Belated Happy Birthday!
A birthday fic for my wonderful friend ocelot_l. It’s a week late, but here it is! The only problem is that I have no idea what this even is at this point. XD It’s part shenanigans and silliness, part shippy fluff, part hurt/comfort, and part references to things. I have no idea if this is good or not, but it does involve some Snob/Phelous, a not-so-haunted house, and many mentions of side characters that fit right in with Halloween. I hope you enjoy, Ocelot. You are an awesome friend!
It was October 31st and most TV stations were airing some sort of Halloween special, and this was one was no different. Well, it was a little different.
“Hello, all you miserable stupid fu- nice viewers,” the skull-headed host hastily said to cover up what almost went on the air. “I am Halloweenie! And the stupid producers of this show thought it would be a stupid idea to use all these STUPID - very fun and exciting- Halloween things by making up a special Halloween episode.” Halloweenie began to laugh some. “It’s a good thing they did not do it because it is so stupid!”
A quick camera cut then revealed a dejected Halloweenie. “It’s in my contract, what do you want”? He muttered miserably as he stood behind his table before continuing with the barest semblance of false enthusiasm. “So tonight all the viewers in the area can come to Halloweenie’s haunted house where you can see all the shiiiiiiiiiiiiii-all the stuff Halloweenie has in action!”
He held up a bag of candy corn M&M’s with one skeleton gloved hand and a Frankenstein bobble head in the other. “It was will so super scary!” The camera cut again. “It will be regularly scary,” Halloweenie corrected only for the camera to cut again. “It will be moderately scary?” he tried. Another jump cut. “It will not be scary,” Halloweenie stated with annoyance, annunciating each word. He suddenly straightened up and started yelling. “But if you bring any pumpkin stuff, it will be scary because I will kill you and rip your intestines from your-”
“Don’t listen to him!” A voice interrupted the threat and another poor jump cut showed a pumpkin with a hat and sparkly pink mask suddenly appearing on the table. “As supreme co-host, I have my own contractual obligation to this thing. If you bring any pumpkin stuff, you can get in completely free!”
“Shut up, Pumpkinweenie! I am trying to sell my tickets!” Halloweenie held up a fistful of glossy slips of paper. “You always ruin everything! I hate you! Just like I HATE THIS STUPID HAUNTED HOUSE THING! I love this haunted house thing!” He said. “It will be like a party. And Halloweenie is the life of the party!! And it will be in my castle!” Yet another poor camera transition later, Halloweenie was standing on front of a non-working screen effect that was meant to show a spooky castle and only succeeded in showing a half-visible clip art picture. “My castle!” Halloweenie tried again. The clip art picture flipped upside-down. Halloweenie sighed. “It will be at whatever address gets edited onto this segment later.”
On that note, the screen cut off to notice that Halloweenie is cancelled forever, along with the address for the haunted house event, along with yet another notice that Halloweenie would continue on its regular schedule next year.
Not that many people were actually tuned in to view. Those who were watching TV were all on much better channels and everyone else was busy making their own plans for the evening. Trick-or-treaters got into costume, parents set out bowels of sugary treats, partiers put on the Monster Mash, and many a drunken individual was hitting the nearest inappropriately sexy outfit of something that should not be sexualized.
All the while, the sun sank lower and lower until it was gone below the horizon and life burst out onto the streets. Crowds of people ambled up and down the roads to ring doorbells and catch all the fun and festivities of the holiday.
“Ah, All Hallows’ Eve. My favorite night of the year,” a certain undead ghoul remarked pleasantly in an eastern European-ish accent as he walked down a sidewalk. “I only wish I could enjoy it without all these people running around looking so happy.” He curled his black lips in distaste and made a dramatically irritated face. “All this giggling and laughing, ugh, it’s enough to make me sick,” he complained. “They should be screaming in terror form the horrors of the night, the disturbing and ever-shifting shadows that can haunt them if they step out into an evening such as this, the-”
“Moarte? Remember that conversation we had about not monologuing all night?”
“Feh, you didn’t have to walk with me,” Moarte pointed out to the woman beside him.
“I am not!” The Maven of the Eventide snappily corrected. “We just happen to be going in the same direction. And I’m not going your crypt this time either!” She suddenly said defensively. “Last time was the last straw!”
“So I said I like werewolves.” Moarte threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “I also like vampires, zombies, mummies, banshees, ghosts, monsters, all manner of undead creatures- I’m not a very discriminatory guy.”
“Yeah, well…my point still stands!” Maven huffed just before a sheet of paper happened to blow along in a light breeze and hit her leg. “Hmm, what’s this?” She picked it up. “Ooh, a haunted house!” She exclaimed, looking at the ad.
“Haunted house?” Moarte perked up a bit and looked over at the page.
Haunted House Fright Night! Your Worst Scares Come True!
Gruesome Ghosts, Murderous Monsters, Viscous Vampires.
Unspeakable Horrors At Every Turn.
You Might Not Come Out Alive.
“Well, that looks fun!” Moarte said.
“Oooh, vampires? I’m in!” Maven nodded along. “Okay where is this? Uh, looks like it’s on Grey St. Which is…that way!” She point off to the left and the two adjusted their path.
Grey St. wasn’t very far away and it didn’t take them all that long to arrive at their destination. However, it was with a confused face that Maven looked at the image of the dilapidated, cobweb-covered structure on the flyer and back up to the brightly lit, downright cozy looking house in front of them. Bright, glowing fake pumpkins making silly faces littered the lawn along with a few “Boo!” and “Spooky!” signs staked out as well.
“Um,” Maven looked at the mailbox number just to be sure. “Well, this is the address. But I don’t think this is right.”
“Are you kidding? This is genius!” Moarte exclaimed. “Clearly this is seemingly innocent setup is to lure the unsuspecting into the trap and then make sure they cannot escape once their fates once they get inside.”
Maven still didn’t look entirely convinced but followed along and the two walked inside and shut the door just as another person stepped up to walk in as well.
“Assholes,” the Cinema Snob muttered as the door slammed in his face. His night was just getting worse and worse. He had wanted to spend his time with his boyfriend only to get a weird voice message from Phelous that afternoon.
‘Hey, Snob, I know that we made plans but I kind of have something else that came up. Don’t ask. I’m going to be in a haunted house, if you have to know. You could show up if you wanted to, I guess, but if I were you, I wouldn’t bother. See you later sometime or whatever.’
And of course Phelous’ voice was in its usual bored tone, giving nothing away about what the fuck he doing or why or anything. Then again, weird unexpected things often happened to Phelous, and Snob had learned that he pretty much just had to roll with it. It came with the package and while it was sometimes a pain the ass, he couldn’t really imagine things any other way.
Snob took another look around real quick. There was a plastic cauldron where you were apparently supposed to deposit a ticket of some sort. Not that there was anyone there to check that. He shrugged and opened the door and went into the house.
The place was lit up solely with plastic light strings in the shapes of skulls and pumpkins. Orange and black Halloween-themed garland wrapped around furniture and more dumb decorations littered the place.
“What the hell is that?” Snob asked out loud as he came face to face with some fuzzy black critter set up close to the entranceway. “A black squirrel? Oh wait, that’s a cat….I think.”
He turned away and continued into the house and watched some random kid suddenly tear through the hall covered with fake cobwebs giggling like he was on a sugar high. Snob then walked through the living room where a few plastic skeletons that still had the store tags attached were laid out on the couch as if they were watching TV. Well, most of them were. One had fallen over and was on the floor. Fake blood splatter stickers were put in random places that made no sense and a few lame looking ghost decorations hung down from the ceiling on very visible string. Snob was starting to see why Phelous didn’t want him coming over. But he kept walking along, no idea if he was going toward the end or not. Nothing was marked off and there was no sense of direction. It was all just really shitty. Where the fuck was Phelous?
“I told you not to bother coming over,” a bored voice suddenly said.
Snob turned around quickly to see a tiny broom closet with the door wide open, revealing a very bored looking Phelous leaning inside. “There you fucking are, I was- what the hell?” Snob looked at the mess that was his boyfriend.
Phelous looked down at himself as if to try and figure out what was out of the ordinary. “Oh, yeah, these,” he said, taking out a plastic dagger from his stomach. “I’m just kind of a decoration here and there wasn’t anything actually scary, so this is what ended up happening.” He bent the blade absentmindedly.
“Getting impaled with fucking blunt, fake knifes?” Snob pressed.
His boyfriend shrugged. “There weren’t any real knives. And it’s not like anyone can tell the blood is real with the lighting being so crappy. It’s not the worst thing I’ve been through. Mostly just kind of annoying.”
“Yeah well, I’ve seen enough here, thank you very much,” Snob said. “What’d say we blow this place? Whatever got you to agree to this stupid shit, I guarantee you that I’ll make the night way more worth your while.”
Phelous took a moment to think, then pulled the remaining knives out of him. “Sure, this has been a waste of time anyway. Barely anyone’s even wandered over to this side of the house.” The wounded Canadian stumbled a slight bit but managed to stand up straight.
“It’s pretty fucked up that I am way too used to seeing you bleed like this, Snob said as more blood soaked through Phelous’ shirt.
“I’ll get better.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Snob waved off, not wanting to let Phelous’ deadpan attitude get in the way of fussing over him at least slightly. Phelous slung an arm over Snob’s shoulder and they walked back around and then through the kitchen, and out a back door into the backyard area.
A large table was set out with a sign hanging over it. By the look if things, it had originally said “Fun-sized fun candy!” before someone had painted “sucks” at the end and then someone else painted over the whole thing so it now only read “Just take it!”
“Well, don’t mind if I do.” Snob began picking through the assortment of chocolate, gummies, and other tiny confections, helping himself to all he could carry. There wasn’t anyone to tell him otherwise. He had the deep suspicion that whoever had originally put this on had long since bailed out.
“So what do you want to do now?” Phelous asked as he started snacking on some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pizza gummies that were distinctly not Halloween-themed.
“Let’s just go sit on the couch the rest of night, eat way too much candy, drink way too much booze, and watch Troll 4 or something,” Snob said as he munched on a fun-sized Kit Kat.
Phelous didn’t need any more convincing. “Sounds like the perfect night.”
“And I’m making sure you get bandaged,” Snob insisted. “Don’t pull that bullshit that it doesn’t really hurt.”
“Well, it doesn’t really hurt,” Phelous said with a shrug. “But fine, if it makes you feel better.” He looked back over at his boyfriend with an amused smile.
“You’re so full of shit,” Snob muttered in that way that Phelous distinctly understood to mean ‘I love you, you idiot.’
“I love you too,” he answered. “Now, let’s go before I get blood all on your suit jacket and have to hear your bitching.”
Snob had no argument to that and the two began to make their way home, not paying the slightest bit to anyone else much less the unnaturally pale man in the cape and woman behind him as they unhappily marched out into the yard.
“You know, this was really false advertising.”
“I told you we were at the wrong place,” Maven said. “But I mean, this is the right address. This is Grey St., and this is the right house. I don’t know where we went wrong.”
“Oh, are you guys looking for Grey St.? The one with that killer awesome haunted house?”
The two turned around to see a guy in a cheap store-bought vampire costume.
“But...this is Grey St. I thought?” Maven asked.
“No, this is Gray St. Gray with an ‘a’, you know? Grey St. with an ‘e’ is a few blocks over that way,” the man pointed helpfully.
Maven blinked as she realized her mistake. “You know, I really should know the difference between those two,” she said. “Thank you…uh?”
“I am Count Thomas Howell,” the man said while throwing his hands up in a horrible mimic of claws.
Maven pouted her lips a bit. His outfit suffered from not only being severely tacky and lame, but from having white flour stains around the collar. “Well, you’re the best vampire I’ve got,” she shrugged and took him by the arm. “Bye!” She gave Moarte a half-hearted wave and started dragging Count Thomas Howell off in the other direction much to the basement internet review’s confusion and leaving the undead ghoul standing by himself.
But with a shrug, he continued along his way, unable to help from wandering over to where the fake vampire had pointed off to and finding a very broken-down looking house on the corner of the street with only a single, dim light to show anyone was home.
He opened the door and it creeked unsettlingly, revealing a smiling man in robe and ascot, holding a pipe and staring back with a wicked grin.
"Greetings. May I help you?"
"Yeah, look, is this the haunted house or not?" Moarte asked, not wanting to waste his time yet again.
The man made a gesture with his pipe. "That's a very good question," he said. "And the answer is-"
"Oh, hey, I didn't miss the party!" Moarte happily exclaimed, looking around the man's shoulder's at the spectacle that was going on in the house. A bright smile came upon the dead-white face along with a sudden splatter of blood from the happenings. "You know, you really should make a better flyer," he told the robed man as he waltzed inside. "I almost didn't find this place."
*****
“I’m fine, can we watch the movie now?” Phelous asked as Snob gave the bandages wrapped around his middle another glance.
“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t end up bleeding all over the couch,” Snob argued.
“Yeah, like another few stains is really going to matter at this point.” Phelous rolled his eyes.
“It’s not my fault you fucking die on a regular basis.”
“Eh, more like semi-regular at this point.”
Snob wrapped his arms around the taller man. “Whatever,” he muttered.
“Look, just come here already will you?” Phelous wrestled Snob around so the shorter man was more or less in his lap.
Snob’s face turned red at the embarrassing position and the reminder of how much smaller he was. “Fuck, Phelous, let me go!”
But it was more amusing for the Canadian to hold Snob and watch him squirm around for a bit.
“Asshole,” Snob snarked once he was finally let go.
“I love you too.”
Snob suddenly got close to Phelous’ face and stole a kiss. And then another, which Phelous eagerly reciprocated. “You better,” Snob said and then grabbed the remote to begin playing the movie. Then he got himself comfortable on the couch next to Phelous, the two cozying up to each other in a cuddly sort of fashion that still leaved plenty of room to grab their glasses for their yearly Troll 4 drinking game.
It finally felt like Halloween.
It was October 31st and most TV stations were airing some sort of Halloween special, and this was one was no different. Well, it was a little different.
“Hello, all you miserable stupid fu- nice viewers,” the skull-headed host hastily said to cover up what almost went on the air. “I am Halloweenie! And the stupid producers of this show thought it would be a stupid idea to use all these STUPID - very fun and exciting- Halloween things by making up a special Halloween episode.” Halloweenie began to laugh some. “It’s a good thing they did not do it because it is so stupid!”
A quick camera cut then revealed a dejected Halloweenie. “It’s in my contract, what do you want”? He muttered miserably as he stood behind his table before continuing with the barest semblance of false enthusiasm. “So tonight all the viewers in the area can come to Halloweenie’s haunted house where you can see all the shiiiiiiiiiiiiii-all the stuff Halloweenie has in action!”
He held up a bag of candy corn M&M’s with one skeleton gloved hand and a Frankenstein bobble head in the other. “It was will so super scary!” The camera cut again. “It will be regularly scary,” Halloweenie corrected only for the camera to cut again. “It will be moderately scary?” he tried. Another jump cut. “It will not be scary,” Halloweenie stated with annoyance, annunciating each word. He suddenly straightened up and started yelling. “But if you bring any pumpkin stuff, it will be scary because I will kill you and rip your intestines from your-”
“Don’t listen to him!” A voice interrupted the threat and another poor jump cut showed a pumpkin with a hat and sparkly pink mask suddenly appearing on the table. “As supreme co-host, I have my own contractual obligation to this thing. If you bring any pumpkin stuff, you can get in completely free!”
“Shut up, Pumpkinweenie! I am trying to sell my tickets!” Halloweenie held up a fistful of glossy slips of paper. “You always ruin everything! I hate you! Just like I HATE THIS STUPID HAUNTED HOUSE THING! I love this haunted house thing!” He said. “It will be like a party. And Halloweenie is the life of the party!! And it will be in my castle!” Yet another poor camera transition later, Halloweenie was standing on front of a non-working screen effect that was meant to show a spooky castle and only succeeded in showing a half-visible clip art picture. “My castle!” Halloweenie tried again. The clip art picture flipped upside-down. Halloweenie sighed. “It will be at whatever address gets edited onto this segment later.”
On that note, the screen cut off to notice that Halloweenie is cancelled forever, along with the address for the haunted house event, along with yet another notice that Halloweenie would continue on its regular schedule next year.
Not that many people were actually tuned in to view. Those who were watching TV were all on much better channels and everyone else was busy making their own plans for the evening. Trick-or-treaters got into costume, parents set out bowels of sugary treats, partiers put on the Monster Mash, and many a drunken individual was hitting the nearest inappropriately sexy outfit of something that should not be sexualized.
All the while, the sun sank lower and lower until it was gone below the horizon and life burst out onto the streets. Crowds of people ambled up and down the roads to ring doorbells and catch all the fun and festivities of the holiday.
“Ah, All Hallows’ Eve. My favorite night of the year,” a certain undead ghoul remarked pleasantly in an eastern European-ish accent as he walked down a sidewalk. “I only wish I could enjoy it without all these people running around looking so happy.” He curled his black lips in distaste and made a dramatically irritated face. “All this giggling and laughing, ugh, it’s enough to make me sick,” he complained. “They should be screaming in terror form the horrors of the night, the disturbing and ever-shifting shadows that can haunt them if they step out into an evening such as this, the-”
“Moarte? Remember that conversation we had about not monologuing all night?”
“Feh, you didn’t have to walk with me,” Moarte pointed out to the woman beside him.
“I am not!” The Maven of the Eventide snappily corrected. “We just happen to be going in the same direction. And I’m not going your crypt this time either!” She suddenly said defensively. “Last time was the last straw!”
“So I said I like werewolves.” Moarte threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “I also like vampires, zombies, mummies, banshees, ghosts, monsters, all manner of undead creatures- I’m not a very discriminatory guy.”
“Yeah, well…my point still stands!” Maven huffed just before a sheet of paper happened to blow along in a light breeze and hit her leg. “Hmm, what’s this?” She picked it up. “Ooh, a haunted house!” She exclaimed, looking at the ad.
“Haunted house?” Moarte perked up a bit and looked over at the page.
Haunted House Fright Night! Your Worst Scares Come True!
Gruesome Ghosts, Murderous Monsters, Viscous Vampires.
Unspeakable Horrors At Every Turn.
You Might Not Come Out Alive.
“Well, that looks fun!” Moarte said.
“Oooh, vampires? I’m in!” Maven nodded along. “Okay where is this? Uh, looks like it’s on Grey St. Which is…that way!” She point off to the left and the two adjusted their path.
Grey St. wasn’t very far away and it didn’t take them all that long to arrive at their destination. However, it was with a confused face that Maven looked at the image of the dilapidated, cobweb-covered structure on the flyer and back up to the brightly lit, downright cozy looking house in front of them. Bright, glowing fake pumpkins making silly faces littered the lawn along with a few “Boo!” and “Spooky!” signs staked out as well.
“Um,” Maven looked at the mailbox number just to be sure. “Well, this is the address. But I don’t think this is right.”
“Are you kidding? This is genius!” Moarte exclaimed. “Clearly this is seemingly innocent setup is to lure the unsuspecting into the trap and then make sure they cannot escape once their fates once they get inside.”
Maven still didn’t look entirely convinced but followed along and the two walked inside and shut the door just as another person stepped up to walk in as well.
“Assholes,” the Cinema Snob muttered as the door slammed in his face. His night was just getting worse and worse. He had wanted to spend his time with his boyfriend only to get a weird voice message from Phelous that afternoon.
‘Hey, Snob, I know that we made plans but I kind of have something else that came up. Don’t ask. I’m going to be in a haunted house, if you have to know. You could show up if you wanted to, I guess, but if I were you, I wouldn’t bother. See you later sometime or whatever.’
And of course Phelous’ voice was in its usual bored tone, giving nothing away about what the fuck he doing or why or anything. Then again, weird unexpected things often happened to Phelous, and Snob had learned that he pretty much just had to roll with it. It came with the package and while it was sometimes a pain the ass, he couldn’t really imagine things any other way.
Snob took another look around real quick. There was a plastic cauldron where you were apparently supposed to deposit a ticket of some sort. Not that there was anyone there to check that. He shrugged and opened the door and went into the house.
The place was lit up solely with plastic light strings in the shapes of skulls and pumpkins. Orange and black Halloween-themed garland wrapped around furniture and more dumb decorations littered the place.
“What the hell is that?” Snob asked out loud as he came face to face with some fuzzy black critter set up close to the entranceway. “A black squirrel? Oh wait, that’s a cat….I think.”
He turned away and continued into the house and watched some random kid suddenly tear through the hall covered with fake cobwebs giggling like he was on a sugar high. Snob then walked through the living room where a few plastic skeletons that still had the store tags attached were laid out on the couch as if they were watching TV. Well, most of them were. One had fallen over and was on the floor. Fake blood splatter stickers were put in random places that made no sense and a few lame looking ghost decorations hung down from the ceiling on very visible string. Snob was starting to see why Phelous didn’t want him coming over. But he kept walking along, no idea if he was going toward the end or not. Nothing was marked off and there was no sense of direction. It was all just really shitty. Where the fuck was Phelous?
“I told you not to bother coming over,” a bored voice suddenly said.
Snob turned around quickly to see a tiny broom closet with the door wide open, revealing a very bored looking Phelous leaning inside. “There you fucking are, I was- what the hell?” Snob looked at the mess that was his boyfriend.
Phelous looked down at himself as if to try and figure out what was out of the ordinary. “Oh, yeah, these,” he said, taking out a plastic dagger from his stomach. “I’m just kind of a decoration here and there wasn’t anything actually scary, so this is what ended up happening.” He bent the blade absentmindedly.
“Getting impaled with fucking blunt, fake knifes?” Snob pressed.
His boyfriend shrugged. “There weren’t any real knives. And it’s not like anyone can tell the blood is real with the lighting being so crappy. It’s not the worst thing I’ve been through. Mostly just kind of annoying.”
“Yeah well, I’ve seen enough here, thank you very much,” Snob said. “What’d say we blow this place? Whatever got you to agree to this stupid shit, I guarantee you that I’ll make the night way more worth your while.”
Phelous took a moment to think, then pulled the remaining knives out of him. “Sure, this has been a waste of time anyway. Barely anyone’s even wandered over to this side of the house.” The wounded Canadian stumbled a slight bit but managed to stand up straight.
“It’s pretty fucked up that I am way too used to seeing you bleed like this, Snob said as more blood soaked through Phelous’ shirt.
“I’ll get better.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Snob waved off, not wanting to let Phelous’ deadpan attitude get in the way of fussing over him at least slightly. Phelous slung an arm over Snob’s shoulder and they walked back around and then through the kitchen, and out a back door into the backyard area.
A large table was set out with a sign hanging over it. By the look if things, it had originally said “Fun-sized fun candy!” before someone had painted “sucks” at the end and then someone else painted over the whole thing so it now only read “Just take it!”
“Well, don’t mind if I do.” Snob began picking through the assortment of chocolate, gummies, and other tiny confections, helping himself to all he could carry. There wasn’t anyone to tell him otherwise. He had the deep suspicion that whoever had originally put this on had long since bailed out.
“So what do you want to do now?” Phelous asked as he started snacking on some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pizza gummies that were distinctly not Halloween-themed.
“Let’s just go sit on the couch the rest of night, eat way too much candy, drink way too much booze, and watch Troll 4 or something,” Snob said as he munched on a fun-sized Kit Kat.
Phelous didn’t need any more convincing. “Sounds like the perfect night.”
“And I’m making sure you get bandaged,” Snob insisted. “Don’t pull that bullshit that it doesn’t really hurt.”
“Well, it doesn’t really hurt,” Phelous said with a shrug. “But fine, if it makes you feel better.” He looked back over at his boyfriend with an amused smile.
“You’re so full of shit,” Snob muttered in that way that Phelous distinctly understood to mean ‘I love you, you idiot.’
“I love you too,” he answered. “Now, let’s go before I get blood all on your suit jacket and have to hear your bitching.”
Snob had no argument to that and the two began to make their way home, not paying the slightest bit to anyone else much less the unnaturally pale man in the cape and woman behind him as they unhappily marched out into the yard.
“You know, this was really false advertising.”
“I told you we were at the wrong place,” Maven said. “But I mean, this is the right address. This is Grey St., and this is the right house. I don’t know where we went wrong.”
“Oh, are you guys looking for Grey St.? The one with that killer awesome haunted house?”
The two turned around to see a guy in a cheap store-bought vampire costume.
“But...this is Grey St. I thought?” Maven asked.
“No, this is Gray St. Gray with an ‘a’, you know? Grey St. with an ‘e’ is a few blocks over that way,” the man pointed helpfully.
Maven blinked as she realized her mistake. “You know, I really should know the difference between those two,” she said. “Thank you…uh?”
“I am Count Thomas Howell,” the man said while throwing his hands up in a horrible mimic of claws.
Maven pouted her lips a bit. His outfit suffered from not only being severely tacky and lame, but from having white flour stains around the collar. “Well, you’re the best vampire I’ve got,” she shrugged and took him by the arm. “Bye!” She gave Moarte a half-hearted wave and started dragging Count Thomas Howell off in the other direction much to the basement internet review’s confusion and leaving the undead ghoul standing by himself.
But with a shrug, he continued along his way, unable to help from wandering over to where the fake vampire had pointed off to and finding a very broken-down looking house on the corner of the street with only a single, dim light to show anyone was home.
He opened the door and it creeked unsettlingly, revealing a smiling man in robe and ascot, holding a pipe and staring back with a wicked grin.
"Greetings. May I help you?"
"Yeah, look, is this the haunted house or not?" Moarte asked, not wanting to waste his time yet again.
The man made a gesture with his pipe. "That's a very good question," he said. "And the answer is-"
"Oh, hey, I didn't miss the party!" Moarte happily exclaimed, looking around the man's shoulder's at the spectacle that was going on in the house. A bright smile came upon the dead-white face along with a sudden splatter of blood from the happenings. "You know, you really should make a better flyer," he told the robed man as he waltzed inside. "I almost didn't find this place."
*****
“I’m fine, can we watch the movie now?” Phelous asked as Snob gave the bandages wrapped around his middle another glance.
“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t end up bleeding all over the couch,” Snob argued.
“Yeah, like another few stains is really going to matter at this point.” Phelous rolled his eyes.
“It’s not my fault you fucking die on a regular basis.”
“Eh, more like semi-regular at this point.”
Snob wrapped his arms around the taller man. “Whatever,” he muttered.
“Look, just come here already will you?” Phelous wrestled Snob around so the shorter man was more or less in his lap.
Snob’s face turned red at the embarrassing position and the reminder of how much smaller he was. “Fuck, Phelous, let me go!”
But it was more amusing for the Canadian to hold Snob and watch him squirm around for a bit.
“Asshole,” Snob snarked once he was finally let go.
“I love you too.”
Snob suddenly got close to Phelous’ face and stole a kiss. And then another, which Phelous eagerly reciprocated. “You better,” Snob said and then grabbed the remote to begin playing the movie. Then he got himself comfortable on the couch next to Phelous, the two cozying up to each other in a cuddly sort of fashion that still leaved plenty of room to grab their glasses for their yearly Troll 4 drinking game.
It finally felt like Halloween.