enough to recognize the ridiculous nature of the entire continually changing scenario. I offer to pay for the meal as my dream loses cohesion (even though I had no money at any earlier point in the narrative - but I am now holding a considerable amount in American bills).

[juanabaloo]

Can I get some October/Halloween movie recs? Preferably heavy on the spooks and scares (or just fun vibes haha, non-horror welcome too!) + light on the gore :)

Light on the gore is tough for me (as we've chatted about) but here's my best shot! And trying to keep it spoiler free so there's some vagueness. (Def do your own gore / content checks.)

Vampires vs. The Bronx - Vampires! Gentrification! Some kids decide to fight back. Excellent movie. And it's set in the present day, which I really like.

The Craft - I prefer the original but I appreciate the new one too. The vibe of the 4 in the original is great. And some classic lines that remind you of the scenes: "Light as a feather, stiff as a board." "We are the weirdos mister!"

#Alive - zombies! If zombie deaths / attacks are too gorey then ignore this. But for a zombie movie this is relatively light on gore. (I love that this movie explores a zombie apocalypse in a dense urban area, esp tall towers. So many of us live this way but the zombie movies focus on sprawling low-density suburban settings.)

Ouija: Origin of Evil - this was alright! A Ouija movie set in the 60s. I watched it bc Mike Flanagan wrote and directed it. (Of Midnight Mass and The Fall of the House of Usher fame)

Donnie Darko - There's some time stuff here, which I'm a sucker for. A scary rabbit figure is creepy af. Darker than I remembered on a rewatch.

Practical Magic - zero gore. Late 90s Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman as sisters who are also witches. It's cute.

Simply Irresistible - zero gore. SMG in a magicky movie where she is a chef. Similar vibe as Practical Magic, but this is not as good.

Scooby Doo 1 and 2 - zero gore. Scooby Doo is Halloween vibes! And it's got SMG in it.

Bonus for this list: Skinamarink - I actually don't reco this, in that I won't ever watch it again. I found it mildly unsettling, way too long, and sort of sleep inducing by the end. It would have been excellent as a 10 minute short. But it's kinda scary at times and maybe you will like that? Or you will find it annoying and sleep inducing so you can be proud of a supposed scary movie not scaring you?