spook 'em

Bucky thought they were just going to stay hidden again because they both felt kind of shitty over scaring Antonio and him suffering alone for so long by himself before they got him calmed down, but he noticed Steve sneaking out of the closet a lot, so he peeked out to see what the idiot was doing, and there Steve was, playing with blocks with Antonio, who should be in bed.

“Steve!” Bucky exclaimed angrily, making the basilisk fling one of the blocks in surprise.

Steve gaped at the block, then turned, angrily hissing, “Look what you made me do!”

“Me?!” Bucky gaped. Then he scowled, walking over to scoop up the giggling toddler. “Anotonio is supposed to be in bed!

“He was just lying there lookin’ all sad,” Steve complained, but started picking up the rest of the blocks.

Bucky rolled his eyes and tucked Antonio back into bed, hissing quietly when he refused to let go of him and as a result yanked out some of his fur. “Ow!”

“Serves you right,” Steve mumbled.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky snarled back, then looked down at the boy and scowled. “Go to sleep. You need that to grow.”

“Bubby!” Antonio cooed, gummy smile wide as he reached up for him.

Bucky stared back, unimpressed. “…Were you trying to say ‘Bucky?’ Because that was awful.”

“Pretty sure he was sayin’ ‘puppy,’ but alright,” Steve said, smirking.

“Shut up,” Bucky repeated, then flailed at the boy. “How do we get him to go to sleep? He’s going to be small forever.”

Steve frowned as he came over. “Um. Sometimes his mother sings to him?” When the brunet stared at him stonily, he sighed. “Or she tells him stories from that big book over there?”

“Neither of us can read,” Bucky reminded him.

Steve frowned, scowling, then snapped his fingers and sat on the edge of the bed. “Antonio, I’m going to tell you about how Bucky and I fought Nazis.”

“…Won’t that be too bloody for a human child?”

“Are you gonna correct everything you think I’m telling wrong or not?” Steve asked, patting the bed next to him.

Bucky sighed and sat down where he indicated. “Fine.

“So in the trenches, the Nazis were hallucinating,” Steve began. “Typically adults will rationalize what they see, but in war, when everyone’s tired and afraid, anything can spook ‘em!”

“My sweet Bambino,” Maria cooed, scooping him up, and pressed a loud, wet kiss to his cheek that had him giggling. “My beautiful boy, my wonderful little what the fuck!?”

Bucky and Steve jerked awake, because she never swore, even when Antonio wouldn’t go down for a nap. They peeked out of the closet and grimaced when they saw the human gaping at the block still sticking out of the wall.

“…I,” Maria started, then stopped, lips pursed. After a moment, she looked down at Tony and smiled. “I guess you’re going to be a baseball player when you grow up then, my beautiful Antonio.”

“Bubby,” Tony replied.

“A puppy?” she chortled, then frowned when she heard what sounded like a growl. She turned and stared at the closet for a few long moments before shrugging. It must have been the house settling. “Time for breakfast, tesorino!”

“He did call you a puppy,” Steve whispered gleefully.

Bucky punched him in the face.


Summary: I got distracted by the thought of Fluffy ABO….so..The reader gets upset and feels the need to nest with their Alpha Scotty! Yay!

Warnings: Some name calling…but like fluff

Pairing: Scotty/Reader

A/n: I know I need to do real request….but…inspriation is a highly fickle thing. And my personal life has been way more stressful then I thought I be at this time. Anyway. I had a fun time writing this even though I’m don’t think it’s that great. 

Word Count: 784

Keep reading

SPRINGTRAP: “Well, the moment I got here, I saw it as a great opportunity to start ‘playing Spook Em’ again. After all, you’d be surprised how many pocket knives people drop when the jumpscares of this attraction get them.”

“But… I…”

“I cannot play this game anymore. If another person dies, I realize I could be taken from this place… No… I could be taken from Percy. I can’t put him through that. I’m done playing this game.”

“…But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna quit messing with the night guard! Poor sucker; whoever he is, he has no idea what’s coming to him.”

  • Travis: Griffin I would like to help the octopus up.
  • Griffin: Yeah you look down and you see this pathetic-looking octopus... six of its tentacles are just sort of waving behind it as it uses its suckers to hold onto the base of the tank.
  • Travis: I help him up.
  • Taako: That's good eatin!
  • Griffin: ...you shout from 30 feet away in another car.
  • Taako: *muffled* That's good eatin!
  • Griffin: Ok you reach down and you grab one of the tentacles of this blue-spotted octopus and you pull it up and what're you gonna do with it?
  • Travis: Can I throw it at the drivers?
  • Griffin: They're in kind of an enclosed tank... I mean you can it might spook 'em.
  • Travis: I'm gonna do that.
  • Griffin: Ok you throw it and you hear a *splorch* as it suction cups onto the front almost like one of those... Garfields that people put up on their window. Says like 'hang in there'? And it doesn't seem to have any effect. They actually turn on the windshield wipers and you see the octopus go flying off the right side.
  • Travis: Aw man... I feel bad. I feel like people are gonna be upset that the octopus got hurt.
  • Clint: He was becoming a fan favorite.
  • Justin: Yeah. Beloved character.
  • Griffin: Well you guys didn't kill him. And that's rare. Actually as you see him fly off in the distance, you see one of those safety bubbles pop out from the tiny octopus harness he was wearing. So he's ok everybody. Now he is... he is in the desert somewhere and that's not where octopus love to be...

@thorneddragonrider || continued from here


Of course he was going to react more to the living, breathing dragon whom is presumably the woman’s companion. Phoenix took refuge behind Camilla, fearing that said liking was actually him being a tasty snack.

“That’s… that has to be an animatronic, right? Or at the very least, two guys in a suit, right!?”

anonymous asked:

What do you think are the biggest mistakes (and the best things) writors can make when writing for horror rpgs?

*cracks knuckles* Strap in kids, I’ve got a good number of things to say here.  I mean like 3 days worth of things to say here so really, strap in.

Pink’s General Horror Game Writing Tips

please note: I’m not the authority on horror and I encourage you to look at other tips & guides besides my own (and some are linked at the bottom of this if you don’t know where to start!).

Things to Keep in Mind While Brainstorming:

There’s no one way to do horror.  There are different kinds of horror.  Ib is a character based horror that gets you hooked on the 3 main characters, and makes you fear for them since you care about them.  OFF is psychological based horror that uses the player’s own actions against them.  The Lisa series is a brutal game that squashes all hope out of the player and makes you fear how shitty humans are.  The Witch’s House is that kind of cheap horror that only works for games that are more puzzles over plot.  It makes you feel tense and scared by having you be able to die like 200 ways and tossing jump scares at you to keep you on your toes.  Yume Nikki builds up an atmosphere and lets you get lost in it.  Owl’s games go for slow building of atmosphere before they go into the true scary shit.  

…those are several examples of how to do horror.  There’s more than one way to skin a cat, so be open to whatever you feel best suits your game.

Keep reading


It was a fairly typical afternoon at Eientei.  As Kaguya was strolling down one of the seemingly endless hallways of the manor, she came across Tewi walking in the opposite direction.  

“Good afternoon, Tewi!” the princess greeted, to which the rabbit gave a quick “Hey” before continuing on her way.  It seemed the inaba had her own agenda for the day.  Kaguya figured it best not to ask though, that little rabbit was always up to some sort of trouble…  But then suddenly, a flood of panicked rabbits began swarming down the hallway.  Kaguya quickly stepped to the side of the hall, as Tewi did the same, to let the group pass.  

“What’s going on???” Kaguya asked in a panicked tone. 

“Dunno, something’s got ‘em real spooked, that’s for sure,” Tewi shrugged as she crouched down and stopped one of the rabbits, “Hey lil’ bud, what’s going on?”  The rabbit squeaked frantically for several seconds before it rejoined the rest of its comrades.

“Well, what did it say?” Kaguya asked.

“Somethin’ about a real dark aura they all felt,” Tewi answered flatly, “They think somethin’ bad is approachin’.  Said they never felt anythin’ like it before…”

“Hrrmm….  Tewi, go get Eirin.  I’m going to go check out what it is exactly that’s got all these rabbits scared in the meantime.”  She was too far away from her room, where she kept her Jeweled Branch, so she figured she’d go on ahead anyway to see just what was coming.  If things got too bad, she could always just run and let Eirin handle this.  She headed down the hall, toward where all the rabbits were running from, until she made it to the front of the manor.  Just outside were two figures approaching – a young girl and a knight in shining armor?  Curious…  Very curious…

“U-umm…  May I help you two?” Kaguya stuttered as she cautiously stepped out to greet the two mysterious strangers.  “Who are you, and what brings you out here?”

The Car

Throughout my life I never really believed in the paranormal. About two and a half years ago, that belief changed.

I was about to turn sixteen years old, and I was excited only about one thing: cars. Cars and driving had been my only focus and reason to live for the last year of my life. I loved everything about cars: the raw power, the way you can tinker with them, the freedom they bring. Cars were my life. I had been saving up money from birthday gifts/odd jobs/etc. since I was 12 to pay for a car. My grandfather generously told me that he would be more than happy to buy me a new car from the Chevrolet dealership in town (he used to work for GM), but I told him that I wanted to buy the car with the money that I had saved up, and he thought it was a great idea. So one day, about a month from my birthday (my birthday is in late October), my grandfather and I set out to see some used cars we had found online. We had seen about twelve different cars, each in its own state of disrepair, before we found my dream car: A 1996 Jeep Cherokee. Forest Green, 4x4, and just one somewhat large ding near the front left wheel well. It had 170,000 miles on it, but I was not planning on driving it for more than three years or for a very long distance, so that was okay. The best part was the interior. The rather elderly man who was selling the Jeep must have had OCD or something, because there was not so much as a fingerprint in the whole entire inside of the car. Perfect. The only wear I could see on the inside is that the radio did not work, but I had planned to put an aftermarket radio inside it anyway that I could connect my phone to and stuff like that. The best part about it was the price, $1500, which was a complete steal since it had all its records and had a clean title. Other cars priced the same sometimes didn’t even have an engine. My grandfather and I were convinced that this car was perfect. Before I purchased it, however, I asked the elderly gentlemen how the ding in front of the front-left wheel well happened. “It’s a kinda funny story,” the old man replied, “I was drivin’ down the farm-to-market road one night around three in the morning. It was dark out, and I was admittedly drivin’ a little bit faster than I should have for that kind of road. I rounded a corner, and there were tons of vultures picking off a carcass on the left side of the road (I live in Central Texas, about an hour’s drive north of Houston. Deer, possums, and skunk are commonly hit in the back roads here). Well, since they weren’t on my side of the road, I didn’t slow down. When I got closer, I guess I spooked ‘em, and they flew straight in front of me. I swerved to try and avoid them, but I ended up hitting that carcass and one of them buzzards flew straight into the side of the car here” and he pointed at the dent. That story added up, my grandmother had cracked her windshield one time by hitting a flying buzzard, so I knew what those things could do to a car at high speeds. I did one last inspection of the car and the engine, found it to be nearly perfect, and started to write the check. The old man placed his hand on mine, and softly said, “you know, you seem like a really good kid. I’m an old man, I don’t need money that much. $1000 will be fine, you don’t need to pay $1500.” My heart leapt into my throat. It was one of the most generous things anybody had ever done for me. I paid the $1000, awkwardly hugged the old man in thanks, then left in my beautiful “brand new” jeep with my grandfather.

Time passed. I turned sixteen in late October. Things were perfect. Things changed.

It was around the middle of November. Thanksgiving break was upon us. My classmates and I were giddy with the thought of not having school for a couple of days. I was an avid Orchestra member, and loved to play in school plays and musicals. Since I signed up for the school musical, I had rehearsals every day until about 10 p.m.. On the last day before Thanksgiving break, we had an extra long rehearsal until 1 a.m. since the director knew that we would not be practicing over Thanksgiving break (which he was right about). The practice ended, and the entire cast staggered out of the auditorium exhausted, yet happy it was over. We all shared a few laughs in the school parking lot for a while, then we all got in our cars and started the drive home. It was very dark on my way home, and there were hardly any cars around. I was going around a corner when terror set in. I slammed on the breaks so hard that the ABS set in, and stopped about 18 feet from about twenty buzzards picking off of a deer carcass on my side of the road. Heart still pounding from potentially devastating experience, I turned my wheel to move around the carcass. That’s when one of the buzzards stepped away from the carcass and moved to the left side of the road to block my path. I could not believe what I was seeing. This bird was intentionally getting in the way of a car. I honked and honked, but none of the buzzards even flinched, and they all stayed in place. Frustrated, tired, and scared, I started to inch my way forward towards the buzzard, knowing that its animal instincts would make it move when I got close. It got to the point to where I could not see the buzzard since it was so close to the car that the hood blocked it from my view. I was debating whether or not to get out of the car to scare it away, when an extremely large BANG resounded through my car. A buzzard had flown into my car window on the right side. In my terror, I slammed on the gas. At the same moment I felt my wheel crunch the buzzard in front of my car, an ear-splitting scream pierced the air. Scared witless, I accelerated as fast as I could and got out of there, the scream still reverberating through my mind. The scream sounded more than what a buzzard could make. It sounded human. Almost.

I was traumatized by the night’s events. I told myself that those birds probably had rabies, and that’s why they were so oblivious to my presence. I soon passed the events off as a weird occurrence, and continued on with my life. Things were bad. Things got worse.

It was the day before Thanksgiving. I had helped my mom prepare most of the food for the next day, and in return I was allowed to go spend some time with my friends. I was planning on leaving around midnight, but at around 10:30, my mom texted me and asked if I could leave a little early and run by Kroger to pick up some vanilla extract for a dessert she was making. I agreed, since I wasn’t into the game we were playing, and at 11:00, I left his house. My friend’s house is what most people commonly associate with Texas. It’s located about two miles into a thick forest. You drive down this thin two-way road and then stumble upon about three acres worth of open pasture. It’s really neat. I was parked out by the road, which was about 100 yards away from their house. I couldn’t park in their driveway because his parents went out for a date night and were going to need to park in the driveway when they got home. So there I was, walking alone in the pitch dark towards my car. To give you a concept of how dark it was, I was pressing the lock/unlock button on my car keys so that the car lights came on for me to see. I reached my car, sat down in the driver’s seat, turned they key in the ignition, and shouted in fright. When the Jeep turned on, there was a hollow thump at the back of my car, and when I looked in the rear-view mirror I saw in vivid detail a long arm and hand plastered against my rear window. When I turned around to look at it, it had disappeared. After about ten seconds of heart-stopping shock, I broke into a fit of laughter. My friends and I were great pranksters, we prided ourselves in it. I, laughing, stepped out of the car to “confront my attacker”. But no one was there. Nothing. I checked the back seat. Nothing. Dismissing it as a shadow cast by one of the trees, I drove away from civilization.

On my way home, I decided to call my mom to find out if she needed anything else from Kroger. My mom has always been very kind, but very strict at the same time. When I got my driver’s license, she made me promise that I would not take anybody around in my car without her permission (she was concerned about the effects of peer pressure). In return, she would pay for my insurance, a worthy deal in my opinion. Anyway, I called her and was talking to her about the grocery list when she stopped talking to me. I remember the conversation that happened next word for word. She started asking me who was in the car with me. Confused, I replied that no one was in the car with me, not knowing why she was asking. She just slowly repeated the question over and over and over again, asking who was in the car with me. I vehemently kept replying that no one was in the car with me, but she remained skeptical. Angrily, she told me that she heard the girl laughing. The girl laughing? I couldn’t hear anything. Shaken, I told her that she was hearing her T.V., but she told me that she wasn’t watching T.V. She told me to call her when I dropped this non-existent girl off, and that then she would give me the grocery list. Then she hung up. I swear, every hair on my body stood on end. It stands on end as I type this now. How could she hear a girl laughing? Even back then I was a 190 lb. 5’10 guy who hadn’t made a girly laugh since I hit puberty in 4th grade. I immediately called my mom back, and protested that no one was in the car with me. She asked if it could be my radio making the sound. It couldn’t, she and I both knew, because the radio did not work. It sounded like my mom was just about to believe me, when all the lights on my dashboard went out. Most people don’t know this, but when your speedometer, fuel range, and all those lights go out, it gets really dark in the car. Really dark. I was about to tell my mom this, but then I felt my phone vibrate and I watched as the “Goodbye” message fittingly popped up onto my screen, and then turned off. Luckily, my headlights were still on, so I could see where I was going. That’s when the screaming started. The ear-splitting scream similar to that of a little girl broke the complete silence of the night. The exact same scream as when I hit the buzzard. I was too afraid to get out of the car in complete darkness in the middle of nowhere, yet I was extremely afraid being in the car. Panicked, I sped through the night. As I saw the lights of civilization grow closer, the screams lessened, then stopped. I pulled into the parking lot of Kroger, went inside and bought the vanilla extract, then called my mom to come pick me up. We left the car there overnight, and drove it back to our place the next day.

I called the old man after a week, asking if he had any weird or scary experiences in the car, besides the buzzards. All he replied was, “I WILL NOT BUY IT BACK”, then hung up. I never tried to call him again.

You might be asking why I choose to tell you this story now. The other day, I was reading the local newspaper. On the second page, there was an article about a man found dead the other day. He was found alone in the middle of a lonely road. The driver who reported it did not know that it was a man, she simply called animal control due to the immense number of buzzards surrounding him. The man was, as I’m sure you have guessed by now, the old man that sold me the car.

I have a Forrest Green Jeep Cherokee for sale. Perfect interior, one ding on the exterior. Clean title. 171,000 miles. $750, or best offer.

(Credit to GreenJeepCherokee, via Reddit)