halloween decor

nooboos  asked:

6 please!

6. describe your dream expansion pack?

hello! my dream expansion pack for ts4 would definitely be a combination of seasons + holidays. 

spring: formal dances for our teens, a full fledged dating system, more items and activities relating to gardening, chalk, thunderstorms with power outages and board games to fill the time, picnics, jump rope, bicycles, “valentines day”

summer: swimming in the ocean, fireworks, beach parties and activities, tanning(and sun burns!), a summer fair with fried foods and games, a week break from school for the children/teens, sprinklers, swimming lessons for kids, pool toys/games.

autumn: trick or treating, leaves changing and falling, pumpkin patches with new recipes, haunted houses, costume store with spooky decor and costumes, halloween parties, feasts, decorating the house with the family, pranks for our teens to get into, and a holiday based on “halloween”. 

winter: snow(snow angels, snowball fights, igloo’s, snowman, etc), hot chocolate, holiday caroling, new cookie recipes + cooking them with the kids, “snowflake day” from ts3, winter clothing, a bunch of new toys/objects to gift out to others. 

the holidays in ts3 were great, but the lack of sims and activity kind of felt like a let down. with there always being sims around in ts4, i feel like they would really work well and be a fun and exciting addition to the game! 

and sorry for writing a literal novel ;-; 

It's The Great Pumpkin, Leonard McCoy

Paring: Leonard McCoy/Reader

Tags: female reader, fluff, friendship, Halloween, interior decorating.

Summary: Four times the Reader decorates the Medbay for her favourite celebration, Halloween.

Word Count: 2,306

Posting Date:  2016-10-30

Current Date: 2017-05-28

Originally posted by fuckyeahteamjones


There was something about living in Outer Space on a ship, constantly working which drove you to where you were right at this moment. Yes, you worked hard, and respected your coworkers and your bosses, and you were a trustworthy person, that was very true. And anyone would be quick to label you as passionate. So, it was perfectly reasonable to plot what you were plotting. The truth was, as a triage nurse, you were one with reasonably little time, hands often full, and mind overfilling with things which could rarely come true for those on your pay grade.   

Yet, it was Halloween in the morning, and a quick call to those on the Bridge (you had a yellow shirt in a chair who owed you a favour), and you were carrying decorations he had been hoarding back to the main Medbay. The clock above the doorway ticked, turning time through its hands as it became morning, early. Yes, there were the night team on shift, and the patients sleeping in overnight observation were not interrupted. But still, you hung the paper decals of skulls and their skeletons, gourds, and it was while you were stringing the line of small paper pumpkins when a shadow loomed in the entrance. 

“What’s this about, Nurse ________?" 

Turning, you saw the familiar dark head of hair attached to the CMO, Dr. McCoy. Your superior officer. With a guilty grin, you hold up the last piece of pumpkin-strung line with vigour. "Halloween, sir. All Hallow’s Eve is tomorrow, and I couldn’t have us missing out.”

He raises a brow, and without a word, crosses the threshold to help you place the last piece on the wall into place. “I know what Halloween is, I’m no corn-fed idiot,” he grumbles, dusting his hands onto his cerulean sweater. “I’m just wondering why a triage nurse like yourself is doing awake during recuperation hours." 

Your guilty smile widens. "All in the name of fun, sir. Which reminds me, I really should be going back for a quick nap before my shift starts.”  You gesture to the clock, along with all the decorations you had put up to get everyone into the holiday spirit, “I was hoping to surprise you, sir, but you seemed shocked enough for me.”

Dr. McCoy shakes his head, helping you get down from the little ladder. “It’s three in the morning, Nurse ________, anything could have shocked me, let alone,” he motions to the picture you plastered on the wall, of a large pumpkin, “Whatever that is." 

You gasp. "That’s - it’s the Great Pumpkin, Dr. McCoy!” you gush, “It’s from the 20st Century - prime Earth cultural history, my favourite story as a child for the Halloween time of year!” you confide. 

He nods, and takes your elbow. “That sounds great and all, but I’m going to have to walk you back to your lodging, _______, before you’re too dead on your feet to do your real job.” His snark is still sharp. “And I don’t care if you object. As your superior -," 

You shake your head. "You’re too kind, sir, but I was going off anyway. Don’t you have to be in the Medbay, though?” you add.

“I’m in charge of the thing, it can wait half an hour,” he grumbles. “C'mon, you.”



It happened to be three hundred and sixty five days later when you found yourself in the same place you had been a year ago. Not even halfway through the decorating of the paper decals, you heard a throat clear behind you. It was the same tone of throat-clearing you were used to listening to in your everyday life, and without flinching, you pasted the next picture upon the wall.

“It seems we meet again, Dr. McCoy,” you grin over your shoulder.

“What is this?” he frowns. 

You can’t help it, but a fizzle of laughter erupts from somewhere within yourself. “Don’t you remember from the last time you walked in on me decorating? It’s that season again on Earth, sir.”

The CMO growls. It isn’t an angry growl, or something you’d hear out of the mouth of a wild animal, but something annoyed, and vaguely human. “Are you sassing me, Nurse ________?” his lips are thin, a straight line, but it isn’t that which makes the giggles within you bubble out a little more. It’s the way his eyes aren’t in on the act of being angry – no, faux angry. 

“Only for my favourite CMO, sir,” you turn back to the chain in your hands. “If you’re not too busy, I would appreciate some help with the decorating." 

His hands gather the length, and for the rest of the night, the both of you work in silence around those on the night shift. 



"It’s the thirtieth of October, Miss _______. ” The blue-shirted Dr. McCoy approaches you in the cafeteria. His face is not forming his usual frown, or sarcastic bluff, but his lips are pulled into a small smile. Smug. “It’s getting late, and you’re nowhere near the Medbay." 

You turn to him, and spare a smile. "That is an acutely accurate observation, sir,” you return to your business at the coffee machine, finishing off filling your latte with a sprinkle of pumpkin spice atop the froth. “You can’t blame a nurse for grabbing her favourite seasonal drink, Dr." 

He hesitates, watching as you place the lid atop the cup, and take a sip. Without a word, he follows you to a table, sitting opposite each other. You cock an eyebrow, and place the cup between your hands, in the centre of the table. "What I might ask, sir, is why you’re so suspicious of someone whose only flaw is consuming too much caffeine, and enjoying an Earth holiday." 

He grumbles under his breath, but you don’t catch the words. 

"You know, I think I left something in the Medbay,” you rub your eye, and glance to the clock above the entrance to the cafeteria. “You wouldn’t mind escorting a gal, would you, Dr. McCoy?” you take a sip of your drink. 

He shakes his head, standing. “Come on then, gal, let’s get this over with.”

You flash him a grin over the cup, and flank his stride. “Oh, you sure know how to charm a nurse, sir.” Taking another sip, you sigh. “As soon as I get what I need, I really need some sleep.” you share with the CMO of the Enterprise. “I really should be off to bed soon, I’ve the double shift for once." 

He grunts. "You really shouldn’t be drinking that if you want to sleep, Nurse ______.”

“I know,” you shrug, and add, “But it’s decaf, sir, and I love Halloween more than anything.”

It’s now you notice that Dr. McCoy has stopped walking. His feet are planted to the floor, face blank, but you have experience enough to read what he has unconsciously written across his head.  Slowly, as he takes it in, his mouth falls slowly ajar. 

“How…?” he whispers.

You cross your arms. The Medbay has been decked out, orange streamers and the same ol’ decals that you’d put up the years before out and bright on the walls. The rest of the ship is the USS Enterprise. Inside, it is the land of Halloween. 

“I have my ways,” you muse, and patting Dr. McCoy, you walk your way to your bunk. “I’ll see you in the morning, sir.”



It was finally your time for shore leave; while yes, the USS Enterprise had been docked and other members of the ship had been and had their time off, you never found the opportunity for it until now. It was four days until your favourite holiday of the Earth calendar, and luckily for you, there was a small Earth colony on the planet, with plenty of stores selling things you needed for the Halloween celebration.

You were dressed in your comfortable off-duty clothes, and not three metres away from the human community, you saw from the corner of your eye that you had someone following you. But as you turn, you see none other than your boss. 

“I’d ask why you’re following me, sir, but I already know.” you beam at Dr. McCoy. He’s wearing a thick pair of boots, and a long jacket which shields the winds of the planet from his form. His hair is ruffled by the weather, unkempt, much unlike himself. 

He hums, hands deep in his pockets.

“Twofold. You’re curious about what I’m to pull off this year, and that your regular, not-coworker friends are too busy in their own matters. Or not. I’m as human as you are, I have no special mind-reading abilities." 

He chuckles. "You’re right on all accounts, Miss ________.”

The both of you enter the colony, and as soon as you see a store displaying merchandise for the Halloween season, your steps increase, and Leonard McCoy is left to follow you in your wake to where you’ve run off to. But by the time he reaches the inside of the store, you’re already gathering things to purchase, arms full of decorations and packets of things he can’t read at the distance he stands from. You gently nudge a pumpkin with your foot, and give him a hopeful smile. 

“My arms are full - I mean, could you please,” you stammer, but before your sentence is finished, his arms are full of the large, bright orange pumpkin. It is a sight you wouldn’t have ever guessed yourself to have the luck to see - Dr. McCoy, your boss, holding a large pumpkin like a toddler, jaw set, eyes alight like always. “Thank you, sir. I was hoping you’d help me carve it for the Medbay, just for something a little different…”



Leonard McCoy closes his communicator shut with a snap. His friend and superior James Kirk hadn’t heard from his friend ________, neither had any of his other friends, or even coworkers. The logon for Medbay said she had clocked in two days ago for work, but nothing since then. 

Despite himself, he missed the triage nurse, the one who brought him to smile when nobody could see, to cloud his thoughts when nothing else was on his mind. If it were any other person, he’d diagnose it as lovesickness. But not him. He was … concerned. She spent all year planning how to celebrate Halloween, and yet, it was the night before, and there was no sign of her. It was the last year of the mission too. She would never miss out on it for the world.The stars. 

He tells the next in charge to run things for the next hour, and at that, he sets off in the direction of _______’s room. Not too long a walk later, he reaches it, and raises a hand to knock. 


Just as he’s about to walk off, he hears something. A thump. He isn’t a forward man, not since he was a reckless young man, but without hesitating, he overrides the locking system for the door, and faces what has happened inside _______’s small residence. 

Laying on the floor, surrounded by fallen sheets and bed stuff is the form of ______, pale and sickly. The alarm clock lays with her on the ground, and without dithering, he gathers your form in his arms, and storms back to the Medbay to make sure you’re not more than half dead or worse. 

Your eyes flutter open, vision blurry, you come to. But the first thing you see is the flurry of blue shirts around you and the room, working tirelessly, and the undeniable shade of orange decorating the walls. 

“What - happened?” you groan, moving to sit up. 

There’s a pressure on the end of your bed, and moving your head, you see the face of Dr. McCoy. He has no frown, no grimace, not one muscle in his face pulled into something of contempt. Instead, there’s something in those bright eyes of his you have not seen before, something caring. “You’ve somehow contracted the flu, Miss _______,” he informs you, and taking a deep, he adds, “You’ll be on bed rest in here as long as it takes you to get better.”

Your heart races at that. “But sir, I have to - I have to decorate -,”

He leans back, giving you a small smile. “No need. We’ve already done that for you.”

On the walls, the ceiling, the floor are little decorations, some new and some the same as the other years you had taken it upon yourself to celebrate the spooky season. Your mouth runs dry at the same time your eyes moisten, and you shed a tear. 

“Why you crying, darlin’?” he frowns, puzzled. 

You rub your eyes, yet more tears fall. “I can’t believe you actually did that for me, sir. It’s so nice of you to - to hang the chain of gourds and there’s a pumpkin, like last year…”

He nods, and adds in a small voice, “I even put up that big picture of the good pumpkin you like, too.”

You can’t help it but giggle at that, even if it hurts your throat. “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Leonard McCoy,” you correct him. “Oh my goodness … how can I ever repay you?”

The CMO takes a second to think, and looking at you straight in the eye, he clears his throat, face growing redder by the second. It’s very unlike himself, but still, here he is, sitting at the end of your bed, “I could take you out sometime, when you’re well, maybe when we are back on Earth,” he proposes, wringing his hands together so tight, you can see them growing white and bloodless under his grip.

Slowly, you reach out to take his hand. “I would love to, sir."