#bandtober

[spaceoddity6]

so excited for marching band season to be over so I can focus on more important things (every detail of every promo for stranger things season 5)

[barfingblood]

Bandtober, Day 2 ( @bricksandbirds ^^)

(There are parts where the characters are thinking, but for some reason, tumblr doesn’t have an italicize feature so ummmmm)

Part Two: Vultorro

It’ll be fine, Alex assured himself, I followed all of the instructions, I’ve seen this before. It’ll be fine. He opened the book and filed through it until he found what seemed to be the correct pages. Yes. Everything will be okay. He knows what he’s trying to call. He knows, he does.

Alex pushes his glasses up the slippery with nervousness sweat bridge of his nose.

Josh won’t even notice it’s gone, He thinks as he carefully places all of the candles in a circle. He wipes off the sheet of sweat coating his forehead with his left sleeve, grabbing a lighter with the right.

He kneels beside the candles, feet and knees aching with the soreness one acquires after running too much, and clicks the cheap lighter that Theo probably bought at a drugstore some dark, cold morning so many nights ago.

A shiver of guilt ran through Alex. The angel on his shoulder tells him that this is wrong, he’ll surely go to hell now. What kind of child disobeys his own mother? What kind of child befriends such… such heathens??? What kind of child allows them to continue being heathens without so much as an attempt to lead them to the light, to God, to heaven?

Alex begins to light the candles. He shakes off that thought. No. He doesn’t care if it’s wrong. He needs to know. He needs to know if he can can do it, if has any ability at all. But summoning a demon could be a lot more difficult for someone with no experience in witchcraft or magic.

*

“There’s a certain line you need to pass, or be born past.” Theo tried to explain, his arms shrugging in a motion that suggested this was truly the best way he could phrase it. “Your friends, Charlie and Starlight— they were born past that line. Josh passed it because he dedicated a lot of time to practicing and studying magic.” Maybe too much time… Theo thought to himself.

He was worried about that kid. Josh had been able to memorize so many spells in such a short amount of time, it amazed Theo that the kid’s head hadn’t caved in from all the knowledge. But maybe ‘amazed’ wasn’t the right word anymore. Maybe ‘terrified’ suited it better…

“So… anyone can use magic if they really put themselves to it?” Alex asked, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his voice. Part of it disgusted him. Magic shouldn’t be possible. Not for mortals, at least. It didn’t make sense. He hated when things didn’t make sense. It was like putting together a puzzle and only having one piece left, then realizing that you don’t have that final, vital piece.

Theo shrugged in response “I guess.” He said, “But I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

*

‘I think it also takes belief.’ Alex remembers the last part of that being. Belief. Belief in what? In God? He has that. In his friends? Of course. In himself?

He finishes lighting the candles and puts the lighter in his pocket, not wanting to forget to put it back where he got it. He made sure that he nailed it into his head the exact placement of the lighter, even though the janitors closet is a mess and Theo probably wouldn’t notice anyways, he still wanted to be sure that it wouldn’t be noticed. Same for Josh’s book. Josh’s room might look like a tornado blew through it, but there’s a method to the madness. Hell, Josh noticed when a hair clip went missing from the place it had been on the floor, and to the left of the closet.

Alex opens the book to where he had put the bookmark. Carefully taking it out and finding the right passage to read. He reads it over in his mind first, then takes a deep breath, and begins to read the Latin text out loud, being careful as to not mispronounce a single syllable.

The candles flare and there’s a brief, small wind. Then the candles die out and, seemingly, nothing happens.

Alex closes the book with a disappointed ‘THUD’ and sits cris-cross on the floor. He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and sighs.

He can’t do it. Pathetic. How can Theo, a Highschool dropout with hardly any money to his name and a medical history that would make anyone side-eye him with caution, and Josh, a straight-F student whose only concern is if his clothes are color-coordinated, do something so fascinating, so spectacular?

Why is everything else so easy, but the one time Alex actually wants to do something, that’s when he can’t?

It’s probably for the best. Alex’s mother would probably give him an unfathomable amount of licks with her belt if she knew he’d attempted to summon a demon. Hell, she’d probably do it anyway for the mouth he had given her before leaving that evening. Either way, he was in for something when he got home.

He stood up, a tight pain in his throat that warned tears. Damnit. Why can’t he do this?! It should be easy. If Josh can— no— no, he shouldn’t think that. No one should think such things of his friends.

“If that sissy-boy can do it, you surely can, Alexander.” His mother had said multiple times before. God, if she knew they were best friends, she’d probably have an aneurism and die. If she knew any of his friends . . .

The first tear began to crawl its way down Alex’s face, then some sort of dry cackle sound rang through the empty basement. The tears streaked down his face, and he quickly wiped them away. God, he hoped that nobody had come down. Nobody ever goes into the school’s basement — one of the key reasons why Theo figured it a good place to cast spells and help Josh with his, the other reasons being that the Moonesville High tigers were really pulling some downers this football season.

“Hello?!” He whipped around to try and find where the noise came from, his voice shaky. The voice that possibly made the cackle now emitted an amused purr. From the darkest corner of the basement, right beside the storage door, he saw two glowing red eyes that had slit, glowing, white pupils much akin to a cat’s.

“Hello?!” The voice mimicked, its sharp, bright red teeth stained with something that looked too much like blood opening and closing as it spoke.

“Who — what — are you???” Alex asked as he stood up. Using his knuckles to push his glasses against the bridge of his nose when they began to slip again.

The thing grinned, a disgusting, blood-stained grin. “I can smell your fear,” it remarked, completely avoiding the question. It was impossible to truly tell due to it being so dark, but to Alex, it seemed the creature crept closer to him. He could smell it now. Oh, that horrible, putrid stench. It reeked of death.

“What. Are. You.” Alex asked again, drawing in a deep, quivering breath and then exhaling it.

The creature’s eyes sharpened, the grin spread and Alex could practically see the stink fumes emitting from its mouth.

“I,” It said, a glowing white outline revealing its shape, “am Vulturro.” Alex could clearly make out two rotted, withered vulture-like wings placed on its lower back. It wore (or was it part of its body?) a gown of rotting, moldy feathers, and on its head was a crown made of bones. Not clean bones either, no, apparently today was Alex’s Very Horrific, No Good Day.

The crown of bones had clear chunks of flesh and meat on them, maggots writhed and wriggled around on the bones, and there were bite marks from where . . . Something . . . Had bitten into them. Beneath the terrible bone-crown was matted, greasy black hair that looked as if it hadn’t been washed since ever.

Alex could feel his stomach churning painfully and his mouth water in disgust, he nearly gagged, but he suppressed it. No. He couldn’t let this thing know that it was effecting him.

“You might have made the worst mistake of your life, young Alexander.” Vultorro cocked its deathly pale head that featured scabs, peeled skin, and exposed bone and flesh in some areas.

In . . . Out Alex repeated to himself as he prepared to answer the thing — Vultorro

“How so?” Alex asked, returning it’s arrogant glare

“I, child, have been around longer than anyone in this building has been alive, combined.” The last word had a sinister undertone that Alex didn’t like.

This was a mistake, this was stupid. How could you be so stupid?!? You’re the smart one!!! You! What did he even think he was doing? What? You wanted a demon, you got one He told himself. It’s going to kill him, he’s going to die. I’m going to die down here, in this dirty basement, oh God, please have mercy on me, please, I was stupid, I’m a kid, I didn’t—

Vultorro’s hideous, blood-red lips turned up into a crooked, ugly smile as Alex panicked

“You don’t have to die down here . . . Not necessarily . . .” Black slime drooled from the corner of its mouth and dropped onto the floor, burning the wooden floorboards straight through.

Alex’s glasses slipped down again, this time, he was too frightened — frozen with utter, pure terror — to push them back up, and they fell to the floor with a deafening ‘CLANK’

“What uhm — what do — what do you mean by that?!?” Alex looked around, desperately looking around his full field of vision trying to figure out if there was some sort of escape hatch, some sort of way to get out in a way that would ensure it not follow him. Such a thing was impossible. Even if he wasn’t paralyzed by the pure, unfiltered, cold terror running through his veins, up his spine, in his stomach, in his throat, his head — that thing would still be able to catch him. Vultorro is a demon. Alex is a kid.

“There are . . .” It paused awkwardly “certain things . . .” It paused again “I can do for you,” the black drool hit the floor again “But they come at a price”

The blood-stained grin, which previously was merely gross and unsettling, now felt threatening and dangerous. As if the grin itself could rip Alex apart, right there on the spot.

Alex gulped “What price?” He didn’t look into the demon’s eyes when he asked — he couldn’t — they were too sharp, too bright, red, danger.

“You have two options . . .” Drool leaked from the both sides of Vultorro’s mouth. Alex could feel his heart thudding against his thin, paper chest. ‘BU-BUM, BU-BUM, BU-BUM, BU-BUM’. “Sell me your soul . . .” No, whatever option two was, he was going to pick. He hated its stupid pauses, they only served to panic him more — although, that’s probably the point. Vultorro wants to torment him, to frighten him half to death. It probably really just wants to kill him, eat him. Why it hasn’t done anything yet is what torments Alex.

“Two!!!” Alex blurts out before Vultorro can croak out the second option. It blinks suspiciously at him. “I — option two.”

“You don’t want to know what it is first?” Vultorro asks, its tone seemingly menacing but genuine curiosity hiding behind it. Alex didn’t know whether to feel impressed or horrified that he bewildered a demon.

“You can tell me, but I’ll still pick two. My soul is mine, nobody else’s.” Alex stared at the demon, courage fusing with fear to create some sort of other emotion.

“If that’s what you want.” Vultorro replied in a voice that indicated the second option was worse, but Alex didn’t hear it. All he could think about at this point was getting out of that damn basement.

“Or, let me use your vessel, but only in brief instances.”

Alex’s face twisted in confusion, Vultorro sighed

“Let me put it like this: I am able to possess you whenever I want to, but only for a short amount of time. This realm is incapable of holding my physical being for an extended period of time, so, it would be useful to have you as a . . .” It paused to find the right words “Like those rovers your people send to other planets.”

Alex considered this. He felt his phone buzzing in his pants pocket. It was most certainly his mother, or Josh asking him if he knew where his spell book went. Josh was surely home by now. After what felt like hours but in reality was mere moments, he nodded.

And as Alex shook Vultorro’s hand, it grinned that disgusting, dangerous grin.

[peppermintreese]

Batch 2

Day 10: Nosebleed

Day 11: Amputation

Day 12: Acid

Day 13: Corruption

[potatolordess778]

Yo! It's Bandtober!

The crazy time of year!

Where no one gets to sleep

We all want to die

There is one thing on our minds!!

Let's win the championship!

[clarinet-with-probs]

So Bandtober...

I'm kinda excited just because I want to see the percussion teacher start to throw hats at them. Also I'd like to see if I can tell what he says.

[barfingblood]

Bandtober ( @bricksandbirds ^^) Day One-The Lamp Looks Off

Part One: Saturday’s Twilight

Blair’s jog slowed to a walking pace as she noticed it. She had taken a different route today, deciding that she wanted a change in scenery. She had already fed Alfred, her pet turtle of four years; her parents had gifted him to her as a going-away gift of sorts. They knew they wouldn’t see her for a while, not as far across the country as the distance between New York and Hawaii was. She opted to only come visit during long holiday breaks and summer vacation, it saddened Blair that she wouldn’t get to see her parents as often, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to study marine biology in Hawaii.

Now, in Saturday’s twilight, she stood staring at an odd street lamp. She didn’t think, at first, that it was the appearance of the lamp that was off. It was just sort of different from all of the other lamps lining the sidewalk in a peculiar, strange way that she couldn’t quite comprehend. There she stood, staring at it, and there it stood, filling her with an oddly terrifying feeling that it was staring back at her.

Blair blinked after moment, realizing that she couldn’t simply move on— no— she had to get to the bottom of this— she needed to get to the bottom of this. She needed to understand why this street lamp was so different, how it operated, she couldn’t sleep if she didn’t know, she just couldn’t.

She could practically hear her loving father telling her “Curiosity killed the cat, dear.” With his hand lightly on her shoulder in the emergency room, waiting for a doctor to come and tell them what they already knew before treating her stove-burned arm.

“Daddy was making dinner,” she remembered telling the man in the white coat with the heart-checker around his neck. She knew that wasn’t what it was called, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember the name.

The doctor hummed as a nod for her to go on.

“I asked him what the stove felt like; he said it would hurt and ‘Don’t touch it Blair, you’ll get hurt bad if you do.’ Then someone knocked on the door.” Blair winced as the doctor lightly touched her arm. The pain ignited like fire, she could feel the burning stove on her arm again, she could smell the chicken on the stove, seasoned, cut up sausage making her eyes water.

“Does that hurt?” The doctor asked in a warm tone, gently retracting his hand from the burn on her arm. Blair nodded, trying not to tear up. She couldn’t cry. The boys at school say that crying is for girls, but not Blair. Blair never cries, though the knot in her throat begs to differ.

The doctor turned to daddy. “She’ll be fine, it’s only a minor burn. We just have to wrap it up and it’ll heal on its own.” Daddy nodded “Thank you, sir.” He said before the doctor left the door. A few moments later, a nurse walked in and applied something on Blair’s arm, then smiled, gave her a smiley face sticker, and left.

“Why did you do that, honey? You could have seriously injured yourself.” Daddy said once he and Blair were in the car. His tone was a blend of concern and genuine curiosity. Not anger. Never anger.

Blair only shrugged in return, pretending as if she didn’t have a reason for her actions. But deep down, she wanted to know what the stove felt like. Her father’s answer simply wasn’t enough, she had to know for herself. She knew that daddy was right, he always was, but she just had to know. What it felt like, why it felt like.

Blair continued to stare at that damn street lamp. She should probably get back to her dorm, it was getting late. 22:45, nearly 23:00. It was an odd thing, normal, completely ordinary… but almost too ordinary— uncanny, Blair figured, was the proper word. Yes. Uncanny. It was as if someone who had never seen a street lamp had been asked to build one based on a loose description. It felt too perfect, the pole too black, the light too bright. She felt as if some kind of evil might take her away, but there was a kind of attraction as well, some kind of lure specifically designed for Blair Jennings.

Without even thinking, she walked towards it as if she were under its spell. She felt a sort of turmoil building up inside her, the kind of feeling that you get watching horror movies or riding a big rollercoaster, the kind of dizzy excited feeling that told you to run, run far away and never turn back. Do not turn back, for what you see behind you will catch up to you and torment your mind forever.

When she got close enough, she reached out to touch it, her heart began to beat faster and faster, the feeling in her stomach began to scream “RUN BLAIR, RUN LIKE HELL, RUN”, but still, she stayed. She stared at it like it might tell her the secrets of existence.

And then she saw.

[barfingblood]

Bandtober ( @bricksandbirds ^^)

Day 6: Indescribable Feelings

Nothing made sense to Josh anymore— well, to say anything that’s happened since last year made sense to Josh in the first place would be a stretch— but especially now. Something had shifted, but he can’t quite tell what. And it’s not just Alex being avoidant of literally everyone, or Charlie’s self-deprecating jokes increasing to a frankly concerning degree, or even Starlight of all people shrinking back and not really saying much.

It’s something invisible. Some invisible force. It feels sinister. Evil. But Josh couldn’t quite place his finger on it. On what exactly was wrong with everyone. He misses his friends, his best friend. He stays up at night scrolling back through their previous texts and misses every stupid joke they made. They should be making. Hell, he even misses Astro following him around like a lost little puppy— or— bunny in his case.

And the feeling that this thing swelled him with— it was some sort of odd terror. Anytime he sensed it was near, he was filled with this strange mix of dread, adrenaline, utter terror, and much, much more.

And still, nothing made sense.

[barfingblood]

Bandtober ( @bricksandbirds ^^) day Three

Part Three: The Monster’s Den

Blair woke up after what felt like an eternity. There was a blinding, white-hot pain on the right side of her head. Her nose was running, she wiped it with the bottom of her Green Day tank top (her father’s old t-shirt with the sleeves cut off) to find blood. She coughed and a light spray of blood decorated the back of her hand.

Something in my throat, she thought, there’s something in my throat!!! She began to cough more and more, which only resulted in more blood pouring out. My blood, she realized. Where am I?!? Everything was foggy, the last thing she remembered being touching that street lamp.

“Hello?!?” She called out, her eyes darting around the pitch-black somewhere. “Oh god,” she muttered “I’m dead” She laughed fearfully. She felt hot tears sting at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t be dead . . .” She laughed more. Her mother, her father, her turtle, her classes, her life “I CAN’T BE DEAD!!!” She howled, a rainfall of tears cascading down her sickly pale face.

Then, there was a dry cackle somewhere behind her. She snapped her head around to find where it was coming from. “Who are you?!?” She shouted into the abyss. The thing continued to cackle. She could smell it. It smelled like death.

“Not yet, my dear. B̸̧͖͇̖̥̲͚̬̝̟̏̈́́͜u̸̢̡̢̥̞̟̰̠̬͚͕̘̳̜̖̲̬͎̭̪̜̪͇̩͔̖̩̖̫̺͓̯̗̹̝̰̗̾̋̌͒́̌͗̊̑̐͌̌̉̑̅͛́̍́̋̍͐͗̓̂̿̍̌̔̋̽̀̉͗̈̆̚͠͝͝͝ͅͅţ̵̢̨̛̬̜͚͚̩̪̭̪̗͎͚̣̦̤͎̰͈̖̬̩̤̼̣̯̟̆͋̀͒̓͆͋̀̂͐̈́̎̂̀̋̇̔̓́̅͊̈́͊̅̇̕̕͘͜͝ ̸̢̛̩͎̻̹̯̯̜̣͕̮̮̫̲̙̗̈͒̇̊̈͋̈́͗̓̌̂͒̑̐͋̆̀͋͛̈̅͂͂͋̕͘y̸̢̧̨̛̘̘̞̲͈̩͓̥͚̠̗͈̘̘͓͗̓̋̎̈́̇̌͌͑͌̆̾́́͑̑͒̃̎̌̑̓̿̅̒̐̉̄̕͜͝ơ̴̢̪̯̬̫͕͔͓̲͖̝̮̙̲͈̹̝̺̬̦̞̫̗̮̜͎̲̰̅̈́̓̐̆̌̊͌̉͐̆̐̿̑́͋̒͒̈́̐̈́̆̅̂́͒͋̓̂̆̉̋̄̇͒̂̚̕̚͝͠͠͝ų̴̢̡̰̥͎͇̣͖̥͍̰͛̒̒͒͊̀͒̈́̋͊̈́̎̎̔̏̈́̊̄̂̍̔̈́͌̆̕͜͝ ̴̧̲͚̙̬̦̖͇̪͈͙͍̯͖̫̂͐̏̑̀̌̑̔̑̏̓̾̎̇̃̌̾́͋̐̕̕͜͜w̷̢̗̤̗̜͉̝̰̙̲̲̰̯̱̙̹̤̺͖̯̾̾͆̔̓̒͊̈́̕i̴̢̧̢̭̩͖̼̱̻̝̟̰̹̝̥͖͕͎͉͔̹̹̼͚̩̫͉̤̙̱̱͉̭̼̫̣̞̜̖̜͓͋͆̒̋́̈́̓̒̃̌̉̑͘͠l̸̨̢̡̨̼̝͖͎̦̰̞͖̬̮͖̱͇̦̱͖͚̱̮̲̙͍̟͇̥̗͖͈̪͖̥̲̾́̌̅̅̌̎̉͋̽̏͌͊̄̌̏̅̔̈̍͋͊̽͒̕͘̕͜͠l̵̨̨̧̹̺͚̯̺͇̳̖̙̜̩̲̬͕͕̤͙̲͈̹̘̠̱͖̤͍̱̆̇̊͐̿͊̅̄̈̇́̿͛́͒̒͊̚͜͝ͅ ̸̨̢̗͖͚̪͖̱̬̱̖̟̥̼̘̱̗̙̮̙̞͍͙͙̲͚͚̪̹̙̻̗͉̥̩̙̬̥̹̠̞̖̪͙͕̙͍͕͌̀̌̕͝b̶̨̢̢̢̛̲̩͕̞̱͚̺̰͕͓̳͇̮͓̰̲̜̹̝̹̘͎̠̣̗̰͕̳̲̝͙̟̪̭̳̗̦́̿̉́̾͊̆͋͛͊́̐͗͆̉͑̎͋͂̐̍̒͛̾̇̆̑̎͋̇̇̓̀̈́̓̆́̈̽̕͘̕͜͜͠͠͝͝͠ͅȩ̵̢̯̘̯̘͉̗̮͐̂̈̂͆̊̉̿̓́̾͗͂̓̃̎̆̊͗̅̆̅̍͒̽̌̈͂̽̈̌͒͑͆̌̾̚̚̚̕͝” The thing’s voice distorted, somehow. It was visible now. It looked like a vulture, a terrible, old, rotten vulture. Its wings spread and was about to lunge at Blair . . . But something stopped it. It froze, mid-pounce and looked up.

Blair stared at it, backing away in an attempt to escape it, but not quite sure if she could. She could taste more blood in her mouth, that awful, coppery taste. She could feel it running down her throat. She could feel her eyelids, hot on her eyes, she could feel her heart beating like it could fly away.

And then the thing dissolved. Out of thin air. Just — gone.

Blair sat on her knees and looked around, blinking in confusion. The blood came to a boiling point in her throat and she felt her stomach push everything up. There was a brief moment before when her mouth watered, and then she vomited a mix of blood and food. So much blood.

She looked up to find the black void crumbling, falling away. Her face twisted in confused terror and she backed up as far as she could, and then the floor (?) beneath her collapsed.

When she woke up, she sat up and screamed. She looked at her hands. The pain in her head was gone, the taste of blood was gone, the vomit on her chin was gone, and the blood on her tank top was gone. She was in her bed, in her dorm room, and the light in the bathroom was on.

The bathroom door flew open and out ran Alice, a towel rested on her still-dripping wet hair and a robe tied tight around her.

“Holy shit, you scared me!” She heaved, “You okay?” She asked as she sat down on the foot of Blair’s bed. Blair took a moment to look around the room, not sure whether she can trust reality anymore, then she looked back to Alice who wouldn’t be satisfied until she got an answer.

“Yeah,” Blair concluded, “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” She smiled a reassuring smile. Alice’s face relaxed and she stood up, rubbing the towel in her hair in an attempt to dry it.

“Okay,” she said