haunted weekend

My entry for @deancas-sweetheart

word count: 2,300
tags: hs!au, best friends to lovers, pining!cas


“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Dean says.

Dean? Oh, Cas must be dreaming. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He feels a brush of lips on his forehead and sighs. That felt real, but it couldn’t have been. Because Dean is his best friend and isn’t even remotely interested in Cas. Cas knows that because Dean constantly flirts with others and it hurts. It has been hurting him for years.

“Dean,” Cas whispers into the void. “Love you, Dean.”

He has never said those words out loud before, but it is okay now. Because he’s dreaming. And no one will ever know.

Grabbing his backpack, Cas walks out of his house. It’s a brief walk to the Winchester’s house where Dean is already waiting for him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greets him and gets a bright beam in return.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean says, too cheerily for a Monday morning. Cas falters for a moment, hearing the nickname, so similar to the one in his dream, and yet so far from it, but recovers quickly. The dream’s been haunting him the whole weekend and he doesn’t need it haunting him now, when Dean is right beside him.

They get into the car and Dean starts the engine, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Why are you in such a good mood, Dean? It’s Monday,” Cas mutters, raising his eyebrow.

“Well, we can’t all be grumps like you,” Dean smirks and then looks at him. “Besides, maybe I’m just really happy to see you, sweetheart.” To make things worse, he throws him a wink too, overdramatic one, but still a wink.

Cas’ heart stops beating for several moments, before it starts pounding so fast, he’s sure it can be seen through his clothes. To crown it, his skin grows warmer and he knows he’s blushing. Great. At least Dean doesn’t seem to notice his flustered state, his gaze focused on the road.

What are the chances of Dean using that word, merely days after Cas has dreamed him saying it? He wants to cry, he wants to yell, he wants… He wants it to be real…

Lost in his thoughts, Cas didn’t notice they pulled up in the school’s parking lot, but he becomes aware of it when Dean snaps his fingers in front of his face.

“Earth to Cas. Where did you go, buddy?”

That’s right. Buddy. Dean is his friend. He should focus on that and just erase the damn dream from his mind.

“Sorry, spaced out,” he bites out and gets out of the car. “See you later.”

With a small wave, he leaves Dean, hurrying to school. Hopefully by the third period, the one he shares with Dean, he will get over the turmoil in his head and return to normal.

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Originally posted by axeken

Peter Parker X Reader

By: The Daydreamer

Warnings: Partying, Kissing, Mean People

Word Count: 1,959 Words

A/N:  This is only my second fanfic, so please don’t judge it by its horribleness.  I don’t think that anyone is going to read it anytime soon, but I still write it so I get personal enjoyment!

The teacher was calling names for the new science project.  You really hope you got stuck with someone that was fun and responsible.  Last time you had a science project, you ended up doing the entire project while your partner sat next you looking dumb.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Peter Parker.”  You look up.  You had just been stuck with Peter Parker, the really nerdy science kid who sat in front of you.  You have to admit, he was kinda cute.  Maybe him loving science would make so that you didn’t have to do the entire project yourself.

“So, I guess we are partners,”  You smile as Peter turns around and smiles back.  He wasn’t just kinda cute, he was really cute.  Not that drop dead hot kind, the kind that is under the surface, the kind that comes with being caring and smart, the nerdy kind.

“I guess so.  Do you have any ideas on what we should do our project about?”  You jump right in.  You are the kind who likes to get the project done early and get it done perfectly.

“We could do something about power sources, gaining power and losing it?  We could build an entire generator?”  You smile at that suggestion.  That was really interesting and could be really fun.

“That sounds really fun, let’s do it!”  You are very excited, not just to be working with Peter but for the project.

“Okay, Let’s meet up after school at the library to do research?”  Peter is already suggesting they research together.  It could be something similar to a study date, but it couldn’t be a date.  Everyone knew that Peter Parker had a crush on Liz Allen, the most popular girl in school.  Then, of course, almost all of the boys at Midtown School Of Technology and Science had a crush on her.  

When the bell rang, you said goodbye to Peter and went on your day.  The only thing you could think about was the after-school study promise you made to Peter.  When the time finally arrived, you could barely think straight.  You headed to the library to meet Peter, but you friend grabs you.

“Where you off to?” She asks, teasing in her voice.  You glare at her and pull away.

“Oh, you know.  And I am going to be late if you keep me captive any longer.”  She giggles.

“Have fun!  Don’t fall in love or you might never get this project done!”  She giggles and walks off.  Why do they have to tease you so much?  You told them at lunch about you being partnered with Peter and they got the hint of the fact you had a crush on him.  They were not going to let you forget.

You rush into the library to see Peter calmly sitting in the back, a couple of books already on the table.  You calmly walk over and sit down.  Peter glances over and smiles.

“Sorry I am late, I got a bit distracted.”  You pull out your notebook and grab your pencil for behind your ear.

“My I ask what distracted you?”  Peter sets down his pencil and looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“Just friends, it’s nothing!”  I giggle a little. “Now, let’s get to work.  How are we going to build a generator in two weeks.”  You give Peter a serious look.

“Teamwork, that is how.”  He returns your serious look, biting back a grin.  “Here, let me give you my number so we can communicate.”  He rips a piece of paper from his notebook and hands it to you.  There was his number.  You pulled out your phone and imputed the number. You texted him.

“There, now you have my number.”  You attempted to play it cool, but you couldn’t believe how the events were unfolding.  “Now let’s get to work.”

Just then, Peter’s phone chimed.  He picked it up and checked it.  A smile crossed his face before he spoke.  “Sorry, I have to go.  Plans changed.”  Your smile dropped.

“Oh, okay.  When is the best time to reschedule?”  You bite your lip to stop the frown that was covering your face.  Things were going so well, what had changed.

“How about tomorrow night? At the coffee shop on 222nd Street?”  He suggested quickly.  Obviously, whatever the other plans were, they were way more important than this studying session for their science project.

“Ya, that would work.”  You say softly.  “See you then.”  You slid your book back in your bag.

“I don’t mean to sound lazy, but do you mind putting these books back for me?”  Peter asked distractedly as he gathered up his stuff.

“Sure,”  you start gathering up the books as Peter walks away, half-heartedly waving good-bye.  You felt hurt, though you didn’t know why.  You thought something was going to happen today, but you were wrong.  He was just a science partner, that is all.  He wasn’t all of the sudden going to become your boyfriend or your best friend.    

You take care of the books and run outside.  You catch a cab and head back to your apartment.  When you arrived, your sister was in the kitchen making dinner.

“Hey, Y/N!  Mom’s going to be a little late tonight, so she asked me to come over and be with you.”  She was so cheerful.  Mom was never home on time, always late from work.

“Thanks, Y/S/N!  Whatcha cooking?”  You slide onto a stool across the counter from your sister.  

“Alfredo and Chicken, your favorite.”  She smiles.  “How was your day?”

“It was okay, got a new science project and my partner’s pretty cool.”  Then the tears were flowing down your face and you didn’t know why.  All he had down was blown off a study session, it wasn’t like he had broken your heart.

“What’s wrong?”  You sister came around and put an arm around you, pulling you close and comforting you.

“Nothing, just a stressful day.”  You wiped the tears off and willed more not to come.

“Are you sure?  This doesn’t just seem like stress.”  She was worried you could tell.

“Ya, excuse me for a second.”  You get up and walk to your room.  You had to get you emotions under control.  This was unreasonable.  

* * * *

After school the next day, you headed to the coffee shop that Peter had suggested.  On the way there, you stopped by the library to pick up some of the books Peter was looking at yesterday about a generator.  Building this was going to be hard, but if you worked together, getting an A was going to be easy.  

When you arrived at the coffee shop, Peter wasn’t there yet, so you ordered a drink and took a seat in a booth in the back.  You began working on a design.  The science and design behind the technology was always an interesting topic.  Understanding how the technology that runs the world helps you feel connected to the world.

After an hour went by and Peter never came, you decided to call him.  You pulled out your phone and dialed the number.  Peter picked up after a few seconds.

“Hello?”  He was practically shouting over noise in the background.  There were music and people talking.

“Hey, Peter.  It’s Y/N.”  What was Peter doing?

“Hey, Y/N!  Can I help you with something?”  Then there were some muffled sounds as a girl on the other end said something to Peter, he said something back to her.  The silence got awkward so you finally spoke.

“No, I was just calling to ask you if you could get some things for the science project.”  You felt really awkward.  He was obviously at a party and knowing our school, it was probably one hosted by Liz.  She was never nice to you, so know wonder you never got invited.

“Ya, sure, text it to me and I will bring it to school.”  He was talking to some people on the other side of the phone, muffled voice coming through.

“Sure, okay.”  You hung up, the conversation was entirely awkward and you didn’t want to have to be on the phone a moment longer.  You texted Peter a list of materials you needed and packed up.  Suddenly your phone chimed.  You looked at it, wondering if Peter and bothered to answer you.  But it was a picture, at a party, of Liz and Peter, kissing.  It had been sent to the whole school and the caption read, “The Nerd and The Princess, a new movie coming to your school.  Turns out Liz Allen found her true prince charming.”  

It was if something had been ripped out of you.  You ran outside and got a cab to take you home.  You tried to stifle the tears from flowing, but once they started, there was no stopping them.  Why did this hurt so much?  He felt nothing toward you, but still, any chance of him every thinking of you as anything but a stupid project partner was crushed.

* * * *

On Monday, you went to school with your heart broken.  Your weekend had been full of crying.  You mother wasn’t home, of course, so you were forced to deal with this alone.  You sister had gone back to her apartment in Manhattan and had to take care of her kids and husband.

“Hey, you seem sad.”  Your friends gathered around you, matching worried looks covered their faces.

“I am fine, just stressed.”  You brushed them off and keep walking to your class.

“This is about the text that Liz sent out to everyone.  Just brush it off, she is a witch anyway.”  This comment by your friend reminded you of the memories that haunted your weekend.  All of the times that Liz had taunted you and teased you.  No one but your friend knew those memories.  Liz had hidden them, made sure no one knew how much she disliked me.

“Ya, it is nothing.”  You walk faster until you reach science.  Peter wasn’t there when you got there so you slumped down in your seat and pulled out your notebook.  In your notebook, you had completely designed a generator that would fit with the subject of creating energy.  You had also written the paper on how you are not creating energy, just transferring it.  

When Peter walked in, he had Liz at his side and was smiling like he was the happiest guy in the world.  The bell rang and they had to take their seats.  They kissed before they walked five feet away from each other to get to their seats.  It was like he was going off to war, which he was not.

“Okay, class.  You can use today to work with your partners on the project.  No one other than your partner.”  The teacher didn’t get up from her desk.

Peter turned around to face you, “So what do we need to do?”

“Did you not bring the stuff I asked you to?”  Peter was confused until he realized what you were talking about.

“Oh, I didn’t get time this weekend.  I was jam packed, you know helping my Aunt May.”  You just smiled, hiding the hurt.

“Peter, I saw the text, you don’t need to lie.  Why do you think you would need to lie to me?”  You were so confused.

“Sorry.”  He gave you a sorry face, but you knew he wasn’t sorry.

“We can’t do anything.  We just need to build the generator, everything else is done.”

“Y/N, I promise you that I will get that stuff by tomorrow.”  He looked at you apologetically.  

“Peter, that is what you said last time.  I guess you never took your promises seriously.”

Fear Factor

PAIRING: reader x avengers 


WARNINGS: slight graphic description, implied jump scared and swearing. 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!! Now this is based on something that happened to me. I experienced my first walk through horror house, it was the best/worst thing that has ever happened to me and the thought of our fearless hero’s going through what I experienced was something I could not write! I hope you enjoy and I hope you all have a spooky halloween!!!! 


Originally posted by creep-cat

Originally posted by wakandaentertainment

From the age of fifteen you could boast a plethora of jobs you have worked over the years. Some of the were mundane as a grocery clerk, and an office assistant. But there were others such as dog groomer and of course your annual weekend job of working in a Haunted Horror walkthrough. The weekend of Halloween was by far your favorite time to work, who else could stay they had made grown men fold like a pack of cards just by your scream. You had worked that job for many years, mostly at circuses and fairground attractions; it was there you made the acquaintance of a certain archer.

It was Clint who had contacted you, your secret martial arts training and ability to slip into any role was the perfect biases of becoming a shield agent, and the rest they say was history. You had worked closely with the Avengers over the past few years forcing to give up your yearly job of scaring the living hell out of people. But this year was different, you had gotten an email from your old boss telling you that the festival was due to hit New York on Halloween weekend, she had also offered you as many tickets as you needed seeing as you were her favorite actor.

“Please guy, it will be fun I promise” you pouted looking around at your teammates. They all looked at you with a level of trepidation

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anonymous asked:

How's the case going? It's your last day! Did you catch him? AU

We got that son of bitch. But, it wasn’t before he got his hands on @askelizabethscottkeen.  I knew better than to leave her side but she had just come back from the gym, why she went to the gym after spending all that time on her hair this morning, anyway she wanted to clean up and we were out of shampoo - again.  So, I headed down to the front counter to get her another sample and to tell the concierge that for what they charge they could pony up and offer a larger complimentary bottle.  They lady in front of me was complaining that the pool water wasn’t warm enough and after 5 minutes of her bitching I finally got my shampoo.  I did not expect to see Archer in our room when I got back.  I know we got him and he’s locked up. But, seeing him that room with Liz.  I just never should have left for that damn shampoo.

I woke up with a hangover and the feeling that the earth was moving pretty fast. Way to fast.

Grumbling I extended a foot towards the floor, to stop the movement, but this time it did not work.

It took me a moment to remember why my surroundings were alien, yet familiar.

We were driving through a town not very different from Tacoma; restaurants and copy shops and loads and loads of cars, though it seemed to be a bit more tourist focused than my hometown. We drove by a shop with some kind of an alligator man statue on its porch roof. For some reason Paula decided to stop here; she squeezed her bus in between a Jeep and an old Volvo and got up.

“We will go find out if there is a bus stop nearby. The people in those shops have and know everything. Come on!”

I followed Paula, grateful the world had calmed and wasn’t wobbling that much anymore. Haha, wibble-wobble. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey. Good times.

The shop was packed and full of stuff, walking the line between interesting and gross. The eight legged lamb and the two headed calf that stood preserved and gathering dust in a corner were sad and creepy, but the huge collection of sea shells and corals was beautiful. In a glass case I discovered the demi-human whose statue was mounted outside. It was mummified and the slitted eyes and pointy teeth from its human head were a promise to haunt me in my dreams.

Hurriedly my fingers searched for the charms on my wrist; the shield against evil, the dream catcher against bad dreams, and then, just to be sure, the clover for good luck.

“Ts, you Americans are barbaric!”, Paula appeared right beside me and made me jump. “That poor guy. He deserves a proper burial. I am sure he haunts this shop.”

With that, even the last bit of warm, drunk fuzziness left and I felt horrible. I had a hangover, I was far away from home, together with a stranger who did not like me and my mother’s ghost had tried to prevent all this. My mother, who always wanted my best, even when I behaved horribly and childish. I missed her so much it hurt.

“You okay?”, Paula had noticed the change of mood.

“I’m… I don’t know. I don’t feel well. Can we go outside please?”

“Sure. It is almost two, I think we both could use something to eat.”

Paula handed me a burger wrapped in wax paper, fries and a card. Munching my fries, I took a look at the blue cardboard.

Complimentary Sea Shell For Every Customer – We Hand Out Over A Million A Year!

Was written on it, followed by the address of the shop. And under that, there was a small, perfect sea shell. White and thin and towards the middle the white changed to a soft pink. It looked more like a rose petal than a shell.

“Thank you Paula, it is really beautiful. For the burger as well. I will pay you back when I get back home. I promise.”

“You better do!”, Paula said, but since she was licking ketchup from her fingers it sounded not very threatening. “The woman in the shop said there is a transit center in Astoria with buses to Tacoma. We should be there in about half an hour, como máximo.”

“Thank you Paula. For taking me to the beach as well. This has been the most holiday like day in over a year.”

Paula just nodded and focused on the road. She seemed to have said everything she wanted to say, so I used the last few minutes to admire the bus.

Whilst it looked just like an ordinary yellow school bus from the outside, it had been completely rebuilt on the inside. Like I had noticed earlier, it seemed as if someone had taken the inside of a cabin and just adjusted it to fit it into the bus. The walls were paneled with light wood and covered in photographs; landscapes and trees and the seaside, the sky at night and by day, animals and people and again and again the yellow bus. At the windows hung garlands made out of the most whimsical things; feathers and stones and crystals and rose buds, dried leaves, nuts and berries and origami cranes that flapped their wings. Next to the bed there was a tiny table with two chairs and a kitchenette, and on the other side there was a book shelf full of photo books. There were lots and lots of drawers. It itched in my fingers to open them and take a look, but I had reached a point with Paula where the woman seemed to be almost okay with me, and I did not want to make her hate me again. Everywhere there were jars and bottles; carefully lined in rows in shelves, stashed into boxes, filled into bags in the overhead compartment. So many jars.

Maybe Paula would allow me one last question so I could go home knowing what all these jars were for.

The landscape we were driving through had changed, now we were surrounded by the sea and then we pulled up at a bus station and later on I was not sure if I got out with Paula or not, but I could definitely remember Paula’s voice as she said: “What do you mean, there are no buses on the weekend?!”

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anonymous asked:

hello dear! i'd just like to say first off, i love your imagines so much, they're extremely well-written and lovely, and i'm super jealous of how amazing of a writer you are!! i was just wondering if you could write this imagine (since i'm already getting excited about autumn haha) where it's october and josh and the reader go out to the pumpkin patch and pick some out, then go back home and carve them and have some hot chocolate and cuddles? thanks so so much!! <3

thank you so much for the kind words, this was a super cute prompt, i hope i did it some justice!! 


““For the sake of this relationship, please tell me that you’re kidding,” Josh jokes playfully.

“I swear,” you reiterate for what felt like the tenth time in the last minute, “that I’ve never carved a pumpkin before.”

“Who even are you?” he scoffs, shaking his head.  “Pumpkin carving is like, the epitome of fall.  How do you have a Halloween without it?”

“I’m not from here!  My family wasn’t big on Halloween growing up, and autumn wasn’t really even a season—” you said, trying to defend yourself.  But Josh had already insisted on changing your course of action for the day.  Instead of dinner and a movie, like originally planned, you were on your way to a farm he knew of with a pumpkin patch.  

“That better change.  Halloween’s the best.”

“I’ll tell you what,” you say, scooting your body upright in the passenger seat to face Josh, “I will go along with whatever Halloween activities you plan, and if you make them actually fun for me, I’ll consider appreciating the holiday a little more.”

Josh reaches across the center console and takes your hand in his.  He intertwines your fingers together before bringing the back of your hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss to the skin there.  

“Deal,” he says smugly.  

The cool autumn air blows right through your thin jacket, causing you to shiver slightly after you’ve gotten out of the car.  Josh notices you crossing your arms over your body, and helps by wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his warm body acting as a space heater for yours.  You weren’t used to the cold yet, and you had a feeling it was going to take a while for your body to adjust.

You smiled as Josh led the way through the orchard.  Blinding yellow flames lit the hillsides around you two. There were apple trees standing like a fleet straight ahead, red blooms in rows by the tens, maybe twenties.

Josh took a sharp left past a barn, where people were paying for their bags of apples and cups of hot chocolate and plates of pie.  Just past the old building was a pumpkin patch, surrounded by wild trees on three sides.  You couldn’t help but marvel at the autumn trees around you, especially as you got closer.  Stands of them along the verge looked like carnival clowns holding giant bunches of yellow, orange, red and green balloons.

“It’s so beautiful out here,” you vocalize, quietly, almost to yourself.  

“Fall’s my absolute favorite season,” Josh smiles, taking a deep breathe of the crisp air.  

You browse the selection of pumpkins, not like the competition was that rampant, especially after you laid eyes on the “prize pumpkin” as you continued to call it throughout the day.  It was huge, double the size of a basketball.  And since you found it, you insisted on carrying it back, despite it’s bulk and weight.  

“I got it,” you snapped, as Josh tried to scoop it out of your shaking arms.  He was already holding his own pumpkin, one about half as big as yours.  

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” he laughs, shaking his head.  

You proudly, and awkwardly, shuffled your way to the barn, where you’re able to weigh your pumpkins, pay, then make your way to the car.  You’re grateful Josh didn’t park that far.  

You’re buckled into the front seat of the car before you realize Josh wasn’t right behind you.  Instead, you see him balancing his pumpkin and two styrofoam cups in his hands.  You watch, confused through the windshield.  

“Here,” he says, handing you one of the cups gently.  

“What is it?” you ask.


“I’ve never had this before…”

“Just shut up and try it,” he insists.  

And so you do.  

The warm liquid trickles down your throat, sweet and calming.  “It’s so good,” you admit, as you cradle the warm cup between your fingers.  

Josh starts the car then smiles smugly, “I knew you’d like it.”

“So first,” Josh instructs once there’s a fine layer of newspaper laid out on the back deck, “you have to get all the gut stuff out.”

“Gut stuff?” you cringe as he hands you a knife and spoon.  

“Yeah, watch—“  Josh cuts a circle into the top of his pumpkin around the stem and lifts an abnormal amount of goo out with it.  

You follow suit, doing exactly what Josh does.  

You’re amazed by how much goo you pull out of your pumpkin, but once you’re scraping the last bit out from the bottom, you can’t help but smile at your accomplishment.  

“We can carve now?” you ask eagerly.  

“Knock ‘em dead,” Josh encourages.  

With your tongue sticking out and your face twisted in concentration, you barely speak to Josh the entire time you’re carving the face of your pumpkin.  You try to make smooth strokes with the knife, rather than have jagged edges.  

Josh finishes before you, due to the fact that his pumpkin was much, much smaller.  

“I’ll be right back,” he says, before standing up and walking inside.

You hear him moving around, but barely let your attention waiver from the prize pumpkin in front of you.  

At long last you do finish.  You finally put your tongue back in your mouth and smile widely at the masterpiece before you.  It’s a standard face, your creativity wasn’t too wild this time around, but for your first carved pumpkin, you’d say it was a success.  

“Hey baby!” you call, “You gotta come check this little guy out!”

But Josh doesn’t answer.

“Babe?” you call again, this time twisting to look inside.  

When he fails to respond again, you gently set down your pumpkin, before wiping your sticky hands on the towel already laid out.  As you stand, you realize your foot’s partially asleep, you wonder how long you’ve been sitting in that position.

“Josh?” you call again, once inside the house.  

“I’m in the kitchen!” he calls.  

Josh is in the midst of pulling a pan out of the oven when you see him.

“What’re you doing?” you ask casually, setting the dirty towel on the counter.  

“Just baked some seeds!” he says proudly, showing you the pan.  

You narrow your eyes in on the white seeds on the tray.  


“Pumpkin seeds!  I separated them out from your goo, so we could eat them.  I promise they’re good.”

“Okay…” you say skeptically, “if you say so—  But, Josh… my pumpkin came out so good!”

Josh dumps the seeds into a small bowl, before gathering two mugs of hot cocoa he’d also brewed while you were busy outside.  “Yeah?” he says eagerly.

“So good!” you practically shriek.

“Wait til we light it up tonight,” he smiles back.  

You follow him into the living room and Josh sets down the mugs on a couple of coasters.  

“Alright, so these seeds—“ you drawl, “I just eat the whole thing?”

“The whole thing.”

You plop one in your mouth, very pleased by the saltiness of them.  You find yourself grabbing another handful…

“So let me guess,” he prods, “you’re not big on Halloween movies either?”

You shake your head and right on cue, Josh pulls up some Tim Burton film he insists is his favorite.  The worst part is, you can’t even argue.  Because he’s been right about everything so far today.  

Josh presses play before falling back into he couch with you, tugging gently on the blanket urging for you to share.  You oblige, curling yourself into his side and resting your head on his shoulder.  

“Okay Josh,” you say after taking a small sip of your hot chocolate.  “I think you might already have me swayed on this Halloween thing—“

Josh squeezes you slightly, pulling you even closer into him.  He smiles smugly down at you, “Just wait until I take you to the haunted houses next weekend.”

  • Don’t.
  • If you are the type of person to hit people when they scare you, DO NOT ENTER THE HAUNTED HOUSE or find a way to not punch, hold on to a friend, hands in your pocket, just do not punch.
  • Don’t grab grope or kiss actors either. It’s not funny and some people might even find it triggering. You don’t know who is under the mask/make up.
  • SCARE ACTORS ARE HUMAN BEINGS. This is either a paid job or volunteer work for them. Would you go into Sears and punch someone trying to sell you a washing machine? Would you grope someone working at the SPCA? NO. And if you said yes, please examine that response.
  • Some performers are underage and you can get in major trouble for touching them inappropriately.
  • They will report you. You will not get away with it. You might be asked to leave. You might be asked to leave and not come back that season.
  • If they touch you and they’re not supposed to, then they really don’t mean to, but sometimes the space is cramped and the same things happens with guests all the time and it is easily forgiven by them, too.
  • Please don’t go in drunk. It’s funny when you get scared easily, but it’s also dangerous to you and the performers.
  • On a side note, I will literally act like a prop to confuse people, so be gentle to props please. Just don’t tap the props too hard.

Everyone wants to have fun when they go to these things, and it’s fun for everyone when you’re a well behaved adult about things, even if you’re not an actual adult. Just think about how you’d feel it that was you in that costume.

A Personal Experience at the Stanley Hotel
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I grew up in the town that contains the infamous Stanley Hotel. For those of you who don’t recognize that name, it’s the hotel that inspired Stephen King to write The Shining. The Stanley Hotel is consistently listed among the top most haunted places in America.

Shortly after Halloween in 2010, I went on a ghost tour at the Stanley and met a ghost.

Our tour guide, nicknamed Scary Mary, began by telling us that she could sense ghosts and mediums have told her that she has a few spirits of children that like her the most that hang around her. Most were skeptical. In the next twenty minutes or so, she gave us a full history of the Stanley Hotel and F.O. Stanley, the builder. Stanley moved to Northern Colorado at the advice of a doctor, since he had tuberculosis and was expected to die soon. The air in the Rockies is very thin, with no humidity, and not much pollution, and actually helped to heal him; he built a building to house his wife’s dinner party guests. After time, it evolved into the hotel it is today. 

We got to go into the well-known room 217 because, miraculously enough, it wasn’t booked that weekend. It’s haunted by a woman called Mrs. Wilson, who was the head housekeeper back when the hotel was first built. When the electric lights went down one night, she went into the Presidential Suite, room 217, to light the gas lamp. But someone had forgotten to turn off the gas. The room exploded, sending her down through the floor. 

In the room, everyone tried to take photos to see if they could pick up any presence. She did not manifest, likely because the room had been quiet and no one was staying in it. Her usual reactions to guests depends on her assessment of your character: if you’re deemed good, she will unpack your suitcases and fold your clothing nicely into drawers, or tidy shoes. If you’re disliked… Well. Jim Carrey stayed in 217 while working on Dumb and Dumber, which also used the hotel for the film. He ran outside screaming after only three hours and refused to sleep there.

We continued down the hallway, stopping at a large staircase. The “vortex”, which is the center of spiritual energy in the hotel, was much colder than the rest of the hallway. Nothing happened there, though sightings of disembodied shadows on the wall have been reported.

We ascended the stairs to the bell tower. There, Mary tried to introduce us to her ghost children. There were three girls and a boy, she told us, and the air felt thick as she passed me. She asked the boy, Matthew, to tug on her skirt pleats to show us he was there. Her skirt moved; a trick of the breeze?

After the bell tower, we moved on. Halfway out of the hall, my right thumb started feeling odd, like there was a tight ring on the end of it. I mentioned this briefly to Mary, who told me to keep an eye on it. Only a few paces later it felt like my entire thumb had pressure on it, very like a small hand, holding mine. 

The feeling got progressively stronger as the tour went on, along with my entire right arm feeling cold, and my hand feeling very heavy, like a child was hanging onto me. The girl standing next to me could feel the cold, too, telling me before I had the chance to announce the feeling.

Finally, we reached the area where the children were allowed to play back when it was still a guest house. It was incredibly small, with a little couch strewn with candy offerings for the ghosts. Mary had everyone go onto the rug and hold out their hands. She asked that any of the children who wished to come forward would take someone’s hand. More people felt the sensation of being held. My left hand had someone grasping it for a little while, but they weren’t quite as entertained by me as my right hand buddy and left soon afterward. Mary asked the ghosts to say if they were a girl or a boy by tugging or tapping on the hand they were holding: twice for boy, once for girl. I felt a very definite tug on my thumb, once. I had already suspected before that my ghost was a girl, with its gentle quiet presence in holding my hand. 

The ghosts were told to go back to playing, but my little ghost girl still clung on. She didn’t want to leave me, for some reason. Mary knelt before me, speaking to the air beside my hand. She used calm, happy words asking the ghost to leave, and told me to imagine myself cocooned in white light.

The ghost finally let go, but it felt extremely reluctant. I was reluctant to see her go, too; if only there had been more time to attempt communication. 

Someday I may go back and try to revisit her. Just to see if she remembers.

i don’t like them innocent

starter for @loisxxlanerps

It was a pretty full night at John’s favorite bar. Maybe bar was stretching it- in reality this was more like a club because there were drinks, but there was also dancing and a live DJ. Which was what John liked about it - it was loud in a way that wasn’t distracting because the overriding sound was the music. And it was anonymous in the kind of way that made it okay to take anyone home. 

From his seat at the bar, John noticed her, of course. He had a thing for red-heads, and this girl was an exceptionally pretty one. Even a few drinks in, John could tell. The best part was that she seemed to be there alone, which meant she was single, probably. John turned to the bartender, a man he knew by acquaintance simply by virtue of this bar being his main weekend haunt. He pointed out the girl. Get her whatever she wants, and put it on my tab. Say it was from me.And then he turned his back to the bar, scooping his rum and coke up as he did. He sipped the drink, and he waited, watching her idly.

anonymous asked:

What about a thriller au where the foxes see neil as a ghost sometimes but then he vanishes and he's trying to get their attention so they can find him because he's still alive but he might not be for long. Sorry if this got to long

( my response is going to  be too long holy shit I adore this set up thank you so much anon. )

During a Wymack-mandated camping trip during a late but pleasantly cool fall weekend, it was only after they pitched their tents in a crude triangle and started a crackling fire that they looked up at the night sky to catch sight of a blood-red harvest moon hanging heavy and bright over their heads.

Think Coach set us up for a horror movie? Nicky had joked, a chilly wind rustling the branches overhead.

Dude, Matt replied, don’t joke. You’re half Mexican and gay. You’re doomed.

But you and Dan are the jock couple, he returned. I’ll rest easy knowing you two went down first after you decided to make-out naked in a bush.

Hey, that doesn’t sound like an awful way to go.

Yeah, if you ignore the bugs.

Please, Dan cut in. Allison’s obviously going to seduce Matt and get offed in my place. It’ll be a lesson in morali–

Their poorly built fire had withered in the wind, but all at once, it flared high enough to engulf a person. Nicky and Matt jumped with a curse; the rest sat up straighter, even those (that is: Kevin and Andrew, who didn’t even want to be on the camping trip) who had been turning in early freezing to watch.

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