#the music ghoul/flaming wings

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||The popular Incubus musician||

~~Reserved for @within-the-resort~~

"So boring. How long are we going to be waiting?" A voice said seeing a few demons worried.

"Now now, I'm sure we will be there soon. Just wait a bit longer." the driver said but heard a sigh from the popular musician. Tadao Hashimoto, a incubus ghoul was sitting in his limo looking at the window. He was told about some thing but he was only bored knowing this was going to be another long meeting when getting there. Oh well, he just hopes it was worth the time for it.

[nuagedemots]

Alone on Halloween - a Steddie ficlet

October 31th, 1971

Little Steve is sitting down on his front porch, his tiny fists closed, his eyes filled with tears. A few drops fall on his knees, his blue jeans absorbing the liquid without leaving a trace. Around him, kids his age are enjoying themselves, dressed as ghosts, vampires and others ghouls. Not him, though. His parents are way too busy to buy him a costume, let alone coming with him trick-or-treating. They left him alone, alone in this big house they brought with their big adult money, with a big pantry where no candies can be found, even on Halloween night. And even if his father has told him a million time he shouldn't cry, because crying is only for girls and pussies, he can't help it. He cries his stolen childhood, his innocence crushed by parents that had a kid because it was what good people were supposed to do. He cries, because it's the only thing he can do.

October 31th, 1981

Steve doesn't like Halloween. Never had, as long as he can remember. But of course, he's still invited to all the themed-parties the cool kids of Hawkins are organising to celebrate the night, and of course, he has to go to maintain his social status in school. He's King Steve, after all. People are expecting him to act a certain way, and if it's the only way for him to be accepted, he'll do it in a heartbeat.

The music is loud, people are laughing and dancing and making out on alcohol-stained couches. Girls are wearing angel wings and devil horns with lot of glitters and sequins, while most guys have made the bare minimum and put on their favorite sports jersey, proclaming they're dressed as famous athletes. Steve is near the bar, drinking vodka straight out of the bottle. Around him, there are teens he calls his friends and girls that visited his bed more than once, but he's alone. After all this time, after all the sacrifices he made to be the person he thought people will finally love, he's still alone. He's not crying about it anymore, though. He's simply drinking, drinking so much he can't feel pain and sadness and misery.

October 31th, 1984

He knew that sooner or later, Nancy would break up with him. Why would a girl like her, so smart, so beautiful, so perfect, fall for him ? He's destined to be alone, after all, his own parents rejected him - he's simply not good enough. He can't blame Nancy for calling their relationship "bullshit". It's better this way.

This night, when he finally come home and fall into bed, without even taking his clothes off, he has a nightmare. It's becoming quite ordinary, these days. Flashes of monstrous creatures and the kids he grew to love dying in his arms, flames, ashes, blood, despair. He wakes up in a cold sweat, as tired as he was the night before. Thank god, october is finally over.

October 31th, 1985

For the first time ever, Steve isn't miserable on Halloween night. Robin is at his house, they're watching an horror movie and eating sweets. Of course, Steve pretends he's not scared of Freddy Krueger and his claws, he flinched only because a fly was bothering him. He lets her paint his nails and he listen to her complain about her disastrous love life - but hey, can it be any other way in Hawkins, Indiana, for a lesbian teenager in 1985 ? He cannot stop smiling while she's rambling again and again about this girl she has a crush on but who's also desperately straight. And when the ring bells, when he sees Dustin and Will and all of the gang dressed as various pop-culture characters he doesn't seem to remember the names, shouting "trick or treat" before dashing inside without any permission, he feels like crying. Not out of sadness, like little Steve on his porch, but out of glee and gratitude. Maybe he can allow himself to be happy for a while.

October 31th, 1986

It's been 7 months since they saved the entire town from Vecna. The people of Hawkins don't know that, of course, still believing an earthquake hit and people had died from this terrible event, but they know, and maybe that's the most important thing after all. Eddie has been cleared of all his charges by Hopper, who has regain his place as sherif, and everything has returned the way it's supposed to be. Robin had asked Steve if he wanted to join her and Nancy for Halloween but he didn't want to be the third wheel - besides, the kids should come over after they're done collecting candies around town. Knock knock. Maybe it's them.

- Hey, Stevie, says the voice when he open the door.

And here he is, Eddie Munson in all his glory, long frizzy hair, big brown eyes, and devilish smile. He's wearing fake vampire teeth and -ohmygod black eyeliner. His right hand is on his hip, while his left is hanging on the doorframe, like he's been waiting on Steve for a while.

- I heard you were alone on Halloween, so, I decided to come grace you from my presence.

The "vampire" grins, and his fake canines escape from his mouth - he tries to put it back quickly, but it's still pretty ridiculous. Steve laugh, and the little frown Eddie began to wear fades. It's beautiful, when Steve laugh. They come inside, and the laughter continues. It fills the big empty home with sun and warmth. The boys talk all night, and sometimes, somewhere behind the wall of the Harringtons big house, they exchange a first kiss - more like a promise. The promise that Steve will never be alone at Halloween ever again.

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (party thirty four)

Summary: Now that they're together, Conductor and Grooves are slowly settling in with their love for one another. Both have strong feelings for one another but don't always know how to express it.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 1,348

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Okay, just before we go into the proper holiday special, we are taking some time out for shenanigans. And friendship. And ghosts. You know, the most likely trio of things! Enjoy.

“See you guys at New Year's!” Snatcher cheered.

“See you later,” Grooves replied before shutting the door.

Empress let out a low growl towards her phone as both of them headed down the stairs.

“What's wrong?”

“Some people didn't leave the other day. And now they're claiming the studio is haunted. The studio crew group chat is blowing up,” Empress explained. “You don't think you could-”

The cat waved her paws around in the air and made a ghoul-like ‘oooooh’.

“Sure, I've got time to kill.”

“Tell us again what happened,” Empress said, arms crossed over her chest.

Owlice, Cody and Pinguini sat on a bench in front of the two of them.

“Well, all the lights went out in the owl side of the studio. Then we heard singing coming from one of the practice rooms. And after we left, the door wouldn't open again,” Pinguini repeated.

“The penguin side is fine though,” Cody added.

"I was going to continue working on the directors’ costumes but I can't get back in,” Owlice complained.

“Alright, I'll go check it out. Sounds like a lost spirit just having a few laughs. Or a newly deceased,” Snatcher agreed, taking off his hoodie and passing it to Empress.

“Don't do anything stupid,” she said, eyeing him.

To anyone else, it would be a cold statement accompanied by a glare.

But he could see through that facade.

To him, it was a worried friend who cared more than she wanted to show.

“No more stupid than absorbing an entire curse,” Snatcher promised, walking up to the door. “This one, right?”

“Yeah, it won't open.”

Snatcher took a deep breath as he placed one hand on the door.

Frost spread across it and through the cracks, before entirely wrenching the door off its hinges.

“That's new. Should've been shadows,” he muttered.

“Everything good?” Empress questioned.

He shot her a quick grin over one shoulder.

“Yeah. Just stay here.”

Snatcher held his hand up, a blue flame floating just above his palm as he walked along the dark hallway.

Sure enough, singing drifted down the hall towards him.

Slowly, he pieced together words.

Lyrics.

A love song, perhaps.

From a musical?

Something about an angel of music?

Snatcher pushed open a door, looking at the spirit who abruptly went quiet.

“An owl.”

“Yes..?” The spirit stepped towards him, her wings moving to rest at her sides. “You can see me?”

“Yeah, I'm dead too.” Snatcher shrugged, extinguishing the flame in his hand. “Why are you haunting the studio?”

“Oh, I was looking for my husband. I've been looking after my little girl for a long time now but I saw him the other week. So I thought I'd check up on how his latest movie is going,” the owl explained.

“He gets in over his head a lot. But he's made a friend or two again now, which is nice. I hope he's okay.”

Snatcher sat down cross-legged on the floor, looking intently at the owl.

She copied his motion, sitting down about a foot away from him. “Anyway, you said you were dead too? I'm sorry. It's terribly lonely.”

“No, it's- it's not that lonely. I'm sort of a- a special kind of ghost? Yeah, I guess. Living people can still see me.”

“That must be nice.”

“Yeah, I've got a couple friends…” he trailed off, watching the owl again. “Have we met before? I swear I recognise you from somewhere.”

“No, I think I'd remember if we'd met,” she laughed. “You must think I'm rude though, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Scarlett.”

Empress picked up a framed picture on the table beside the sofa, holding it out to Snatcher.

“That was us. Me, Claw, Trisha, and Scarlett. The 'Steel Rose' gang. I did management for their band,” she explained quietly. “Trisha made it big after the band split up. Claw worked for me when I started the Nyakuza. And Scarlett…”

She broke off with a shaky exhale.

“Scarlett was happy while she was alive.”

“I'm sorry.”

He rested his head on her shoulder.

“Don't be. I mean, I miss her. Everyone who knew her does. I looked after her kid. Well, not really. More like I kept an eye on her. Her dad wasn't in the right headspace to give her the attention she needed.”

“Poor kid.”

“Gold medallist swimmer now.”

“Nice.”

“You know her dad.”

“What?”

“Short, angry, yellow.”

“No way.”

“Yeah.”

“You're- you're Scarlett!” Snatcher gasped.

“Um, yes…? That's what I just said,” Scarlett chuckled.

“Conductor's wife…” Snatcher murmured, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yup. Together till the end,” she said, smiling weakly. “I wish I hadn't been so sick. Maybe we could have finished that movie. Apparently he never released it. Only one scene was left to film but he gave up.”

“How long have you been dead?” Snatcher asked.

Scarlett shrugged. “Roxie was about six when I died so… twenty years or so now.”

“Empress misses you. So does Conductor,” Snatcher blurted.

Scarlett’s eyes welled with tears. “Empress is still alive?”

“Yeah, she isn't dying anytime soon. Not on her terms. And definitely not now that I know her.”

Snatcher failed to ignore the chill that spread down his spine as frost curled near his feet on the floor.

He frantically moved, pacing the room.

“Empress is too stubborn to die. And Conductor's happy, so you know. His, uh, friend? They're sort of a thing now,” Snatcher told her.

“Good. That's so good,” Scarlett sobbed.

Snatcher turned and looked at her, stopping in his tracks.

He sighed before hoisting her up from the floor and hugging her.

“It wasn't easy but they should be happy together. They're a nice fit for one another.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Scarlett sniffed before wriggling out his grip and floating just in front of him. “Can you pass on some messages?”

“Of course.”

“Let Empress know I'm glad she's okay. And tell Roxie I'm proud of her.”

“No message for Conductor?”

“I don't think I could put it into words.”

“Do you…want to pass on?” Snatcher asked gently. Scarlett shook her head.

“No, I want to stay here a while longer.”

“Just don't haunt the studio too much,” Snatcher advised. “You spooked some of the kids here. I say kids, they are grown ups. But they're just so little, you know?”

“I promise to try and not muck up anything in the studio again,” Scarlett responded with a laugh.

“If you decide on any more messages or that it's time to pass, come find me.”

“Thank you… what was your name?”

“Snatcher.”

“Thank you Snatcher.”

“You're welcome.”

He twirled his wrist, the flame appearing just above his palm again as he trekked back to the lobby.

"Well?! Did you deal with the ghost?!” Cody squeaked as he walked back out.

Snatcher rolled his eyes and closed his hand, flame disappearing along with it.

“It's not like she meant to cause any problems.”

Snatcher beckoned Empress to follow him and walked to the opposite side of the room from the trio.

“What?”

“Scarlett’s happy you're alive.”

Empress’ ears pricked and she darted towards the hallway.

“No- no, don't!”

The cat's paws thudded down the hallway and Snatcher mentally cursed.

He turned to the trio again. “Stay here.”

His form shifted and he floated down the hallway, serpentine body slowly moving down the dark passage.

“Empress?”

He eventually arrived back at the room from before.

Empress was crumpled on her knees, a few sniffs filling the otherwise silent room.

Snatcher twisted his body around her, weaving his body into a tight hug.

“She's gone.”

“I know.”

Empress let out a shaky exhale before sitting up straighter and leaning back against him.

“She was like the sun. Everything went around her. Everything fell to pieces without her.”

“She seemed really nice.”

“I know I'll never have her back. But if you see her again, let her know how much I miss her.”

Snatcher spotted a faintly glowing figure out the corner of his eye.

“I'm sure she knows.”

[crayzkrypto]

Kat's Basic Introduction:

Name: Aether/Kryptopath/Nightmare

Nicknames: K/Kat/Kry/Ace/Reaper/Night/Ari/Aries

Age Range: 16/17

Taken: By my Boyfriend, Crayzkato/Kato! <3 Him ^ ^

How short am I?: I'm 5'1-5'2 TvT

Gender: Male + Non-Binary & Genderfluid

Pronouns: He/Xe/Xyr/They/It (Got an issue with neopronouns? Okay, L, get over it bozo, it's just a pronoun,)

Zodiac: ♐ Sagittarius (🔥 symbol)

Sexuality: Biromantic, Polyamorous, Demiromantic, Demisexual, and, Aroaceflux.

Main Fandoms/Interests & Stuff I watch: Lunime (Obvi), Wings Of Fire, Warrior Cats, Httyd, Genshin, Minecraft, ARK, Subnautica, FNAF (I have played a majority of the games, and know the lore a decent bit), Undertale, Harry Potter, Raptor Red, Fairy Tail (Anime), Tokyo Ghoul (Anime), Demonslayer (Anime), Attack On Titan (Anime), Avatar The Last Airbender (Anime), Bleach (Anime), MHA (Anime), Inyuasha (Anime), Vampire Knight (Anime), Pokémon (All the games except up to scarlet and violet, I have played. I've also watched all the Animes and movies.), Jurassic park/world franchise, etc,

Bands/artists I listen to:

Ac/dc, three days grace, Linkin Park, twenty one pilots, Cavetown, Mitchel Dae, Alan walker, marshmallow, cold play, the chainsmokers, Eminem, juice wrld, blackbear, onerepublic, owl city, bohnes, 5 seconds of summer, maroon 5, fallout boy, Panic! At the disco, disturbed, tobu, elektronomia, Vicetone, noisestorm, wheathers, Enhypen, seether, SIXXAM, thousand foot krutch, my chemical romance, stileto, rebzyx, AVIVA, Silent child, Voilá, Imagine Dragons, kordhell, the weekend, layto, neoni, theory if a Deadman, avenged sevenfold, five finger death punch, skillet, AJR, boywithuke, moon deity, cxvxlry, dxrk, post Malone, Christian gates, ragnboneman, system of a down, Sam tinnesz, rise against, interworld, Connor Kaufman, Khalid, And there's a lot more.

Hobbies: Art, gaming, writing, poetry, botany (plant growing), caring for my cats, making Vids, making music, making games, animating stuff, coding, etc.

Pets: Artemis (Cat), Loki (Cat), Cloud (Chicken/Rooster),

Pets I used to have:

Milo (An orange tabby cat named after Milo from Milo and Odus)

Snow (An Albino siamese cat, who was blind, died of a respitory cold of some sort, will miss him.)

Buttercup (A Stray tortoiseshell cat I befriended when younger, she has since vanished,)

Redwood (American Toad, she died one night randomly.)

Verden (Green Locust, she lived a happy and full life for a locust, ^ ^)

Octavia (Wolf Spider,)

Iridescent (A California Pipevine swallowtail butterfly I cared for after I found her struggling to fly in a parking lot, most likely cause was a car, as a lower wing was badly torn. Poor thing, she lived the rest of her time without more pain, and trusted me enough to pet areas that were not her wings, and to handle her.) (fun fact, Pipevine swallowtails are one of the world's deadliest butterflies, apparently due to them eating Pipevine plants as a caterpillar. Just be careful not to touch the wing power and you'll be good though, just remember to wash hands if you can after handling one just incase, however. )

Dark (Mouse)

Gem (Mouse)

Wof Sona: Aries, and many more wof sonas (I have like, twenty.)

Aries-

Fictionsonas: Kat or Kryptopath

Kat-

Kat the crystal child, who freezes people. ^ ^

Kat also has a high concentration of magic in his body, and can create blue flames, use dark soul magic, absorb energy from souls, or steal life force on similar terms to absorbing one's soul; only it's bit by bit, and the person is alive.

He's not particularly aggressive, just don't get on his bad side. Do the wrong thing, and you'll be saying farewell.

Kryptopath-

And now for a dozen Kry variants.

Main Sona (Also my first ever oc): Midnight/Night

Trigger warning for DNI list, bc mention of sensitive stuff !

Basic DNIs:

Homophobic ppl

Transphobes

Ableists

Sexists

"far right" people

Hypocritical ppl

Toxic ppl

Pedos

Zoophiles

MAPs

Classists

Racists

People who can't respect simple boundaries.

Proshippers of any kind

Ppl who are 12 or younger.

Anyone who is a "ultimate fan" of the Lunime ship "Cykophan" (If you come at me for hating the proship, I will block you. Sorry ! ), DNI.

People DNI list:

* Lithium (Shitty person)

* Roze (Even shittier person)

* Aida (Also a pretty toxic person) (These 3 went out of their way to make up crap that wasn't even true about me, for no reason other than to start shit it seems, I thought they were WAY more mature than that, too. People are surprising, People's behavior and immaturity never ceases to amaze me sometimes I swear. 💀)

* Injigo (I think this one's pretty fucking obvious. Injigo, kindly stay far away from me, harass me on anything, and I Will be blocking you. You are the definition of EW.)

* Charactery (I was in fact groomed by this asshole, and also dated him at one point unfortunately, I was 15 around that time. He also manipulated me with alts, and tricked me into defending him with said alt accounts, as well.)

* Mari/"djphantomxcykopath" (No, 10thousand TIMES Over and over again, NOPE! STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM MEEEE !) (Really bigoted, let's pedos into places with minors, showed nsfw art of a 7 y/o CHILD in my dms randomly and without warning and without spoiler before I blocked her on discord!) (defending Transphobes, racists, pedophiles, etc.)

* Poppy/Lilith/BlueVioletsGACHA (Pedo, groomer, groomed me, sent overly sexual stuff in my dms on discord despite me telling her to stop, racism, and more!)

* Asher (Racism & Ableism, also treated me like dogshit.)

* Kae/Kit (Zoophilia, was once identifying as a "MAP", was romantically attracted to toddlers she was babysitting, racism, borderline homophobia, borderline ableism, defending pedos and zoophilia, defending h/tl/r. And more...)

* Hunter (Formerly SeanIsAlone on Fandom) (Got upset over a 'mean lesbian' flag bc lesbians who hate men, idk why you'd get mad over that, esp since your trans masc?)

* Axo/Kstar (Racism, homophobia, Transphobia, ableism, bigotry, misgendered ppl constantly, spreading misinformation abt others, lying abt age big time, and more,)

* Enes (Racism)

* Wolfie

* Miijovie

* Shizu

* Naomi

* Revon/Malefor

* Rae/Rye

* Abyss/lost one/Abysskeeper/darkness ( Toxic bitch. Who said herself she sees people as toys and "chips in the game" and saying she "sees the world in red" implying age likes violence and hurting others to get what she wants, too, in fact she also said she'll hurt others to get what she wants before. Defending a racist/Transphobe/homophobe, very rude and problematic in general.)

* Fiore

* Tallie

* Radical Green (Go back to your bridge, troll.)

* AnimeMinecraftfan

Other DNIs:

* Netherite/Claydouh

* Dragonthereborn

* Aprilsilverwolf

* Trixity

-Art status-

Fanart Requests: Tentative

Commissions: Open

Requests: Very Tentative

Art Trades: Closed

Artfight Revenges: Tentative/IDK (As I am not going to have internet for a month or so, so I may not be able to even join this year's artfight.)

Socials:

Tiktok- neon_lunatic (×XNorthern~AetherX× as the display name,)

DeviantArt- xXKryptopathXx

Youtube- neon_lunatic (display name as xXKryptopathXx,)

Artfight- XxXNorthern_SystixXxX

Scratch- LightsOutLunar

Toyhouse- XxXNorthern_SystixXxX

Amino- xXKryptopathXx

Reality- Kryptopath

Spotify- xXKryptopathXx (KZO Band Member)

Fandom- Radioactivatian, or alt; xXKryptopathXx

Roblox- xXKryptopathXx (wingsofark10156)

Tumblr (aka on here)- crayzkrypto

Xbox Tag: ARKDinolove

Cashapp User: $Kryptopath

Thas all for nowww,

FYI Imma be moving to new house soon, prob today! I will not have internet for a month or so unfortunately!

[tisthenightofthewitch]

Ghost and Volbeat Bring the Fire in the Home of the Devils

Operatic music played as the stage was set up for Ghost, who would soon play in front of a backdrop and set pieces that resembled a cathedral. Throughout the show, these pieces would also serve as quick changing area for the many outfits of frontman Tobias Forge, also known as Papa Emeritus IV.

The set began with pyrotechnics and with “Kaisarion” from the forthcoming album Impera. Rumbling louder than the pyro were the voices of the crowd when the Prequelle song “Rats” hit next.

In between tunes, Papa Emeritus IV turned on the charm and even told fans they looked and smelled good. Although Papa may be the head honcho, each of Ghost’s Nameless Ghouls is talented in their own right and shined during the instrumental song “Devil Church.”

Several songs in, Papa emerged with his winged bat shirt as he belted out another fan favorite, “Cirice,” which is a prime example of the duality of Forge’s smooth vocals paired with pounding riffs and drums. Fans also lost their minds to “Faith” as Papa’s swagger level was on 100 while strutting across the stage.

He changed into full cardinal gear, cape, sash and headdress for the Ghost staple “Year Zero,” which included lots of flames and smoke. The last costume change was a bright blue sequined blazer. Papa was shiny and ready to dance.

One of the most interesting aspects of Ghost and to Forge as Papa is the juxtaposition of what you’re seeing versus what you’re hearing. As you are watching a mischievous, playful, sometimes gyrating man wearing face paint and a shimmering sequined blazer, you are hearing the snarling vocals of the menacing and throaty “Mummy Dust” as explosions of confetti rained down.

The end of the set was multifaceted as could be, and a good representation that Ghost will do whatever they want musically and creatively. The finale of the sinful jamboree included a cover of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman,” a 1980s dance party with “Dance Macabre,” and the set-closing earworm that is “Square Hammer” (Heavy Consequence‘s pick for the best metal song of the 2010s.)

Almost 10 years ago, I saw Ghost (B.C.) play in front of an enthusiastic crowd at the Music Hall of Williamsburg, which held about 600 people. To see this band play an arena to thousands of fans on a Thursday night was nothing short of incredible, and a testament to the impressive rise of Ghost over the past decade.

Consequence.net

[swan--writes]

Beetlejuice’s Big Halloween Party

I thought about writing a Dewey Halloween, but let’s be real, there ain’t room for the both of these boys in this here holiday.

And listen, it is 2:30 AM and I just finished writing this. I wrote it all in one go. I’m not editing it. Please reblog though! Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain!

Warnings: elements of horror, blood mention, eyeball mention

Words: 3,070

You screamed.

“Beetlejuice!”

Your demon laughed at you from the rafters of your barn. Ever since you had moved out to your farmhouse, Beetlejuice had been hanging around. Sometimes literally. Normally you found you didn’t mind the demon’s antics – he kept things lively when there wasn’t much going on out where you lived. Sometimes he donned an old sheet and floated around the house. Sometimes he went out into your backyard and howled at the tree line. And sometimes he dropped live bats from the rafters of the barn, directly onto your unsuspecting head.

Frantically, you waved away the little menace. All you could see were glimpses of a wrinkled snout and long teeth. It seemed to be flapping its wings as fast as you were flapping your hands, and by the time it managed to fly off, Beetlejuice was hanging upside-down in midair and cackling.

“Wow, what a jumpy breather,” he said, wiping a thick black tear from his eye. You thought you heard it sizzle as it fell to the worn wooden floor.

“Knock it off, Beej.”

“Yeah, sure I will.”

“Seriously!” You shook your head, fighting off a shiver. “There’s gonna be screaming hordes of children here in, like, an hour. I cannot still be cleaning up your messes when they get here. So, lose the bats and the bugs and the…whatever else you’ve got.” You narrowed your eyes at his tattered suit jacket.

“Relax, babes, I got it all under control.”

Without thinking, you took a step back as he righted himself in the air. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

“Hey, take the help or don’t. I’ll be here all night.” With that, he zoomed up to the rafters, dropping beetle carcasses in his wake. You shrieked and leaped back. “Beetlejuice!” you complained, only to hear his laughter.

It had been less than a year since you moved into your creepy old farmhouse. You still weren’t entirely sure if the creepy old dead guy had come with the property, or if he had followed you there. But when you found his name traced over and over again in the dust of every reflective surface in the house on the first night, you had almost left.

In the end, it was one of the movers who had summoned him. You had had two burly men helping you move your things inside. One of them had remarked on the odd name, Betelgeuse. The other had just happened to be an amateur astronomer. Before any of you knew what was happening, lightening was striking, thunder was rolling, wind was blowing, and the two big, strong movers were scrambling back to their truck. Thoughtfully, they did hurl the last of your furniture from the vehicle as they peeled out of your shaded, and winding driveway. Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse…

“Okay, Beetlejuice, fine! Yes! I do need help.” You grumbled the last to yourself, trying and failing once more to move a heavy wooden table. It had been half an hour since the bat incident, and almost all of it had been spent on this table.

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Beetlejuice.”

“I’m getting kinda tired, y’know…”

“Beetlejuice!”

“A’right, a’right, fine! Taskmaster, jeez.” The demon floated down from the rafters, snapped his fingers, and the table you had been struggling with walked itself over to where you had been trying to move it – against the wall, centered under a window.

The barn was a decent size. Average by northeastern standards, but tall as hell. Or, the Netherworld, you supposed. The structure of the thing was entirely wood, worn down and lightened with time. The posts were a richer color than the floor, which was covered in scratches and the occasional hay straw. There were windows all around, installed sometime within the last half-century, and the sun shone in brilliantly when it was up.

Now it was dark, even at 5:00 PM. As you watched, the decorations you had strewn haphazardly across the space leapt to attention. Miniature pumpkin lights snaked their way around the rafters and posts, along with actual snakes. A layer of fog coated the floor so thickly you could no longer see your own feet. What looked to be a hundred flaming tealights sprung up from every table – some with black flames, others green. The overhead iron-wrapped pendant lights dimmed and aged noticeably, some flakes of rust falling to the floor and becoming lost in the low gloom.

The jack-o’-lanterns you and Beetlejuice had carved the day before lit up abruptly. Paper bats and bloody eyeballs on strings dropped down to hang from the rafters. A soft, eerie music began floating through the room, and when you looked up you saw a greenish gray skeleton manning the DJ setup on a slightly raised section of the floor. It gave you and Beetlejuice a thumbs-up, its other decayed hand on a headphone positioned just a few degrees south of where its ear might have been.

“Thank you, I think--whoa!” Before you could finish thanking your demon, you heard a loud BANG. All the window shutters slammed shut.

“No problem, babes, but what are you gonna do for me?” Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Politely ask you to open the shutters back up, please? It’s a full moon, we should be able to see it.”

Beetlejuice bent backwards unnaturally far and groaned. “Fine.” A flick of his wrist and the shutters swung open meekly. A few thick, black tentacles with a faint green sheen slithered in at the corners of each window, not breaking the glass but rather bending it open around themselves. The demon dusted off his hands and fixed his tie. “Happy?”

“Very.”

“How’d you get roped into doing this, anyway? I thought you hated kids.”

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t like them. One of the community theater guys asked me to.” You started for the barn door. Beetlejuice followed you, the tips of his shoes dragging the fog.

“Why?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Because the new, mysterious stage manager has a big, scary house in the middle of nowhere that no-one’s ever seen, that’s why.”

“Huh. Is he gonna be here too?” You didn’t have to look at Beetlejuice to know he was grinning.

Before you could warn him not to do anything dangerous, you opened the barn door to find your first chaperone. You weren’t sure if it was a state rule that a gathering of kids under a certain age needed adult chaperones, but knowing Beetlejuice, you were happy to have the help. This one was a theater mom. You barely knew her, but she said she would bring cupcakes, so you had shrugged and given her your address.

“Stephanie, hi,” you said, only mildly startled to see her so early.

“H--oh. Uh, hi,” she replied, now openly staring at Beetlejuice.

“Hi.” Still grinning.

“Um, who is this?” she asked, barely containing her horror.

“I’m–”

“Oh, this is, uh–”

“I’m her, uh–”

“Lawrence!” you said rigidly. “Lawrence…Beetleman.” You pulled at the demon’s arm and he dropped to his feet, stumbling to your side. You knew you should have rehearsed this.

Beetlejuice held out his left hand stiffly. “Nice to meet ya.” You elbowed him as surreptitiously as you could, and he dropped the hand, holding out his right instead.

Stephanie cautiously met his hand, then dropped it immediately. “Oh, I uh…you too, Mr. Beetleman?” Beetlejuice flinched and gagged noticeably.

There was a long silence.

“So…” you tried.

“Right! Yes, I, um…well, I came to help you decorate, but it seems like you have it all taken care of?” Stephanie glanced around you, coming away looking somehow even more horrified.

“Oh yeah, we got it covered, Stevie.” You tried to elbow Beetlejuice again, but he dodged. Moving forward, he took Stephanie’s arm at the elbow and led her into the barn. “Here, lemme show you where to put those cupcakes.” He nodded to the box she was carrying.

“Oh, okay. It’s Stephanie, by the way,” she said nervously.

“Sure.”

“Beetleman,” you cautioned haltingly, frowning at him.

“Don’t worry about it, babes. Don’t you gotta go put on your costume?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Stephanie spoke first. “It’s fine, I’ll just, um…”

“Yeah, she’ll just um. Go on,” Beetlejuice cajoled. Tightlipped and wide-eyed, you turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving the door open behind you just in case.

Surprising yourself, you managed to get into your costume in under thirty seconds. The makeup, on the other hand, was more of a challenge. There was something about the creaky sounds of wood settling and the draft through the second floor of your house that was making it more difficult than usual to keep your hands steady. But then, you had never been much of an artist.

So, you headed back to the barn in your broken shoes and your torn clothes, perfecting your shamble as you went. The door was still open. Stephanie had her back to you and seemed to be sizing up the tentacles on the far window, but Beetlejuice caught your movement as you tentatively stuck your head into the barn. You motioned for him to come towards you. He followed your lead.

Once you were both just outside the barn door, you turned fully to face him. “Hey,” you whispered.

“What’s up, babes?”

“I’m having a little trouble with my prosthetics. Could you do anything to make me look a little more…” You searched for the right word. “…horrifying?” Seeing Beetlejuice’s eyes light up, you held out a hand. “Without killing and/or maiming me.” You paused. “Or making the children cry.”

The demon gave you a look. “What, on Halloween? Huge cliché, what do you take me for?” You raised your eyebrows, but said nothing. He snapped his fingers and within an instant, you could feel your face and sections of your clothing stiffen with what you hoped was fake blood. “There: instant zombification.”

“Great, lemme just go check–”

“Sweetheart, trust me, you could strike terror into the hearts of any ghoul.”

“Do ghouls have hearts?”

“Whatever you do, never ask a ghoul that.”

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Beetleman.” Almost compulsively, Beetlejuice gagged again. You laughed and led him back into the barn. Stephanie turned to greet you, then turned away again. Your demon gave you a sidelong, self-satisfied look. You shook your head at him, but couldn’t force the smile off of your face.

The kids started showing up minutes later. Stephanie’s wife brought their two sons, then the community theater director came with his daughter, and on and on. Before 6:00, the barn was full. Nearly half of the children had entered the costume contest, which you had begrudgingly appointed Beetlejuice head judge of.

It wasn’t so much that you had invited Beetlejuice as it was that you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep him from staying. Short of banishing him, he would not be left out of your Halloween activities, and the last thing you wanted to do was banish the demon. He could be awfully cranky when he felt ignored, worse when he felt betrayed. Best to keep a close eye on him and leave it there. Shockingly, though, he seemed to be on his best behavior.

That wasn’t saying much, but you appreciated the effort.

He kept the live animals to a minimum, only ate one of the eyeballs hanging from the ceiling, and judged the costume contest as fairly as he could. Fortunately, there was a clear winner: a young zombie whose costume rivalled your own. The judge committee gave him a small skeleton trophy and a candy medal, took some photos with him, and you privately wondered if he had his own ghost-zombie at home to help him with his makeup. Then you shrugged it off and watched – half-mortified, half-impressed – as Beetlejuice summoned a few dead cheerleaders to sing a surprisingly smooth rendition of Time Warp. You were fairly certain a few of his bones came loose during the dance, but you let it slide. The kids were duly impressed, the parents were a suitable distance that they hardly noticed.

It wasn’t until 11:00 PM that all of the adults in the room realized that Beetlejuice had removed the clock that had previously hung on the wall opposite the barn’s door. It took the better part of a half hour to corral the kids to their parents’ respective vehicles, and most of them insisted on hugging you. Warily as ever, you eyed the ones who tried to hug ‘Mr. Beetleman,’ but he somehow managed to turn all of their affections into a high five. Despite yourself, you found yourself smiling.

Once everyone was gone, you turned from the door to assess the barn. It was a disaster. The jack-o’-lanterns had remained lit, as had the candles, but those were the only decorations at thirteen-and-under year old level that had remained undisturbed. The bottles you had placed on the tables, with their faded potion ingredient labels, were toppled over. There were drink puddles and food stains on the floor and half the fog had dissipated. Some of the eyes and bats had come down, others were tangled with the lights on the posts. Somehow, even the pendant lights were flickering slightly.

Beetlejuice did not need sleep. Maybe he could get tired, maybe he couldn’t. You certainly could, and by the time the party was over, you had maxed out your entire energy reserve. So, when your demon told you he’d clean up the next day, you agreed and gave no thought to the fact that it would take him all of two seconds to clean up that night.

Once you had seen off the last of the kids and all of the parents, you trudged back up to your big, scary house. All the light in the barn went out behind you, but you paid it no mind.

Somewhere between the barn and the house, Beetlejuice disappeared. Again, you ignored it. It wasn’t uncommon for Beetlejuice to vanish without telling you, and on Halloween night you imagined there were a hundred more fun things for him to be off doing than watching you get ready for bed. Especially when you caught sight of yourself in your entryway mirror. It was the first time that night that you had seen yourself fully zombified beyond a brief glance at your dim reflection in a darkened, tentacled window.

Your face alone had several large patches of what looked like gaping wounds, and you could see more peeking out from your formerly white collar. You had been going for Proper Academic Zombie, and you looked like you would need a degree in showering to get all this gunk off of yourself. At least you could reuse the costume, maybe disrupt a seminar or two.

Shaking your head, you flicked the light switch beside the front door to turn off the overhead light. Instead of just that light going out, however, the table lamp under the mirror went out as well. So did the hall light over the stairs to your left, the kitchen down the short hallway in front of you, and the living room light beyond that. You tried flicking the switch again. Nothing.

Suddenly, a slam. Several slams all at once. All the shutters you could see swung closed forcefully. From the sound of it, all the shutters on the house closed.

You cleared your throat hesitantly. “Okay, very funny. Beej, that’s you, right?”

Silence.

“Beej?” Though you couldn’t yet hear your heart, you could feel it struggling against the walls of your chest. There was a slight ringing in your ears – the ever-present remnants of your teenaged years. Outside of that: nothing. You took a step, and the creaking of the wood seemed to echo through the whole house. For a brief, crazy moment, you thought about going out to your car. But it seemed the porch light was out too, and being inside a dark house was better than being outside on a dark night.

So, you took another step. Then another. You cursed your shortsightedness in leaving your phone in your room. You reached the stairs. You climbed them, you turned the corner. The wood settle beneath your feet with a deafening creak each step of the way.

There must be a short circuit. There had to be, somewhere. There was no reason for you to have simply lost power. When you reached your room, you saw that your alarm clock was still lit and showing the time, and it was plugged into the same wall outlet as your dark lamp. The box was in your basement.

No way were you going into the basement.

You reached out for your phone. It was dead. You looked over to one of your windows. Of all the windows you’d passed, this seemed to be the only one whose shutters hadn’t closed. Slowly – more slowly than you had moved all night, you crossed the room to look outside. You could see the full moon in all her red-orange beauty. Then, you let out the breath you had been holding. The moon wasn’t going anywhere, even if all the other light was gone.

You should have known better.

A shadow dashed across the moon then, but not at the surface. Through the air. Close to your window. Very, very close.

There was a muffled thud somewhere behind you. You jumped and whirled around to look. When you noticed the light from the moon fading, you slowly turned your head back and saw the shutters swinging closed. Before you could reach out to even open the window, they were completely shut.

Another noise, closer this time.

You couldn’t move. Your heart was racing. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. You thought about jumping for your bed, some childish thought of pulling the covers over your head before the whatever-it-was could reach you running through your head, but even in your fear you knew it was foolish. It was too late – too close. Your stomach dropped, your hands shook, your legs felt like splintering wood.

Yet another noise. You heard the hinges of your bedroom door waver. It was pitch dark in the room. All at once, a ragged breathing rushed at you across the squeaking floor.

You screamed.

“Beetlejuice!”

.

.

Seriously, please reblog.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @a-okay-rj @geeky-marie @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

[mhdiaries]

Boo York, Boo York – Gala Ghoulfriends Luna Mothews Diary

My Boo York Adventure-logue

9/30 08:23:52

There were butterflies tickling my belly when I watched the bus pull into the terminal, but now that I’m on my way, I’m flittery with excitement! I think Pops was more nervous than I was. But that’s my Pops for ya: thinking I’m his little caterpillar while totes understanding that I have to spread my wings! Mom kept him from chewing on his collar by reminding him that it’s not like it’s on the other side of the moon - it’s an easy flight for them from my hometown in Boo Jersey. If I didn’t have my luggage weighed down with all my dance shoes and theatre makeup, I’d have flapped over myself. But I’m strangely looking forward to seeing the frights through this grimy bus window the way a wingless monster would; speeding down the Tombpike, going through the Lurkin’ Tunnel, and then hopping a subway train to Times Scare... that’s a real adventure! 

Boo York, Boo York! I can hardly believe it! I’m on my way! The lights of Bloodway are luring me. I’m gonna be a star!

9/30 10:37:13

Road travel takes some getting used to - for one thing, it takes for-EVER! Not literally, but I’m still on this bus and I could have flown to the city and back many times by now. And for a second thing, the monsters on this bus are way booring! I think they think they should just sit in their seats and keep to themselves and be polite and stuff. Some of them actually scowled at me when I started convos with them, so I pulled out my guitar and started playing. That really horrified them. It was like they didn’t even want to sing along when I started giving them their assignments! The ogre in the front punctuated his lyrics with growls, but he wasn’t half bad; however, the werecat across the aisle from him was surprisingly high-pitched and breathy. I had to pull her out of her fur, but I got her harmonizing pretty well after a few verses. And once I got half-a-dozen singing, a few others joined in. Plus, a few other monsters pulled out their own instruments. Before long, I had a whole chorus going and everyone started enjoying themselves. Well, everyone except that one ghost, but he was just mad because everyone was treating him like he was invisible. 

9/30 11:56:33

I made it to the city and I’m not in the subway waiting for the train. Almost there! Just a few more trains and buses to go. I’m thriller-ed by how many of my bus-mates followed me to my train platform just so we could keep jammin’, but some of them freaked when they realized they were missing their own trains and ran off/flew off/slithered off/evaporated. But that’s ok, because there are already a lot of performers down here singing and dancing and making balloon monsters. It’s spooktacular, and I haven’t even made it up to street level yet!

9/30 15:12:12

Oh, my Pod! 42nd Screech is everything I ever dreamed of! The marquees of all the shows make my antennae tingle with excitement. When I’m a singer on Bloodway, I will go from moth-ghoul to moth-greatness! I’m already having so much fun. As soon as I got off the last bus, I met some fangtastic monsters from Monster High: Draculaura, Frankie, Cleo, Deuce, Clawdeen and Operetta. Oh, and also, Nefera and Toralei. I’m very good at remembering names - I’m sure that’s a sign I’ll be good at remembering my lines too - and I love making new friends wherever I go. I think it’s called networking. Now, to find a job or three. 

9/30 17:26:47

Nailed my first audition! So what if it was for a pizza place? Pizza is very popular in Boo York, and a ghoul’s gotta start somewhere. I’ve got a costume and everything - just call me Luna Motheroni. Hah! No, don’t. It pays me in *dough*! Get it? That cracked Pops up when I called him on my iCoffin to tell him his little gypsy moth is settling in nicely. I think I’ll try out some of these lines as I pass out the flyers for the Comet-special combo. Maybe if I get some laughs, I’ll try my wing at stand up too. It’s not Bloodway, but it’d still be on a stage, right? 

9/30 20:14:33

Lovin’ all this “cometness.” Monsters are shooting by me like zany stars in a sparkling universe! All the food joints have crazy, comet-fied specials going on. Being a moth, I’m a huge cotton candy fan. Make it wormhole-themed, and it’s like a flame that I can’t resist. I’m also diggin’ the street music. There’s a clawesine DJ across the way. I can only catch glimpses through the crowd, but I think she’s a robot with some kind of holographic keyboard or whatever. However, I can hear her load and clear, and she’s certainly making passing out flyers more of a toe-tapper than an energy-zapper. Although, no one’s ever accused me of lacking ene......

(oh, zap! got totes distracted by a laser light beaming off the DJ ghoul)

lacking energy. Now that it’s getting dark, all of the lights are getting kinda intense. They’re so bootiful, I’m attracted to all of them. I’m fearly going to have to concentrate and maintain focus. It’s good pract..... practice for when I’m in the spotlight on Bloodway.  

10/1 14:42:59

Day of the Comet, Beasties! Got a gig selling boovineers. I project my lines to the frightseers passing by and try to gain an audience, then my co-seller does the rest and rings up their order. I’ve tried singing my lines, making up rhymes, doing a little improv with the customers. I think I have a knack for this. And later I’m going to be working the fancy Comet Gala at the Museum of Unnatural History! I’ll be passing out gore d’oeuvres to some of the city’s most powerful monsters. Maybe I’ll even make some connections to theatre producers, but, if not, i’m sure I’ll have a good time. Just seeing all the different characters who have been invited will be fangtastic. Pops called to check in and when I told him everything I’ve done already and that I’ll be catering tonight, he laughed and said he thinks there must have been a mix-up at the hospital because, instead of a moth-ghoul, he seems to have raised a busy-bee. He’s kind of a moth-ball, but I love him.

10/1 19:02:40

This gala is “ah-maze-ing”! That Mouscedes’ fave word. She’s a rat-ghoul I met here. She’s some kind of princess and she’s way Upper Beast Side, but she’s so nice. I never knew there was so much to learn about cheese! I had a variety of die-lish cheese puffs on my loaded down tray - gore-gonzola, aged ghoulda, fetid - I tried them all before my shift started and they were yum! But when I offered them to Mouscedes, she asked me if they were cheeseless cheese puffs, and I told her they weren’t even puffless cheese puffs, so then we started chatting and I learned she doesn’t do cheese. I told her to stay away from my Pops then, because his sense of humor was pretty cheesy! That’s when she told me her Pops was the Rat King of Boo York! I’m not sure what that means but it sounds impressive! I had to get back to work, but Mouscedes said maybe we could get a coffincino some time. I told her I already bounce off the walls without drinking those, but I’d love to just fang out and she agreed.  

10/2 00:13:17

I guess you could say things took an otherworldly turn tonight! The lights of Bloodway drew me to exactly where I needed to be, just in time to help my new friends... AND I got to be on stage with Catty Noir, one of my fave singers! It doesn’t get more fangtastic than that! I think it’s ok to say my future of stardom shows promise! Speaking of promise, we all made it back to the Museum of Unnatural History in time for the comet to arrive in Boo York, and that brought some surprises of its own. Well, one surprise anyway. And she was stellar! I’m not saying I won’t ever get homesick, but I think coming to Boo York was a bright move. I’ve only been here for 2 days and I’ve already had a few fun jobs, performed on stage, and, beast of all, made new friends. Look out world, I’m ready to fly! 

[hungryflowers]

Let Me Fall In Love With You

RadioHusk Week Prompt Day 5: You’re Scaring Me

Chapter 5: Pains of Infatuation

Husk’s eyes snapped open, mouth opened to snort out a suffocating gasp while his limbs twitched. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar space, panic seeping into his blood as he tried his best to force his limbs to move. His legs felt like lead, arms were numb across his face. The only movements came from his heaving chest. Occasionally his ear would flick to an unidentified noise in the room. He felt alone. Shadows wriggled on the walls, dancing silently on the red, rustic wallpaper by a flame. A few flames at that. They could not have been lit for long. 

His muscles started to get feeling in them again, humming in discomfort. Husk’s head turned about, eyes going to the architecture of the room he was inhabiting. He looked off to the farthest wall housing a massive solid hickory red door. Indentations aligned, decorated the door frame in winding patterns. Then he glanced to the wall light fixtures; sconce like lighting fixtures housing electric light bulbs. Black and red wallpapers shimmered in the structure of the room. To the next wall, a sitting room. Two oddly looking chairs cradled close to the wide simple brown table. A large sized coffee table stayed in the middle of the room. 

Husk glanced down at where he was laying. He sat up slowly, allowing the fabrics to slide along his body. He felt like satin underneath his dingy fur, the deep red color blending with his wings. ‘This bed must be huge.’ Husk was sure that it was from how his feet didn’t come anywhere near the baseboard. He rolled onto his side, trying to get a better gauging of where he had ended up. He knew it was somebody’s house, but he was only with--

Husk sharply inhaled at the realization. Everything was coming back to him now. That piece of shit attacked him! He attacked him and must’ve brought him here! 

His claw went to his nape, expecting there to be pain there. His eyes widened when he felt no blood. Nothing was ripped or pulled. Nor was there a pool of blood underneath where he rested his head. He had been seen to and patched up... by the very demon who had attacked him, no doubt. So where was he? Where could that son of a bitch had gone? Before he could decide on wanting to know, Husk climbed off the bed to vacate as fast as possible. The second his foot hit the floor however, a chest rumbling growl sounded up from underneath the floorboards as shadowy forms scattered across the walls, some skittering close to the bed without touching it. 

He would have screamed in any other circumstances but, his fight or flight response switched to fight automatically at the unknown creatures. He hissed and snarled, hopping back on the bed, while his fur stood on end. His claws flew out to pummel at the figures, wings swatting uselessly at the forms as they surrounded him. All of them smiling, silent laughs, clicks and hissing. One shadow hovered a willow thin talon over Husk’s face before a static filled the air. 

The monsters fell back, some looking around for the surfacing sound, a few cowering back to whence they came, as well a select few that bowed in knowing submission. 

“Assez. Loin de vous tous.” Red aura emanated from the open door as the Radio Demon made his presence known to the shadow beasts in the bedroom. He clicked his mic stand twice, no more or less, as they fled into the crevasses of the room. Smile ever present, though he appeared to have dressed down in comparison to what he had on at Arch Duke’s; a simple black shirt that went up his neck was tucked into his pants with the showy red striped waistcoat. Long, sizable legs were covered by loose fitting trouser pants that were up to his waist. He appeared to be wearing his dress shoes still, the heels clacking nosily on the hardwood. 

His features looked far fonder in the gleaming, softened light of the soft bulbs. Features not tight, or slouchy but his posture looked perfect in its form. Shoulders fitted back, chest out, neck craned slightly upwards as a gloved hand went into his red and black locks. The young man had antlers. An arbitrary detail Husk did not see, nor ask Alastor about the moment they went out. And he wondered if those were ears atop his head as well, or were they oddly placed flyaway with his hairstyle. 

The man kept his sanguine colored, slanted eyes on Husk as he picked up his mic stand to go into the sitting room. His voice conveyed a jovial sound that Husk had heard while they were out at his Parlor. The same vacuum tubed sounding radio noises were still coming from him. 

“Rude lots I know. Always too overeager when company is at hand. Why, I remember back in the day when I hosted an outrageously popular garden party. Only so with the ghouls, but boy! Was that a doozy of a time?!” The young man laughed as he manifested an old radio. The very first one. That old ass antique that Husk’s great-great-grandfather gave up to him as a fun ‘fuck you’ gift. It looked janky but it worked well, filling the room with a swinging jazz number that got Alastor bobbing his head to it. 

“Do you like this kind of music, Husker?,” He got up from the sofa, making it over to him in a bouncing stride. He took the cat’s paw, feeling up the fur before pulling the poor old man along. Husk almost didn’t budge, stumbling over his feet as Alastor took him for a spin, “This! Oh, this was truly the music of its time!”

“The fuck’s your problem?! Get off me!” Husk snapped, taking back his paw. He glared at Alastor, who only laughed quizzically at him. 

“Is something the matter, Cher ami? Lemme make you more comfortable. As a sign of my goodwill towards you, dearest.” He was walking into the cat’s personal space, grin widening. 

Husk’s long, feathery eyebrow rose. He looked unsettled, and a bit too confused. 

“Goodwill? To me? Motherfucker, you attacked me! You bit and threw me to the fucking floor! Then-then you transformed in-in into some fucking beast! Any ‘goodwill’ you want to have towards me is over, ass clown! We’re finished!” He began to stomp off, wings flailing high in intense agitation. 

Alastor stayed still despite Husk’s rambling. He didn’t remember much before he brought Husker to his home. Though he looked in the mirror before he left Husk to rest, seeing the reddening slash marks on his cheek, where claws had bit into his face. They had long healed, not leaving a trace or record of the attack ever happening. Since he didn’t see or recall the physical marks, what Husk was going on about didn’t happen. It was a fatted fantasy in his thoughts. Another odd justification for Husk to not fall in love with him. He blinked suddenly as Husk began to walk away. An inaudible gasp puffed out as he teleported in front of the door, scaring Husk. 

“Finished? Whatever could you mean? Beloved, you’re hysterical. I would never hit you. Our relationship is so brand new! I would never jeopardize the fragile, special being we have now,” Alastor grabbed at Husk’s paw again, this time with the intent of not letting him slip away, “Why don’t you just sit and relax? Listen to the radio with me? Let’s watch a picture show together! Did you know they have them in color?” He was pulling Husk back into the bedroom to sit down. 

Husk struggled yet couldn’t pull away from the other demon. What the fuck was going on with him? He went on a full tangent about Husk not attacking him... and that was after the cat had slapped him. Did transforming into whatever thing that was wipe Alastor’s memory? He was sat down as Alastor kissed the male’s paw, his smile beginning to creep the older male out. 

“Now, stay where you are. I’m gonna make us a perfect meal!” He chuckled as he deposited Husker on the sofa. His eyes closed as he pressed his lips to the upper part of Husk’s paw, lips grazing the nails before pulling away, turning back to head out into the remainder of his home. 

‘Goddamn, this was weird. The poor cat looked over to the staticky TV in front of him. Could this night get weirder?

For over an hour, Husk just stared into the static. He didn’t move, nor dare himself to do so. He had been alone in this bedroom, still aware of the presence of eyes looming to him. He hardly spoke when Alastor tried to get his attention. His tail thrashed in discomfort, bones and muscles quivering with a palpable uncertainty. Nothing was making sense. Everything in his body yowled at him to get the fuck out as hastily as he could. But he sat there. Paralyzed with a fear he couldn’t justify. That he had no explanation for, or an understanding of. When he heard something, his ears darted right to it. Oval, crepuscular eyes looked off into what he imagined was darkness. But it moved. All of the shadows moved. Often times closer to him, on its own volition. 

“Alright beloved, I hope you’re hungry. It’s last minute and I had more than enough for the both of us to share!” He came in, setting down a steaming pot of something. It was really a something all right. The male cat’s demeanor changed as he took in the aroma of spices and herbs. He picked off the top without Alastor’s say-so; looking in greedy awe at the collection of seafood, meats and rice. All put together in a mouthwatering brick-colored broth. 

“This is my signature, dearest! My own take on my mother’s infamous Gumbo! And if you’re into that fancy, try some of her Jambalaya as well!” He laughed heartily as he whipped out another pot, peeling off the top to reveal another flavor Husk had never experienced before. 

“Fuck...there’s so much. Al, I can’t.” He sounded nervous as he looked at the assortment. 

“Now, these are just appetizers! Palate teasers if ya will. You’re gonna start doin’ flips over my  Shrimp Etouffee! Oh and my Crawfish Monica!,” He pulled out a couple more dishes, both looking as hefty as the first two. One dish overflowing shrimp and assorted meats and greens, while the other was smelling delectably of cajun seasonings, crawfish brimming out of the top of the dish with tang of sauce dripping off it, “And let’s not forget about a wonderful wine to wash it down!” Alastor brought a dark red out of thin air, smiling the whole while Husk looked up at him. 

The cat’s nerves began to settle; somehow some TV, food and booze didn’t seem so bad. He could shave off an hour or two. 

He finishes his plate with a burp and the last swig of his wine. Never in his life had he ever had a meal like that. Even in his after life it couldn’t possibly be this good. Alastor made it good. He made this food good as shit. He was ready to go to sleep now after that meal.

“Did you enjoy everything?” He refilled Husker’s wine glass once more before topping off his own. He eyed the liquid as the cat nodded. He looked quite comfortable after his third glass of wine. It made Alastor chuckle knowing he had made his significant comfortable in his presence. He manifested another bottle of the red wine since Husk was liking it so much. He’d keep it on standby in case the male wanted more.

“That... That was, hands down, the best meal I’ve ever had,” Husk hiccuped as he took another sip of his newly filled glass, “Ain’t nobody able to cook like you can.” The cat snorted drunkenly. He put the glass down as he stretched his wings and wound up limbs. 

“Haha! Such praise from my significant! I almost feel bashful!” Alastor laughed, his sound so honeyed and sugary. He didn’t even care as he placed both of his hands on Husk’s thighs, the gesture seeming sincere. He moved himself closer to the none too sober cat, close enough to smell the aged well wine on the other’s breath. There were too many elements that made this moment perfect; the well made food, the fine wine. To top it all, Alastor’s mate was endeared and made full by his home cooked meal. So many more things could have warmed his heart in this moment, but he didn’t think of those things... or anything else as his lips land on Husk’s. He keeps his red, saturated eyes open, waiting for the male cat’s reaction. 

He goes in with full tongue, a soft growl rumbling forward as he pushes Husk down. His hands go everywhere, lurk on some muscles, go to the cheeks of the cat and then to his ears. He finally relishes in the kiss as Husk leans into it, showing no reservations beyond it. His talon-like claws groom the back of Alastor’s hair as he pulls him in more, lips sucking the leftover wine off them. A moan escapes and it is the best sound to grace Alastor’s ears. He gets more and more hungry as he leaves the lips to nip and suck at the male’s cheeks and neck. His hands end up in Husker’s chest, feeling for the erratic beating of his heart. His other hand goes to Husk’s waist, pulling him in closer. When he feels the male wrap his legs around him, the deer demon’s mind swims, the tethers of sanity slipping as he submerges himself in Husk. 

A wandering hand daringly goes to the cat’s crotch; and then Husk awakens. 

Previously drunken lust simmers away as he becomes alert, even shocked. He begins to fight against the young man’s advances. He couldn’t talk, too drunk to convey to Alastor that he wanted to stop. His claws go to Alastor’s wrist to try and pull him away, but the only way Alastor saw it was the cat wanted more. His teeth went into Husk’s neck; gingerly sucking at the flesh and fur there. 

Wide, bleary eyes constricted at the tell-tale feeling of the teeth, and he snarled loudly, claws flying to the deer demon’s back to rake against the skin hard enough to puncture. 

Alastor laughed into the kisses until he felt razor pain in his upper shoulders and lower back. He pulled off as soon as he felt the trickles of blood down his back. He was about to ask what was wrong when Husk shot up and bit him in the side of his head. A loud, surprised, panicked yelp came from Alastor as he shook the old man off him, blood pooling from the new wounds. He feels over the two worse marks near his monocle, on the sides of his chin. Arousal escapes from his eyes, summoning a near feral look as he snarls back with his marred grin. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?! Alastor snaps, his softened tone breaking with static and loud whirring. He’s angry, even through the smile, Husk can tell he’s angry.

“I’m drunk as fuck! And so are you if you think this is gonna happen!,” The cat demon begins to puff up, feathers going ragged, claws extending, hackle raised. His tail doesn’t thrash this time, the appendage curled by his feet in an arch, “First you attack me, then forget about it and now you try and rape me! You’re sick as shit, Al. You need help!!” 

He never lets his guard down-for very good reason this time- as Alastor lunges for him, teeth on full display. He towers over the older male as he snaps his teeth at him, close enough to graze fur but not grab at anything. A rippling static pulses through the room as Alastor moves to attack again, missing again as Husk’s claws hit Alastor’s side. In spite of it all, Husk remains calm. The male jumps out of the way with enough time to recover his pacing. Teeth shine in candescent lighting as he pounces on Alastor, back claws ripping into his hips. A powerful slap of talons knocks Husk backwards, the force jarring the male for a moment. A moment too long as Alastor lands atop him, teeth bared, a blackened sludge dripping to the floor, eyes shone as radio dials. 

“What have I done wrong, beloved? Just tell me,” The voice is disembodied, sounding nearly nonexistent while Alastor’s mouth looked to be stapled shut, “What can I do to make this better? How can I be better for you?!” The last word sounded like a hiss. 

Husk’s ears pinned completely, body trying its damndest to move, but locked up in a frozen stupor. “Alastor--” He tried.

“NO! I have done all of this for you! And yet you still don’t love me! What must I do to make you fall in love with me?!” Claws began to extend as they shred the wooden floor. Alastor leans too close to Husk, steam coming from in between his clasped teeth. 

“You don’t even know what love is! You’re not comprehending that all that you’ve been doing is hurting what would have made this a good relationship. I can’t love anyone like that, or even you like this! Alastor, you’re scaring me.” Husk confessed, eyes wide but steely and determined. He was scared of the radio demon for sure, but he wasn’t about to piss himself, or beg the bastard. 

The dials tuned out, deep red pupils reappearing as the form seemed to be pushed back. Said eyes did not reflect normalcy however. The seemed distant, cold feeling. He pulled himself up on his knees, one of his hands going to the undamaged part of his face. He scrubbed at his hair before getting off Husk fully.

“I scare you...”, The radio tone warbled as he turned his back to Husk, “I’m not surprised that I do. I scare everyone. I’ve always known that I do.” His last sentence had no radio filter to it, and for the first time Husk had heard the radio demon’s true voice. The room devolves into silence after that. The male cat is able to roll around on his knees as he looks at the others back. A brick wall is fortified between the two beings, the metaphoric building too strong to break by one’s will alone. 

Husk saunters away on four feet, not trusting himself to stand just yet. His ear flicks to Alastor as he turns to him.

“Where are you going?” He asks, trying too hard to salvage whatever this had become. His ears go up, listening to the loud, long sigh coming from Husk. The male cat doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t even flinch his tail at him.

“I...don’t know. I just can’t be here.” The older man sounded tired. Could have looked tired. And for all that has happened, was tired. His head was kept pointed at the door of the bedroom as he walked. He half expected Alastor to stop him, to beg for forgiveness for his transgressions. Just maybe he could see what good there could be in him. He’d be getting his hopes up if he thought that. Husk didn’t see the glowing look in Alastor’s eyes fade as the deer demon got to his feet. He knew that he didn’t move from his place, even as he clipped off a sigh of his own. Nor did he see the way his head tilted to look down at the ground in a show of defeat. He saw nothing of Alastor because he didn’t want to see him. Not this way. 

He bounded off, steps barely making a sound as he sprinted out of the house. He’d find his way out eventually, his wings catching the odd chill in the air as he took to the deep red sky. 

A/N: A little late, but I think I did very good on this one! Enjoy!

[writingglade]

Imagine #3

» Title; Safe and Sound

» Group; Straykids

» Pairing; Minho + Jisung (Minsung)

» Summary; The world is ending and Minho just wants Jisung to be safe. OR Jisung has the flare and Minho doesn’t want him to die alone.

» Warnings; Angst, death, suicide, flare virus.

» Based On; The Maze Runner Series

» Word Count; 846

» Requests are open | Masterlist

The blistering embers of crackling flames are drawn out to overdue silence upon blush-colored lips meeting a smooth forehead. Thin fingers intertwine into soft brunette locks, gentle brushing and ginger caresses. His lover lay in the lap of the blonde man as the world around them falls apart. Trees form to ashes as dry banks lap up water, riverbeds drought-ridden as the soil absorbs every ounce of cool, nurturing fluid. The world lay in ruin, soot burning nostrils from which trails of blood ran ablazen down ash-covered, bruised and battle-worn faces.

Faint music box melodies dance on open-air, a song of serenity resting upon fields of defeat like freshly fallen snow in cold winters that had once come. What lingers is not of sorrow, nor or joy, rather, the burning flames of resentment ignite embers that swallow the planet whole, giving those amongst crumbling buildings and once luscious meadows no time to escape as they all undoubtedly perish amongst the same fate as every living, breathing soul did in the final hour. The two men, having met as love-struck teens, stood at the new face of adulthood, never truly grasping the future that was being ripped from them.

The dead rose from the ground like flowers peaking past snowbanks on the fresh brim of spring, though peonies were replaced with highschool bullies and daisies were replaced with long-lost best friends. A chain-link fence lay in shambles amongst the fallen city, the last cry for help and a plea to rescue those having pushed through. Fate was to be ever so cruel near the hands of time as the cruel mistress tugged on marionette strings. Smoke filled lungs let out one last resilient attempt to keep pulsating, to keep a stillborn heart pumping and to send life to those who needed it most, those that had survived to the end of the world.

Sun-scorched bodies bring forth a scent of rotting remains as soil breaks beneath undead feet. Blonde hair turns black with ash and rosy cheeks tinted with murky sweat of charcoal dust. The sun lay over the horizon, creeping slowly to peach sorbet sky and cotton candy clouds. The final morning was upon those living, though as it stood in time, they had been the only two to defeat hardship after hardship. And for what? The simple thought of being together was much better thought then executed, as it was proven as lover die in lover's arms to be left alone in a world of ghouls and gaunt, a world of ash spiraling towards the sun. A world destined for disaster that was ever-present amongst such an orb of so-called everlasting beauty.

Crystal tears run down cheeks, washing away worries beneath, only to show battering breath on heavens front door. Angels sing as lovers weep, not wanting to be torn from one another. Heartfelt, as was the titanic, though it seemed as if the whole planet had already let go. Nothing could save a motion towards disaster, nothing could prevent times end.

"Minho..." His smoke coated esophagus croaks in dry pain, savoring every molecule of saliva lubricating strained vocal cords, onyx veins spiraling up his neck and around his cheeks.

Blonde and black hair sticking to his forehead as his world falls at his feet, voice barely above a mere whisper, dread heavy on his tone, Minho speaks. "Yes, Jisung?"

Death dances on the man's breath, eyes a mirror to the past as storybook memories played on what he hoped to be an endless repeat, "I love you."

A smile, mustered through destruction and despair, behind the chainlink fence between crumbled buildings sparked the world's last bit of happiness. Bitter tears fall on strawberry cheeks and trace creeping arteries, cracked lips pouring out every ounce of love as they meet one last time. His last breath is drawn at the utterance of sanctuary, a vow of everlasting love.

"Just close your eyes..." Minho's voice is soft like clouds, bright like heavenly gates, and Jisung can't help but comply as the grey waves of death wash over chocolate eyes, lids fluttering shut and lashes kissing cheeks in a final slumber. "You'll be alright..."

The sun breaks the horizon, lifting into the sky with a last-ditch effort as the earth nears the flaming, gaseous orb. Morning light washes over life and death, lonely and loneliness. "No one can hurt you now..."

Death presses down on loving arms in limp weight, taking the last thing worth surviving for from the world's last survivor, perhaps an angel among men, among those with two feet and two arms, voices instead of halos and hearts instead of wings.

"I love you too, Jisung..." Minho's lips meet his forehead in a last goodbye, for eternity he lay to rest, "You and I..."

Eyes open, eyes of vultures, bloodshot with bloodlust, lifeless and heartless. Love lies dead, grasping for his partner to join him.

"Will be safe and sound." Gun in hand, the click of a trigger syncs with the final seconds of the clock, a bullet through the head away from hearts meeting once more. Blonde hair turns crimson and the last living body falls to the ground, a husk.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

"I heard you're a ghoul. Do you have any powers? Have you ever possess anyone? Can you eat and drink?" He lightly rambles, despite having a very soft and soothing voice.

(to Tadao Hashimoto) :3

((Pic made using this game: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2181842))

"????" Tadao blinks but he only looks to the other wondering what he asked but it was a few. "...So many questions goodness..." he sighed then looks to him.

"To answer you yes I'm a ghoul, a different type of Ghoul you haven't heard of. I have the Kagune type-Ukaku (ukaku, “feather-red”) is spread out like feathers and is released from the shoulder area, it specializes in high speed attacks, most of the users seeming to have highly enhanced speed." he said to continue with a eye brow raised.

"No, I haven't possessed any other human I'm not that type to do that. And yes I can eat and drink like normal humans. Even though I'm also able to eat humans too." he said.

[ourievamp]

Beetlejuice Musical fantasy

So, I fell in love with Beetlejuice the musical, the musical, the musical ever since I saw the Tony performance the cast did. It was a random YouTube click that sent me on a whirlwind of inspiration and near obsessive fandom. I immediately became a fan of Alex Brightman and have since seen Red Hook, his episode of Good Fight and any YouTube vid, soundtrack and bootleg I could find! His energy, talent and love of his work really shines in anything he does.

But this post isn’t about Brightman. It’s about the Beetlejuice show itself. If you have not seen it yet, I suggest going to Broadway and getting tickets now if you can. If not, it is not difficult to find someone with a bootleg. It is a fantastic show made by many fantastic people, but I have a few ideas for it that are a bit…out there.

My imagination runs wild with things like this. ‘How can this be different? How can it be better, go further?’ and this show was no different. I have a character in my head. Fearless and strong, able to do what she wants because she always finds a way. She wanted to perform School of Rock, but is stuck in a second shift manufacturing job. So she was able to convince her boss that she could rock the floor, while still getting her work done. Realistic? No, but when are fantasies based in reality.

So what would she do for Beetlejuice? How do you take a show like that to another level to satisfy her adrenaline needs? There is an interview towards the beginning of the show’s run where Alex and Sophia Ann-Caruso are speaking about the work put into the show and Alex points out ‘It’s stunts!’ and this makes my fantasy self laugh.

‘I’ll show you stunts!’

The start of the show would begin as it does on the Great White Way, but as if Brightman had actually taken cocaine in the wings….and speed. My fantasy self would run and jump over and off anything she could at a whim! Physically fit enough for the stunts, and understanding her body to an extreme degree to avoid injury. What she can do really tests the limits of what a person can do.

She really kicks it into high gear for Say My Name. When I first saw the show my thought about the set was ‘that ‘roof’ is way to small…and so low to the ground!’ So the fantasy would perform the number on a high wire (The strange thing is? I thought of this BEFORE I saw Alex’s interview for Pizza Your Mind https://youtu.be/8jctcvwmykM in which he mentions a talent for wire walking!) The two actors would move and jump over one another high above the audience!

The show would have to keep that kind of energy up, though. So how do you top a high wire act?

I don’t know how Tesla coils work, so it is possible that the things I describe here are dangerous, perhaps even impossible, but, like I said, it’s a fantasy.

Beetlejuice has some impressive power that he uses in the show, depicted by flash paper, lighting, moving sets, and bangs on the Winter Garden stage. My idea would be to use lightning! Tesla coils backstage and a chain mail jacket would aid in this (‘Bitchin’ resistance training.’ Is what she’s say when someone comments on her performing in such a costume). Act 1 would end with bolts of lightning generated from the coils, striking the actor, and being directed to targets like the light fixture, walls, and the pig!

Now, this would obviously be rather painful for my fantasy self, so she would have a rather high pain tolerance and utilize the intermission to recover from the electricity coursing through her body.

Act 2 would be the real test. That Beautiful Sound would best be performed while the actor was wearing the chain mail jacket. Her strength and endurance would have to be increased in order for this to work. She’s dance the number out of the jacket, then on, to develop both to the level needed. Lightning would be used sporadically, and strike near the actors who become possessed for the ‘dance break’, also the ‘She’s in for a shock’ line! It would make for one hell of a show!

Beetlejuice could not be the only one with the stunts, though. My fantasy world is a little self-centered. I want to play BJ, so most of the dream is from that perspective, but there is one exception: Barbara 2.0. It never felt right that only a few things were broken during this number so I always wondered how cool it would be for their past projects to whirl around them as they find their power together, destroying the past as they faced their future!

The séance would need another one up, and Beetlejuice’s hair was and inspiration for another element used on stage. What if the ghoul rose from that stage lit on fire? This jacket would have some kind of fuel on it, maybe gas. Something providing as much control of the element as possible. Beetlejuice in his fury would throw flames on stage, directing his power to the chains and such as needed. The flames would dissipate when Lydia leaves and instead, BJ would opt for throwing knives hurled at various targets (this will continue later).

I am sure that some more effects can be used in the Netherworld, especially for Lydia’s search for her mother. I thought that doubles of the actress would run through, sometimes having mirror images of the girl running about, adding to the otherworldly look of this scene!

The Wheel of Death is where more knife work would be added. Otho would spin on the wheel while Beetlejuice would throw knives at his body, but they would miss! BJ would comment on why his aim is so shit as he pushes the wheel away, leaving room for Lydia to reappear.

Lydia takes control of the show from now on, so my fantasy reverts back to the default of the Broadway show. Sometimes Lydia is hovered in mid-air, with no possible way of doing it, but that’s about it.

So…What do you guys think?

[ayellowbirds]

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 21: “Jeepers, It’s The Creeper"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 2 Episode 4. Original Airdate: 10/3/1970)

AKA, "Scooby Gets Chicks, No I Mean Literally He Gets Baby Chickens The Screencap Below Is Misleading"

The villain of this episode is pretty memorable, but it’s not because of a distinctive shrieking laugh or an impressive design, nor even a particularly clever scheme. No, everyone remembers the Creeper because the show never stops telling you his name. 

The episode begins with a nighttime view of a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known. A car comes to a stop as its driver and the audience catch sight of a tree that has fallen across the road, and as the driver gets out to try to move it, some creeper watches him from the bushes.

Sorry, the Creeper watches from the bushes. The definite article is important, you know.

Silently except for the musical sting, the Creeper moves from the bushes, menacingly approaching... and the view cuts to the gang driving along on their way to a school dance, reminding us all that they are teenagers and it’s really zoinksed-up that Dean Winchester kept trying to put the moves on Daphne, he’s nearly forty, what the fuck.

Sorry, school dance and hayride. Man, i know Scooby-Doo was meant to be wholesome entertainment to stave off the moral panic machine of activist groups concerned that Jonny Quest was too violent, but is this just them trying to be wholesome and pure, or were things really so boring in the early Seventies that a hayride was exciting for teens?

Shaggy’s priorities are more understandable. He’s jazzed about the buffet table, with chocolate-covered corn on the cob. Boy, that sounds like a mess.

Even Scooby gets  into it, putting on a bow tie he must have stolen from Fred Flintstone (though it does complement his spots nicely), combing his fur, and splashing on some violently pink “cologne”. Exactly why Scooby is dressing up is kind of confusing. Does he expect there to be other dogs present? Is he just fancying up for his own sake, to feel good about himself at a public event?

Whatever the case, the gang’s plans are brought to a literal halt as they hit the brakes, stopped by the sight of the car and tree from the scene before.

The gang identify the victim as a bank guard for no apparent reason, and find that the car has only been wrecked inside, in what Velma figures out is evidence of a search. The guard comes to only long enough to pass Fred a blank sheet of paper, and mumble, “the flame will tell... the Creeper....”

“The Creeper?” Daphne asks.

“Re Reeper?” Scooby repeats.

“Like wow, this is creepy! Who’s the Creeper?” Shaggy wonders, and if you haven’t figured out the name of the episode’s monster, boy, you’re going to have plenty of chances to come.

Scooby finds another paper, this one with the address of the bank president, who fortuitously lives nearby. The gang take the unconscious guard to his boss to see if he can help out.

Mr. Carswell, the bank president, demonstrates a discouraging lack of familiarity with medical emergencies and insists that the guard will be okay with a bit of rest. Fred relates the bad news that the sheriff is out of town for several hours, proving that this is an utter fantasy since a phone call from a rich white man’s home does not summon an immediate police presence to his defense.

Carswell explains to the gang that the Creeper has been robbing the bank in the dead of night, impossibly leaving the building behind with the doors and windows still locked from the inside. “He’s a phantom,” Carswell says, “a phantom that can walk right through walls.” 

Uncharacteristically, Fred brushes this mystery off. 

I guess we know that badly dancing to generic music is a higher priority for Fred than mysteries. The scene transitions to a lot of repeated animation of the gang and some extras twitching like they need to use the bathroom, with the liveliest dancing happening when Scooby cuts in on Velma and Shaggy to lead Shaggy to the buffet table.

Well, that explains one mystery: the chocolate covered corn on the cob was just Shaggy’s plan to abuse the buffet layout and combine things that were not meant to be combined.

As the boys chow down, the Creeper shows up outside the barn, lets out a groaning growl, and flips the power switch to the building. As dozens of extras who were not seen previously start to panic, Fred reassures everyone and suggests they all continue the party at the malt shop. It’s a moment that suggests Fred may have some charm outside of the gang, a notion that is never repeated in later series when it comes to putting Mystery Inc among ohter teens.

Scooby and Shaggy “clean up” by eating all of the remaining (probably untouched by anyone else) food, and taking what’s left out behind the barn to dump it by an “ugly scarecrow”... which turns out to be the Creeper, waiting the dark.

The Creeper gives chase, moaning, “PAPER!” over and over, a bit that may give one flashbacks to a coin-craving mummy. As the gang hide in a hay pile, the episode’s song starts up: Daydreamin’, a song built on the outdated and disproven notion that ostriches their heads in holes in the ground. Amidst this, the gang play keep-away with the blank sheet of paper the gang took off the guard, leading to at least one golden reaction from the Creeper.

That’s a face that says, “i watched you fold that into a paper airplane but i never thought you were going to actually throw it”.

The gang get split up by the chase, and Shaggy and Scooby wind up hiding in a chicken coop. Somehow, this disguise fools the Creeper:

In fact, it works so well that Scooby hatches an egg, causing a chick to imprint on him and follow Scooby and Shaggy around for the rest of the episode, acting as a kind of proto-Scrappy—especially once Scooby’s attempt to correct the misunderstanding winds up teaching the chick to bark.

Meanwhile, having survived a horse-drawn cart crashing off a cliff and upending on top of them, Fred, Velma, and Daphne discover a car hidden among the bushes. Inside is no clue to is owner, but there are scraps of photographic negatives left torn up all over the driver’s side floor.

Listen, just because she’s the smart one, it doesn’t mean speaking is her strong suit.

When Shaggy and Scooby try hiding among some shrubs as the Creeper stalks them, their little chick bursts out to start barking at the green ghoul. Scooby demonstrates a stellar grasp of the threats in the situation, and bursts out to rock the little bird to sleep, cradling it in his arms and humming Rock-a-bye Baby.

Which, naturally, does zoinks-all to deal with the Creeper, so Scooby kicks him in the shin and bolts.

In a sequence that adds nothing to the plot and makes no sense in context except to add some question of who the Creeper is, the gang follow a set of very large footprints out into the middle of nowhere, arriving at a gorge with a rope-and-plank bridge set across it. The planks are drawn back, curled up in a sort of drawbridge situation that probably wouldn’t work in real life.

The gang conclude that the Creeper must’ve gone across, and bribe Scooby into risking his life to cross by climbing over on the ropes, tossing him a Scooby Snack... which the chick catches and eats from its perch on Scooby’s nose. “A deal’s a deal,” Velma says, ignoring that the humans have not actually held up to their side of the deal in any reasonable fashion.

Miraculously, Scooby makes it across, and unrolls the bridge so the others can simply walk, leading Shaggy to reference a meme that was outdated a decade before this episode aired, by asking “is this trip necessary?” 

The gang make it inside, and discover the resident of the cave: the Hermit of the Hills, with voice acting credited to Frank Welker at what must be his highest pitch.

There’s so much extraneous nonsense going on in this episode, it really feels like they sat down, wrote a plot, and then realized they only had ten minutes worth of story. 

The Hermit welcomes the gang and invites them to dinner, and while the others have some doubts, Velma is certain he’s really the Creeper in a “hermit disguise”. While Velma accuses an innocent man, the Hermit offers Shaggy and Scooby a taste of the “specialty of the cave”, a soup so unpleasant that even Shaggy doesn’t want another taste, and that’s before the Hermit reveals that it’s squirrel stew with pickled bat wings and crabgrass root.

The gang flee in fear from a lonely old man who just wants some company for the first time in ages, and head for the Mystery Machine to get the sheriff on the flimsy conviction that the Hermit must be the Creeper.

Naturally, they find the Creeper waiting for them. They run back to the barn, but Velma is cornered by the villain.

“You wouldn’t hit somebody with glasses on, would you?” she dares, and the Creeper responds by snatching the frames right off her face.

So Velma kicks him in the shin.

Seriously, the Creeper takes a lot of shots to the shins. 

A barn-centric chase scene ensues, including a simplistic variation on the Freleng Door Gag, in which the Creeper chases the gang in and out of the barn doors while the scene stays static, alternating antics until Fred runs out and falls flat on his face, accidentally tripping up the Creeper. However, it’s not until the gang and the Creeper—minus Scooby and the chick—fall into a pile of hay atop a baler that things are resolved.

Following the suggestion of the barking chick, Scooby activates the baler, eviscerating the Creeper as it chops and compresses him like so much hay.

I’m kidding, of course, because this is a cartoon animated by people who have no idea how the most elementary farm machines work. The Creeper is captured along with the rest of the humans, and Scooby gets his karmic revenge for being forced over the bridge—as well as the opportunity to unmask the villain, revealing the Creeper as Mr. Carswell.

The scene cuts to Carswell in cuffs, and the Sheriff explains that he’d arrived at the bank president’s house to find the guard tied up in Carswell’s basement. The gang explain his “slick scheme”: waiting until everyone else left the bank for the day, Carswell filled his briefcase with cash, locked the safe and doors, and left. He’d later show up as the Creeper, making it appear that the “phantom” thief was fleeing the bank after walking through the walls, deliberately attracting witnesses.

Carswell evidently never considered that anyone would investigate further.

How exactly this camera was concealed, or what was “infrared” about it is never made clear. In the next shot, it’s clearly visible as Carswell shovels cash into his briefcase. The “paper” is revealed as a heat-sensitive photo of Carswell robbing the safe, providing the solid evidence he’d hoped to eliminate by chasing them... as if everything else didn’t incriminate him.

What does Carswell have to say about all that?

That’s right, it’s our second “meddling kids,” right after the first one!

The episode ends with Scooby returning the chick to its mother, and a “here we go again” type gag with more chicks hatching to imprint on him.

While memorable, it’s ultimately a weak episode. No matter how many times i've watched it over the years, i always seem to forget about the whole bit with the Hermit of the Hills, misremembering it has part of some other episode or another. In fact, there’s more that i always mistook about this episode in my memories of it:

I could have sworn that the Creeper was just saying his name over and over again. It never sounded like “paper” to me when i was a kid, but then, my crummy word recognition skills are the reason i have subtitles on in the first place.

Thing is, i’m not the only one who made this mistake. The memorability of the Creeper eventually led to him reappearing in Scooby-Doo and the Cyber Chase, AKA “The Writers Don’t Understand The First Thing About Computers Or Virtual Reality”, as well as a State Farm commercial, and in both of them, he could only growl his own name.

So, is it the Mandela Effect impacting later media? Or just a case of “paper” being a less obvious utterance for the Creeper than “Creeper”, especially when so many of us are accustomed to monsters saying their own names over and over? 

The world may never know.

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)

[omega-al]

we met on tinder

I was hanging out in this dirty little haunt on the eastside. I knew the bartender, he worked at this other place I like to creep sometimes. He told me the music was good, and the whiskey clean so I thought I’d check it out.

There were all sorts of ghouls and demons dogging corners and hugging bar rails. They’re looking for a good time, or a rest, or another way to forget. It was my kinda place, a little dirty and little mean.

I hadn’t been there an hour before it started to get crowded. I wasn’t there for company, I was just looking for a cool place to kick it while time passed. A drink appeared before me, Fred tells me it’s from the woman at the end. I raise my glass and suck it back, but I never promised I’d stay for a chat.

Suddenly she gets up and throws her drink on the bar, it smashes everywhere, spilling dark red viscous liquid all over the room. Screaming something unintelligible she tosses a match on the bar. The place goes up in flames while the demons bat their wings.

It was a cool place until I snubbed my date. Why’d you gotta go and burn down a good thing.

[a-boros-named-seamus]

The Dawn Breaks

As I flew, the voice, Avacyn, told me of her world. Of the beauty and the horror. The light and the shadows it cast.

She told me of her creator, Sorin Markov. Of the strange otherworlder named Nahiri.

Of the vampires, created from an angel slaughtered. Of the Werewolves, and how their duelling natures twisted them.

The countryside sped by below, rolling plains giving way to ancient forests.

"What do we face?" I asked her, knowing that she was far more adept at interperiting the prayers that murmered in my mind like the background of a busy market.

Instead of words, images welled up.

Horrible, dark images.

Skaabs. Horrid, patchwork undead things. Corpses stitched together in a horrid imitation of life

And Ghouls. Restless corpses buried in unsanctified soil.

I felt uneasy for a moment, remembering Grixis.

Then light spilled through my mind, no doubt called forth by the angel.

That's things were attacking people. I had the power to help. To protect. And, more importantly, to heal.

The skies gradually grew darker around me. I was flying into a storm.

"Rise above it. You are are hope. Mere clouds will never stop you," Avacyn said, determined.

I could feel her. She was filled with regret, greif, and fury. Over her failure, over the fall of her comrades, over the state of Innistrad. But there was also hope, and joy. She had seen her friend, the name Sigardia sprung forth from my counterpart, leading the people, inspiring them. People still believed in good, and hope, and light, and mercy, even in the face of a rising tide of dark.

"We're here," she whispered.

I swooped down below the clouds, taking in the scene before me.

I hovered over the legion of dead, horrible monsters in massive numbers, ghoul and skaab fighting each other as much as the town's lone defender.

A werewolf.

He stood, flame glowing within him and escaping from between his teeth like drool, blade in one hand, fire dancing around the other.

He was a sight terrible and majestic to behold, like a sublime force of nature

His fur was a dark ginger, and he, quite curiously, was still clothed. He wore a kilt along with armour emblazoned with the golden sun of the Boros legion, drenched to the bone with rain.

Another Planeswalker, then.

He gave off a savage fury and grim determination, howling his challenge to the undead horde, battalions of rotted flesh torn to shreds at his feet.

He fought like a flaming hurricane, fat drops of rain sizzling as they landed on him. Blade swinging in wide arcs, claws flashing with fire.

He was grinning. It was chilling, like death itself had descended to return the dead to rest.

Despite all that I sensed another protector, albeit one more wild and savage. Avacyn only confirmed this, telling me what she could remember of this man. It was an unusual amount. When she had made her offer at Gastaf, to change the Werewolves, make them protectors, he had been one of the first to accept, and become wolfir.

And, when the Cursemute had broken, he stayed in balance, channeling that wild nature to protect his home.

And despite all that, despite his savage power, and wild power, he was beginning to falter.

That Would. Not. Stand.

Heroes should triumph. They should be able to have rest, happiness, rest, home once their battles were over. Not death in some dark place, far from home.

Avacyn agreed.

We hefted our spear aloft, parting the clouds and letting light spill onto the battlefield. I felt the familiar feeling of mana shaping into magic as we called burning shafts of light down onto the undead horde.

A softer light fell upon the village, meant to give hope, to rejuvenate, and to heal. Not a minute later, as i prepared to dive into the horde, a howl went up. The village of werewolves and wolfir emptied from the gates, following the lead and orders of the planeswalker. I smiled, and dove into the fray, landing in their ranks.

My spear-sword slashed through the dead like they were wet tissue. Through it I channeled holy light, burning scores of dead with each beam of power.

I used my wings to throw up dust in great, thunderous flaps to obscure sight, to propel myself around and away from attacks in such a graceful manner that it was like dancing, and to fly up above the fray to call down more healing glow for the wolven warriors, and burning light to smite the corpses.

The wolves moved in packs, all lead by the planeswalker. They cut down the dead, shredding their limbs so they couldn't rise again. When one of their number was hurt, another took their place until the next wave of healing light. Whenever one of their number fell, all it did was enrage those still fighting further.

The dead scattered before the combined fury of angel and wolf like chaff before the wind.

After the battle, I strode up to the planeswalker. When I saw his face, I almost cried. Despite thick stubble and a scar over one eye, I could tell that he couldn't be older than 20, but had seen fathomless horrors.

He was rather solidly built and very tall, almost nine feet. His face was solid and square, but still handsome. His hair was short, and the same darker shade of ginger as his fur.

I asked for his name, mentioning his Wojek status. It threw him off guard and he blushed and stuttered, but did manage to give me his name, which was Seamus Alastair Faodlah. I did chuckle at his stunned state. Finally, he asked me my name, and I told him:

"I am Elspeth Tirel, Heiress of Avacyn and Archangel of Hope. Will you help me save this world?"

He fell to one knee and bowed his head.

"Of course. This is my home. I would be honored my lady," he said, his deep and rough voice reverent.

When I spoke, Avacyn did too, approving of my actions.

"Then rise, Seamus The Wolfflame, first of my Wolf Knights, Hero of the Battle at Faodlah's Rest," I declared, raising my voice for all to hear.

"My lady... I thank you," he said, hesitating as he rose, "but I have sworn an oath to the people of another plane, to uphold the law and protect the people. I cannot just abandon it," he said, eyes downcast.

I considered this. Planeswalkers often form attachments to and are bound to duties on other planes. Finally, I placed my hand on his shoulder

"You do not have to," I told him, before continuing, "Simply spread word of me to those you hold in high regard. Ask them to help my cause. As my Knight, I trust your judgement!"

He nodded, a toothy, joyous grin splitting his solid, square face, and stood at my side.

We walked to address the assembled lupine warriors, who had moved to the village square and were beginning celebration with the villagers that had remained within the walls. Seamus remained on the ground as I took to the air, hovering about ten feet of the ground.

Again, Avacyn spoke with me, giving my words power and a almost musical quality.

"Today you have fought with courage, honor, determination, and passion. These are all traits that I look for in heros. I am Elspeth Tirel, Heiress of Avacyn and Archangel of Hope. Will those of you that wish to shine a light in this darkening world join me, as my honorable Wolf Knights, and help save this shadowed world?"

The answering howls from the warriors were deafening.

@actualborossoldier @gardianforce @selesnyapokemonprofessor @leonin-pal-adin @digitalis-the-engineer @chandra-pyromaster @aspenvald @holypupper @lasav-the-sneakster @jolly-ob-saint-nixilis @milolikesthings @userwordandpassname @tempus-vulpes @wearepaladin @kopala-warden-of-tumbr @lucianofsamosata @sorin-investigations @avacyn-jr @fe3nderm4n @thetalesofthereneverwood @baldore-of-the-boros @poison-stripes @chelsea-beleren-vess @leonsgirl

[zedecksiew]

The God Mine (Part 1)

THE GOD MINE

The bones of god-beasts, even aeons dead, still remember their own potency. A useful material for mage-craft and industry.

The smell of effluvia marks this place. The music of picks. A great open pit. Damaged, silent men clamber over each other, worms in a wound in the earth.

+

A DEAD GOD

Titanic ribs jut like the shell of a bombed-out temple. Brushed by the ghost of divine terror – you shiver.

What was this thing?

~

Portfolio – this was a god-beast of:

1: Artifice. 2: Ambition. 3: Fate. 4: Fire. 5: Hunger. 6: Healing. 7: Plagues. 8: Pleasure. 9: Madness. 10: Murder. 11: Beasts. 12: Battle. 13: Visions. 14: Virility. 15: Lies. 16: Law. 17: Thunder. 18: Tyranny. 19: Disorder. 20: Darkness.

In the presence of its corpse, all actions according to this god’s idiom are done with advantage.

~

Form – it was:

1: Humanoid. Hair, fingers, hooves. 2: Saurian. Scales, sauropod gait. 3: Piscine. Fish mail, fins, fish tail. 4: Mantid. Exoskeleton and ungues. 5: Birdlike. Feathers, sickle talons. 6: Serpentine. Coiling, coiling, coiling.

With the limbs and qualities roughly appropriate to that morphology.

~

Additional features – godliness made it extraordinary. Roll twice in each category. Parentheses indicate special properties in the remains:

Heads (d12): 1: Head of an ant. (Antennae cells sense life.) 2: Head of a mastodon. (Tusk ivory explodes doors.) 3: Head of an owl. (Brain matter chatters random secrets.) 4: Head of a crocodile. (Wounds inflicted by teeth enamel do not staunch.) 5: Head an icosahedron. (All rolls equal to the result of the die face you stand on.) 6: Eye a window to the starry void. (Portal to the vacuum of space.) 7: Eyes of molten iron. (Still molten.) 8: Unicorn horn. (Keratin a universal panacea.) 9: Adamantine tusks. (Unbreakable.) 10: d4 faces, all on a single head. (Roll d4 for each face, above.) 11: Mane of wise serpents. (Ghosts. Bored. Want to see the world. Will grant you powers, to this end.) 12: Fig forest on the crown. (Fruit reverses aging, seeds still viable.)

Torsos (d12): 1: Tortoise shell. (Individual scutes indestructible.) 2: Godzilla ridged plates. (Electrified.) 3: Actual-gold fur. 4: Glass scales. (Easily shattered.) 5: Nacreous sweat. (Seams of pearl.) 6: Psychedelic musk. (Pockets of hallucinogenic air.) 7: d4 vaginas to pocket dimensions. (Still open.) 8: Pregnant with a god of opposing idiom. (All actions according to the stillborn god’s idiom are done with advantage.) 9: Pregnant with a miniature sun. (Burning.) 10: d100 eggs of demi-divine spawn. (Will hatch undead horrors if cracked.) 11: d4 outsized priapic penises. (Endless gushing ichor, if punctured.) 12: Testes bursting with flying sperm. (Black, undead, aims for fertile wombs.)

Arms (d12): 1: Pair of arms, simian-handed. 2: Pair of arms, scythe-ended. 3: Pair of arms, crab-pincered. 4: Pair of arms, ghoul-clawed. 5: d12 arms, barbed, tentacular. 6: Two forearms on every elbow. 7: Hands performing flaming mudras. (Radioactive.) 8: 2d4 disembodied, flying palms. (Counts as slumbering, independent monsters.) 9: Wrist a stump, leaking disease. (Primordial ancestor to bone-break fever.) 10: Hands solid, articulated silver. 11: Touch that drains blood. (Negative-energy galleries.) 12: Touch that freezes tissue. (Frozen galleries.)

Wings (d12): 1: Pair of eagle wings. 2: Pair of bat wings. 3: Fan of peacock tail-feathers. 4: Two pairs of lace wings, fore and hind. 5: Two pairs of moth wings, staring-eye motifs. (Stuns on sight.) 6: Pair of lionfish spike-fins. (Excruciating pain on touch.) 7: 2d4 wings, detached, independent. 8: Wings in multicolour flame. (Galleries of flammable gas, as yet unignited.) 9: Wings that hum hypnotically. (Listeners will obey all spoken commands.) 10: Wings burnt, shrivelled away, useless. 11: Wings of solid jade, a burden. 12: Wings that eat light. (Blocks all sight.)

Legs (d12): 1: Pair of legs, simian-footed. 2: Pair of legs, eagle-taloned. 3: Pair of legs, goat-hoofed. 4: Pair of legs, frog-webbed. 5: 2d4 pairs of locust legs. 6: Slug foot, corrosive slime. (Acid lakes.) 7: Two calves on every knee. 8: d4 knees too many. 9: Footprints of diamond. 10: Footprints of fungal growths. 11: Footprints of screaming faces. (Seams of skulls.) 12: One leg a stump, bleeding leukocytes. (Lake of predatory leukocytes.)

Accoutrements (d12): 1: Trishula of frozen lightning. (Actual lightning.) 2: Belt of amber beads, a demon imprisoned in each. (Smashable.) 3: Garland of angel skulls. (Vengeful ghost angels. Will grant powers to those who would topple gods.) 4: Lotus-flower-shaped seat, made of lotus flowers. (Vein of still-fragrant petals.) 5: Turbined interstellar chariot. (Mangled star-metal technologies.) 6: Crown of thorns. (Made from sharpened dragon antlers.) 7: Mystic astrolabe. (Shattered. Repaired, able to manipulate the firmament.) 8: Smooth, featureless mask. (Shrinks to human size. When worn, assume form of any living entity you previously met. Magic cannot detect this deception.) 9: Winged slippers. (Capable of flight.) 10: Giant bow. (Broken. Repaired, drawn by somebody of divine lineage, its arrows will slay any entity.) 11: Abacus. (Missing beads. Repaired, able to fundamentally reconfigure a mortal soul.) 12: Arched harp. (Unstrung. Repaired, its vibrations freeze time.)

Attendants (d12): 1: Sentient giant ticks. (Genteel, philosophical, vampiric, starving.) 2: Ancient outang-men. (Insane albino outang-trogs.) 3: Great cockerel. (Kaiju-sized chicken skeleton. Will animate if unearthed.) 4: Great python. (Enormous intelligent tapeworms.) 5: Eight-legged horse. (Incorporeal hooves thundering through the tunnels. Tramples.) 6: Thirteen bronze dwarves. (Invented bone-marrow beer. When they mined out the marrow their camaraderie collapsed. None left.) 7: Shoulder angel, shoulder demon. (Spirits. One benign, one malign. Both compete to further their god’s idiom.)   8: School of angelfish. (Submerged warrens. Fleshing-eating swarms.) 9: Fairy slaves. (Now a nightmare cannibal autocracy.) 10: Marble automatons. (A mega-automaton assemblage, always looking for more parts.) 11: Life-giving rainbow wisps. (Fungus-spreading negative-rainbow wisps.) 12: Octahedrim. (Eight-sided floating polyhedra that shoot lasers and eat luck.)

+

SO YOU WANT TO QUARRY A GOD’S CORPSE

Imagine your god-beast. Imagine it fall.

+++

( Image sources:

http://www.barakasamsara.com/location/kawah-ijen-sulfur-mine-java https://www.pinterest.com/pin/328833210262526871/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leviathan_(book) https://factsprovidence.wordpress.com/moore-lovecraft-comics-annotation-index/pantheon-variant-covers/ https://medieval.tumblr.com/post/71758580115/eyes-on-wings-on-wheels-with-eyes-ophanim )

[nycttophilic]

Anne Verses

~hσld чσur вrєαth αnd cσunt thє dαчѕ; wє‘rє grαduαtíng ѕσσn~ |High School Verse|—Anne is a rebellious human teen who had been sent to study abroad at an all girls school by her rich father. Now, she’s back with her twin brother, and they both want to give public high school a shot.

~ѕσund σf mч hєαrt; thє вєαt gσєѕ σn αnd σn~ |Band Verse|—Anne is a human who is currently learning to play the bass guitar with her best friend, Lia. With her cousin’s skills with the drums and pleasant voice, as well as her rich father’s admiration for the piano, she was kind of raised around music. Now, she wants to spread her wings. However, that is hardly as easy as it seems.

Queen’s Watchdog Verse TBA—In this Verse, everything is the same…except Anne never became a reaper!! Her entire world is shifted; Leic grows up to become a doctor, Anne is the one who clung to her twin as children, Anne became Ciel’s heiress and pawn, and the fiery woman’s fire extinguished, replaced by a cold heart of stone. She became the next Earl of Phantomhive while her father and mother remain in the Underworld. Now, she is the aristocrat of evil, and she fits the role her father left behind perfectly…sickeningly so.

~í’m α crєαturє whσ‘ѕ up tσ nσ gσσd; í‘ll lσvє чσu líkє α vαmpírє wσuld~ |Vampire Verse|—This verse is very simple and the same for all of the muses that have it: the character is a vampire. This verse is very flexible, so if you have ideas please let me know so we can incorporate it into the thread!! But it’s nothing major, I just love vampires lol

~tαkє mє thrσugh thє níght; fαll íntσ thє dαrk ѕídє~ |Villain! Verse|—A verse for My Hero Academia. Anne is the co-leader of a secret enemy organization that keeps tabs on villains from all over the world, working alongside her twin brother, Leic. She has quirk called Pyromaniac, where she can control flames and set herself aflame, and is also immune to fire and has an elevated body temperature.

~í cαn вє hαppч wíth чσu; вut í cαn‘t вє hαppч íf í‘m dєαd~ |Simulation Verse|—Do you want to ship your muse with one of my four girls? Then this is the verse for you!! That is, if you’re prepared for some REALLY messed up shit and triggers like suicide, abuse, murder, blood, and many others. This verse is not at all for the faint of heart, and it’s best if you don’t really know what you’re in for. If you want to learn a bit more about this verse, you can find it here.

~gσd dαmn ríght; чσu ѕhσuld вє ѕcαrєd σf mє~ |Tokyo Ghoul Verse|—A verse that takes place in the world of Tokyo Ghoul. Here, Anne and Leic are the children of a human aristocrat that found himself with too much power: the knowledge of how to create half ghouls. He used this knowledge to turn himself and his two children into one eyed ghouls to make them strong, having to sacrifice his wife in the process. Now Anne must live with being a monster and having to eat her own kind, as well as struggle to be there for her younger brother through the worst of the worst.

~íf í tσld чσu whαt í wαѕ wσuld чσu turn чσur вαck σn mє?~ |Monster! Verse|—An AU where the world is humans/monster hunters vs. monsters. Here, Anne is an ifrit. She was alive at one point but was murdered by a monster hunter, who mistook the human girl for a monster. Now she despises the human monster hunters and takes joy in murdering them, and ESPECIALLY setting fire to their homes and loved ones.

~wє‘vє вєєn ѕpєndíng mσѕt σf σur lívєѕ lívíng ín thє gαngѕtα‘ѕ pαrαdíѕє~ |BSD Verse|—Taking place in Bungou Stray Dogs, Anne is the leader of an organization that studies abilities called the Underworld Reapers. Find more info here.

~thíѕ íѕ thє grєαtєѕt ѕhσw~ |Performer Verse|—

~wєlcσmє tσ α wσrld σf nєw ѕσlutíσnѕ; wєlcσmє tσ α wσrld σf вlσσdч єvσlutíσn~ |RWBY Verse|—