#ramon morales

[cat0901h3]

Their last Halloween

[beaglesfoundindumpsters]

how DARE there not be a ssttitd 2 yet, this is APPALLING, this is RUDE, i am being personally attacked, how DARE THEY

I WANT TO SEE AUGGIE AND CHUCK AGAIN GODDAMNIT

[jolllyspaghetti]

auggie: i just wanna say, i'm part of the lgbtq community, and this is my best friend ramón, he's an ally. talk ramón!

ramón: ALLY!

[loverforficppl]

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. scary stories to tell in the dark.

Stella, trying to convince Ramon to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong! (y/n): And legal! auggie: And grumpy! chuck: And oblivious to reality! ramon:

[shapeshiftersandfire]

The Woman at 29 Wilson - pt 1

@whumpinggrounds​ @sie-werden-nie-vergessen​

okay kids, buckle up, grab a box of tissues and a stuffed critter to hug, this is where it starts getting Sad

Verna Bellows

Washington, DC

29 Wilson Drive

20002

Stella stares at the address all the way down. The bus is hot and cramped and uncomfortable, full of people from states all along the bus route going to one place or another, but Stella’s eyes are all for the four lines of red text in the middle of an otherwise blank page.

Verna Bellows

Washington, DC

29 Wilson Drive

20002

Sarah is leading them right to Verna. Sarah herself is telling them exactly where to go to find her missing, dead aunt…and Stella can only guess why.

It has to be a cemetery. Verna’s family, her real family, whoever they were, must have set up a memorial of some kind for her. A headstone with nothing buried underneath it. A marker on a family plot where one space will always remain unoccupied.

But why would Sarah lead them there? Why would Sarah lead them anywhere? She’s never shown any inclination to cooperate with them, much less give them the exact information they need. What changed?

Stella runs her fingers over the words. They’ve dried since they were first written; she can touch the words without smearing them, without leaving streaks of red ink behind on her skin. They don’t seem real, they don’t feel real, none of this feels real. And yet, just a few hours after saving Ruth from her own horrific end—Sarah hadn’t spare them a story, after all—she’s on a bus on her way to Washington, DC, with Chuck and Ramon in tow, and into the heart of the nation on the brink of turning on itself, in search of a woman who has been dead for the last seventy years.

She’s not sure what she’s expecting to find, or if she’s expecting to find anything. She’s not sure what’s going to happen as they follow the address through the city, where it’s going to take them.

They’ll just have to wait and see.

Stella turns to the window, watching the landscape roll by, lost in thought at the leg of their search that awaits them, and it’s just after the driver announces that they’ve crossed the Maryland border that something on the paper moves. Stella’s heart leaps; she sits up, ,thinking another story is being written before her eyes and she’s on a bus, unable to do anything about it.

But instead of being a story, it’s a message.

Tell her I’m waiting for her.

                                                     [***]

The address is not a cemetery at all, like Stella assumed, but a one-story house with beige siding. The neighborhood is quiet, not a soul in sight, driveways either empty or occupied with empty vehicles. The drive at 29 Wilson is occupied by a single white pickup truck, rusty and dirty with a cracked headlight. Stella looks around the property, at the lawn strewn with colorful autumn leaves, the short evergreens on either side of the perimeter blocking it off from the neighbors’ homes. One tree at the corner of the driveway is bare; the other is mid-loss, with great patchy areas empty of leaves. Wind chimes blow somewhere in the distance. The leaves in the yard rustle. The whole place seems empty and abandoned, feels empty and abandoned; there’s a heavy, sorrowful feel over the house, as though something so horrible happened here that the nature itself was never able to shake the weight of it.

Stella looks around at the house. It seems so quiet, unnaturally so. She dares to take a peak through the sliver in the front window curtains, but the slightest look in gives her shows her a house with the lights off and no one wandering around inside. When she listens closely, there’s not even the sound of the television on.

Is anyone even home?

She goes up to the door and knocks anyway.

For a long while, nothing happens. Then there’s the faint sound of shuffling from the other side, the door clicks and swings opened, and in the doorway stands a woman in a pair of gray capri sweatpants and a ratty old yellow t-shirt, looking as though she’s just rolled out of bed despite it being late in the afternoon. Her copper hair is tied back in a loose ponytail and haphazardly thrown over one shoulder. She looks at the trio with a distant kind of curiosity, as though she’s grown used to having people come to her front door and having yet more strangers show up is nothing new.

“Can I help you?” She doesn’t sound unfriendly, just…tired.

For a moment, all Stella can do is stare at the woman. She looks vaguely like Verna, she thinks, something in her face that resembles the woman in the drawing in the newspaper. A distant relative, maybe?

“We’re, um, we…” She wrings her hands, glancing at the boys standing behind her. She takes a breath. “Did Verna Bellows live here?”

The woman leans back with a deep breath, jaw clenched. She doesn’t answer the question. Something in her eyes darkens. She says nothing, but steps away from the door, letting the trio inside and shuts it behind them. She gives them a firm look before she disappears down the hall and around the corner. They don’t follow.

Stella adjusts her bag. It feels heavier, being in the house. The weight she felt outside on the porch was nothing compared to what it feels like on the inside. There’s a sense off warm homeyness, but it’s suffocated by a thick, sorrowful fog.

Something awful happened in this house.

She adjusts her bag again and tries to listen as the woman has a muffled conversation with someone in another room. She can’t make out the words, and the voices are almost hard to distinguish, but one of them sounds noticeably more pained and tired than the other. Then a chair rolls along the hardwood floor, someone sniffs, and the floors creak as they walk. The copper-haired woman reappears around the corner, followed by someone else who looks…eerily familiar.

The new woman is shorter than the first by a few inches, with shoulder-length black hair and a black dress that comes down in a short V. Her heels click on the floor, her step sluggish and slow and aching. Dark circles line her eyes as though she hasn’t slept well, or at all, in quite some time.

Stella’s breath catches in her throat. Chuck grabs her arm. “Holy shit, it’s her.”

All Stella can do is stare. She’s supposed to be dead. Everyone always said she was dead. No way, there’s no way, there’s no damn way. Why isn’t she dead?

Verna Bellows herself stands before them, alive and well, and not looking a day older than she had in her portrait in the newspaper.

[rwprincess]

Room for One More (Chapter Thirteen)

Previous

Masterlist

Next (Chapter 14)

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark Reader-Insert

Word Count: 3.2 K

Synopsis: The aftermath and fallout from your excursion to the hospital and yours and Chuck’s stories being written. 

CW: Psychiatric Hospital location and commitment (involuntary); ableist language toward the mentally ill, particularly fitting of the 1960s; Angry mother/tumultuous parental relationship; Vietnam war/military

November 3rd, 1968, evening

You were a mumbling, raving mess by the time emergency services found you. You had been trapped for over an hour in the broken elevator, with nothing to occupy you but your thoughts. When the red lights became yellow again and the alarms stopped, you didn’t feel relief. Somehow, you knew he was gone. You could feel Chuck’s absence and you were sure of it. You hit the alarm button on the elevator several times before it seemed to finally register, but it didn’t matter, you were too late. It was cruel of Sarah to just leave you behind, now; to give you that experience but not take you away, too. Now you would be able to stew in your guilt and heartbreak instead. Since you had been in silence for so long (other than talking to yourself), when the doors started to open, you screamed and shrieked, thinking Sarah had finally come back for you with the help of the old lady and all the other lost souls of the morgue. However, it was a small group of firemen, a doctor, and two nurses. They dragged you out of the elevator, crying and screaming, asking fervently about Chuck, but of course they had no clue what you were talking about.

Your insistence that the witch had got him, that the fat pale lady must have taken hold of him in a red room during the alarm did nothing to help your situation. Being in a psychiatric facility already, they were quick to assess you and welcome you to the loony bin. Perhaps this was what “room for one more” meant...to be trapped here at this facility forever. To have everyone think you had gone crazy and were out of your gourd while you exhaustedly begged them to hear you out, to listen to what you knew to be the truth. They listened to you long enough to verify your information, though, and called your mother. When she arrived, she sternly asked you what the hell you were doing there in the first place. You tried to explain, but your explanation just made you sound like more of a kook and brought tears to her eyes. The doctor took her aside, but you could still hear them speaking.

“Ma’am, your child was trapped in an elevator shaft within the morgue for a very long time. We think that it has left them somewhat...unhinged. As you can clearly see, they have been affected by the experience and we would like to commit them for observation, at least overnight. It was quite a traumatic event and we’re still trying to figure out what happened and how they’re going about interpreting all this. We will try to convince them of the truth once we have it and bring them back to this reality, but for now…well, as you can see, they have some fantastical explanation built up instead.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Your mother asked, heartbroken.

“Then we may have to commit for a longer stay. Much longer. And work through some therapies or medications. I must warn you, ma’am, your child might never come back from this.” You could hear your mother sob at this news. You were all she had left, and while you weren’t crazy, you didn’t know how to explain the situation without sounding like it. 

You contemplated how best to go about getting out of here. While you wanted to beg them to look out for Stella and Ramon’s safety, you knew that wouldn’t help your case. Piling on that they would be ‘the next,’ would only sound like another fabrication. You overheard some hospital staff talking in hushed tones about you and your situation when they thought you were asleep. Stella and Ramon had been arrested for infiltrating the hospital, if you hadn’t seemed like a nut to them, you probably would have joined them too. The whole security staff and some of the police force had searched for the last member of your party, but still hadn’t found him; this confirmed your worst fear: Chuck had had his story written and now he was gone. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks at this confirmation, but they also helped regenerate the resolve growing inside of you. You had to get out of here as soon as possible and try to help Stella and Ramon. Or, if you were the only survivor, you needed to get out and find a way to bring everyone back.

November 4th, 1968, morning

Even though you knew what you had seen was real, and that each story in the book had been real too, you vowed to choke that all down and not speak of it. The truth only made you seem crazy; ironically, lying about it would set you free. In the morning, you told the doctors and the police the same story you had concocted during your sleepless night: The four of you were trying to one-up each other about these scary stories and find some proof about Sarah Bellows’ existence, and found out that this hospital may have records of her. You had split up to make more headway and the elevator had broken, dropping you into the morgue. Just being around those dead bodies was what had scared you so badly. No, you didn’t know where Chuck could be; maybe he had run off and was hiding, you all knew there was risk in getting caught. You originally had said what you had because you were so worked up about the legend and then being dropped like that, thinking you would die, and ending up in the blackness with only the shimmering glints of dead-people freezers to guide you scared the hell out of you, but you’d regained your wits since then. Given that you were consistent in your stories and you made a point to show them how ‘normal’ you were now, they called your mother to discharge you.

When you were released, you were informed that Ramon and Stella had been freed as well, but Ramon was being sentenced to the military draft he had tried to run from. Of course, you wanted to see them immediately, to find out what happened, and to try to stop their stories from being written tonight. However, your mother was filled with rational anger at such a request. “You know, Y/N, normally I would be glad for you to see your friends. But they clearly have not been a good influence on you. Breaking and entering into a hospital? I know you know now how dangerous that was!” She alluded to your encounter with the elevator. “The Steinberg boy still hasn’t shown up at home and his parents are worried sick, with what happened to their daughter as well. I’m sure you heard about that. She wasn’t as lucky as you, Y/N. She still hasn’t come around and will likely be in the hospital for a very long time. What were you thinking?! Kids have gone missing and you thought it would be best to play hide and seek in a hospital? What is wrong with you kids? No, I think it’s best you stay home for quite some time. You’re lucky to have been discharged and that you weren’t arrested promptly after, like your other friends.”

“Mom, you say that like they’re hoodlums. You know my friends. Do you think Stella of all people is really like that?” You tried to remind her that she knew little mousy Stella, that she’d spent nights at your house and vice versa.

“I’m not sure what to think anymore.” She huffed in response. “It’s my understanding that some older boy from out of town was with you all. Maybe it was all on him, you just fell into his trap.” You hoped the police weren’t pinning this all on Ramon like your mother was. But then again, they had let him go or dropped the charges or whatever, so he seemed to be out of the woods. When you arrived at your house, your mother sent you straight to your room. She needed to be able to process this and reflect without your presence. This definitely hurt, since you’d been separated from her for so long and were losing the people closest to you in horrific ways. But you couldn’t explain any of that truth to her, so you just complied. While in the sanctuary of your own bedroom, you had an idea and shuffled around looking for your walkie-talkie hoping that Stella had hers charged up and was around to hear it.

“Stella? Stella, come in! Stella?!” You said urgently in a tone you hoped was quiet enough for your mother to not overhear. Silence greeted you from the other end. “Goddammit.” You whispered to yourself, feeling utterly alone, but tried again. “Stella? Stella, if you’re there, please pick up!” You implored. There were a few more seconds of silence and tears began to sting and prick in the corners of your eyes before you heard an electric crackle.

“Y/N? Is that you? You’re all right?!”  Stella answered, overcome with relief from the other end.

“I don’t know if I’d exactly say that, but...I’m alive and I’m home.” 

“Y/N, Chuck is...he’s gone.” She regretted to inform you.

“I know.” You suddenly hoped his walkie wasn’t on in his room, his parents able to hear this conversation. “Stell, change to the other frequency.” You had picked another frequency for more private conversations and as a backup, just in case. You couldn’t imagine ever using it for this reason, though. When she did and gave a test call, you explained, “I just didn’t want Chuck or Auggie’s parents to hear...just in case.” 

“We beat her. It’s stopped.” She told you, quickly. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

“How? How do you know?”

“She came for us last night at the police station, but we figured it out. It’s a long story, but it’s over. I really think it’s over and she’s let go, Y/N.” 

“Then why aren’t they back?” You asked in a broken voice. To you, it would only be truly resolved when you got back those that you loved most. Auggie’s story didn’t say he died and you all were pretty sure that Tommy now resided in his own field as a scarecrow. They had to be somewhere, not just dead.

“I...I don’t know. I’m working on that. I think there’s gotta be some way. The book-”

“You still have that damned thing?!” You tried not to shout and have your mother hear, but you were livid. It caused all of these problems but she still wanted to use it?

“It’s hard to explain. Like I said, it’s a long story. Can we meet in the park? Or you can come to my house?”

“I’ll be lucky if my mom ever lets me out again.” You replied, coldly. “She’s not too happy with everything. Obviously.” You scoffed. It was silent for a moment, neither of you sure what to say.

“What happened to you?” Stella finally asked.

“That’s also a long story.” Then you thought about it, and added, annoyed, “I’m sure you can read all about it in your book.”  She hesitated again on the other end.

“I...I know what happened during. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened after, or how you got out. I didn’t know...I wasn’t sure if you were alive or around or whatever with the way it ended. Not until the sheriff told us that you had survived, but…”

“But what?”

“But you were much like Ruth.” The memory of being at the hospital stung you with her words. The walkies were really failing you for communication, and this other frequency was a little less clear than your main one, too. So Stella said, “I’m coming over.”

“I told you, my mom is not going to be happy about that.” 

“You don’t have to come out. I’ll sneak in. Or stand outside. Or whatever.”

Stella was true to her word and showed up below your window about twenty minutes later, throwing pebbles softly at it so you’d know she was there. You lifted the window open and peered out. It still probably wasn’t best for her to be standing out there where she could be seen, and your mother was sure to hear you both if she spoke to you from down there, so you beckoned her to come up. She scaled the tree outside your window and cautiously shimmied across one of the branches that was becoming barer by the hour. You helped get her inside and she surprised you by hugging you tightly. You felt most of your anger at her melt away in that instant. She pulled back, tears threatening to fall as she whispered, “I’m just so glad that you’re here, that you made it. I’m so, so sorry.” You knew she meant for everything. Stella had been the catalyst, after all. It was even her ‘fault’ that day one, she picked you up and brought you into their friend group. Then she had brought you all to the Bellows’ house and had taken the book, which Lulu told her she shouldn’t have done, that it unleashed the rage...and you knew she felt guilty that she couldn’t save any of you, because it was the same hopeless feeling you had while trapped in that elevator knowing that the red room had come to Chuck. 

“I know.” You said simply, trying not to dwell on it, ignoring your own tears. “Just, tell me, what happened. While we have the time. And, what are we going to do?”

She filled you in that she and Ramon had been at the police station when the sheriff told them another story was being written, Ramon’s. She hated to relive what happened, but she hadn’t brought the book for you to see for yourself. They barely had escaped some dismembered corpse that had the ability to put itself together over and over, with no way to seemingly defeat it. Ramon had called it ‘The Jangly Man’ and said it was a campfire horror story that his brother had told him when he was little. Ramon took one of the police cars and tried to lead it away, while Stella ran for her life to the Bellows’ house. Her story started to appear, The Haunted House. In it, she was able to witness Sarah’s life from her eyes. She was dragged by her own family and tossed about, it was awful. But, somehow, she could hear Ramon calling to her to tell Sarah the truth. So, she began to tell Sarah her own story and shared her empathy. However, she told Sarah that it had to stop and she had to let go of the rage she’d felt for decades, the rage that had consumed her. Stella told her she knew what it was like to hurt, that Sarah had taken the people she loved most, but that was no longer an excuse, and that she would tell Sarah’s story to the public and clear her name. She never murdered any children; her family had tainted the water supply and were trying to cover it up. Sarah was going to expose them all, so they had her committed and her own brother performed electroshock on her.

“She had me begin her story with my own blood. I think that’s the key to having it come alive, to come true.” Stella said. “I’m not really sure, though. She let it go and I think she’s finally at peace. She disappeared and Ramon said The Jangly Man just faded away and nothing has happened since.”

“But it’s a new night tonight.” You pointed out. Sarah could always come back tonight, even though she seemed to have ramped up yesterday. 

“I know.” Stella replied, “But I’m hopeful. I really feel like it’s over. I...I don’t feel that same feeling of dread. I think it’s really changed. I...I heard Ruth is also being released from the hospital soon, that she’s calmed down a lot and isn’t so worried about the bugs anymore. I think that’s another sign that Sarah’s gone. That her influence is gone, or waning.”

“Is Tommy still a scarecrow?” You asked, unsure if she’d heard any news on that front. It seemed that, if Sarah’s influence were off of Ruth, it should be off of him, too. He didn’t just disappear like Chuck and Auggie, he was still around in another form...best you could tell, anyway.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really heard anything about him yet. Maybe we can go to the field and see. I don’t know if, because his story wasn’t interrupted like Ruth’s or Ramon’s, if that makes a difference or not.” You nodded in reply, not sure what to add verbally. “I think the book is the key, too. I think maybe we have to go where they were taken and write a new story to bring them back. I’m not sure, but...I want to try.”

“That’s going to be a hard sell on our parents. Especially the hospital, since we have y’know, criminal charges there.”

“Well, you see, the weird thing is...my dad believes me. I called him from the police station and just told him that if I never came home, it wasn’t my choice. That I’d never leave him like that.” The tears fell freely now. “So, when I came home, he believed what I had to say. I showed him the book, Ramon backed me up, and I don’t know. Maybe at first it was because he was just happy to have me home. But I’m starting to think he actually believes it. He said he’d talk to your mom and Mrs. Steinberg, try to get them to see it’s the truth, too. I think I’m going to need your help and Ruth’s to solve this.”

“What about Ramon?” You asked. It seemed like he should be equally invested. However, Stella just released a shaky, tear-soaked sigh.

“Ramon was here in town because he was drafted. He didn’t want to go after his brother was brought home in a coffin...so he dodged the draft. They’re sending him back. They’re probably going to ship him off to Vietnam. Although, he said with the things he’s seen here, he’s a little less afraid now.” She finished, somberly. Then waited a moment before asking, “What happened to you? After?” You delved into your own story, telling her how they had found you, and how you clearly made no sense to them, so they admitted you. About how you determined it was better to lie and get out than tell the truth and stay, that you were worried about her and Ramon. 

“I also wanted to get out to fix this, if I could...if we can. I’ll do anything to have him back, Stell.” You told her. “I’ll try whatever you think needs to happen.” 

Next (Chapter 14)

[batterycityghoul]

31 Days of Halloween Icon Fest: Day 5 - Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

If you like/want to use, then liking/reblogging is much appreciated.

Icon Fest Masterlist / Icon Masterlist

[ssttitdramon]

SSTTITD + The Onion Headlines- part nine

Happy SSTTITD Anniversary !!

Ramón + Onion Headlines

More Ramón + Onion Headlines

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 1

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 2

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 3

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 4

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 5

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 6

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 7

SSTTITD + Onion Headlines- pt 8