#but yes spooky month is upon us

[checkeredflagggs]

Unsolved

Pairing: charles leclerc x podcaster!reader

summary: when charles admits to listening to unsolved, Ferrari take it upon themselves to play matchmaker

a/n: Hope everyone has a good 2025!

a/n2: I made up all of these murders and mysteries. My bad if they’re actually real

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, maxverstappen1, arthur_leclerc, and 3,138,723 others

scuderiaferrari: Carlos and Charles took the stage today to answer fans’ questions!

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user1: god do they look good

↳user2: i knnnnnoooowwwww

↳user1: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now ngl

user3: loved the little baking lesson that Carlos had going on there at one point

↳user4: god can we get charles to take notes???

↳arthur_leclerc: it wouldn’t help

↳charles_leclerc: stop lying! I can cook

↳arthur_leclerc: you can’t

↳user4: we saw that pasta video…unless you’ve gotten vastly better no you can’t

user5: my big surprise takeaway was that charles also listens to unsolved? He seems like that would be too scary for him tbh

↳user6: listen that man has been in Ferrari for years now

↳user6: listen to the horrors? No no no. He lives with them. He is them

↳user7: alrighty there Mr. Philosophy. Chill

user8: ok but did you see his blush when they asked why he liked unsolved?

↳user9: YES! I think the mans likes the podcaster, not the podcast!

↳user8: can you blame him? They’re hot af

user10: ok but i feel like this is the start of a meet cute? liked by charles_leclerc, yourprivate

↳user10: did??? Did Charles just like my comment???

↳arthur_leclerc: 😆😆😆😆

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 724,293 others

unsolved: Let’s talk death and disappearances this month — three cases spread across 3 states and 3 decades that have never been solved that starts and ends in Boston! Lisa Miller, …more

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user11: chilling…

user12: ok but why do they match so well…did you just somehow connect these 3 murders?

user13: damn do the fbi need to hire you. liked by the fbi

↳user13: wait what???

maxverstappen1: good stuff 👍🏻

↳user14: what in the earth is this crossover???

↳user15: vroom vroom guys listen to murder mystery podcast??

↳charles_leclerc: NO. NO WE DONT

↳unsolved: shame 😞

↳charles_leclerc: no wait wait wait. I DO! They don’t.

↳pierregasly: 😂😂

↳user16: what in the world…

oscarpiastri: interesting, interesting…

↳charles_leclerc: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳oscarpiastri: that’s no way to speak to your son…

↳user17: what is going on in the House of Commons???

↳unsolved: that’s what we would like to know as well…

↳charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IS HAPPENIGN!!

Private Emails

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, unsolved, and 2,133,464 others

tagged: unsolved

scuderiaferrari: COTA here we come…with a mysterious guest!

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user18: OH MY GOD did they really invite the unsolved podcaster Charles has been not so secretly thirsting over???

↳user19: they did! I bet it’s gonna be a really interesting race…

charles_leclerc: we look forward to seeing you!

↳user20: how long did it take you to type that out and not completely freak??

↳arthur_leclerc: longer than you think possible!

this comment was deleted

↳carlossainz55: his face was redder then our cars

this comment was deleted

↳pierregasly: I was fielding panicked calls all day. You have no idea

this comment was deleted

↳maxverstappen1: I just took his phone and did it for him 😂

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user21: my fingers are crossed. I am sat. Please please please give us a good episode of unsolved with Charles and Carlos. You don’t understand my NEED for this to happen

↳user21: god I’m just imaging something like their prison episode from 2 years ago? Like spooky and creepy to the extreme!

↳user22: sorry but can you explain? I’m new to unsolved and am working backwards!

↳user21: of course! So about 2/2.5 years ago the unsolved crew camped out in a decommissioned prison with a ghost hunter group (I forgot their name sorry!)

↳user21: while the hunters were, you know, searching for ghosts, the unsolved crew were doing an in-depth study on all the creepy and dangerous murders that happened in the prison!

↳user21: it was a really fun crossover episode!

↳user22: oh! That’s so cool! And austion has some pretty haunted places — maybe they’ll do it again here!

unsolved has posted 3 stories

[COTA here I come!] [beautiful!] [The setting for tonight!]

user23 replied I’m so excited!

scuderiaferrari replied glad to see you on the way!

↳unsolved thanks for setting this up!

↳unsolved I’m very excited!

user24 replied oh my god that’s such a pretty photo!

user25 replied go get your man

↳unsolved whaat??

↳user25 oh my god you don’t know??

↳unsolved ???

↳user25 oh this is gonna be funny af

scuderiaferrari replied …you’ll have both our drivers back in one piece right??

↳unsolved of course!

charles_leclerc replied that’s…that’s where we are staying??

↳unsolved yup!

Bluesky

Bluesky

unsolved

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 1,231,122 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrar, spiritsleuths

unsolved: only 1 driver was hurt in the making of this video and his name was…Jasper White! Thanks to scuderiaferrari for loaning us their drivers to make this amazing video that took a long look at some of the most haunting deaths in this local Austin landmark! And thanks to the Spirit Sleuths for helping us out last night!

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user26: spooky…

↳user27: it feels unreal that there were so many deaths in one place in such quick succession…

oscarpiastri: glad to see you made it though the night

↳charles_leclerc: of course I did! There was no problems whatsoever

↳unsolved: I’m pretty sure I have a couple of hours of video that show you screaming and clutching at me to prove that wrong…

↳charles_leclerc: you don’t ☺️☺️☺️

↳maxverstappen1: ohhh share?

↳unsolved: that’s no footage I guess

↳pierregasly: shame

↳charles_leclerc: thank you 😊

↳user19: hmmmmm user53??

↳user53: i see it. I see it

arthur_leclerc: ok but how many drivers were screaming???

↳unsolved: all of them!

↳charles_leclerc: no! Just 1 🥹🥹

↳unsolved: sorry just one!

↳carlossainz55: compañero?

↳charles_leclerc: just 1!!!

↳unsolved: sorry 🤗

↳user19: hmmmmm

↳user53: adding it to the folder now

user28: that was such a fun episode!

↳spiritsleuths: just wait for our cut of the night!

↳user28: I’m sitting. I’m sat. I’m ready.

sebastionvettel: never thought I’d see the day after that incident in 2019

↳landonorris: share!

↳oscarpiastri: don’t you mean the inchident

↳maxverstappen1: another inchident??

↳carlossainz55: it was for a love interest

this comment was deleted

↳charles_leclerc: this time it won’t be just an inchident

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourprivate, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,293,124 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

scuderiaferrari: And that’s our COTA winner Charles Leclerc!

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yourprivate: Where's the trophy? He just comes running over to me

↳charles_leclerc: who are we to fight the alchemy?

user29: man he moves fast

↳charles_leclerc: very fast!

↳charles_leclerc: not letting this chance escape me!

↳user29: oh my god im so jealous right now

↳yourprivate: 🤭🤭🤭

carlossainz55: congrats mate!

↳charles_leclerc: you too!

↳charles_leclerc: for both reasons!!

↳carlossainz55: shush!

↳user30: oh??? user19, user53???

↳user19: …I’m on it

↳user53: I’ll start the coffee

↳user31: COFFEE??!?? ARE YOU GUYS TOGETHER???????

↳user53:WHAT NO? AHAT? SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

↳user19: I DONT KNOW AHAT YOURE TAKKING ABOU AHAHAHA

↳user32: user19 user53 act normal challenge — failed

pierregasly: thank god. Now stop texting me asking how to ask them out

↳charles_leclerc: stop. talking.

↳yourprivate: awww were you nervous?

↳pierregasly: if nervous includes texting me over 200 times in an hour with different pick up lines and selfies asking how his hair and outfit looked?

↳pierregasly: yes

↳charles_leclerc: im going to run you over 😄

↳scuderiaferrari: you can’t actually say that Charles!

↳charles_leclerc: for legal reasons this was (not) a joke

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁

↳pierregasly: …I don’t like that emoji calmar

↳charles_leclerc: 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

user33: the way he sprinted over to her…

↳user34: I have NEVER been so jealous as I am right now

↳yourprivate: ehehehehehe

↳user34: ok no need to rub it our faces

↳yourprivate: why wouldn’t I?

↳charles_leclerc: 🥰🥰🥰🥰

↳yourprivate: 😘😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️❤️

↳user34: right in front of my salad???

user35: wow that highway is calling my name tonight…

↳user36: sleepover!

[merakiui]

HALLOWEENIE. [1]

skully j. graves x (female) reader cw: nsfw, retail au, smoking, modern au (no magic), cheesy workplace romance, may be ooc (some creative liberties were taken for various aspects of skully's character and may not align with characteristics shown in tnbc event), characters written as 18+ note - skully returns for another season of work at fellow honest's halloween store. is this the year he finally musters the courage to confess to his cherished coworker, or is it going to be another year spent with his nose buried in his poetry journal? // split into three parts due to size. read part two and part three.

“It is hotter than Satan’s asshole out there. Why are we open this early?” you grumble, toying with a skull squishy toy. Its villainous sneer is stretched out in your hands, liquid glitter sparkling from within polyurethane skin. “No one’s doing Halloween in August.”

Sighing, Rollo hides his disdain behind his handkerchief. “Many people prefer to be prepared well in advance for important events and holidays…unlike some.”

“I know that dig wasn’t meant for me. I’m as prepared as they come. I’ve always got my share of rent ironed out, don’t I?”

“If only that was all that required ironing…”

“Now, now!” Fellow taps his cane against the ground. It’s all for show, but you’ll admit it adds flair to his exuberant character. “Both of you, show some more enthusiasm! And, Miss (Name), treat the merchandise as you would a baby—with care! Halloween is upon us in this haven of hellish haunts.” He slinks over to you, leaning in to whisper covertly. “The white-haired one—”

“Rollo.”

“Right, just what I said! Mr. Rollo here speaks the truth. Profit made in a month will never surpass that stretched out across many months. The optimal time for Halloween shopping and foot traffic in general happens between August and all the way up to October, and when everything goes on sale in November… Hah! Imagine it! Holidays are about the commercial and the—ahem!—the…uh. Well, the collaborative efforts of a hard-working team, of course! Right. Yes. Very so!”

“Uh-huh. And how many broke college kids are just itching to flock here?” You drum your acrylics along the stress toy. They’re painted with pastels and decorative sunbeams. You’re still in summer mode, not Halloween mode. “Fellow, are you sure you couldn’t have pushed opening until—I dunno—the end of August? I’d like to enjoy what little summer I have left, thank you very much.”

He gasps, scandalized. “And deny the people their ghastly goodies? I think not!”

“Who’s our target audience? The dead? Literally no one’s interested in Halloween when—”

The doors swing open then and a lanky leg steps through. The rest of him follows next, every impossibly tall centimeter straightening out into an impressive, gangly height.

“Happy Halloween, lovely people!” he exclaims, arms spread wide.

Rollo smirks behind his handkerchief, quietly amused. “No one, you say?”

“So there’s someone,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Whatever. He doesn’t count.”

After all, if you’re Skully J. Graves, spooky season savant, every day is Halloween.

Fellow pushes off from the counter to greet him. “Ah, Skeleton, my boy! Welcome back! I see you’re raring to go as always.”

“Naturally! I’ve waited all year for this day—the annual opening of this spectacular store of spooks!” He turns a full 360° to view the scary stock and then bounds over to a wall lined with freaky frights—costumes and masks, candy and corpses, faux cobwebs and other yard props. Squealing in delight, he adds, “And what a terrifying array! How dreadful!”

Skully skips over to Fellow, and the two shake hands with an energy that would’ve been infectious if you and Rollo weren’t already immune.

“Those same sunglasses… Wearing them indoors as always. What a bold fashion statement,” you murmur, leaning into Rollo. He meets you halfway, and the two of you hide behind that infamous square cloth of his. “If it were anyone else, I’d see nothing but a pompous fool.”

“Admittedly, it is quite fitting for a man of his…tastes.”

“You should get yourself a pair.” You nudge him with your hip, snickering. That earns you a quirk of lip, the slightest hint of a smile.

“Even a circus of one requires a ringleader. Might you consider joining me?” 

“We’ll walk around the flat in our silly glasses and wax poetry. ‘To be or not to be’—”

“That is the question, is it not!” Skully pops up between the both of you. He wraps his long arms around you and Rollo, much to your roommate’s dismay. “‘Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’—” he plucks the skull stress toy from your hand and holds it up to the fluorescent lights, dramatic like a Shakespearean actor— “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’ Oh, my dears, how delightful it is to meet under this roof!”

He drops the toy and embraces you both once more before pulling away to take hold of your hand. Gently, he places a chaste kiss upon the top of it.

“A kiss for this auspicious encounter! How radiant you are, my sweet, more so than the brightness in one’s eyes as expiration is thrust upon them through betrayal of a sharpened blade.”

“Hello to you, too, Skulls.”

He hums and reaches for Rollo’s hand next, but it’s yanked away in a blink.

“Good afternoon to you, Skully,” he mutters, a shred of contempt lodged in his brittle tone. He lifts his handkerchief to his mouth.

“A fine one at that.” He smooths nonexistent wrinkles from his black overcoat, seemingly unaffected by Rollo’s icy exterior. How he manages to wear such an outfit in the scorching heat, you’ve never understood. “I cannot contain my excitement, nor can I possibly express in words just how grand it is to see all of you again.”

“Been a minute, hasn’t it?”

“Far more than just one!”

“And with that our frightening fivesome—we mustn’t forget Gidel—is complete!” Fellow gestures for the lot of you to huddle up. “Let us give this season our best go, yes?”

“Yeah, whatever,” you say, your energy far from in it.

“Sure,” Rollo agrees.

“Yes, sir!” Skully salutes with an eagerness that puts you at ease. If anything, he hasn’t changed since you saw him last. You sort of missed his cheerful, happy-go-lucky attitude.

Faced with a variety of conflicting reactions, Fellow sighs and knocks his cane against the wall where a Halloween advertisement is posted. Scarily Good Deals reads the eerie, dripping font. 

“Look alive, you three—er, uh, dead if you’re Skeleton.”

“Already on it!” he replies, beaming from pale cheek to pale cheek.

“Yes, just so. Ahem! This is an important time for this tiny town. We’ve got to give it our all! No unhappy customers on my watch. Unhappy customers lead to talks of refunds and questions of my validity and… Well, just overall crummy nonsense that will dampen this spooky experience, and we certainly don’t want that.”

“No, sir!”

“Yeah, yeah. I getcha. Sell lots of stuff, be nice to the customers, avoid issues.”

Rollo hums his acquiescence. 

“Precisely that!”

You break formation just as a customer walks in, the little bell above the doors signaling their arrival. Fellow gestures for you and Skully to follow him. On your way out from behind the counter, you pat Rollo’s shoulder. 

“Leaving it to you, Mr. Prepared.”

You can feel his ire burning into your back, and it prompts a giggle from you—one that’s quickly muffled into your hand. 

“A new shipment arrived just yesterday,” Fellow explains while you and Skully trail after him. “Those boxes over there—I’d like the two of you to finish stocking their contents. If it gets busy, one of you assist the white-haired one.”

“Again, it’s Rollo,” your white-haired friend calls out from the front. “I’ve been here long enough for you to remember it.”

“Yes, just as I said! In any case, do that for me, if you would.”

“You can count on us, Mr. Honest!”

“Skulls and I are gonna stock this stuff so good you’ll have to give us a raise.”

Fellow grins like it’s funny, but he isn’t laughing. “Oh, the imagination of this generation’s youth is truly boundless! Simply wondrous,” he exaggerates, waving his arms about in a mesmerizing way. “A marvelous feat of the mind!”

“He isn’t granting us a raise, is he?” Skully asks, watching him depart. 

“Did that sound like yes to you?”

“Far from it. Ah, but I don’t seek anything extra. I have everything I need here.” He gestures to the store. “Halloween! What more could you need?”

“Money, firstly.”

Skully waggles his finger in your face, clicking his tongue. “Money does not grow on trees, my dear, but pumpkins do—on the ground, at least! Therefore, Halloween is a necessity! A glorious, essential holiday worth more than money. The only holiday! It’s what Jack Skellington thought.”

“Before he discovered Christmas.”

“Righto! It’s wonderful, isn’t it? He took Christmas and made it so despicably dreadful. An absolute scream! Spiders in stockings, haunted dolls, terrifying toys for all! Abundant surprises of holly-jolly horror.”

You fold your arms over your chest and raise a curious eyebrow. “He got kinda tunnel-visioned, didn’t he? Wouldn’t listen to a word Sally had to say.”

“Well, of course he did! But who wouldn’t when struck with a bolt of inspiration? Aah, it’s an excellent film. I hope to be just like the great Pumpkin King—strong, exceptional, a master of fright!”

“I believe in you.”

He looks at you as if you’ve just met, blinking owlishly behind his sunglasses, but then he coughs awkwardly into his arm and turns away.

“W-Why, thank you. Your support is very valuable. I shall cherish it in my heart.”

You bend down to open the box, which is full of smaller, rectangular boxes. Ominous graphics, the alphabet, YES/NO, and GOOD BYE are printed on each one. Housed inside are spirit boards. You pull them from the larger box and hand them to Skully, who places them neatly on the empty shelf. He’s humming “This Is Halloween” as he works, perfectly at peace. You think, if given the chance and if it were allowed, he’d choose to live in this Halloween store in a heartbeat.

Has he grown taller since I last saw him? you wonder, observing the way he effortlessly stretches to touch the top of the shelf. Must be nice being tall… Those three have it so easy.

You’re aware that asking for help doesn’t make you weak or prove some outlandish point that you’re incapable. Even so, it’s always a humbling experience when you need to rely on one of them to reach something for you, especially if it’s for another customer who also can’t reach and is thus relying on you to do just that. Curse those tall shelves! You’ll get your revenge one day.

“Sooo. How was your summer?” You glance at Skully, who’s carefully arranging new stock from another box on the shelves. “Do anything fun?”

“It was fine,” he mumbles, noticeably lacking his usual echoing ebullience and theatrics.

“Yeah? Feels like it went by way too fast.” You join him at the shelf and hand him a small, coffin-shaped music box to place with the rest. “You excited for the school year?”

He shrugs and runs his fingers over the lid. You watch those unique skeletal gloves trace the swirls carved into the sides. “It’s school.”

“I guess we feel the same. But you must be looking forward to something. A club, maybe?”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it, humming thoughtfully instead.

“Any friends? Special events? Maybe a specific course you can’t wait to get into?”

“You could say that.” Before you can dig into that lukewarm reply, he’s changing the subject. “What about you? Are you still seeing that one guy?”

“Who?”

“Fingers, was it? The one who had a fascination with your hands.”

“Oh! Salad Fingers!” You laugh at the silly nickname—one you and Skully came up with together based on the name of a show he’d introduced you to—and then punch him playfully. “I can’t believe you remembered that. That was all the way from last year.”

Skully’s lips pull apart in a toothy smile. “With a name as memorable as Salad Fingers, why, of course I’d remember him!”

“He was strange—and not charming-strange. Felt like he was more obsessed with my hands and spoons and all kinds of odd stuff. I thought for sure he’d chop them off and keep them for himself, and then I’d have to steal all of the spoons in his house to fashion the framework for all my missing fingers.”

“It’s not very polite to cage one’s hands and keep them as pets. How else are they to come crawling back to their owner if they’re confined?”

“Exactly! You get it. I’d have to go digging in graves for a new pair, and I don’t think anyone could ever have nails as nice as mine.”

“No, no, you mustn’t disturb the dead where they rest. Rather, allow me to lend you mine in times of trouble. They may not be decorated as brilliantly as yours, but they are reliable nonetheless.” To cement this point, he taps his palm as if in scolding and says, “Treat my darling with the same respect you show me, all right?” And then he balls his hand into a fist to make it talk in a wacky, high-pitched voice: “I’m in your care, (Name)!”

You giggle at the absurdity of it all, which then snowballs into a fit of raucous laughter. Skully stares at the tears gathering on your lash line, his eyes wide behind his circular lenses.

Recovering from that, minding your makeup, you wipe the wetness away and take hold of his gloved hands. “I’m grateful for your assistance,” you say, speaking mostly to his hands.

“Well!” He clears his throat loudly and rips his arms free. “You…can always rely on them. Troublemakers they may be, they shall listen to you because I said so.”

His lips purse in a tight line and he returns to stocking the shelves. He looks stiff and mechanical, more wire doll than person, and it gives you reason to smile.

“Thanks, Skulls.”

“S-So…” He chances a hopeful glance at you. “Salad Fingers is no more?”

You drag a box cutter through the thick tape on the cardboard to break it down. “Dead and gone. Not literally, but you get the point. Here’s to hoping he doesn’t resurrect to bother me on Halloween.”

“Restless as a vengeful spirit.”

“Let’s take the vengeful out of spirit, yeah? I can handle restless, but vengeful’s pushing it.”

He chuckles. “Nothing a simple grave serenade can’t save!”

“Very true.” You fold the box up before moving on to the next one. “That, or a restraining order.”

When you aren’t looking, Skully turns away to celebrate quietly. He pumps his fist in the air, his pale features awash in sanguine delight.

For the rest of the shift, he’s flitting around you like a friendly, gothic butterfly. You think he might’ve missed you (if only you knew!). Absence is known to pack a weary heart full of fondness, after all. When you aren’t stocking merchandise, breaking boxes down, or assisting Rollo at the register, you’re watching Skully interact with the customers. He’s a bundle of energy, eagerly selling all kinds of stories with his propensity for showmanship.

“Someone couldn’t wait,” Rollo remarks, watching Skully talk a customer’s ears off about his top ten favorite horror films. You notice they’re not very engaged, only nodding to placate, but that doesn’t deter your Halloween-loving coworker. You’re sure if it was possible that customer would have torn their ears off by now.

“If not us, who else is going to bear the brunt of his obsession?” You rest your elbows on the counter while Rollo rings a woman up. “I feel bad. They don’t really pay attention to what he’s saying.”

With each scan, items pile up in front of you. Muscle memory activated, you work swiftly to bag all of them. Your gaze remains glued on Skully the entire time.

“Customers come here to browse and buy, not receive lectures. Many prefer to get through their shopping without unnecessary conversation.”

“Okay, not everyone’s allergic to friendship like you. Personally, I enjoy listening to other people talk about the things they like. It’s fun.”

“Then perhaps it would benefit you to indulge,” he says, tucking the receipt into the register and shutting the drawer.

You roll your eyes and pass the woman her bags. “Maybe I will.”

Come closing, Fellow’s gathered everyone for another meeting. This one is different from his earlier pep talk. It’s a congratulatory chat for a successful shift.

“Excellent work, you three! You’ve done well today and it’s only the beginning! Keep this up. I like what I’m seeing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Honest! We’ll do our best,” Skully promises. The light reflects off his sunglasses, making them appear more beady and insect-like than the hollowed-sockets-in-a-skull vibe he normally goes for.

“Your schedules are posted in the back. Don’t be late tomorrow,” he advises before disappearing behind the counter to tally today’s sales.

“What about fashionably?” you try, leaning against it like a suave, beyond-sexy Casanova. Your efforts are wholly ineffective.

Bright, amber hues flick up to view you briefly. “Timeliness is what makes money. Every second counts, Miss (Name).”

“Ugh. Lame.”

“If it makes you feel any better, we get to work together tomorrow!” Skully turns his phone so that you can see the picture he’s taken of the schedule. “Behold—a devilish duo renowned for their enchanting expertise, paired together just as the stars have divined!”

“Expertise in what? Minimum wage?” But then you snatch Skully’s phone for closer inspection. “Fellow, what the fuck? You gave Rollo off? Tomorrow’s Saturday! You know I always take those days off.”

“Not tomorrow you’re not.”

“Rollo, switch with me.” You round on your roommate. “Please? I can’t spend my Saturday cooped up in here. I need to be out on the town, pretty and perfect, going on dates, living out the rest of my summer free as a bird! Hot girls don’t spend their weekends at work.”

“Your priorities are so abstract,” he criticizes, scowling from behind his handkerchief. “But, yes, hot girls do spend their weekends at work if they care about productivity and paying rent.”

You exaggerate a gasp, your shock resembling that of Edvard Munch’s The Scream. “You think I’m hot?”

Rollo’s pale face explodes with color. You can’t tell if it’s just the product of his anger or authentic embarrassment. “You operate with a surprising amount of self-confidence…”

But you’re not paying attention. You take hold of Skully’s arms and drag him into a giddy twirl. “Rollo thinks I’m hot! Rollo thinks I’m hot!”

He chuckles, welcoming the impromptu dance. “Is that not already a well-established truth? You’re dazzling, my dear. An exemplary enchantress!”

It’s Fellow’s cane knocking against the walls that shatters this comedic scene. All at once, you turn to look at your boss, who doesn’t seem very pleased that you’ve thrown off his count.

“With that, I’ll be taking my leave.” Rollo huffs and stalks towards the front doors. “And I won’t be swapping shifts with you, (Name). I quite like my Saturdays, too.”

“Ugh, fine. Guess that’s the curtain call.”

“I made sure to sign everyone out,” Skully says, trailing after you with long, spidery limbs.

“Thanks, Skulls.”

“But of course!”

“See ya tomorrow, Fellow. Perfectly on time, as always.”

He barks out a chuckle. “Yes, yes. We shall see. Good night, you three.”

“He doubts me now, but wait until he sees me walk in ten minutes early,” you whisper to Skully, elbowing him playfully.

He grins. “I dare say the dead might rise from their graves next, and slashers will let their final girls flee.”

“It’s not that hard to believe! I can be punctual…when I feel like it.”

“When she feels like it,” Rollo echoes, pulling the car keys from his pocket.

“He’s my number one hater. Don’t listen to him, Skulls.”

“My ears are filled with worms.”

“That’s it!” You flash him an approving thumbs-up and skip over to the car. “See ya later.”

“Yes! Farewell—until we meet again! May you sleep peacefully, enveloped in the warmest dreams.”

Rollo buckles into the driver’s seat and turns the key in the ignition. The old car coughs to life, lurching forwards when he takes it out of park and pulls out of his parking spot. You stick your head out the window to wave until Skully’s out of sight.

“Not so bad once it cools off at night, huh?”

“Mm. Indeed.”

“Let’s leave the windows open tonight. This breeze is great.”

“A sensible suggestion.”

You watch the open road as it’s devoured by the moving car. It’s quiet for all of four minutes before you speak. “You think Skully’s doing good?”

“What makes you ask that? Was he not perpetually sunny today?”

“Yeah, I guess. But… I dunno. I asked him about school and he sorta…shrugged it off.”

“Perhaps it’s a sensitive subject.”

“What? School? Come on, Rollo. He’s like an open book.”

“Is he?”

“Well, yeah! We know all about his favorite Halloween franchises. We know the lore for The Nightmare Before Christmas. Hell, I’ve even memorized the songs.”

“Everyone is privy to that knowledge.”

“So what?”

“So it’s impolite to poke around in someone’s private affairs. Would you be partial to a conversation about school?”

“Ew. Gross.”

“Case in point.”

You slump into the seat’s stained upholstery. An accident from a night out that Rollo wasn’t too pleased to see. He is very neat and tidy. You are very not. It’s just one of the many caverns you cross when you share things—the car, your living space, the kitchen… At the end of the day, Rollo appreciates you. He may not always express it, but you know he cares. As much as the both of you get on each other’s nerves, you’re something close to family. Dysfunctional polar opposites, but family nonetheless. You’d do anything for Rollo. Maybe he’d do anything for you, too. At least, you hope that’s his mindset.

“It’s probably nothing,” you mumble, watching the moon as it lights the way home.

But you can’t shake Rollo’s earlier words from your brain: Is he?

Of course he’s an open book! You know Skully. You’ve worked with him for so many Halloweens already. You know he likes everything spooky season, The Nightmare Before Christmas, obscure horror media, and gothic literature. He’s an eccentric guy with an expressive, exaggerated personality. He speaks in convoluted compliments, a young, old-fashioned gentleman. 

What more could there be to a book that’s already been pried open for everyone to read?

You are not ten minutes early. You’re not even ten minutes late.

“Good afternoon, Miss Thirty Minutes,” Fellow greets the moment you step through the doors. He’s flipping through a Halloween-themed interior design magazine—no doubt Skully’s doing—and doesn’t bother to bless you with eye contact.

It’s scalding out there. I could cook an egg on the pavement. Nothing ‘good’ about that!

You throw your arms up in surrender. “Fellow, come on! Cut me some slack. I had to take the bus. Rollo’s using the car. He’s got some student council stuff to take care of for the upcoming semester. Had to be up extra early for their stupid meeting or whatever.”

“It pains me to think a brilliant scholar like yourself could get so held up…”

It pains me I can’t kick you in your rickety knees. 

“It’s too hot for this,” you say instead, brushing all thoughts of violence under the rug.

Skully pokes his head out from behind the curtain to the back rooms, which also functions as a makeshift break room. He’s clutching a small, leather-bound book. The cover is plastered with Jack Skellington’s face. Stickers, mostly. 

“Welcome, welcome, my dear! You look darling as always!”

I feel like a sweaty loser. How is that anything close to darling?

But then his expression shifts into something serious, and the book is tucked out of sight. “You came alone?”

“Do you see Snow Fright torching me with his fiery glare?”

He giggles at the nickname. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve accompanied you as your escort. It’s in poor taste to leave a lady waiting. Why, my heart aches to imagine you there all by your lonesome at the bus stop! If only I was there…”

“Nah, it’s not a big deal. I made it. Might not be on time, but it’s something.”

You trot towards the back to drop your purse and clock in, scribbling lazily on your time card. You notice Skully’s drawn a tiny gravestone and Jack Skellington’s face in the corner by your name.

And literally no one’s here. These next few hours are going to suck majorly.

“I suppose it’s worth overlooking just this once,” Fellow says once you emerge from the thick, velvety curtains. “It has been rather uneventful today.”

“So you do have kindness in your heart.”

“It shrinks every time my precious employee chooses to neglect the time,” he replies in a playful sing-song.

“There’s no need to fret, my darling. Mr. Honest’s heart is as pure as crystal waters!” Skully forms a heart with his fingers and holds it up to encapsulate Fellow and then you. “And a pure heart is one full of soft spiders and fluffy fiends!”

What a wild characterization of the boss…

Rolling your eyes, you smooth the wrinkles in your cherry-print sundress. You’d sooner die than wear those ugly, branded shirts Fellow’s calling a uniform. He would nag at you for that all last year until you reached a compromise: You can wear your own clothes (work-appropriate, that is) so long as you pin your employee name tag on. But there’s just no way you’re going to don dark colors and slacks when the sun is piercing through the clouds with enough heat to singe the hair off your body. Again, you’re impressed with Skully’s dedication to the brand. He’s fashionable every shift regardless of the weather, dressed for a Victorian funeral service. You hope to reach his level of commitment one day. 

“So,” you say, peering at the suspiciously empty center, roped off for staff, “what’s going there?”

It’s then when you notice Skully seems to be at his limit, his lips twitching in anticipation. He’s a volcano on the verge of eruption. 

“Go on then, my boy,” Fellow says, chuckling at his poorly concealed excitement.

He opens his mouth to take in a big breath and the words come tumbling out all at once. “You’ll never believe it, my dear (Name)! We were blessed with the most fantastic, frightening thing! Or… Well, not a thing. Certainly not! The Pumpkin King is not just any old thing! Why, I would never besmirch his glorious name! Ah, but that’s besides the point! (Name), my dear, today we get the honor of setting uuuup—” he pauses for dramatic effect, dragging the word out— “the life-size Jack Skellington figure! He’s to be the centerpiece for this year’s display. Isn’t that just grand?”

His hands on his cheeks, he squeals like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

“But wasn’t Jack, like, the star the last three years?”

Fellow nods, but Skully steps directly into your path. “And rightfully so! He should always be the star.”

“Yeah, I guess… But what about the other characters? We could switch it up, you know. Maybe Sally and Jack. Ooh, or Oogie Boogie. What about all of them?”

“Oh, that would be divine!”

“Right?!”

You and Skully high-five, mirroring each other’s joy.

“You, my dear, possess a delightfully creative mind. A visionary, one might say!”

“You know it!” You cast your gaze on Fellow. “You’ve got the other figures in the back, right? Can we make use of ’em?”

“That rag doll should be there. Can’t say where the others got off to.”

“And we’ve left her in the dark all this time? Shame on you, Fellow, keeping the Queen locked away in solitary confinement like this. You’re no better than Dr. Finkelstein.”

“And she isn’t just ‘that rag doll’!” Skully gasps, offended. “Her name is Sally!”

“Yeah! Show some more respect for my girl!”

Tutting, you beeline for the back. Skully skips after you, and together you disappear behind the curtains.

“A scavenger hunt mission with my lady! Aah, how exciting! This is just like when Sally was held captive by Oogie Boogie and Lord Jack went to rescue her and Santa!”

“Ah, yeah, that did happen, didn’t it?”

“Twice, actually. In the game—”

“There’s a game?”

“Indeed! The Nightmare Before Christmas: The Pumpkin King. The plot is all about Lord Jack trying to save Halloween Town from being taken over by Oogie Boogie. He wants to turn it into Bug Town!” Skully explains, gesticulating wildly. “He’s not very happy when his Bug Day is ruined, and so he sends Lock, Shock, and Barrel to kidnap Lord Jack—he was his main target, you see—but it’s actually Sally who’s taken instead.”

“So now Jack has to save her?”

“Precisely! And he befriends Sally and defeats Oogie Boogie—and he keeps his throne as Pumpkin King.”

“Can’t dethrone the king.”

“Absolutely not! It’s a masterpiece, really. An astounding timeline woven just a year before the events of the film. Isn’t that spectacular?!”

You hum and open the storage closet, rummaging through the boxes in hopes of finding the right one. Skully’s going on and on about the game and its extensive lore, but you’re too focused on locating Sally to tune in to Info-Dump Radio. You think you see her box, pushed all the way in the back and blocked off by bigger boxes and plastic bins. 

Seriously, Fellow… Organize your shit, you think, reaching over a container packed full of decorations from last year. Your dress catches on the edge of it, and when you stretch it hikes up ever so slightly. Frustrated, you smooth it down to no avail. I don’t get paid enough to struggle like this.

“At the end of the game, Oogie warns Lord Jack that he’ll return and it’ll be a nightmare of a thing! Isn’t that ominous? It foreshadows his role in the movie, which probably would’ve been more interesting if the game came out before the movie. But then that might’ve been awkward timing. Usually, film-inspired games come out after the fact. Not the other way around. Oh, but even if it were the other way around it would still be so—ah?!”

You crane your neck to look at him. His hands are covering his bright-red face, and he’s stammering over incoherent syllables.

“What?”

“Ah. Um. Aah… N-Nothing! Just… W-Well…” His fingers part so that he can peek through them, and he swallows thickly. His voice is squeaky when he speaks next. “P-Panties… Your…panties… Um.”

It’s then when you realize your dress is bunched up, riding up your rear and giving Skully a full view of your underwear. Which are, thankfully, hugging your hips quite flatteringly. The panties themselves? Not so much. They’re what you’d call a lazy pair or a period pair. A pair you aren’t particularly attached to. A pair you wear on days like this so you can shamelessly sweat in them and not have to worry about ruining the fabric. They’re decrepit. The exact opposite of cute.

Part of you wants to snap at him to grow up, but the other part—the part that cares more about your image and how others perceive you—is mortified. 

“D-Don’t look!” you shriek, standing up straight and hastily pulling your dress down.

“I’m not! I’m not!” he promises, still shielding his face. He turns around so fast he smacks into the doorframe. His sunglasses are knocked from his face. “Ack?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit! What the hell is wrong with this day?! I’m cursed!

Sighing, you scrub at the horror prickling your cheeks. Your molten embarrassment is brought to a calm simmer. “Let’s…forget that happened.” Conscious of your dress and its length, you take care when bending down to retrieve his glasses. “Skulls?”

“I’m sorry—terribly sorry! I didn’t see anything, and if I did I’ll will it away—quick as a blink, I assure you. I’ll wipe it from the folds of my brain! I’ll pluck these shameful eyes out and condemn them to a box and I’ll bury that box and I’ll never look at anything ever again!” With his eyes still squeezed shut, he massages his scalp and murmurs in a hiss: “Wiping the memory… Wiping the memory. Forgetting it right now… Don’t remember it… Come on, Skully!”

You watch this melodramatic display with mounting amusement. It’s almost adorable, and it saps the awkward tension from the air, replacing it with something lighthearted. 

“Hey… Skulls, it’s fine.”

“It truly isn’t! I’m a fiend! Aaah! To have looked at you while you were in such a vulnerable, revealing position… Oh, I implore your forgiveness!”

Rolling your eyes, you cover the distance between the both of you and poke his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. No harm done. You can open your eyes.”

“E-Even so…” He fidgets from foot to foot.

“You’re more embarrassed than I am!”

“Of course I am! It’s—your—you…” Orange eyes crack open, and he inhales deeply to settle himself. “I promise you I would never dare look at you in such a lecherous manner.”

“I believe you.” You motion for him to bend to your height and he does. Gingerly, you fit his sunglasses back on his face. “Is your head okay?”

He gives you a bewildered look, which then morphs into one of alarm when you push his fringe up to feel his forehead. “My dear, if I may… W-What are you doing, exactly…?”

“Checking for a bruise or a bump. It sounded like you hit it pretty hard.”

“Oh, that! That was nothing. It’s all well and good.” He forces a nervous laugh and waves his arms about aimlessly. Your arm is pushed away in his anxious scramble. “I’d be wounded if you were hurt in any way, so you needn’t concern yourself with me. Everything is intact up here.” To demonstrate that point, he knocks on his head. “See? My cranium remains undamaged. No cracks here. Full of brains. Not hollow or halved!”

You scrutinize him a moment longer before shrugging. “If you say so… Don’t worry too much. It was an accident anyway. No one’s at fault here, but if we’re gonna blame someone let’s make Fellow our scapegoat. This is his storage closet, after all.”

Skully breathes a relieved laugh, adjusts his glasses, and pats his hair down. “One might resolve to call this mess a means of creatively conserving space.”

“A distinctly Fellow mess. Honestly… Didn’t Gidel organize this last year? What happened?”

Perhaps you haven’t learned from your previous blunder, but you’re already bending over the storage bin once again in an attempt to reach the box at the back. Your fingertips brush the very edge, and you grunt with the effort as you stretch yourself.

“Fuck! Why is it so faaar?” you lament, falling limp against the bin. “Skully, help meee. You’ve got long arms. You could totally reach it.”

“Oh, right! I… I should probably be the one to do that. J-Just to avoid any future mishaps.”

“That might be for the best.”

You step off to the side to allow Skully passage, watching as he very skillfully climbs over the bins with minimal trouble. 

Note to self: Wear cute panties even when it’s burning up outside. You never know when you might accidentally give someone a show. And then you groan quietly. This is so lame. I hope this shift speeds by.

When you and Skully emerge from the back, hauling the large box up front, Fellow lowers his reading glasses at you in confusion.

“You took your time.”

“We can go slower.” You grab hold of Skully’s sleeve. “Let’s go, Skulls. Back to the closet for round two.”

“Very well!” And then he stops, mouth agape once the innuendo seeps in.

You release him and turn towards your semi-benevolent, always-sly boss. “Fellow, you’re great…ish.”

“Oh, you flatter me, dearie.”

“But—heavy emphasis on but—your storage is a wreck. The whole point of storage is to keep things organized!”

“It is organized! Very much so!”

“Very much not so. We fought for our lives trying to rescue poor Sally. Isn’t that right, Skulls?”

“Indeed! ’Twas a battle most fierce!”

Fiercely embarrassing.

“But there’s no foe who could possibly best us! We’re an unstoppable force!”

“Wonderful! I love to hear that!” Fellow claps encouragingly. “Then I assume my favorite unstoppable duo will have no trouble assembling our centerpiece?”

“No trouble whatsoever!” Skully confirms enthusiastically. 

“We’ll do it, but I don’t trust that sleazy smile,” you mutter.

“What sleazy smile? Why, this is all genuine!”

Skully takes hold of your hands and squeezes them. “There’s no need to fret, my lovely. Mr. Honest has entrusted this task of utmost importance to us! We shan’t let him down.”

“Maybe important to you, but I’d rather be doing anything else.” 

“I would like to remind you that you’re being paid to work, not grouse fruitlessly, Miss (Name).”

“You can help, too, you know.” You cast an ineffective pout towards Fellow. “Aren’t you number five in our so-called frightening fivesome?” 

“Oh, but I have! I went through the painstaking trouble to retrieve Mr. Jack Skellington.”

“Gee, thanks for doing the easiest thing. What would we do without you?”

Fellow holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Now, now. You needn’t jump up and thank me so readily.”

“No one’s doing that—”

“Your assistance is invaluable, sir!” Skully beams. “I cannot thank you enough.”

You bring your hand to your face and sigh. Way to be a brainwashed yes-man, Skulls.

“You flatter me. It really was nothing. I’m always pleased to help out where I can. Think nothing of it,” Fellow goes on, basking in Skully’s positive attention.

“Aah, you’re too kind! Is it fate that we would find ourselves here?”

“Destiny, my boy. Destiny! D-E-S-T… Err, probably another ‘e’ or two in there somewhere…”

“Oh, how my heart soars! No longer stiff as a corpse, it flutters freely in the breeze. Truly, your kindness is much appreciated.”

Why is he encouraging him? Honestly… All of you are terrible.

As if having heard your thought, Fellow chuckles and gestures to the empty center. “Now don’t let me keep you from the task at hand. I admire your efforts most sincerely.”

You bite back the rest of your disgruntlement and turn towards the blank, boring space. Fellow returns to his magazine-browsing. 

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, resting your hands on your hips. “Obviously Jack’s going to be there. Now that we have Sally, maybe we could put them side by side and have something resting at their feet. Like one of the plastic pumpkins.”

“And cobwebs! Spiders! A snake here. Perhaps a ghoul or two there… Plenty of pumpkins. Oh, yes, a perfectly spooky ensemble for the Pumpkin King and his dearest Sally.” With a Mephistophelian grin, he crosses his arms over his chest and strikes his infamous pose.

“Yeah! That’s it! You’re seeing the vision.”

With Skully’s assistance, you’re able to pull parts of Sally from her cardboard confines and assemble her so that she can stand proudly with Jack. 

“Look at us! Teamwork!”

“Us…” A dreamy sigh tumbles from his dry lips. And then he snaps back to himself. “Uuuh… Us! Right, yes! We’re a very productive pair. The two of us.” Brittle laughter bubbles up from his chest.

Behind the counter, Fellow slaps his hand against his face and groans.

It takes an hour for the display to come together, but once it does you and Skully marvel at your handiwork. Jack and Sally stand together, their arms spread in greeting, and plastic jack-o’-lanterns are arranged around their feet. Zero pokes his head out from behind Jack, looking just as friendly as he appears in the film. The finishing touch, as Skully dubbed it, are the fake leaves and flowers scattered about—all in colors of autumn.

“What do you think, Fellow? Raise-worthy, isn’t it?”

To further sell it, you do jazz hands. Skully joins you with another dramatic pose. Your stone-hearted boss remains unfazed.

“The only thing raising is my blood pressure watching you ninnies conspire so openly…”

“He loves it,” you whisper to Skully.

“’Twas a spooky success!”

To commemorate it, you lift your phone to capture the both of you in front of the display. You wrap your arm around Skully’s waist to pull him in close. In the photo, a stiff, rosy-cheeked Skully bends down to fit in the frame. He smiles shyly. 

“Allow me,” he pipes up, taking your phone in his hands. “For a better angle.”

“Ooh, good call!”

Together, you pose with your fingers curled into claws and devious, preternatural smirks etched on your faces.

“Now it’s a spooky success!” 

August trickles by without incident, and with the shift in seasons comes new nails. Short and almond-shaped, they’re patterned in brown and white check; both of your middle fingers are adorned with pumpkin-orange leaves. When Rollo asked why those fingers specifically, you flipped both of them and replied with: “So when someone gets on my nerves it’s extra festive.”

Between the start of the semester and your part-time hours at Fellow’s shop, you’ve been swept up in the swamp of busy schedules, lengthy syllabi, and upcoming deadlines. A rush that, while turbulent at times, is much too monotonous for your preferences.

So the sleek car that’s parked right outside the shop is a welcome diversion from what is yet another boring workday.

“Mr. Honest?” Skully calls out, peeking through the glass. “What’s the protocol for big, fancy, out-of-town cars that look like they’re made of money?”

“Big, fancy what?” Fellow rushes to the front from seemingly nowhere, his hands plastered to the window. The car’s doors open to reveal two gentlemen, one in very bright, breezy attire and the other in a simple hooded sweatshirt and jeans. A spark of recognition flashes in your boss��s eyes, only to soon die out and be replaced with a groan of disgruntlement. “Ugh. Not this guy again.”

You join Fellow in hopes of satiating your curiosity with this sudden commotion. “Ooh, it’s the guy! Wait. Who is he again?”

Clearing his throat, Fellow pivots on his heel. “All right, you two, let’s review once more. What don’t we accept from strangers under any circumstance—especially when it’s wealthy strangers?”

“Halloween candy that’s been tampered with?” Skully offers.

“Drugs?”

“Donations!” he hisses, frowning at both of you. “Gracious. And to think schools are meant to nurture those brains of yours…”

“So what’re we gonna do? Turn him down?”

“Of course we are! I refuse to take handouts from someone who has no sense of reality.” He scoffs. “And on the day when my finest, most reliable puppet—ahem, employee, ahem—is out… The skeleton would sooner convert him to his film cult and you…”

“Me…?” you trail off with a sharp smile. “Choose your words wisely, Fellow.”

“I always do. Why, it smarts that you’d think I wouldn’t. I would appreciate it if you could perish whatever thoughts you’re having.”

“Uh-huh. Good save.”

Fellow glances out the window and cringes. “Let’s not dilly-dally over semantics. We need to be in tip-top shape for when—”

The doors open and in walks Kalim Al-Asim, a friendly bell announcing his arrival.

“Ernesto, hi!” He skips over, beaming like the sun. “I’m so happy to see you again! It’s so amazing you’re still doing business here. Actually, I was just saying to Jamil on the way over that you’d do great business back in the Scalding Sands. I could even get my family to endorse you! What do you think?”

“And you flew in…just to tell me that?”

“Not just that! I wanted to help out. This place is so drab—oh, no offense!”

“None taken! It has a certain charm, don’t you think? The dilapidation and the cracks in the brick,” Skully muses, holding his hands over his heart. “There is romance in a haven worn by time.”

“But it could totally benefit from a makeover. That’s why I wanted to give you a small sum for repairs. I was gonna hire a team for you, but Jamil thought it’d be better to leave the creative freedom up to you.”

Fellow puts his whole chest into his laughter, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know it’s an exaggeration. It must sound real to Kalim, though.

“Oh, you’re much too kind, Kalim! I don’t know what to do with you,” he says through clenched teeth.

“No need. I’m just happy to help out.”

“Yes… ‘Help’. That’s certainly a polite way of putting it.”

“Kalim!”

He cranes his neck to view the other man who’s just stepped through the doors. From the look on his face, it’s apparent he’s not too invested in this visit.

“Jamil, there you are! Meet my friends! That’s Ernesto and that’s—I believe Ernesto talked about you before, (Name). Over there’s Skully! We met last time I was here!”

“Greetings!” Skully waves.

“Hellooo there.” You paste a sweet smile onto your face. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. We didn’t get to last year, but I’ve heard lots about you. Any friend of our boss’s is a friend of mine. Speaking of which, Kalim, I sure could use a donation myself…”

“Really?” 

“Mhm. It’s been hard to fish up enough for rent, and with this place being a wreck my poor boss has to cut a few corners with my pay. A shame, isn’t it?”

He gasps. “That’s terrible! Everyone deserves a stable income. Oh, but I understand having to struggle when you can’t afford repairs… Both are equally difficult situations. How much do you need? No amount is too little or too large for me! I want to help everyone here, actually. I’ll fund everyone’s Halloween purchases!” With a joyous laugh, he rifles through his wallet for his card.

“Aaand that’s enough of that!” Fellow gracefully steps in front of you, shielding Kalim from your wicked grin. “I assure you everyone’s pay is completely livable. There’s no need to fret. It stings my pride as a salesman to have my business practices scrutinized so unfairly!”

Jamil appears to be of the same mindset. “Kalim, think about this. You do this every year and Mr. Foulworth tells you the same thing. What makes you think this’ll be any different?”

“But friends help each other out! I want Ernesto to know I’m always here to lend a hand. Gino, too. Is he around?”

“I do believe he’s gone out and about.” Fellow slinks between Kalim and Jamil, his hands on their shoulders. “You’ve only just got here. What’s the rush? How’s about you tour the town? Lots of exciting things to see! Plenty of opportunities to peruse. And souvenirs! You mustn’t leave without them. A sleepy town is only sleepy if its tourists aren’t awake and seizing the day!”

“Well, when you put it like… I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look around.”

“So come along now. Follow my lead. Hi-diddle-dee-dee!”

You and Skully watch your boss, who’s singing a very catchy tune, as he guides them through the doors with a pep in his step. The last thing you hear is Jamil’s mournful groan and then the trio are gone.

“He seems nice,” you muse, joining Skully behind the counter just as a customer walks up.

Skully chuckles. “The shop’s personal patron saint!”

You hum your agreement and set to work totaling the customer’s items, punching buttons on the register. Skully works to bag them as they’re handed to him.

“Ooh, an excellent choice!” he notes, holding up a strand of Halloween garland. “Very terrifying. You’ve scary taste.”

She gazes up at him like he’s a shooting star arcing across her sky. “O-Oh. Um. Thanks!”

Skully smiles and places it in the bag with the rest of her items.

“I remember you from last year, a-actually. It’s good to see you again.” With timid motions, she stuffs a few crumpled bills into your outstretched hand. It’s when she looks up to receive her change that she notices the tag pinned to his winged lapel. “Oh, your name is Skully.”

“Indeed. Skully J. Graves, at your service, dearest customer.” Plucking the receipt from you, he offers it to her with a cordial bow. “Might I know your name, lovely miss?”

She mumbles something incomprehensible, flounders like a fish out of water, gathers her bags under her arm, and ducks out in a hurry. Skully frowns at the sad slip of paper left unclaimed.

“A pity. She neglected to take her receipt.”

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed, you stare at him. He isn’t oblivious, right?

Right?

“Skulls, there’s no way.”

“Come again?”

“Holy shit. You actually don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” He stares at you, puzzled.

“That girl was totally into you!” You nudge him with your hip, a suggestive smirk twisting on your lips. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“When you say ‘into me,’ do you mean…”

“She likes you.”

“Ah. Um… Well, I’m flattered, but I’m certain there are far more eligible suitors for her. B-Besides…”

“Don’t knock yourself down, man! You’re a good-looking guy with a charming personality and cool fashion. No surprises you’ve earned yourself an admirer.”

You flinch at the sound of a harsh slap. Skully’s gloved hands cover his cheeks and his mouth twists into a flabbergasted ‘O’.

“You… Y-You think I’m pleasing to look at?”

“Sure. You’re, like, super tall, too.” You lift your hand to approximate his height. Definitely-taller-than-you is your deduction—whether in centimeters or feet, it doesn’t matter. “And those sunglasses—the crown! Kinda hard to forget all that swag.”

Laughter whistles through the gaps in his teeth. You cut the conversation short to attend to another customer—a father with two kids, both of whom appear to be in fierce debate about the best Halloween movie. When he thinks you aren’t listening, he mumbles the same few lines to himself: “She thinks I’m pleasing to look at… Me. Pleasing.”

“Find everything okay, sir?”

“Not everything. An answer to their never-ending debate would be appreciated.” He gives you a look that suggests you hold the key to this subjective question—or a lie that’ll satisfy both of them enough to refrain from bickering on the car ride home.

Gesturing to your Halloween-adoring coworker, you smile at the children. “You should speak to an expert about that.”

“Yeah?” One of them peers up at Skully with intense, take-no-prisoners scrutiny. “And what do you think’s the best Halloween movie?”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas, naturally!”

“Whaaat? No way. That’s a Christmas movie.”

“Nuh-uh,” his sister interjects. “It’s a Halloween movie.”

“No! A Christmas movie.”

“Halloween!”

“Christmas!”

This new argument seems to age their father, who wilts before you like an abandoned, rotting house. “Come on, you two. No fighting.”

“Why can’t it be both? For all of their differences, holidays do one very important thing. Would you like to guess what that is?”

“We get candy and gifts!” they answer in unison.

“That’s a beautiful benefit, of course, but holidays bring friends and family together. You should always be grateful for those you hold close. Your loved ones are irreplaceable.”

Somewhere in the middle of his lecture the children decide it isn’t worth it to prattle on about their Christmas-Halloween discourse. Their father strings the bags along his arms and beckons them towards the doors with a whistle. They stick their tongues out at you and Skully before waddling after him.

“That was…not as effective as I had hoped.”

“Don’t sweat it. Kids’ll be kids. They’ll learn that lesson at some point.”

It’s then when Fellow finally drags himself through the doors. The exhaustion that blankets his body makes him seem older than he is. He’s muttering something to himself, bushy brows creased in exasperation.

“Ernesto, huh?” you tease once he’s within earshot.

Fellow rolls his eyes. “Please. I never thought I’d shake that ball of energy… Don’t you start using that name. That era of mine’s done and dusted.”

“What’s this? Sounds like incoming Fellow lore.”

“Hardly.”

“Ooh, do go on!” Skully rests his elbows on the counter.

“You scholars sure do take interest in the most arbitrary details.”

“Can’t call it arbitrary if the story behind it sounds extraordinary.”

“Preach it, Skulls! Come on, Fellow. Fess up. Sharing is caring, as they say.”

He stalls around a noise that swiftly smooths out into a syllable of delight when he spots Gidel, who seems to be struggling to reach a shelf. “Would you look at that? I’m needed elsewhere, and you’ve got customers. Toodle-oo!”

“How quickly he flees…”

“More mouse than fox, no?”

That elicits a chuckle from you. Your boss has all the makings of a sly fox, but when it’s necessary he excels at playing prey.

The humor dissipates as soon as a familiar face approaches the counter and, rather than carrying merchandise for check-out, he brings a bad attitude and resentment aged by separation.

“Looks like you’ve gotten uglier since I last saw ya.”

You look into the face of Salad Fingers, an ex-boyfriend who was never really a boyfriend to begin with. He was more akin to an accessory or an extra pillow you would hug in bed, additional warmth for a restful slumber. More of a convenient dick appointment than anything else.

“I think you meant to say prettier.”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?”

You can’t help laughing at the absurdity of his logic, or lack thereof. His confidence in such an insignificant insult, which could never cause you any true damage, is astounding and almost inspiring. 

“I’m guessing you’re not shopping for a second chance, so have fun looking around. Maybe one of those monster masks will cover up all of your…ick. Oh, wait, I forgot. You once said, ‘if it’s broken why bother fixing it,’ right? Silly me. That was—what?—your ingenious catchphrase?”

“And it still applies to you. Stuck at this dead-end job every year. You’re never gettin’ outta this town, (Name).”

“At least I have a job. You’re still bumming off your folks like a baby. If I were you, I’d focus on graduating from diapers if you ever wanna feel like an adult.”

His jaw clenches, and frustration flashes on his face. “That all you got? Petty bullshit?” 

“It’s all you came in here with. I’m just returning the favor. Oh, wait. Maybe all of this is too complex for your baby brain to comprehend. Want me to dumb it down for you? Will that help?”

“That’s it. Get over here, you bitch!” It looks like he might lunge for you, and you can only brace yourself for the fight or the flight—whichever your body responds to first.

Nothing happens. You remain rooted in place.

Skully slides between you and the counter, his arm outstretched, to intercept Salad Fingers. You don’t intend to cower behind him—rather, you’d much prefer throwing yourself into the ring and defending your honor with your fists—but with his skyscraper height it might as well seem like surrender on your part.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” he spits venomously, all the whimsy drained from his tone. His orange eyes are narrowed sharply behind his sunglasses. “You’re being disruptive, so I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Sooo sorry, Prince of Darkness. I’d better be careful, or else you’re gonna cast a spell and sacrifice me to the woods. I’m sooo scared.” He rolls his eyes. “This doesn’t involve you. This is between me and her. Move aside.”

“So you can continue to disrespect her? I think not. Once more, I’m asking you to leave.”

“You’re all bark, no bite. You might be tall, but you’re skinny enough for me to snap ya in half. If you don’t wanna crawl outta here with broken bones, move. Last chance.”

Skully straightens his shoulders, a knight standing for his cause. “Don’t burden my lady with your foul mood.”

Salad Fingers pulls a face at that. “Your lady? I dunno why you’re defending her like you’re her boyfriend. Wait, is that it? Do you like her? Well, tough fuckin’ luck, dude. She’ll eat your heart if you aren’t careful. Leave it in complete shambles. Save yourself while you can.”

“That’s enough!” You step out from behind Skully to frown at Salad Fingers. “You couldn’t have put this mess in a text? Coming into my workplace to harass me about it is so limp-dick-lame. It’s been a year. Let it go.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t ghost me. That’s all you’re good at. Running away like a weak, pathetic—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, asshole!”

Your anger now at a raging boil, you wind your arm back in preparation to knock the teeth out of his mouth. But then a toy hammer comes down upon your head, a painless shock that throws off your aim and leaves you sputtering in confusion. You whirl around in search of your attacker. Held up in Skully’s arms to meet your height, glaring so fiercely you think he wants to set you on fire, is a very unhappy Gidel.

Skully sets him down then. He grabs the hem of your shirt and drags you away from the counter, just in time for Fellow to waltz over and play his part as pacifist. 

“What do we have here?” your boss muses, feigning a jovial disposition in an effort to diffuse the situation. “You, my good sir, seem to be in quite the pickle.”

“What? No. Get lost, old man. I’m just here for—”

“It’s your first time shopping here, is it not? I’d recognize a memorable face like yours—yes, I would! Come along. Allow me to show you around. There’s lots to see!”

Turning Salad Fingers towards a display, Fellow sends a furtive glance towards Gidel. The two seem to understand this silent communication. It’s lost on you and Skully.

“Hey! Let go, Gidel. I’m not gonna hurt him.”

Gidel gives you a disbelieving look.

“Okay, so maybe I was gonna kick him. Just once.” He still isn’t buying it. “Okay, twice. I was gonna kick him twice. Three times, actually. He deserves it, Gidel! I know you wanted to hit him with your hammer, too. Do me a solid and lemme get one punch in. Just one!”

He shakes his head. You sense you won’t get very far no matter how much you beg, so you swallow your dignity and allow him to lead you into the back room. Gidel tugs at your shirt and you obey his wordless command, seating yourself on the floor like a good, obedient prisoner.

“How long am I in jail for, warden?”

He smiles and holds his hands up.

“Ten minutes?”

But he doesn’t reply, parting the curtains and disappearing from your sight. Moments later, he’s pulling a very willing Skully through the doorway.

Once Skully’s folded himself on the floor, Gidel points to a group of boxes with his hammer. You flash him a confident thumbs-up, to which he nods his satisfaction, and then he’s gone. Now it’s just you and Skully, and you attempt to lighten the mood in the only way you know how.

“Welcome to jail, accomplice. What’re you in for?”

Skully laughs, but it comes out short and hollow—like it was ripped from his lungs. He retrieves a box cutter from the table and runs it through the tape on a nearby box. You watch him fish around in the contents, his gloved hands brushing along strands of Halloween tinsel.

“Skulls?”

“Are you okay?” he blurts, looking you square in the face.

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“But that awful guy—”

“Standard behavior from Salad Fingers. Nothing new. Don’t let what he said get to you. It’s all nonsense anyway. Seriously, though. We shouldn’t have jinxed it that time. Talk about bad luck…” With a huff, you use your nail to peel the tape off an unopened box. “I can only hope Fellow sells him a bunch of stuff at exorbitant prices. I’m telepathically channeling my revenge through that silver tongue of his.”

Despite the humor threaded through your words, Skully isn’t amused.

“I don’t understand,” he says, drumming his fingers against the cardboard flaps. He sits with his legs criss-crossed. Despite his height, he looks and sounds small and fragile when his barely audible mumble reaches your ears. “If you love someone, why would you ever want to hurt them?”

“Some people are just assholes,” you reply, sifting through the cheap Halloween trinkets. “And he doesn’t love me. He’s just salty he’ll never get attention from my perfect, beautiful hands.” You flash your palm at Skully and waggle your fingers.

“But you don’t deserve to be treated that way. No one does. That’s not the kind of fright you’re supposed to give someone on Halloween. It’s about contemplations of mortality and monstrosity! Nightmares and fear galore! And yet that was…”

“It’s whatever.”

“It’s not just…whatever.” His bottom lip juts out in a petulant pout. “Not to me.”

You pull a foam sword from the depths of the box and point it at him. “Thanks for standing up for me back there.”

“Oh, but of course!”

As if knighting him, you move the sword from shoulder to shoulder. “My hero, the ever-so-gallant Pumpkin King.”

Skully blinks at you, color quickly seeping through his pale face. And then he slaps his hands over his cheeks. “Whoa. Whoa! Waaah?! That’s an honor—n-no, not just an honor! The highest honor. The honor of all honors! To be called that… Oh, it’s just like Lord Jack! How flattering!”

“Dreadfully flattering?”

His lips purse together in a silent squeal. He pumps his fist into the air in celebration.

You laugh and bump his head with the sword. “Never change, Skulls.”

A bashful smile slants across his lips. “Um… If I may… That comment Salad Fingers made—about you being stuck here in town… Do you truly dislike it here? Are you going to leave?”

“Who said anything about that? That loser doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” You scoff. “The whole reason I came to this crummy town was to escape. As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to stay.”

“Escape? I’m not sure I follow.”

“I ran away from home when I was seventeen. Actually, the more accurate version is that my dad kicked me out and I was homeless for a time. It’s just easier to say I ran away instead of having to admit he didn’t want me around anymore.” With a sheepish chuckle, you lift a Jack Skellington snow globe to capture Skully in the wintry scene. Through the glass, he sends you a sympathetic frown. “Along the way I met Rollo and we both came from difficult situations, so it made sense to stick together. We hardly knew anyone back then. Same with Fellow and Gidel. All of us were fresh out of whatever mess we’d just survived and looking to start over. Fellow needed workers for his business and we needed money to pay rent. The rest is history.”

Skully runs his finger through the grout between the tiles. “I never would’ve imagined. You seem so comfortable here.”

“You think? I guess I’ve settled in. I mean, things are definitely stable now.” You set the snow globe down and pull a shield from the depths of the box. It’s placed beside the sword at your feet. “I wouldn’t trade this misty town for anything. It’s weird and there’s probably a cult hiding in the woods, but that’s what makes it fun. As eccentric as it is, it’s home.”

“So… You’re not leaving?”

“Nope! You’re stuck with me forever.”

Skully gasps, a giddy smile widening on his lips. “Oh, what splendiferous joy!”

“Yes. Splendiferous indeed,” Fellow parrots, looming in the doorway with a reproachful grimace. “What a relief he’s nothing more than a brainless brat with a foggy future—if scum like him are even worth a future.”

“Fellow, my favorite boss, who is so full of love and appreciation for his employees—”

“Miss (Name), I cannot believe you would resort to violence. Use that brain of yours next time! It’s one of your biggest assets as a scholar.”

“What was I supposed to do? Make him answer a riddle? Solve for x? Be real.”

Fellow folds his arms over his chest.

“Mr. Honest, if it’s worth anything, might I be permitted to come to (Name)’s defense? That barbaric brute started it.”

“Yeah! Skulls is telling the truth. He was barbaric. Super mean. He called me ugly! Are you really going to let a criminal like that get away without a beating or some sort of public humiliation? I say we shame him to the grave.”

Fellow massages the bridge of his nose, exaggerating a weary sigh. “Is today destined for doom? Goodness gracious… I swear, if one more hellion makes their way into my store—”

At the very front, the doors burst open and a loud voice reaches the three of you.

“Ernesto? Where did you—oh, hey, Gino! It’s nice to see you again. How’ve you been? Have any idea where Ernesto might be?”

You jump to your feet and pat your despairing boss on the shoulder. “One more hellion, huh?”

“At least he’s a kind hellion,” Skully consoles.

“That’s the worst kind! Ugh. This happens every year. You’d think he’d take the hint by now. Must I carve it onto the walls? Never mind that. One of you chase him away. Get the broom if you must. I want him out.”

“I’m on it.” You skip through the curtains. “Ohhh, Kaliiim!”

“Ah! Wait for me, my dearest!” Skully scrambles after you.

“And no donations, you two!” he shouts, but the reminder doesn’t reach your ears.

Defeated for the day, Fellow collapses into a chair.

Somehow you and Skully manage to convince Kalim—that is, signal to Jamil—that a certain Ernesto Foulworth, while grateful for the offer, is going to have to turn it down. In your brilliant wisdom: “Double it and give it to the next person.”

And now you wave after them as they depart. Kalim tries to turn back twice, but Jamil stops him and says something you can’t parse through the windows. If you had to guess, it’s likely something along the lines of, “You heard what they said. Mr. Foulworth isn’t interested.”

“’Twas a shame you couldn’t get any donations for yourself.”

“Nah. Don’t sweat it. I got something even better.” Grinning, you lift your phone to show off Kalim’s contact. “Nothing wrong with long-distance friendship. And if he wants to send me some money… Well, who am I to turn down our patron saint?”

Fellow’s cane knocks you upside the head then. “And good riddance.”

Hissing through your teeth, your hand cradling the back of your skull, you turn to look at him. He’s joined by Gidel, who watches with a dopey smile. “If it isn’t Ernesto, back from hiding. Good to see you again, Gino.”

Fellow flashes his canines at you. “Ha-ha-ha. It seems you won’t need me to sign your next check, nor will you need Gidel’s assistance the next time a rowdy brat disturbs the peace.”

“Now wait a minute. No, don’t do that. I’m a scholar, sure, but not when it comes to forgery!”

“Just as I thought.” He smirks and twirls his cane. “Now back to work. We’ve a few more hours to go.”

“We’ll do our best!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s just get this day over with.”

Stuffing your phone in your pocket, you return to your place behind the counter.

Rollo is sitting at his desk when you enter the student council room, absorbed in his work. A shiny placard with his name engraved on it winks back at you. President Rollo Flamme. Very official. He messaged you shortly after classes ended for the day, citing that it was important you meet him, and now you find yourself here in this empty classroom. The lack of student body makes it feel bigger than it actually is. 

“I got your text. What’s up?”

He looks up from a stack of half-read documents and ducks down to rummage through a drawer. A familiar journal is placed on the desk. One look at the many Jack Skellington stickers pasted to the cover clues you in to the owner’s identity.

“You’re scheduled with Skully today, so I’d like you to return this to him.”

“Sure, but why do you have it?” 

“He left it at the shop yesterday.”

“And you just took it?”

“Would you rather I have left it with that shady Fellow?”

You roll your eyes at the implication he’s making. “Fellow doesn’t give a shit about what we do outside of work. Besides, I doubt there’s anything written in there that he’d wanna read.”

“Even so, it never hurts to be careful.”

“Ooh, what’s this? The Rollo Flamme looking out for a friend?”

“Not a friend. A colleague.”

Falling into a nearby chair, you prop your feet on his desk. He clicks his tongue at you, brows creasing in disgust. It’s an expression he doesn’t bother to hide behind his handkerchief. He doesn’t have to when it’s just you.

“Let’s see what Skully writes during his breaks.”

“I don’t think it’s very wise, much less respectful, to pry in his personal affairs.”

“So you care.”

Rollo bristles. “From one diary owner to another—”

“Just a tiny peek. He’ll never know. And if it’s bad we’ll just pretend we never saw anything.”

“I want no part of this mischief.”

“Too late! Into the mind of Skulls we go!”

You crack the book open to a random page. A few lines of poetry are scrawled within. The rest has been scribbled over until it’s illegible. You clear your throat in preparation for the dramatic reading.

“‘I once thought Halloween was a time defined by repentance and fear. I thought there was no better music than that of gales howling through trembling trees. That there should be no celebratory cheer. But there was someone who changed my view. Someone I now hold very dear. Lovely, wonderful you.’ Ooh, this is cute. What else is there?”

You turn back a few pages and select a new poem. Rollo frowns, but he doesn’t make any movement to stop you. Not yet.

“This one looks neat. ‘Her Majesty is popular with the guests strung up in her silk. Every side character written in for temporary trysts, soon to be discarded, a faux fairytale sealed with a kiss. I can’t help pondering, perhaps there is more to her story that I’ve yet to witness. Perhaps she, sitting solitary on her throne, is lonely just like me.’”

“Are you finished?” Rollo plucks the journal out of your hands before you can read more about a figure called the Spider Queen. “And please remove your feet from my desk. It’s unsanitary and uncivil.”

“Fine, fine.” Pouting, you pull your legs from the desk and plant them firmly on the floor. “Happy?”

“Quite.”

“You know, Skulls isn’t half bad at poetry. I was expecting worse.”

“Hmm. There’s certainly potential.”

“How come he’s never shared any of this with us?”

“Would you be willing to spill the contents of your heart at work?”

“Fair point.”

“It’s very him. Genuine. Ebullient. A caricature of gothic brilliance.”

You’re inclined to agree. His prose matches his fashion style and personality so well it’s almost as if they’re meant to be a singular package. Pieces that fit together to form the portrait of Skully J. Graves. You can even hear his voice in every stanza, and for a moment you picture him reciting these lines center stage beneath a flaxen spotlight.

I always knew he liked poetry, but I didn’t know he wrote it. What else does he like?

You know of his obsession with Halloween and Jack Skellington, his fascination with the macabre and morbid, and his love of horror media. But those are facts everyone learns when they meet Skully.

Have I never asked him about his hobbies?

“He’s going to fall for you if he hasn’t already,” Rollo warns like it’s inevitable, casually flipping through the pages to peruse the rest of Skully’s poetry.

“Shut up. Anyone could be the Spider Queen he’s writing about. And where is this coming from anyway?”

“Hmm.”

“It’s not me, Rollo. You know how he is. It’s probably a character from a horror series or something.”

“‘But if I could just explore part of her, lavish her soft, slick epigyne with kisses, I might come away with sweet, sticky gossamer. A secret to dye my lips, stamped proudly on her hips.’” He glances at you, brows raised. “Well?”

“So what? There are people out there who fuck fictional characters. My point still stands. It’s not me.”

“It could be you. You’re not exempt from that possibility.”

“Gimme that! I thought you said it was wrong to snoop.”

Snatching the journal from him, you skim the remaining lines. Beautiful, waltzing cursive, a script that could only belong to Skully.

The Spider Queen, who I admire most ardently, is an unsolved mystery.

Her sharp spinnerets are skilled and sturdy.

She can hypnotize with honey-coated song,

All while wrapping me, hopeless fly, in her web of guise.

Perhaps my affections are misplaced and wrong.

But if I could just explore part of her,

Lavish her soft, slick epigyne with kisses,

I might come away with sweet, sticky gossamer.

A secret to dye my lips,

Stamped boldly on her hips.

“You started it,” he argues.

“And I’m going to finish it. He’s not into me. Not like that.”

You hope to dispel that same theory with more of his poetry. It does the exact opposite, much to your dismay, bolstering a notion you’re beginning to suspect is true. 

Won’t you let me know just a little death,

Under pretty, pointed fingertips, my darling Spider Queen?

Your voracious appetite never before seen.

Starved is the connection of our chelicerae as we exchange breath, 

Affections of the heart left unsaid,

Her Majesty, my darling Spider Queen, is unhinging her jaw to devour my head.

And then another poem. This one is filled with even more lyrical longing. 

To lay you down on silken sheets,

Melt slowly like candle wax with me,

Flickering flame, smoldering heats,

Soft sighs, bare vulnerability, the likes of which angels have yet to see.

I wish to remain here in the clouds evermore with you.

It doesn’t have to be romance,

Even if I yearn desperately for your heart to be true.

All I ask, if you’ll indulge me, is a simple moonlit dance.

You slam the book shut. “That’s enough of that.”

“I’ve told you before,” he says, and the corners of his lips curl into a satisfied smile. “If you’re going to follow the whims of illicit curiosity, you ought to be ready to face the consequences when they come knocking.”

“None of this is about me.”

This time, much more hesitantly, you peel the pages open and land on a journal entry. It’s dated during the year he first started working at Fellow’s shop.

I’m not quite sure I like (Name). Our ideas of what makes a true Halloween are staggeringly different, and she’s much too obnoxious. Who in their right mind would dare besmirch the ghoulish goodness of Lord Jack Skellington?! There is no such thing as ‘sexy Jack Skellington.’ There is only scary!

You cringe at the surfacing memory. That’s what you dressed up as for Halloween that year. Sexy Jack Skellington. It was also Skully’s first impression of you when you met and you dragged him and Rollo to a Halloween party in the woods. Judging by what he’s written, you weren’t held in high esteem after that introduction.

We definitely won’t get along. It’s impossible! We’re much too different. I refuse to act chummy with someone who will never understand the true meaning of Halloween. There should be no decorations or noisy displays. It’s quiet and solemn!

“Ha! So he doesn’t like me after all.”

You point at the passage so Rollo can read it. He glances up from the page.

“That’s an old opinion. I highly doubt he feels that way now.”

“He might. He sounds super pissed in this entry.”

“I still think you shouldn’t make a conclusion yet. That’s like solving a crime based on mere assumptions. You need evidence—lots of it.” Rollo sighs. “My entries have certainly evolved over time. It’s likely the same for Skully.”

“So I’ll prove it.”

“You’ll prove his dislike for you?”

“Exactly! Wait, that phrasing kinda hurts…” You shut the journal and stow it within the depths of your messenger bag. “I’ll prove he only sees me as a friend. There.”

“And how do you plan to go about that?”

“Simple. I’ll ask him out and spend the day observing him. It’s Skulls. How bad can it go?”

Before Rollo can criticize your intentions, you’re skipping out the door. 

“See you later, Prez! Don’t forget to pick me up after my shift!”

You and Skully make it to the shop together and you’re both surprised to see the other. You’re so used to Skully’s timely arrivals and he’s accustomed to your I’ll-get-there-when-I-get-there schedule. 

In other words, he’s always early and you’re always late. Predictably so.

“Good afternoon to you, my dear! It must be fate that we find ourselves here at the same time.” As if celebrating it, he takes hold of your hand and kisses your knuckles. “What wonderful fortune.”

Rollo’s got it all wrong. This is normal behavior for Skulls. 

“If Fellow asks, that was definitely planned. And  before I forget—I’ve got something for you.” At that, he perks up like a dog awaiting a treat. You rifle through your bag and withdraw his journal. “I think this belongs to you.”

Skully gapes at the book in his hands. And then, with an ecstatic gasp, he hugs it close to his heart. “I thought I lost this! Aah, I’m so relieved. You have my gratitude.”

“Rollo’s the guy to thank. He said you left it lying around after yesterday’s shift.”

“That’s very possible. It was much too busy yesterday. I missed—we missed you—could’ve used the extra help, yes! That.” He chuckles awkwardly and holds the door open for you.

“Man, that’s rough. I’m not sure what’s worse—the rush or no customers at all. Business or boredom. Either way, glad you survived.”

He smiles and trots in after you.

Gidel welcomes you both with a cheery wave from where he sits on a stool at the register. Fellow’s right at his side, poring over an upside-down newspaper. 

“Greetings, dearest Gidel! Mr. Honest!”

“Heyyy, how’s it going, you two? Guess who’s finally on time? Me, that’s who! That’s gotta be worth employee of the day, at least.”

“The crown is yours,” Fellow replies, holding his hand out to offer you the invisible trophy. “No one was seriously vying for it anyways.”

“Has it been busy today?”

You round on Skully. “Shush! Never say those forbidden words.”

“Ack! My deepest apologies!”

“No, no! Please continue. If anything, those are the right words,” Fellow says, folding the newspaper away. “We need as much business as we can get. October is fast approaching. Manifest it or whatever you kids say.”

“Don’t worry so much. I’m sure we’ll get even more customers come October. I don’t need to charge my crystals for that.”

You vanish behind the curtains to drop your bag in the chair. You make quick work of your time card and then pass the pen to Skully, who scrawls the time in for today’s date. He seems normal enough, but then why wouldn’t he be? He’s always joyful and affectionate. You’ve explained this to Rollo on multiple occasions. Why he would even theorize something as asinine as Skully having a crush on you, you can’t say. But no matter what you’re going to prove him wrong. Because he is. Very wrong.

Skully doesn’t have feelings for you. Even thinking it sends a shiver right through your heart.

“We should hang out,” you declare, turning to face him.

“Hang out? As in, outside of the shop?”

“Yeah. Get lunch. Go shopping. Whatever you wanna do.”

Skully’s mouth drops open. “Truly? You want to do all of that with me?”

“Why not? I think it’ll be fun.”

“Indubitably!” Having recovered from his previous astonishment, he flashes his pearly whites at you in a dazzling, gap-toothed smile. “Where shall we meet? There’s a bookstore on the other end of town, and I know of a cozy café that’s sure to be a delightful time. Ooh, this is so exciting!”

“How about a day when we’re both off and available?”

“Next weekend, perhaps?”

“Sure! Sounds like a date.”

“A… A date,” he repeats, pronouncing the word carefully. “A date… What a magical word.”

His swooning prompts a giggle from you. “I look forward to it.”

Skully grabs your hands. “I promise you, my lady, it will be a most pleasant day! I won’t disappoint you.”

“You never do.”

Skully’s cheeks are set aflame. “T-Thank you sincerely for saying so. I’m flattered.”

Just then, Gidel parts the curtains and pokes his head inside. A knowing smirk darkens his face with mute mischief.

You read his expression wrong and separate from Skully at once. “I get it. The boss wants us up front. Would hate to keep him waiting.”

With that, you slink off to meet Fellow at the counter, leaving Skully to chat with a curious Gidel.

“Somehow I get the feeling it’s going to be Valentine’s Day whenever you ninnies are scheduled.”

“Why? Because you love us so much and we’re your favorite employees?”

“Because the way you look at each other is sickeningly fond.”

You narrow your eyes. “Ew. Gimme a break. You sound like Rollo.”

“He isn’t wrong.”

“He literally is. I don’t know why everyone seems to think that.”

“Seems to think what, exactly?” Fellow asks, wearing his best smug smile. He produces a pair of circular frames from within the satin folds of his rich, royal blue coat and balances them on his nose. “Step into my office for a most astute consultation. I’m sure we’ll find the direct cause of your ailment. Gidel!”

Like clockwork, Gidel comes rushing out. He’s stuffing a piece of paper in his patchwork pockets, and you catch the hints of a heart drawn and partially colored in with crayon. The rest is crumpled.

“Let’s assess the patient! My trusty assistant, your notepad, if you will.”

He holds it up proudly.

“Uh, let’s not? I’m perfectly fine. No armchair doctor needed.”

“Now, now! That simply won’t do. Denial is just the beginning—a symptom of what’s to come!”

Those words sound more ominous than they’re meant to be, but a quick peek at the scribbles acting as Gidel’s notes relaxes you.

“You, my dear, are suffering from quite the malady. Isn’t she just, Gidel? Why, it’s as obvious as the sun in the sky, isn’t it?”

He nods hastily in response. Fellow takes hold of your arm and scrutinizes it like it’s a precious artifact. Humming his consideration, he presses down on your pulse and then yanks it up to his ear as if attempting to listen to your heart through your wrist.

“Hmm. Very interesting… Ooh, quite the rhythm you’ve got going! A steady thrum-bum-bum-thrum! What do you make of this, Gidel?”

He plucks the notepad from his hands. Despite the fact that nothing of substance has been recorded, Fellow manages to glean a diagnosis.

“Yes, just what I assumed! You are on the precipice of love.”

“The precipice of what now?” Skully blurts, having just emerged from the back.

“Ah, what a timely arrival for our Prince Charming. He’ll administer the cure.”

“Okay, relax. No one’s on the precipice of anything. Pack it up, drama club.”

You rip your arm out of Fellow’s grasp and storm off towards a shelf. Maybe arranging the stock will give you some peace of mind. There’s no love or feelings or any of that mushy-gushy Valentine’s Day stuff here. You and Skully are just friends. He isn’t interested in you like that and vice-versa. It’s mutual. 

Right?

For most of the day, when you aren’t dealing with customers, you’re turning that one-word question over in your head. It becomes so suffocating that you can’t endure another second indoors, so you retreat outside for a smoke.

“Hurry back, dearie,” Fellow calls out, and you have a suspicion that if he wasn’t working he’d join you.

It smells of wet earth when you open the door and step out into the crisp, late-September afternoon. The overcast sky opens up to fall in dreary drizzles. You shut your eyes briefly to appreciate the musical pitter-patter against the roof while you fish a cigarette out from its coffin. Your thumb flicks against the spark wheel until a flame flashes to life. It takes a few attempts, but you manage to successfully light the tip.

I guess he’s not the worst guy to be paired with, you muse, inhaling deeply and holding the breath for three. You rest your head against a wooden support pole and exhale a curl of smoke.

It shouldn’t matter when it’s just a harmless joke, and yet you can’t stop dissecting it. Under any other circumstance, you’d have no issue turning down a lovestruck boy. But Skully isn’t just any (allegedly) lovestruck boy. Maybe it’s because you’ve worked together for so long that the idea of Skully with a crush isn’t so far-fetched.

I’m not stupid. I know opinions change over time. If he didn’t like me, I’m sure he’d make it obvious. He doesn’t seem like the type to fake his feelings. Open book.

But is he truly? You only know Skully through work. You’ve never gone out of your way to get to know him. Everything you know comes from tidbits you’ve picked up over the years. Basic facts like age and hobbies have come up in conversation, but you never thought to ask anything deeper. Like what he does in his spare time when he isn’t obsessing over horror and Jack Skellington. Or where he shops for his gothic wardrobe. Or what he’s studying in school. 

You don’t even know if he has any other friends outside of the shop.

Suddenly, you’re not so sure he’s an open book.

This fucking suuucks. Why am I even bothering with this gloomy shit? He’s not the first guy to fall for me, and he won’t be the last.

Would it be so bad if he was the last, though?

Skully has potential, far more than most people you’ve toyed with in the past, but something tells you he’s not the casual type.

Don’t think about it. It’s not worth it.

Thankfully, a familiar voice breaks your concentration—how long were you laser-focused on the worms wriggling out of the soil?—and you don’t need to dwell on it any longer. 

“What’s this?” Skully peers down at you from his place in the door. A metal awning protects him from the chilly curtain of rain falling just inches in front of you, allowing you to smoke mostly dry.

You almost quote the song out of habit—the entire soundtrack is carved into your cortex, courtesy of Skully. Instead, you take a drag from the cigarette poised at your mouth. Skully watches, entirely ensorcelled, as smoke curls from your pitch-black lips. Cheap lipstick you often swipe from the SFX and cosmetics section in Fellow’s store. He can’t fire you for stealing because that would mean he’d have to find another employee willing to overlook his dubious business practices. Hard to score someone who fits that criteria in a town as small as this one. 

“What’s up, Skulls?” You pat the space at your side.

“I noticed your absence and thought I might search for you.”

“You found me.”

“That I have.” He lowers to sit next to you. “Have you come to admire the rain, too?”

“You could say that.” You offer your cigarette. “Wanna share?”

He blinks at it, confused. “How does one go about…that?”

“Like this.”

Cigarette at your lips, you inhale another drag, hold it briefly, and then exhale. Thin trails of smoke float skywards, perfuming the air with all kinds of pungent notes: warm and comforting, earthy and stale… Skully tilts his head and watches the cloudy haze blanket the space between the both of you.

You try to hand it off to him next. “You try.”

He jerks back, startled out of a daydream. “I… I’m meant to…to put my lips on the same place…as you?”

“Where else?” 

Skully’s Adam’s apple bobs with the motion of his swallow. “R-Righto. Of course. That makes perfect sense.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, but I must!” he insists. He places his hands against his cheeks and swoons. “Aah, how romantic it must be to indulge in the rain like this! It makes me want to recite a few lines of poetry or perhaps reminisce about rain storms past!”

You laugh. “Hey, that reminds me! I got a new case a while back. I think you’ll dig it.”

Passing the smoldering cigarette to Skully, who receives it with a grateful hum, you dig through your pocket for the aforementioned case. He’s enamored with the lipstick stain curled around the end of it, so much so that he doesn’t seem to register the sharp sound of your snapping fingers.

“Skulls?”

He meets your stare, cheeks tinged pink. “Eh? Ah… Um. Y-Yes? You were saying…?”

“Check it.” Quite proudly, you hold the little purple casket in your palm. “A coffin to keep all of my cigarettes. Fits the Halloween vibe and it has morbid irony.”

He nearly chokes on his drag, shocked and amazed in equal measures. “That’s positively dreadful!”

“Isn’t it just?”

“The detail on the lid is most exquisite. True craftsmanship.”

“I thought so, too. It’s perfect for spooky season.”

He smiles and breathes out a wheeze of smoke. The rest sticks in his throat and it brings on a coughing fit he struggles to stifle. Sympathetic, you rub his back. 

The droplets hit the gravelly ground in splashes, and the rest play a musical, metallic plink-plonk along the warped awning. Defeated, having relinquished the cigarette, Skully pulls his legs into his chest and rests his chin on his knees.

It’s a scene full of tranquility. You wonder if you should break it. You’ll need to eventually. Too much silence and you’ll spiral into your previous worries.

Should I? There’s never going to be an optimal time for this.

“I read your journal.” Like ripping off a bandage.

I have to. He needs to know the truth. I feel bad. He’s so transparent and honest. It’d be wrong to lie.

“Just the poetry,” you add, as if rubbing cream into the sting of truth.

Okay, he doesn’t need to know the whole of it.

His entire body goes rigid. The air thins out, charged with anxiety.

“What did you think?” Skully asks after minutes of unbearable silence. He traces a wobbling path along the crooked stitching in his suit.

“It’s very impressive. You’ve got a way with words.” You nudge his tense shoulder. “I never knew you were a poet.”

“Um. I… I’m not exactly… I merely dabble,” he mumbles.

“But you’re so good! Way too good to ‘merely dabble’. Don’t be so modest, man!”

Skully hides behind his hand, turning away so that you won’t see his flustered face. You wonder if anyone’s ever praised him as openly as he praises everyone else.

“If it’s okay, can I ask about the Spider Queen? She sounds so cool.”

“She is.” You can’t tell where his eyes are fixed behind his sunglasses, but if you could see them you’re certain they’d be brimming with stars. “The coolest.”

“Is she a character from a book? A film? Something related to The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“She is. Sort of. Not really. Or… Um.”

Skully turns to face you, only to reel back when you’re right there, so close it’s reminiscent of a spider looming over the unlucky insect stuck in its web.

“Really? Which one?”

“Your illimitable curiosity flatters me. I wasn’t aware of your avid appreciation for poetic expression.”

So it’s not me. Ha! You were wrong, Rollo. Suck my dick!

You shrug. “I slept with a guy who was all about it. Practically lived and breathed sonnets.”

“Is that…an undesirable trait?”

“Nah. It was fun. He was great in bed—amazing with his mouth. Maybe the open mic nights did that.”

You bump shoulders with him, to which he chuckles woodenly. “Perchance.”

A rap at the wall causes you and Skully to jump out of your skins. Like puppets on strings, you turn at once to view Fellow in the doorway. By the unsmiling expression on his face, he doesn’t look very happy to have caught the two of you shirking your duties.

“Snogging’s over, lovebirds. Wipe your mouths and get back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry for having fun without you, boss.” You snuff your cigarette in the muddy gravel. “If you want in, just say so next time. You’re missing out on prime participation points.”

“The capacity in my lungs is so small I can’t seem to find my laughter.”

Skully, who has jumped to his feet, extends his hand like a Victorian gentleman from olde. “What say you, my darling? Shall we rendezvous at a later date for amorous osculation?”

A grin breaks out across your face. You place your hand in his, allowing him to pull you up. “Not here, though. Stuffy, old Fellow put the ban on tonguing it.”

Despite his lighthearted tone, Fellow’s eyes are devoid of smiles. “As a pair of extraordinary scholars, I’m sure your extensive education has taught you the important phrase ‘there is a time and a place,’ yes? So there’s a time and a place for studying each other’s anatomy just as there’s a time and a place for making money. Customers await, my oh-so-astute assistants!”

He coaxes you through the door rather impatiently.

“We’re going. We’re going. Damn!”

For the remainder of your shift, the rain persists. Normally this wouldn’t have posed a problem…if you came in the car. As you wipe down the counter, maneuvering around a preoccupied Fellow, who scrutinizes the register and taps at a calculator at his side, your hopes for a break in the rain dwindle.

“Is that everything, Mr. Honest?” Skully asks once your boss has finished his calculations.

He does a brief once-over of the store and then runs his index over the counter to inspect for any dirt. “Well, would you look at that? The two of you are quite efficient, as expected of my dynamic duo.”

Skully gasps and slams his hands on the counter. “We’re dynamic?!” he whisper-squeals. 

Fellow gazes over his glasses at his hands propped on a perfectly clean counter. With a sheepish, apologetic chuckle, Skully withdraws.

“Sure, kid. Whatever hangs stars in your sky,” he replies, noncommittal.

“Yes!” He pumps his fists in the air and then folds them over his chest to swoon. “Yes!”

“We’re free to go?” you call out from the back, time card in hand.

Skully flashes you two very enthusiastic thumbs-up and you make quick work of signing yourselves out.

“It’s been fun, Fellow,” you announce, blowing him a mock kiss.

“Yes, yes. Good evening to you. Study hard and all of that.” Fellow follows you to the front, swinging his keys on his finger and humming a merry tune.

Skully holds the door open, and the moment you’re both outside you’re assaulted with rain and wind. The door locks behind you and the lights inside dim. It’ll take a while for Fellow to close the register and complete everything he needs to do as boss, but that doesn’t concern you.

“This fucking rain,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself and peeking out into the night.

I thought it would’ve settled down by now. I really hope it doesn’t storm.

You fish your phone out of your pocket and call Rollo, who answers on the second ring.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

“Rollo!” you hiss. “Get your ass over here! I’m cold, wet, and very much car-less.”

“It’s raining.”

“Gee, thanks for that, Mr. Obvious. You wanna tell me my pussy’s pink next?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your catty sarcasm. Seconds stretch into minutes. You pull your phone away from your ear to see he’s hung up.

“That asshole! I’m going to… Gonna… Ooh!” You stomp your foot and stuff your phone in your pocket. “I’ll crucify him and then put him out in the middle of town square so everyone can point and laugh and throw tomatoes at him.”

“My dear?” Skully’s hand falls gently upon your shoulder. He’s been so soundless you almost forgot he was standing next to you.

“Sorry.” You huff, but the breath sticks in your throat the minute lightning arcs across the sky. It cuts through the trees in a brilliant, jagged flicker. Right on cue, seconds later, thunder rumbles forebodingly. “O-On second thought, maybe I’ll wait inside…all the way at the back of the store, where it’s dark and I won’t have to look at any windows, and I can cover my ears and block out the sounds.”

Skully looks at you strangely, brows furrowed. He watches you struggle with the door, a gloved finger tapping thoughtfully at his chin.

“Could it be,” he says, peering at you with more intention, “that my dear is afraid of thunderstorms?”

“Wha—I’m not scared! Of that? Please.” You jut your thumb at the sprawling treeline, where the trunks melt away into mountain peaks and then a cloudy expanse, and flinch when the sky thunders again. The rain continues its steady downpour. Gritting your teeth, you grind the admission out even though it hurts your pride. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’m…scared. I…  I don’t like storms or loud noises or lightning. I hate it. Always have.”

“Ah.”

“Lame, isn’t it?”

“Of course not. It’s human nature to be afraid. Everyone is scared of something, even myself.”

“So what’s your fear?” you ask, hoping his is lamer so that you won’t feel so childish.

Skully hesitates around a reply. Just before he can tell you, a loud boom shakes you to your core. Someone up in the clouds is having fun slamming pots and pans together… You’d send them your most vicious glower if you weren’t on the verge of crying. Hoping to dispel some of your fears, you tap at your phone.

Come on, Rollo. Please pick me up. I’m sorry I was a bitch, but I really need a ride. Please. I don’t even have my wallet on me.

Orange eyes track your every movement. He inhales once, clenching and unclenching his fists. He takes another breath and then…

“‘Hey there, cutes, put on your dancin’ boots and come dance with me. Come dance with me. What an evening for some Terpsichore!’”

Taking pause, you glance up from your screen at him. “What’re you…?”

Skully steps out into the rain and turns with a flourish, his arm extended. “‘Pretty face, I know a swingin’ place. Come on, dance with me! Romance with me on a crowded floor!’”

Wary, you eye him from where you’re fidgeting under the awning. Your phone finds its home in your pocket, the text unsent. Rain patters the roof. It isn’t loud enough to drown out the distant thunder or the encroaching crackle of lightning. Skully projects his voice only slightly to guide your attention away from those things.

“‘And while the rhythm swings, what lovely things we’ll be sayin’!’”

You take a few deep breaths in through your nose, rub your arms consolingly, and join him for musicless karaoke in the rain.

“‘And what is dancin’ but makin’ love set to music…playin’!’”

You close your hand around his and belt out the lyrics, uncaring to whether or not you sound good. You just want to shake off these nerves. Having sensed that, Skully spins you closer and smiles joyously.

“You know the words!”

“Of course I know the fucking words!” Laughing, you slap his chest. Skully smiles wider. “I love this song! Michael Bublé’s version is like sex but for your ears.”

His face lifts in amusement. “It’s not a duet, but perhaps we might make it one?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d like that.”

“I trust you’re familiar with what comes next?”

“Obviously!” You squeeze his hands. The chill of the rain can’t compare to the warmth of comfort slowly spreading through you.

Don’t think about the storm. It’s going to be okay.

“‘When the band begins to leave the stand and folks start to roam! As we wing home, cheek to cheek we’ll be…’”

Your voices mix together in sweet, screeching harmony for the next part: “‘So come on, come on, come on, come on and dance with me!’”

Thunder resounds then and you yelp, clinging to Skully out of instinct. You realize your proximity seconds later and jerk back. He takes hold of you in a position for an upbeat ballroom dance, and you stumble after him when he pulls you into the one-sided rhythm. You’re spun energetically, rain shrouding your visage and clinging to your lashes, and you scrabble for purchase when he releases you. You trip into a dramatic pose, your shoes skidding on the slick ground. It’s unintentional, but it earns you verbal applause from Skully.

“That’s it! Marvelous!” His laughter isn’t mocking. It’s threaded through with thrill, so infectious it paints a goofy smile on your cheeks. “‘Hey there, sweets, throw on those Latin cleats, and come dance with me! Oh, what I mean is, come on and my, let’s…’”

“‘Cha-cha-cha!’” you shout over the rumbling and grin at him.

He spins you towards him, his hand curled around your waist. You kick up mud and specks of stone as you dance together. Eventually, your shaky voice smooths out into something less frazzled the more you immerse yourself in the theatrics. Now you’re pulling Skully along, and he eagerly settles into your tempo. 

“‘And leave your sweat and do the bongo bit. Come on, dance with me!’”

“‘Romance with me, ooh-la, la, la, la, laaa.’”

“‘I don’t care what it has ’cause that jawbone jazz makes me move it.’” As you sing that line, you bump hips with him.

“‘And we charade when the band starts to groove it. They prove it.’”

“‘Come on by ’cause we’re all set to fly, and I’ll let you lead. If that’s agreed, you know where I’ll be.’”

You squeeze his hand and he reciprocates by spinning you into a low dip. The sudden switch leaves you clutching even tighter, your leg lifting as gravity shifts. Skully’s hand splays across your back to hold you in this position. Even though you know he would never let you fall, you still dig your nails into his shoulder. He giggles boyishly and hoists you onto your feet.

“‘So come on, come on, come on…’”

“‘Come on, come on, come on…’”

“‘Come on, come on, come on. Come and dance with me!’”

The both of you come chest to chest, your fingers intertwined and bodies pressed together like dried flowers in a book. It’s a magical moment punctuated by the rumbling sky and falling rain. Even when lightning flashes through the clouds, you focus on your reflection in his sunglasses. Your faces proceed to inch closer with every verse.

“‘We’ll do the cha-cha-cha.’”

“Ooh, the merengue!’”

“‘We’re gonna tango,’” you say, putting on a comically deep voice.

“‘Come on and dance with me,’” he finishes, holding the last note with a wide, adoring smile.

Mere centimeters are between you; if you shuffle in you could close the gap and—

And then a car honks at the both of you, and you flinch away with startled shouts. Caught in the bright headlights, your shadows spattered against the brick building, you lift a hand to shield yourself from the harsh glare and rain. You manage to spot a very unamused Rollo in the driver’s seat, and for once you couldn’t be any happier to see your grump of a roommate.

You abandon Skully’s side and throw the door open. “Rollo, you came!”

“I wasn’t going to leave you to walk home in this awful weather.”

“So you do love me. If I wasn’t so soaked, I’d kiss you right here, right now.”

“There’s no need to overdo it. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you very much, Mr. Chauffeur.”

You climb into the back and, realizing you’re a person short, poke your head outside.

“You coming?”

Skully’s shivering just as much as you are, looking more bug-eyed from this distance. He points to himself, as if asking: Me?

“We’ll give you a ride.” You look towards Rollo, who seems ready to agree to anything so long as he can get back on the road. “That’s fine, isn’t it?”

“He’ll catch his death otherwise.”

“Oh, no, it’s quite all right!” He waves his hands in objection. “I appreciate your kind offer, but I could never burden—”

“Get in the car, Skulls.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door shuts after Skully boards. Now you’re both sitting huddled in the back, shoulder to shoulder. Rollo pulls out and onto the road. Your sodden clothes cling to your body in a way that makes you feel as if you’ve just been shrink-wrapped. The toasty heat does nothing to chase away the chill in your marrow, but the music softly spilling from the radio boosts your mood.

“My dear, I would hug you and offer my warmth, but I fear that might make it significantly worse,” Skully says, teeth chattering.

“Why didn’t the both of you wait indoors?”

“Uh, why didn’t you get here sooner?” you shoot back, fishing around for a blanket.

“I didn’t have to come at all.”

“Okay, all right. I’m in no position to fight you on that.”

“A romantic musical number in the rain never hurt anyone, Mr. Rollo.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll get sick if you aren’t careful,” he advises, glancing at Skully in the rearview mirror. He watches you drape the blanket over him.

“Ah, live a little, Snow Fright.”

“I am, and as it happens I’m not looking like I’ve just sailed the Seven Seas.”

Unable to craft a clever retort, you stick your tongue out at him. Skully adjusts the blanket so that it envelops you as well, and you sidle closer to conserve warmth—if any can be found when you’re both sopping wet. You rest your head against his shoulder and shut your eyes, relieved to find the lightning and thunder have abated. He stiffens and peers down at you from where he sits stock-still.

“My dear?”

But your tongue is so heavy in your mouth that you can’t muster an answer. Exhaustion wraps itself around your brain like a cotton shroud.

“Thanks for looking after her,” Rollo says, but his voice and the soft notes spilling from the radio sound like distant murmurs.

“You needn’t thank me, Mr. Rollo. I shall always be present to protect and serve my lady. All I hope for is her happiness.”

What is this, a period drama? Isn’t that way too knightly?

“I’m sure she appreciates that.”

Very much, you think, and you drift off enveloped in the coziness of his care.

“If I may, what might you be planning to dress up as for Halloween?” Skully asks during a particularly uneventful lull.

The lot of you are crowded behind the counter, bored out of your minds, and his question is a welcome distraction from the nothingness.

“I’m not dressing up,” Rollo replies, not looking up from his book. “I don’t celebrate.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you interject, waving your hands before Skully can launch into his why-Halloween-is-the-superior-holiday-and-everyone-should-appreciate-and-celebrate-it lecture. “Rollo and I are matching costumes. I’m gonna be a succubus and he’s gonna be my priest!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What?! Come on, Rollo, pleeease? We’re a duo—a two for one sorta deal! You can’t bail on me like this. Every exorcism needs a demon, and every demon needs a priest. Oh! How about this instead? You can be the angel and I’ll be the devil!”

“I’d rather not.”

Pouting, you review the picture on your phone: A scanty, latex one-piece with stockings, a clip-on devil tail, and matching horns. “Look at this cheap, definitely-not-gonna-last-after-Halloween masterpiece! Who’s gonna match my biblical freak if not you?”

Rollo glances up from the passage in his book to spy the costume. “I assume the angel costume is just as revealing, so my answer remains the same. I’ve no interest in matching any sort of freak, biblical or otherwise.”

“But that one will be robes. There’s a halo and wings, too. It’s perfectly virtuous, Mr. Righteous and Holy.” You bat your lashes at him. “Please? Pretty please? I’ll cover all the cleaning and cooking for November—”

“I don’t understand,” Skully interrupts, squinting at the screen. “Where are the horrors beyond human comprehension? The claws? The gnashing fangs or the blood and gore dripping from a gash in the stomach?! This just isn’t…terrifying.”

“That’s the point. It’s supposed to be sexy, not scary.”

“What for?”

“Uh, so I can get laid? Can’t do that if my costume scares the guy soft.”

Skully glances from the phone to you and then back, as if attempting to comprehend your vision. He must’ve landed on something, for his face burns brighter than an apple. “O-Oh, righto… I see now. Very… Very clearly do I see the…intention.” He clears his throat just as you pocket the device. “And then you bite off the head, no?”

“What?”

Even Rollo, who has gracefully benched himself from this conversation, raises a bemused brow from behind the pages of his book.

“Like a praying mantis! She devours the head of her lover after they mate. Isn’t that romantic? Even in death, they remain part of one another. Aah, the insect world is filled with alluring examples of creepy-crawly consummation.”

“Sexual cannibalism’s pretty popular in the animal kingdom, isn’t it?”

He nods. “Quite the macabre fascination, I’d say.”

“So what do you think, Father Flamme?” You nudge Rollo. “Priest is still on the table. Or do you wanna be the unfortunate bug between my jaws?” You fix your fingers into curled claws and swipe at him. “Want me to make a meal out of you?”

He glares at you, half of his sneer now hidden behind celestial patterns. “None of those ideas are on my table.”

“Boooo. You’re so boring! Where’s your Halloween spirit?” With a dramatic sigh, you fall back into Skully’s arms. He holds you steady, allowing you to play out your mourning as if it’s an act in a melodrama. Draping your arm over your face, you exclaim, “Woe is me! Who else will entertain my spooky whims if not my kind, selfless roommate who loves me oh-so-much?”

You hazard a glance from under your arm. Rollo isn’t swayed in the slightest, but then you’re not about to give up either.

“Who’d do anything for me because, despite being a hard-ass, he cares a lot. I see the love in your stone heart. You can’t hide it from me and my all-seeing, all-knowing eyes!”

He sighs. “Must it be me?”

“You’re the one going to the Halloween parties with me so, yeah, it must be you.”

He finally decides to snap his book shut. Tucking it beneath the counter, he says, “Costumes aren’t mandatory, so I see no reason to fret over minute details.”

“Well, you should treat it like it is. It’s one night for a few hours and then you won’t have to give a shit about the ‘minute details’ until next year. You’ve gotta come with me. It won’t be Halloween without my angel.” You straighten up in Skully’s arms and lean towards Rollo to whisper, “That’s you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re never going to convince me. I hope you’re aware your pestering will earn you nothing but my ire.”

Pouting, you slump over the counter. “So harsh… And you’d look so cute with your halo. Am I gonna be flying solo for the first time in forever this Halloween? The café au lait to my croissant has abandoned me! Can you believe this, Skulls?”

“Enough of that. I never said I wouldn’t attend the gatherings,” Rollo chides, clicking his tongue at you.

Immediately, you snap to attention. “Wait, for real? You’re the man, Rollo! Are you sure you’re not actually an angel? This guy’s seriously seraphic!”

Before he can evade the shadow of your appreciation, you throw your arms around him. He relents, all too familiar with your physical affections to bother with protest, and reciprocates with a pat to your shoulder.

Skully, who has witnessed this spectacle and remained strangely silent throughout it, barks out a laugh. It’s strained and unnatural. “You seem very close.”

“We are, aren’t we?”

Your arm moves to wrap around his waist, and you drag Rollo closer despite his obvious discomfort. But then the connotation of close catches up to you and that takes precedence over every other feeling.

“Not in the way you think,” Rollo corrects, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we’re close but not that close. He’s my best friend. I couldn’t ever imagine him as anything else, but if it comes down to it we’ll totally be roommates for life. Rollo’s a certified ride or die!”

“She’s my roommate, so I have no choice but to tolerate her. How will rent be paid otherwise?”

“As you can see, I’m very cherished. You can tell because he called me his roommate.”

“Um, but isn’t that technically what you are? Unless…” Skully gasps and looks between the both of you in a panic. “Unless you’re already more than that?! Roommates for life…” He points as if accusing you of witchcraft. “That’s marriage!”

“And we haven’t even held hands yet,” Rollo mutters wryly.

With a scandalized gasp, you shove him. “Rollo, you slut!”

“All this time…” Skully’s mumbling, his hands tugging at his hair and leaving his crown askew. “Right before my eyes, my darling’s heart rests within the palms of another… How could this happen? How could I fail to see it—to chance upon such covert courtship in this soul-wrenching way?”

Sensing his seriousness, you settle your laughter. “Whoa, whoa! Slow down, Skulls. Don’t burn us at the stake!”

“I rescind my previous remark—made entirely in jest, you ought to know.”

“We’re just messing with ya, man. No romance here. Platonic vibes only. I’ll be the first to tell you that.”

“And I, the second.”

“So there’s really nothing?” he asks, hopeful.

Rollo gives you that look, and you signal to him with your own secret scowl: Don’t utter a word.

“Nothing you need to worry about, no,” he says instead, duplicity warping his thin-lipped smile. “(Name) remains lover-less. How fortuitous for you.”

“I think he gets it. No need to put me on blast.” You push Rollo out of Skully’s sight, which hardly achieves much when he’s so tall, and rush to change the subject. “Anyway, what about you, Skulls? What’re you gonna be for Halloween?”

“Something truly fearsome.”

You and Rollo wait for an elaboration, but when he doesn’t follow through you start to nod. “Uh-huh. That’s…vague. So are we talking monster-fearsome or something with serial killers? Jack Skellington?”

An ominous grin cuts into his cheeks. “You’ll see.”

“We all will,” Fellow announces, approaching with Gidel at his side. “I’m giving Halloween shifts to everyone here. And, yes, that includes you, dearie.”

“Fellow, do you know what day Halloween falls on this year?”

“Saturday.”

“And everyone’s going to be out. No one’s coming to the shop.”

“That’s what you think! Do you know how many pestiferous devils like to target my shop?”

“Sorry you’re an old man who can’t run fast enough to catch those devils.”

He scoffs. “I resent that!”

“If you’re a fan of dressing up for Halloween, might I offer a suggestion? You can be the considerate boss who gives his employees the day off. It’s a holiday and a Saturday.”

“For once, I must agree.”

“See! Even Rollo agrees and you know he never agrees to any of my ideas.”

“Only when they’re good ideas,” he adds, smirking behind his handkerchief.

“I’d fire you both if I could,” he grumbles, shaking his head in disapproval. “Skully, my boy, surely I can count on you to show up?”

“Um… Actually, Mr. Honest, I thought I might accompany my dear and Mr. Rollo to their Halloween soirée.”

“Wait, what?” you and Rollo parrot in perfect unison.

“Not that you can’t join, Skulls, but parties aren’t exactly your scene. No offense.”

“Yes! Listen to Miss (Name). What good will a mindless party do? Working the holiday shift will teach you plenty of valuable life skills. You don’t need some…party for that.”

“I’m certain I can learn them every day before and after Halloween, but this special day only comes once every year. I mustn’t squander this opportunity!”

Before Fellow can offer a valid counterpoint, Gidel tugs at his coat. He regards him passively for a perplexed beat and then his expression falls.

“Don’t tell me you want to galavant through Dante’s Inferno, too.”

“You make it sound like one day of no work is hell.”

“It is for my business. Honestly, you ninnies are so simple-minded sometimes.”

“Is your reason not just as simple?” Rollo argues.

“Come on, Fellow. Let the kid go trick-or-treating.”

“You must! It’s what our dearest Gidel deserves. A scary night full of memorable fun and treats.”

Gidel nods rapidly.

Fellow hesitates around outright acceptance and instead deflates with a huff. “You’re all dead to me.”

“Hell yeah!” You exchange high-fives with Skully, Rollo, and Gidel. “Master negotiators! Go team!”

“More like monstrous manipulators.”

“I wouldn’t describe us as such just yet. We haven’t even broached the subject of holiday pay. If you schedule any of us for Halloween, you must be intending to pay us accordingly.”

Your boss grits his teeth, and you think if Rollo were to nudge him any further he’d shatter. Instead, he spins with a flourish.

“We shall discuss that as we get closer to the date!”

“Wanna bet he folds and leaves us off the schedule for that day?” you whisper, bumping hips with Rollo.

“I quite like my odds, so I might have to accept that proposal.”

While you and Rollo scheme amongst yourselves, Skully watches with a fading smile.

second part.

[loveandleases]

I just realize I never sent in a spooky ask 🎃 And yes, I'm also making this a bit of a horny thing-

Okay, say MC has been a bit of a scaredy cat with horror movies. Easily jumpscared, squeaking at each creepy creak in the dead of night, jumping like a frightened cat with its back haunched up from a sudden surprise from behind, etc.

And say the ROs have known MC is always like this. So MC is easily scared of horror movies, no big deal........

Then they discover MC's aroused from fear somehow. Like the suspension bridge effect? Maybe it's mingling fear and arousal for MC, just an unexpected response or the fact MC somehow finds the killers hot (Jason Voorhes, Michael Myers, etc).

How would the ROs feel upon discovering this tidbit? (And who would, and could, pull off a killer costume to try and seduce MC into a little roleplay? XD)

HAVE FUN WITH THIS ONE 🤣 (AND TAKE UR TIME WITH IT!)

The smut gods have smiled upon me! Did I miss your birthday yet? I know it's this month! So happy early/belated birthday!!!

It's the perfect time honestly.

❤️Cam - It's like he can finally see the light. He has been gifted something utterly profound. Do you mean to say all the times they've spent in his old room next to one another watching shit…that could have that effect on MC? Oh..this could be dangerous in the wrong hands…and those hands are Cam's.

He'll do a little recon. Which one does MC find the hottest, is it Jason's biceps? The voice of Ghostface, which partly works for them? …How about Pyramid Head? Cam is almost positive he can pull off that outfit. Ya know what doesn't matter. He will try it all in one go.

He's going to use this knowledge on a date night, let MC think they're home alone when he sneaks up behind them, and maybe play a little game of cat and mouse. Just the sight of MC being on edge in more than one way would be enough to have him fold, but he'll make sure MC is satisfied first.

💙 G - They have to sit with it and let the idea digest. Then they would begin making a list because G is just like that. They would write down which killer MC prefers, and determine what characteristics it could be. G would then even go so far as to rank which ones they like.

They would "unwillingly" (very willing don't let them lie) don a costume, they'll attempt it…just this once. It would be awkward because G tries to remain in character, but that gets forgotten about halfway through.

They would understand the idea of finding someone dangerous hot, because when they would argue with MC back in the day…they had the same thought. "MC could kick my ass…hot."

MC should try it out on G, would probably work.

💚 Kara - Thinks it is adorable. Would tease MC about their little crush on the killer, Kara will use this knowledge against MC. Easily.

She'll get consent from MC first and foremost. (Consent is sexy!)

So, the next time MC thinks Kara is going to be her dommy self in the bedroom, they're not wrong. But Kara will kick it up a notch and will spend far too much money on costumes and props.

💛M - Wait...really? You're not yanking my chain or whatever right?

MC: No. I'm serious.

M chews their lip for a solid minute, debating what to say before deciding the best course of action is shoving a pillow in front of their face and telling MC they too think they can be hot.

M would love to roleplay with MC....but M is just a little bit skittish. They love horror but they would get to scared and all that hard work to get them in the mood would be lost in an instant. They would buy the costumes in vain...but maybe next Halloween they can dress up? M will be so sad about not being able to fulfill that fantasy.

💜Isaac - On the one hand, they would think it's hot that MC is turned on by it. It's unexpected, and they like their partner being turned on. Plus, Isaac could really pull the costume off. But they do better say, as an Incubus than as Michael Myers. They wouldn't attempt it, but they would attempt some form of roleplay.

🖤 Ardent - "You're such a little weirdo." He shakes his head, he doesn't understand why he's surprised because you're into him, and he's aware he can be scary. Wait...wait no....is that? Fuck. "Is that why you're into me!?"

MC rolls their eyes, they tell him no...but that slight curl of their lip says otherwise.

He will want to think it doesn't get to him, that the idea of him dressing up as some villain wouldn't do something for you. He's not putting it on because he thinks it will work, he needs a costume for Halloween! He's not walking in the hallway with the lights off sneaking up behind you, he's getting into character! Listen, he's just wearing the costume to break it in. Like new shoes!

"Ohh, why Mr. Villain, is that a weapon in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" MC quips, wiggling their backside against Ardent.

"That's my phone!"

"Really? Yeah, guess you're right. It does feel bigger."

"You brat! That's my..."

"What? Say it. Come on big bad Ardent. What's that?"

Ardent stomps down the hall toward the bedroom, pulling MC behind him. "Shut up and come on."

[radioactivedotcom]

SpookGames is recruiting!

If you’re an aspiring artist dreaming of making your own character designs for video games, you’ve undoubtedly heard of our company before. We’ve made classics such as Spooktacular Extravaganza and Once Upon a Spook. Who hasn’t spent hours in those games?! This is the opportunity of a lifetime to get your foot in the door of the gaming industry!

To apply, please fill up the form linked above and attach your portfolio.

Now, we don’t want your old and dusty art. No, no, no. Since we’re a game company, we’ve decided to make it a little more fun than that. Each answer you give in the form should be your prompt to create a character! This way, we get to know your personality and your creative talent all in one fell swoop! (And we will not be arbitrarily judging your answers as ways to extrapolate how this would translate in the workplace and throw away your application should we dislike said answers. Though we welcome essay-andying your answers to explain why it should get you the job.)

As you've surely noticed, there are 31 questions to fill out. You do not need to create a character for all of them (but you certainly can if you wish to!). We ask for a minimum of three designs to whichever prompts inspire you most.

Having doubts about applying? There are many advantages to working at SG! Such as:

Meager pay below industry standard; unpaid overtime; no sick leave; no vacation for the first 3 years; a boss who only cares about margin profits; mandatory team-building exercices every weekend; no promotion for the first 20 years; no private life allowed; SG will be your new family so make sure to ditch the old one!

Apply now, what are you waiting for! You have from now until October 31st to send in your application through either using the tag #spookapplication OR tagging us @radioactivedotcom !

Psst, by the way, don’t worry about about doing better than the other applicants. The CEO’s nephew is the one getting the job, he'll get a promotion after three months.

Yes, all this just for a CAS challenge! Listen, I wanted to have fun. You don’t have to roleplay in order to participate, you can just make your cute little simmies and hit post, no pressure whatsoever. But I certainly ain’t stopping you if you did want to roleplay. winkwink.

ALL PROMPTS UNDER THE CUT

 What is the halloween costume you loved wearing the most?

 What is your favorite horror movie?

 In your humble opinion, which is the best magical creature™?

 Choose... Glitter or blood?

 What is the kind of villain you aspire to be?

 Tell us of the best horror character archetype!

 If YOU were a horror character, what archetype would you be?

 Are you... cute spooky or scary spooky?

 The fantasy ennemies-to-lovers you can’t get enough of is...?

The ONLY post-apocalypse setting should be?

What was the monster under your bed?

How would you personify your zodiac sign?

Who are you in an alternate universe?

Who's the stranger you’d flirt with in a fantasy setting?

What is your go-to DnD character?

If you were an alien... what kind would you be?

What is the best year to time-travel? (past or future)

What is a monster you’d adopt in a heartbeat?

Make disney princess you'd have loved as a kid!

Or a disney prince you'd love to hate.

If you were to have a sidekick, who would they be?

Who would you want haunting you?

Choose... Science or magic?

What is your favorite halloween-themed emoji?

Are you more of... An evil witch or a benevolent healer?

What is your go-to song for halloween?

Choose... Earth, wind, fire or water?

Would you more... Growl or Purr?

What's a creature you’d have as your BFF?

What is a futuristic trend you would love?

What is the best candy? Wrong answers land you in jail.

+ dl the .word application form if you'd like!

[quitealotofsodapop]

I'm just imagining DBK holding Bai He up to every person he meets to present his daughter- even if they've already met.

It hits him when he's showing her off to Nezha that he has no idea the date and time of her birth and feels like the worst parent ever. No, it doesn't matter he can rattle off Red Son's birthdate and time, he needs to know both!

"Father. Daddy, please, it's fine. My birthday isn't until summer, you have time. Daddy, blame Uncle Sun, it's not your fault you were under a mountain."

Prev.

In Jttw DBK literally prides himself on remembering the exact time and date of his son's birth - so to miss out on his daughters is like a punch in the gut.

He's nearly crying. How could he have been away for so long!?

PIF is able to provide the date (I feel Bai He is a mid-summer baby), but honestly can't remember the exact time of day since she was in a lot of pain.

Thankfully, Red Son pops in with the same level of enthusiasm as his father;

Red Son: "She was born the Hour of the Tiger! Just as the witching hour came to a close!" PIF, recalling: "Oh yes! It was very early morning! I can't believe I had forgotten. Guanyin even gave us a felt tiger to commemorate the birth." DBK, nuzzling PIF: "It is fine, my love. You were busy with a much more important task." DBK, addresses Red with surprise: "And you made sure to document it?" Red Son, excited: "Yes! You always spoke of my exact time of birth, so I made sure to add time keeping devices to all of the bull clones in the months leading to Bai He's arrival. She was born exactly at 3:58am!" Bai He: "Spooky hour!" Red Son, puts Bai He on his back: "Indeed! I had to yell Stop! at the nearest Bull Clone to freeze it's clock. Then it tried to corral me back to bed!" (*Red runs around in a mock-charge with Bai He on his back, the little girl giggling with joy. Red Son vows never to unable to give his baby sister a piggyback ride.*) DBK & PIF: (*watching their kids with love and pride*) DBK: "He has taken upon many responsibilities in my absence." PIF: "He has." DBK, uncertain: "Do you think... I could ever have such a strong bond with our daughter as he has? Or I with him once more?" PIF: (*flies up to look into DBK's eyes*) PIF: "You are their father. Red Son has built his education and career around you. Bai He has marked the days leading to your release for as long as she could count. They would have not done that if they thought less of you." DBK, leans into PIF's hands: "Thank you, my queen. You always know what to say to quell my worries." PIF, kisses snout: "I am your wife, I know you very well. And as their mother, I know our children very well too. And I know that our children adore their father." (*PIF & DBK melt into each other's gazes. They are about to kiss when a disgusted noise interrupts them*) Bai He, seeing this: "EWW!!" Red Son: "Don't eww them! We should feel so lucky to have parents who love each other so deeply!" PIF, teasing: "I do not believe you had the same sentiments when you were her age, son." Red Son, flustered: "I do not recall." DBK, chuckle: "I do! To quote a fiery scamp; I will never ever ever get married if I have to kiss them!" Red Son, defensive: "I was five! Aversion to public displays of affection is normal for that age!" Bai He: "But gege! You said you'd kiss-" Red Son, quickly covers sister's mouth: "WELL!! Let get back to our plans for world domination, shall we?"

I love writing for this little family. Good Big Brother!Red Son is really cute to write, as is DBK being a dramatic papa.

DBK's reaction to learning that he has a daughter is like that one joke from "How it Should of Ended: Star Wars"

Completely forgets his villainous plans to show off his baby girl.

Nezha sighs with a smile: "Yes I know. I've been babysitting for PIF. Hello baby lotus!" Bai He, waving from DBK's shoulder: "Hi biǎogē!"

[spacedace]

Fuck whatever DC is doing with the al Ghul's characterizations and story lines, I've decided that from now on the al Ghul's are gonna be DC's version of the Addams Family instead.

Now I don't mean just give the various al Ghul's the exact personalities of the various Addams and call it a day. That's boring, that erases all the interesting parts of the al Ghuls, that's just using "find & replace" and not actually adding anything. I mean give them the vibes of the Addams Family.

Keep the al Ghul's as the al Ghul's with all their scheming and machinations and world domination attempts but give them all the unhinged energy, the casually insane view of the world, the deranged levels of love and devotion for family. Make them that group where objectively they are batshit insane but also you cannot argue with the fact that they are indisputably the most stable and functional family in the entire universe.

They're creepy, they're kooky, they're mysterious and spooky. Ra's many opulent homes and impenetrable fortresses are a museum and the al Ghul's really are a screa-um whenever people come to see-um (or when they lay waste upon their enemies in a surprise attack that has been planned for months and is just the first domino in a series that will ultimately lead to achieving a far greater goal).

They all love each other and want each other to be happy, they express this primarily with stabbing and murder attempts (its fine, death is a thing that happens to other people).

And forget the League of Assassins being a cult. Just make the whole vast globe spanning organization a collection of cousins/aunts/uncles/dear old friends ect. No one (not even the al Ghuls, if they cared to keep track of such things) is sure who is actually related to them and who just got absorbed into the ever expanding family tree based on their vibes being right.

(Is Sensei Ra's father you ask? Well he's certainly someone's father - probably.

Anyway have you heard about Cousin Cheshire? Despicable poisoner of a young woman, capable of the most horrific things imaginable - yes she is the sweetest dear. Like I was saying though, she just had a baby!

Everyone in the family is just so excited to throw a baby shower to celebrate! Ubu has really gone all out with the spike traps, he does so love getting to welcome a new addition to the family.

Talia of course has cultivated a brand new strain of the most toxic plants imaginable to make a brand new kind of necrotizing poison. You know, as a nice little romantic gift for Cousin Cheshire and that young man of hers. It really is so important to make sure you take time for you and your partner to go on dates and have a few pitched battles to the death on dark rooftops in the pounding rain when you have children.

Now there is some to-do about it all of course, you know how family get together can be. Everyone is arguing over who should get to give little Lian her first weapon and what it should be. Nyssa is pushing for grenades but Ra's is insisting on a sword - he's traditional like that you know - but Dusan has the vote so far on throwing knives. You know the kind that have the little divots along the edges of the blades them to make it easier to get the poison you dip them in to stick.)

I'm just saying that the al Ghuls should be a delightful cross between the Bond Villains they were originally conceived as and the lovingly unhinged Addams Family. It just feels correct in my heart.

(Again keep the interesting aspects of the characters and the nuances of who each of them are like their drive to save the world through destroying humanity and their strong environmentalist leanings and their constantly playing 5D chess and everything, but like, take away the racism and the cartoonishly evil for no reason bullshit and give them some fun feral energy to go along with it).

[spell-cleaver]

Portrait of an Empire

Hello! October is nearly upon us, which means it's time for the Xtober fun to commence. This year, combining Angstober and Flufftober, I have started writing in non-linear snippets an AU called Portrait of an Empire, of Palpatine pretending to be a grandfather to Imperial Prince Luke and accidentally getting redeemed along the way. Aiming for a balance of angst and fluff, but it's me! It'll be more angst, inevitably.

I'll post in snippets on tumblr at first while I work on it, then at the end of the month I'll compile them all into one fic, edit and rewrite some parts, then publish it as a multichapter fic. This is a new way of drafting a fic for me so I'm excited to experiment with it! Now that it's been posted, here is the link to the AO3 fic.

To read all the original snippets, either search #portrait of an empire on my blog, or see the links below.

Happy reading!

Angstober

Again

Countdown

Self-Destruction

Blood

Do Better

Medication

“You Still Don’t Get It.”

Growing Pains

Promise

Humiliation

Wake Up

Rotten Touch

Shaking

Only Around You

False Hope

No One Else To Turn To

“Shhh…”

Falling Stars

Tear-Stained Cheek

Spare Me

Abandoned

Crocodile Tears

Safe/Unsafe

Dark Sunrise

You’re No Better

Persuasion

Curled Up

Perfect

Get Out

Nothing Else To Tell You

It Ends Here

Flufftober

Lost Pet Meet Cute

“Left. Other left!”

Favorite Scent

Market Day

Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone

Mistaken Identity

Hoodie Weather

Chopping & Piling Wood

“Don’t do that!” - “But…”

Bet, Game, Contest

Ingredients & Spells

“This is spooky.” - “Really?”

Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

Fantasy AU/Mundane AU

“What are you wearing?” - “It’s laundry day!”

Yes, No, Maybe

Only One Bed

Bewitched

Yarn

Paw

Bonfire

Heirloom

Stormy Night

Comfort Food

Haunted House

“I can’t find it.”

Afternoon Stroll

Lucky Charm

Time Capsule

“Forever?”

Make a Wish

[potteresque-ire]

Happy Halloween! 👻 (Happy Birthday, Wei Wuxian!)

For this spooky evening, I'd like to present this spooky song named 《辜》 (Guilt, pronounced gu), one of the theme songs from Season 2 of 天官賜福 TGCF's audio drama. (Lyrics and some thoughts under the cut!)

Below is my attempt to translate the beautifully written (and eerie) lyrics, although I can't say I'm satisfied with my efforts this time. It bears strong roots in the Taoist (religious) tradition, which I'm not part of. The very last paragraph (the one that mentions a pardon) is from a prayer known as 往生咒 (The Rebirth Mantra; Buddhists have their own version), which believers chant to help lost spirits find their way to the next life. Hence, the change in tone. I hope though, that as music is universal, that even with the language barrier this song can successfully spook some of you. Oh, by the way, the vocal in the middle of the song (starting 2:27) is from an opera style known as 華陰老腔 (pronounced Huayin Laoquiang), which has been designated as an Intangible cultural heritage by UNESCO, and the performer 張喜民 Zhang Ximin is the heir of the style (kudos to the production team of the audio drama for inviting him!). Even though the origin of the style is far from where I've grown up, the lines from that paragraph: 善有善報，惡有惡報 不是不報，時辰未到 Good is retributed by good. Evil is retributed by evil. It’s not a lack of retribution. It’s the time of retribution has not yet come. is something I can recite, in my own dialect (Cantonese), since I was little. The way this song conveys this well-known message ~ one that I admit I don't / can't always believe in ~ is very powerful to me. It's one of the reasons why I've repeatedly spooked myself with this song this month! (And so, I'm also using this post to send a message to Voldie: yes, I remember what you did 43 years ago on this night. The time of retribution would come for you.) (No, I haven't forgotten my "birth fandom" (Harry Potter), which I do plan to revisit one day. 😊) Anyway, onto the lyrics!

《辜》 (Guilt) [0:14] 幽幽夜沉沉 語悄悄 The night is dark and heavy, its words quiet. 聽 何人行踽踽 登初宵 Listen ~ Who’s walking in solitude, ascending upon this evening? 遊魂野客喧囂 高門重府燭搖 Boisterous are the wandering souls, the unbridled guests. Flickering are the candles in the mansions, the palaces. 問旦福夕禍 世間知多少 Asking about the ever-changing fortunes and calamities, how much and how little this world knows about them.

[0:43] 忽而風起 似誰笑 良辰吉時到 The wind suddenly rises, as if someone laughs. The propitious hour has come. 幾家烹調歡宴 肉骨餵邪妖 不足飽 Some homes have cooked a feast, meat and bones to feed the wicked but can’t satiate. 他神色木然 既悲又喜 耳畔道 Wooden is his expression, both sad and happy, and by each ear, he utters words. 回頭 卻是惡言生寒 入髓竅 But when heads turn, the evil in the words grows into a chill and burrows into the marrow.

[1:34] 迷迷霧漫漫 哭渺渺 The mist dazes and lingers, its tears vague.  提 昏燈過長街 天不曉 Uplift ~ dim lanterns crossing the long streets, the sky that fails to dawn. 花腔滾板未消 惡鬼怨倀又告 Dissipating still are the coloraturas and percussions. Accusing once more are the wicked ghosts, resentful, 問天公愚聵 善惡何以報 Asking the gods, stupid and deaf, the retributions for the good and the evil. 

[2:00] 社鼓陣陣 金鐃厲 良辰吉時到 The temple drums beat. The golden cymbals clang. The propitious hour has come. 造化如命數 歡恨誰藉著 不相饒 Life’s blessings are like the accounts of destiny, transactions of joys and hatred are not forgiven. 他神色木然 似悟非悟 舉斧刀 Wooden is his expression, both knowing and ignorant, and his hatchet rises. 回頭 卻是青衣扶搖 登仙道 But when heads turn, rising is the commoner’s attire, ascending to the enlightened path.

[2:27 Vocal] 休將奸狡昧神祗，禍福如同逐影隨 Don’t use guile to deceive the gods, calamity and fortune follow like shadows. 善有善報，惡有惡報 Good is retributed by good. Evil is retributed by evil. 不是不報，時辰未到 It’s not a lack of retribution. It’s the time of retribution has not yet come.

[2:52 Chant] 斷足折顱 摧魄裂魂 Feet broken, skull snapped, Spirit broken, soul cracked, 手起刀落 血飛肉滾 Hands lifted, knives dropped, Blood spilled, flesh rolled, 剜心剔骨 解我悲忿 Heart hollowed, bones carved All to solve my sorrows and fury. 易除厄罰 難償苦恨 Easy it is to root out adversaries. Hard it is to compensate the bitter loathing. 斷足折顱 摧魄裂魂 Feet broken, skull snapped, Spirit broken, soul cracked, 有命還命 以待三更 A life for a life, to wait for midnight 諸罪來受戮 見鬼神 When crimes come for a slaughter, to greet their demons and gods.

[3:23 From 往生咒 The Rebirth Mantra] 有頭者超，無頭者升 鬼魅一切，四生沾恩 太上敕令，超汝孤魂 脫離苦海，轉世往生 Those who’ve kept their heads, transcend. Those who haven't, rise. All apparitions are marked with the blessings from life, The pardon from The Supreme transcends your wandering souls. To leave this bitter sea, to reincarnate and reborn.

[dialga64bitz]

the stubborn optimist. 👓

Character analysis on Streber!

Introduction/disclaimer

So the new Spooky month short has been graced upon us and with that we got the offical characterization of Streber, despite the short only being about a minute long we can still get an idea of his personality and even his interests.

Now because he has only showed up for this short and for only a very small bit in the actual Spooky Month series some of this may lean more towards headcanon and some assumptions based on how Sr Pelo writes his existing characters, which I hope doesn't bother y'all too much.

Also I tend to be bad at spelling and with grammar so please correct me if I mess up-

Now, let's get started...

Section one: Passions of an artist

What's the first thing we notice about Streber in both his initial appearance and from the short? Well his enthusiasm and the obvious joy he takes in his role as a "real vampire". Streber clearly is having fun in his role, smiling and laughing with his actor friends, playing this character for kids and the immersion was number one on his priority in the short, even in Tender Treats he's seen laughing with Skid and Pump and going all in on the exaggerated movements, he takes joy in his job, even going above and beyond with his work. Even when Ethan jokes that this isn't a big deal Streber immediately retorts, light heartedly obviously, but he still takes this very seriously. Why does he do all this? Well, he's an artist, an innovator, someone who takes that extra step. Streber's talent in inventing and acting is an artist job, acting is an obviously one but inventing from a far doesn't seem like an artist job, due to it difficult and sciencey nature, but the desire to create something is art, and that's what Streber wants to make, the artist will create for the happiness of himself and others.

Him being so smart probably helps his creativity in being an artist, which leads into...

Section 2: Streber and his...Streber-ness

Streber's name means "nerd" in German which was most definitely intentional, Sr Pelo has a pattern of giving characters sorta obvious names in relation to their personalities and or physical trait they have. Now does Streber live up to his name? Oh absolutely, he was the inventor of the green screen mirror as seen in Tender Treats, all created as to keep the children immersed in his "real vampire" persona. On the wall we see ideas and blueprints, along with him having the typical "nerdy" attitude that's elevated by high confidence. Inventing is an obvious interest of his which helps Streber be able to create works to make others and himself happy, while it's a slow process he gets joy from it, he may be neurodivergent? He seems very fixated on his work, which is a good thing but it makes a mixed trait of his show alot...

Section 3: Stubborn as- a vampire?

Stubbornness is a very 50/50 trait to have, it either works in your favor or it doesn't, we cannot with confidence which exact role Streber falls into but I believe it works more in his favor than doesn't mostly due to his positive attitude, but that's just an assumption, what's not an assumption is that yes, Streber is very goal minded and won't stop until it's achieved, considering he spent all day working on his invention and wasn't stopping until done, even when told it wasn't a big deal, he still carried on, passion and stubborn is a powerful combo, which will likely effect how Streber will act after losing an arm, he doesn't seem like he's not going to give up so easily.

Final section: The optimists struggle

Despite his cold demeanor near the end, it's not due to him being genuinely upset, he's just an optimist, having confidence in his abilities and a positive look on the future. He refuses to be let down about his invention, in his mind it's going to work out, and he wasn't wrong, the invention did work. Streber is not brought down by negative emotions, he's stressed but clearly still enthusiastic about his green screen mirror, his stubbornness and optimism are pulling him through and likely this is how he's going to pull himself in most situations, is it reckless? Yes. Absolutely, even if he's not running straight into danger he's still a reckless, which is powered by his optimism and furthered by stubbornness.

Hence why he's the "Stubborn optimist"

Ending notes.

I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry if this was a little bit too headcanon-y or seemed like a stretch but Streber just makes me very happy!

As for Streber's role in the story? He could be a huge help in taking down the cult due to his big brain and the fact that he was effected by them due to Bob.

Also tldr; Streber is an reckless artist fueled by his own optimism and inability to back down.

[sadiecoocoo]

The Shadows are Coming Chp. 3

Summary - Tech learns more about the sickness, Wrecker goes to find his brothers

Word Count - 2226

Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Notes: Happy spooky everybody!!! here's some eerie zombie stuff for you :) I am still going to be posting once a month, sadly I haven't worked on this fic much since the last chapter... Attack on Titan has me a in a chokehold, but that can be good news if you like aot and want a nice gory fic for it soon >:) also I didn't bother editing this chp... so sorry for any errors lol anyways, hope you enjoy!

Tech motioned for Wrecker to lay Echo out on the medical table. The brute gently placed the ARC down, resting his hand on his shoulder before pulling away to give Tech room to work. The splicer immediately got out a medical scanner and checked Echo’s vitals.

He held back a curse, not wanting to alarm Wrecker more than he already was. His brother was strong, but Tech didn’t want to test his limits. Echo was semi-conscious now, his eyes open and blinking as he tried to regain comprehension. Tech much preferred him being asleep, it might have been slowing the sickness. 

He seemed to be recovering for the moment though, Tech would guess that soon enough he would be coherent again. The virus seemed to attack in waves then, each one leaving the host weaker and weaker until it could fully take hold.

He needed to get a sample. He started searching the med-bay, looking for both supplies and any hidden troopers waiting for an opportunity to attack. Their intelligence was astounding, not at all like the zombies that Wrecker continued to insist they were.

Twice now they had waited until they could catch the Batch off guard before they struck. They used the dark to conceal themselves and fell into almost complete silence, similar to a wild tooka when hunting. They were even capable of speech, meaning they retained some humanity despite their now murderous nature. And the focus on forcing other troopers’ helmets off rather than simply killing them is uncannily intelligent.

All of these things showed that there was still something human in those troopers. Maybe that bit of sentience could be awakened again. There was a real possibility of a cure. He just needed the time to make it.

“Wrecker,” Tech cut in, breaking the somber silence that had fallen upon the two. “Please seal the door.” He asked. Sealing it would buy him more time in case the troopers that had yet to attack decided they didn’t want to wait anymore.

“What about the others?” Wrecker asked frantically. Tech suppressed a flinch. He turned back to his brother, fighting for something to say. He let out a rough sigh.

“I have no doubts that they will be alright, however I think I can manage here without you if it would make you feel better to go help them.” He said placatingly. Wrecker seemed to have perked up at that. Tech watched as the bruiser’s head turned from the door then to Echo, who was now sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked softly. Tech knew that no matter where Wrecker went, he would worry. However, he was not worried about himself, and knew their brothers would need help to make it to this med-bay.

“Yes, you would be most useful going to help Hunter and Crosshair.” Tech assured. He turned away towards one of the counters, opening a cabinet above to search for decent enough supplies.

“Stay safe.” Wrecker said quickly, then Tech heard the swooshing of the door being shut. He released another sigh, hoping that his brothers really would be alright. He knew they could all handle themselves, but if they got infected and he didn’t make the cure in time, there was no amount of combat skills to beat that.

Tech turned to look for an IV. He wasn’t sure what Echo would need, but coming from the nosebleed he had been having, a blood transplant would be useful. He grabbed the stand and rolled it over to Echo’s bed, then went back to look for fluids.

In one cabinet, there was an unruly pile of blood bags. He grabbed several, and started a scan to be sure the virus hadn’t breached the seals. He frowned at the results. All had traces of the virus, and all would only serve to make Echo worse.

As he continued to search the medical room for any samples that the medics should have collected (there was no telling how incompetent these regs would be), he tried to talk to Echo. He really didn’t say anything meaningful, just random facts or things he’d noticed about the base. He just needed to keep Echo coherent.

Sometimes the reg would hum in response, others he would agree and mumble something else he had noticed about the troopers. He seemed to be coming down from his moment of confusion, Tech chose to see that as a good thing.

Both of them had noticed the trooper’s intelligence. Both had agreed that their use of speech seemed to be to lure people in a trap, and that they mainly communicated using the animalistic snarling they had heard before.

“I dunno if you saw it, but the trooper I had pinned before had pale eyes,” He paused, mouth open as he fought for the right words, “like they were dead.” Echo finished with a numb and haunted tone. Tech paused, pressing his lips into a thin line. Echo sounded so tired, it had barely been half an hour, how could a virus have taken hold of their reg so quickly.

Tech didn’t answer for several moments, instead focusing on the samples he had finally been able to find. There was a datapad next to the sealed vials, and Tech powered it up to go over the files that the regs had hopefully written down.

He skimmed over the aurebesh text, not too happy with his findings.

[0500, morning cycle] A new virus has been found in the base, orders were given to keep our buckets on and quarantine ourselves unless showing symptoms. The base was sealed to prevent it from infecting wildlife and further spreading.

- Nash

[0745, morning cycle]  Several troopers have been checking into the infirmary, I have my hands full. Half of my medics are sick too, I’ve confined them and any others showing symptoms to bed rest. Current symptoms include: fever, dizziness, nausea, struggle of breath, slowing heartbeat, excessive nosebleed. Some had rashes on their skin, almost as if the cells were dying; the ones experiencing these symptoms seem to be dealing the worst.

Someone tried to escape the base, the captain got pissed and ordered all the ships to be dismantled. It was probably overkill, but this virus could be fatal, we can’t let it spread.

- Nash

[1030, morning cycle] There’s not a free bed in the infirmary, I’ve had to run from here to the barracks several times. There are only a few troopers not infected, thankfully myself included. Flay, Grim, Jax, and Skeet are the only others that I’m aware of.

- Nash

[1200, afternoon cycle] Some seem to be recovering now, many are regaining their strength. Physical symptoms are waning, but the infected are under a lot of mental strain. I suspect some may be hallucinating or having fever dreams often. Many seem much less aware of their surroundings and are acting almost violent. It seems to be a final affect of the disease, the ones that had gotten through it seem to have recovered, though they are tired. I think everyone should recover soon.

- Nash

[1300, afternoon cycle] I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. They’re all dead. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I thought they were getting better I thought I fixed it I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

- Nash

Tech skipped the rest of the log. It was just those two words repeated over and over again. He moved on to the next.

[1310, afternoon cycle] they got up. They just got up. Oh Force they aren’t the same. There’s something wrong. Those aren’t my brothers.

- Nash

[2300, night cycle] we were able to get a quick transmission out before retreating back here. Grim didn’t make it. There’s only four of us left now. They’re at the door. It won’t hold long. We’re going to try hiding in the vents until help arrives. I’ve left samples of the virus, along with the rest of my notes. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it. I just hope whoever finds this will have enough time.

- Nash

Tech was unable to continue reading. He felt sick to his stomach. Within hours, they all died, then came back wrong. He turned back towards Echo, then shut his eyes tightly. Now wasn’t the time to worry, he needed to get this cure made.

But if an entire team of troopers couldn’t get it in time, how could he? He was one person, no matter how smart he was. He might have to redo everything that Nash had done and start from scratch.

He worried his lip, breaking the skin. He didn’t have time to panic and doubt his abilities, Echo needed him now. Tech practiced the breathing exercises he had taught Echo so long ago, to help with the times when he was back there. The splicer never thought he’d be needing them himself.

When he thought he was stable enough to do so, he finished searching the cabinet where he found the datapad. As stated in one of Nash’s logs, a plethora of samples were in a neat container. They contained blood samples, air quality samples, and skin tissue samples.

 He could work with this. He could do this. Tech quickly got them set up to several different machinery to test what kills them. He frowned as he thought how long that might take. At least he wouldn’t have to be present for most of it, and Nash’s findings were still there.

“Hey, Tech?” He jumped at Echo’s call. The splicer turned quickly to give the ARC his attention.

“Yes?”

“It’ll be okay.” Tesh wished he hadn’t said that. He wished he could believe that.

The door opened with a hiss.

Wrecker didn’t think he had ever ran as fast as he was now in his entire life. He was filled with more urgency than any other battlefield had given him. His brothers needed him, he needed to hurry.

He still couldn’t hear any blaster fire, and now he couldn’t even see any signs of the zombies. Tech had said something about them being smart, smart like an animal is, and Wrecker knew Tech was almost always right.

He knew the forest got quiet when there was a predator nearby; Echo had done his utmost to teach Wrecker strategy and taught him the basics like this first. The zombies were the predators, so why were they quiet now. He urged himself to think, to not just focus on barreling through the hallways.

Predators got quiet when they hunt, but if they’re in packs they chase their prey down until they got tired and could finish them off. Hunters in packs wouldn’t focus on stealth, like how the Batch usually ran in blasting unless specifically told not to. So who told the zombies to hide?

He turned a corner, tensing in case something would jump from behind. He was met with silence and shadows. Still shadows, like the water of a pond. Right now, nothing but Wrecker disturbed the water.

He slowed, the paranoia and unease getting to him. He couldn’t hear the zombies, and he couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. He knew they could see him. So why weren’t they attacking? He was alone. He was easy prey if they outnumbered him enough. So why leave him alone?

Unless they wanted him to get to his brothers. Or to lead him away from something. Or towards something.

Wrecker brought his hand up to the side of his helmet, trying to comms for the millionth time. It was met with an irritating static. It wasn’t the kind of static where the comms weren’t working, it was the kind where the person on the other end wasn’t answering. He suppressed the urge to groan in anger. Now was one of those times where he needed to be quiet.

He was once again stumped on what to do. He wanted to find Hunter and Crosshair, to make sure they were okay. He knew deep down they would be, when those two worked together it was like fighting the force of a god, but he couldn’t help but worry.

He also wanted to go back to Tech. He had left his other brothers practically defenseless. Tech would be distracted while working on the cure and Echo… Echo wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

Kark, why was it so difficult to decide on things? Why couldn’t the answer just be handed to him, like they always were for Tech or Hunter, or really any of his brothers? Why did he have to be the one alone?

A sob built in his throat, and he clamped his mouth shut. He would not panic. He’s been alone on mission hundreds of times before, this wasn’t any different. Except in the ways that it was very different. Other than that, it was exactly the same!

He would go find his brothers, just to make sure they were okay. After that, he could bring them all to where Tech and Echo were, then they’d get the cure, and then they’d leave. That was only, like, four things. He could do this. They’d all be okay.

He jumped in place for a moment, hyping himself up to keep running, then he dashed down the dark halls.

The shadows weren’t as still anymore.

End Notes: so... any new theories on who's gonna be a zombie first, if any at all? also sorta sorry for the almost cliffhanger with this one lol, next one will have lots more gore :D

Next Chp.

NPT: @squad-724 @arctrooper69 @weyrwolfen @clownery-and-fuckery @charlieisannoying

@greyangelpain @zilvercrystal @travellingnorthwards @lifblogs @electrikworm

@buniby @thora-sniper @restrospect1003 @dizzy-9906

[elikajinnie]

So....this is gonna be looong (brace yourself 😮‍💨). Hi, this is sum (or dimsum wtv you wanna call me) here! not new to your page but new to your asks yeyy :3

So, I recently joined tumblr, maybe last month ig and I mostly use it for seeing enhypen related stuff (mostly fanfics, yk just to fuel my imagination 🏃🏻‍♀️💨) and I was reading different fics by some authors (one of them deactivated recently, still devastated 😭) when I stumbled upon your works, particularly the fallen angel sunoo fic when it was released and OMG THE WAY I WAS INVESTED??? I'm telling you no other author has described things so vividly that I felt that I was actually experiencing it firsthand 🤭 as a fellow horror enthusiast, I was HOOKED, alright. So, for a while I was just hovering in the shadows and waiting for your new spooky Halloween fics. Finally decided to stop being a vampire & talk to you...lo and behold! (jazz hands 👐🏻👐🏻) I just wanna say, I LOVE what you're doing, please continue spreading the smexy ideas boiling in your brain anddd I would love to be friends (only if you say yes tho) 🥺🙏🏻

(help I've been writing this ask for half an hour, Idk how to use tumblr lmao and it doesn't help that I'm too starstruck rn 😔👐🏻)

Oh my God! Hello dimsum and welcome to tumblr!!!!!

This was a nice way to start my morning ☺️ I have noticed you frequently checking my fics out 😌 And I appreciate it!! Horror is just such a fun genre to write and read! So thanks 🫶

I will continue writing and sharing the ideas ( 〃▽〃)

AND OFC I WOULD LOVE TO BE FRIENDS!! <33333

[trashlama]

Whazzup my fellow heathens! It's finally that time of year again. the spooky season is once again upon us! Soooo you know what that means~

Its time for some Spooky Halloween themed fics!!!! And boy do I have some plots planned for you guys this month.

Tbh it's not a lot buuuuutttt, I couldn't keep my excitement for these ideas to myself. Tbh I'm still working out the kinks with the last idea. So it may stay the same or change by next week.

Otherwise this is what I got planned for this month so far! They're currently listed in the order I plan to post them.

OCTOBER SPOOKY WIP LIST!!!

Yan!Vampire!Donatello x Reader "Contest"

Yan!Leo x Reader "Monster Mash"

Yan!Mikey x Reader "Because it's Witchcraft~"

Zombie Apocalypse!Yan!Raph x Reader "Never gonna give you up"

To be continued...

Also yes I do have LMK tagged in this because, I want to write one for this fandom, I just don't have anything really brainstormed yet. I kinda have an idea of what I want to do. Might be hcs or fic, not sure yet. Though I definitely want to do some spooky writing for this fandom. Just don't know exactly what yet. I'm doing some research.

Anyways—

Sorry for the nonsensical rambling once again and thank you everyone for bearing with me! I suck I know. Also thank you for looking! Here's some scary memes to show my appreciation for your guy's patience with me.

Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.

[spooky-things-au]

Chapter 4 and I just got to my child! (Skid!) And his asshole of a father... but I've got to my child! :D

(Chapter is undercut)

Spooky Things

Season 1. Beginning

Episode 1. The vanishing of Ross Lynn

Chapter 4. Eleven

The doors to mansion opened, making the chatter inside quiet down as everyone turned to the front door.

"Father." Somebody in crowd said.

A tall black-haired man looked between the hooded people, walking inside the building. He stopped by a man in cloak, who nodded to him.

"What's the damage?" It was the man's only question.

"This way, Father." Cloaked figure replied, showing the man towards the door.

The two started to decent into the basement, the black-haired man taking out the key to open the door.

"The entire east wing of basement will be evacuated within the hour. We've sealed off this area following quarantine agreements."

The man smiled, nodding to the cloaked, before he opened the door, that now had plastic wrap on the other side. The both men stepped through the zipper in middle, seeing the other side.

It was covered in some kind of light cyan mist, the basement looked even darker than usual... as the Father walked inside, placing his hand on the wall, he came across few dark bumps were scattered on them. Upon touching... they felt slightly slimy, similar to skin of amphibian or deep-sea creature.

He frowned once more, walking further through the halls into the basement... until they finally reached a huge room, that was filled with that cyan mist... but here, it seemed to be even more concentrated, making it hard to see too far head of oneself...

And yet, something was still clear.

A huge opening in the wall, glowing that same cyan. The glow just as well seemed to be pulsing... low growling was ringing throughout the room... and more, way bigger bumps were coming out the opening... from some angle, they also looked like tentacles.

"This is where it came from?" Father asked, examining the room.

"Yes."

He stepped closer towards the opening, trying to see what was on the inside... but he was met with same glow, that seemed to linger for what seemed to be... miles on the other side. And... if anyone would ask, he could swear he saw something moving on the other side. After a minute of examining it, Father stood up. He still continued to look at the opening.

Whatever that thing was... it was not continuation of his basement.

"And the boy? Were you able to locate him yet?" He asked, looking at his hand, just now noticing some of same slime as from bumps in corridor.

"We're doing what we can, Father. Give us time." A man spoke behind him.

"He couldn't have gotten too far. I mean... he's only eight."

'You better believe he hasn't gotten away...' Father thought to himself, frowning. 'This is big. And you made it happen...'

A smirk grew on Father's face as he thought of what happened. Or rather... who made it happen.

'Eleven...'

'Run.' It was the only thought running through his brain for what felt like hours. 'Run, run, run!!'

A small figure hid behind the tree, breathing deeply, finally able to watch a break.

A small child, seemed not even to be 10 at the moment, was running for his life in chilly November day in nothing, but what seemed to be a hospital gown.

'Run! They're coming! Bad! Evil!'

But, of course, human body could only take so much running, before it gets tired and runs out of fuel. And it was the same way for the little one. He heard his stomach rumble... he hasn't had anything in his stomach since yesterday.

He grasped onto himself, before looking around... when he smelled something not far away.

He then came to a small building. Way smaller than the house, he ran from... there were few machines next to it (cars, he remembered the names from books)... there must be people inside. Which was a bad sign, he couldn't be seen... not if he wanted to get away from-.

He then heard whistling, as a man came from back door with bag in hand. It gave him idea...

The boy followed on some distance after the man, sneaking inside, carefully watching not to get caught... as he thought, next room had even more people... despite there being food, he couldn't go there.

He walked to another room, this one was way smaller, with many weird things. Some sharp, some not... a lot of silver and weird smells. Nothing back The House ever smelt like this... the boy looked around once more, before his eyes spotted something...

A small bag, seemingly out of paper... and there was something in it... small pieces of yellow something. They smelt... good. His stomach growled once more.

The child cautiously walked over it, looking taking one piece in his hand, bringing it to his nose to get better smell of it... and then took a bite.

His eyes widened lightly. It was... potatoes? It was kind of similar to potatoes, he would eat back at The House... but he never tried them like this. Not mushed or in these small pieces.

He thought he liked it.

Looking around for one last time, the boy leaned over the bag, starting to devour the potato pieces few at a time. He felt bad about it, as he was taught stealing was bad... but he didn't feel like he cared at the moment. He was starving! He hadn't had anything since lunch yesterday! He was running the whole night!

Shoving 'be good' mentality back for a minute, he just carried on with eating, until...

"HEY!"

He was caught...

The day was quiet at Boys n' Grills. That was fortunate, given the owner was away for some "family matter". That left few employees to run the place, but that was enough. Despite it being Monday, the day promised to be slow.

Vivana was was walking between tables, taking and handing orders to people. Yep, it was definitely being a-

Then she turned around to face the window into kitchen to see somebody inside... and it was DEFINITELY not one of her coworkers.

"HEY!" She shouted, before running towards the kitchen.

It made the boy duck, grabbing the bag in his hands, starting to run.

A bit upset the food gathering was so little, but if he didn't want to go back in The House... he needed to get out right now. As small of snack as it was... he just needed something to sustain himself... the bag was small either way. He didn't think anyone would miss it!

Hand grasped into his shoulder, before turning him around to face the person.

"You think you can steal from us, kid!?" Vivana said into the kid's face. "You think you can-?!"

Then she took time to look over the child...

The dirty child. On look, he was only 7 or 8, if even it was that... definitely underweight too. Buzz cut hair, dirty blue hospital gown with little pink flowers... barefoot too... and he was going to run out there in November. Like this. And now, he was looking down, scared and ashamed... it was surprise he didn't cry. Well... correction. He was close to cry, judging by the tears, gathering up in his eyes.

"What the fuck..?"

Robert came out of school, breathing in cold fall air into his lungs. He had no doubt his friends already left. They didn't share many classes together, and even then, they tried to avoid one another. Or, at least, Roy tried to avoid them. Or else it would be too high of possibility of Ivan and Zack telling his mother he was "hanging" with "lowlife" as she liked to call them all.

She didn't like when they talked outside of their weekends at Miss. Lila's place. Robert always wondered, why she even got in contact with Miss. Lila to watch him in first place all those years ago, if she didn't like people, she found lower than herself in status.

Robert then was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of police cars and sirens passing by. Huh... weird. It was quite awhile since this happened in their town. Or, at least, he was witness to it.

Through he payed no mind, walking down the school yard. Kevin long since picked most of kids up, so he would have to go on foot. He didn't mind. Completely other way around, he liked that.

Anything not to see that poor excuse, his brother called hi-

Then, something caught his eye. The bike stop by the front. Ross' bike wasn't there. He then remembered Robin getting a call from Ross' dad this morning... he didn't know, what they were talking about, but something felt unsettling to him.

Then he realized Ross wasn't on the bus either. Nor in class or Mr. Collins' club, they all went to. And his bike wasn't there when they got to school either.

Feeling something in his gut, Robert pulled out his phone, checking out his and Ross' chat.

No... last message there was from Robert himself yesterday, when he replied that he could lend Ross his comic... and even that, Ross didn't see it. Not even leaving him on read.

This was nothing like Ross...

Robert frowned, before going to their group chat. Last message there was from Roy, complaining about their lunch, and Susie laughing at him. And still, Ross hadn't replied in there, even through he LOVED this type of drama.

This seemed to be last straw for Robert, as he started typing

👽 Hey, guys...

👽 Has anyone seen Ross today?

Some part of Robert expected Ross to suddenly pop out of silence, tell them it was a mean prank... but something in his brain said it would be it...

And sure enough, first to reply would be not Ross... but Roy.

💥 What?

👽 Has anyone seen Ross?

Susie's icon then lit up, and she started typing too.

💗 Now that you mention it... I haven't seen him since yesterday

💥 I mean... me neither, but he might just be sick today

Well... it could explain it... also would explain, why Ross' dad would call Robin... but why couldn't they know? Why didn't she tell him? It couldn't be just that, Robert was sure of it.

And while the blonde boy was thinking over the situation, his phone buzzed. And then again... and again. Three new messages. All from Susie and still none from Ross, that would clear up their situation.

💗 I'm just from Miss. Lila, she's not home

💗 I have a feeling something's off

💗 Let's to to Ross' house to ask him

Susie was already waiting them by Ross' house when Robert and Roy arrived. And, easy to guess, Will was with her. Well... it was expected, given she couldn't leave a small child in front yard of Miss. Lila's house or at their own home without supervision.

But what they didn't expect would be a police car, stopped right infront of their house.

"Police? Why?" Roy asked, looking over the car in confusion.

"Maybe it's my uncle?" Robert wondered quietly, walking to the door. "I mean... he is friends with Miss. Jaune and Susie's dad."

"Let's just talk with Ross' parents..." Susie said for all of them, pulling Will from the car.

Robert knocked on the door and they were let inside.

"Miss. Jaune?" Susie called out. "It's us! Susie and Will! And also Robert with Roy."

"Susie?" Jaune's unusually worried voice called out from different room. "In the kitchen, kids, but I'm a bit busy right now!"

"We're not for long, ma'am!" Robert said. "We just came to ask about Ross. He wasn't at school today..."

"He's just sick, right?" Roy joined in. "Tell them they're overreacting!" He then turned towards where their friend's room was. "Ross! Just answer this! You're freaking Susie and Robsrt out!"

But nothing followed. Not even a slightest groan. Instead, it was a worried looking policeman. Robert gasped lightly.

"Officer Jack!" He said, getting a light smile from the man, but then his face turned back to worry again.

"Kids, we're talking about something really serious here, you should head home..." Jack explained, constantly looking around.

"What do you mean?" Susie asked, still trying to find her friend.

"It doesn't involve you." Jack still tried to reason with kids, but then Jaune and John came by too.

"How am I supposed to know every scratch in this house, John!?" Jaune was frowning, worrying obvious in her voice. "You know I'm not the most careful person around and I also live with two guys!"

"Hi, miss Jaune!" Will said as he saw the woman.

"Oh!" She looked down, surprised, before smiling. "Hey, Will..." She then reached down to pet the kid's hair.

"Uncle John!" Robert ran towards his relative, looking at him for any information. "What's going on?"

John looked over at Jack, who looked at him with 'How do I tell them?' expression. Jack pinched his nose breathing out. He then showed him to way to basement, where Connor and Sophie currently were. John was going to take this over.

"Kids..." John looked down at the kids. "You four go home. I hate to be the one to tell it to you, but..." He sighed out. "I'm afraid your friends has gone missing."

Dead silence.

"Oh... you're taking it way better than-"

"WHAT!?"

"Spoke too soon..."

For next minute, there were bunch of questions from kids. "What do you mean 'has gone missing!?", "Where did you look for him yet!?", "You're joking!", "This isn't a funny joke!" and many other.

"One at a time!" The man raised his hands. "You." He showed at Susie.

"How that happened!?" She started. "Our town is so small, he couldn't have gone far! And why would he!? He lives 20 minutes away from Miss. Lila! It-!"

"We're trying to figure out, how that happened..." John said slowly, trying to calm the girl down. "We don't know much yet, but we found his bag, emptied on the side on a road. Our best guess, it could be kidnapping."

"Kidnapping!?" The kids asked again.

"Not final conclusion, but just a guess. He could just be hiding somewhere." John explained. "We're currently gathering a search party to look for him."

"Can we join!?" Susie instantly jumped to him.

"What!?" John's eyes widened.

"Yeah!" Roy joined as well. "We can help look!"

"We know places, Ross likes to visit! He can be there!" Robert added. "Please! Uncle John!"

"No!" John shook his head. "No, children. But this is a case for adults. You should all be heading home right now."

"But-!" Susie tried to interfere, but John cut her off too.

"No buts, young lady." He said sternly. "Last thing, we need right now, is four more missing kids. As soon as this conversation finishes, all four of you are to head home. It means no biking." He looked at Robert. "No investigating." He turned to Roy. "No nonsense." He turned to Susie. "Did I making myself clear?"

Silence.

"Did I make myself... clear?"

"Yes./Absolutely, sir/Crystal clear." Three voices said.

The kids sighed, before Susie looked back for her brother. "Come on, Will..."

And then, the kids left. John sighed out. Jaune was back on the phone, trying to reach her father.

"Finally, somebody..." She breathed out. "Hello? Is Oscar there?"

"No, it's Elizabeth, his girlfriend." A tired and high female voice said on other side. "Who is that?"

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth..." The blonde woman nodded. "I don't think we met, but this is Jaune."

"...Who?" Jaune rolled her eyes. Of course her father hasn't said a thing about her.

"Jaune. I'm Oscar's daughter. Is he there?"

"No. Will let him know, you called..."

"Wait! Don't hang up! I need to speak with him! Can you, at least-!?"

And she hang up.

"Bitch..." Jaune bared her teeth at this, before starting to try get ahold on her father again.

John sighed out, before deciding to check on the rest of the crew in the basement.

"Managed to make the kids leave. Anything here?" John asked Jack, who looked at him and shrugged.

"Connor found a kid sized beanie down here, so we were thinking to bring it up to Jaune. But not much else..." The younger man explained, lifting up a gray beanie in his hand. "How's she?"

"Holding up, but barely..." John sighed out. "It's hard losing a kid and not knowing if they're safe or not."

He then looked over the room, before noticing something.

"Sophie!" He yelled out, as the woman gasped, looking back. "What are you looking at?"

"I..." The woman stuttered, looking between the man and the wall, but couldn't say anything. "Nothing... I guess I just imagined it..."

But I thought I saw something glow...

John sighed out once more.

Upstairs, Jaune was still ranting into the phone, at this point pleading for her father to tell if he knew where her child was... he felt his heart hurt at the sight. Oh, how he could understand her pain so badly...

"Alrighy, guys, let's get out." He said to his coworkers. "And somebody, call Patty to ask about the search party. And tell her to tell them to grab flashlights..."

This was going to be a long night...

@crossover-enthusiast @catsockpuppet @spookuzm @ferfbish @sunny6677 @momentokori @nottapossum @nostalgic-soda

[thisaintascenereviews]

What I’ve Been Listening To During Spooky Season: 2024 Edition

Ah, yes, Halloween season is upon us again. I started a tradition a few years ago where I’d talk about Halloween-themed or Halloween adjacent music, and it was pretty fun! I always love writing these types of pieces, because I try to listen to different stuff with a spooky theme each year, and this year is no different. Each year I’ll try to have a theme, and from looking back to see what theme I had last year, I didn’t even post one last year. I thought I did, but I was going to write about the last couple of albums from Clipping, an experimental rap group fronted by Daveed Diggs. I’ll still talk about those albums at some point, but I really thought I did that.

My first theme was spooky-themed rock and metal bands, Alice Cooper, Rob Zombie, and a few other bands, but I don’t want to repeat myself twice. Nonetheless, I wanted to bring this series back this year, especially when this year caught me by surprise. It all started by the first thing I’ll talk about here in a minute, but it made me remember a couple of other things I found last year and never spent that much time with, so I got a bit of an interesting theme with this year. What is that theme, you may be asking? Why, my theme is 1960s surf-rock, bubblegum pop, and novelty albums! The first album I’ll talk about isn’t from the 1960s, but it’s very much inspired by it, which is…

The Boulet Brothers - Halloween House Party EP

If you read the newest piece I wrote with my buddy Jake, where we cut it up about the newest stuff we’ve been enjoying over the last couple months, I talked about the drag competition show Dragula, which is Drag Race for horror fans, basically, that’s in its sixth season currently. It’s a show that’s more so about horror, versus standard drag, so there is a lot of VFX and makeup, as well as performing and acting. The show was created by legendary drag duo, The Boulet Brothers, and aside from Dragula, they also have veered into music. I haven’t liked much they’ve done, but this new Halloween EP they put out is a lot of fun. It’s very short, sweet, and to the point. There’s a 1960s surf-rock and doo-woo feel throughout it, and despite the EP having a similar sound, all the songs are catchy enough, and they manage to make each song interesting enough, considering the ideas they have to work with.

As a side bar, music that is specifically Halloween-themed, versus just being spooky in general, is way more niche than Christmas music. Fun fact: I’ve already got some Christmas music on deck, and I may talk about it in some way this year, although, despite already talking about a Christmas album last year in the vein of Seth MacFarlane and Liz Gillies’ newly released Christmas album, We Wish You The Merriest. Halloween music has its place, but at the same time, there aren’t many things to really talk about that hold up for a whole season. Christmas music, especially the more secular stuff, can be about wintertime, versus Halloween is mainly about monsters, trick or treating, and just being overall spooky and stuff. Music that is Halloween-adjacent holds up because it has more to talk about, versus specifically Halloween-themed music.

The Deadly Ones - It’s Monster Surfing Time

During the early 1960s, surf-rock was all the rage, especially with Dick Dale, Duane Eddy, The Beach Boys, The Trashmen, and many other acts having that sound, so what’s the most logical thing to do? Combine Halloween and surf-rock to make for one of the most niche and interesting albums I’ve heard in a long time. Released in 1964, It’s Monster Surfing Time is the only album from The Deadly Ones, and the kicker is, no one knows who played on this. They seem to be session musicians from their label, Vee-Jay, but that’s it. I couldn’t find much about this album at all, but in a way, the mystery is that much more fun. This is a mainly instrumental album that has surf-rock with some spooky sounds thrown in. It’s fun, despite being relatively generic, as well as niche as all hell, but I’ve been having some fun with it.

Bobby “Boris” Pickett - The Original Monster Mash

If there is one “essential” Halloween song, it has to be “Monster Mash.” While it’s a novelty hit that comes back for a bit each year, Pickett released a whole album in 1962 with a lot of Halloween songs. The album has its name for a funny reason — another artist released a cover version of the “Monster Mash,” and put out a whole record before Pickett could, hence the “original” moniker. I’ve been wanting to really sink my teeth into this album for the last couple of years, and I finally have. It’s been a fun little listen, despite the songs being of the novelty and cheesy variety. Most of these songs are in line with a popular trend of the time, not including the title track, but they take advantage of the popularity of certain things at that time, and it can be either pretty cheesy or pretty fun, depending on who you are. I might add this to my yearly rotation, at least for a bit, anyway.

The Munsters - S/T

The last thing I wanted to talk about is one of the most niche and cash grabby things I’ve ever heard, and it’s The Munsters 1964 self-titled album. This album doesn’t have much information about it, but it’s a surf-rock album that’s touted as being performed by The Munsters, who were in their prime at the time, but it’s really just some session musicians. This record is pretty fun, albeit very gimmicky and silly, because it’s just songs about The Munsters, so if you don’t like The Munsters, I can’t help you. If you do, though, this album should be a lot of fun and get some chuckles out of you. I’ve listened to it a handful of times, but it’s a good little record that admittedly sounds dated and niche. I still enjoy this, though, at least for what it is.

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Y'know how I said I'm not gonna post every day... Okay look I'm just enjoying myself and I'm on break so I got time to write. Sue me.

This chapter is called "The Ruin". Enjoy!

Page 5 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 2:

A blind man finds upon his path, a thing of uncertain birth, He whispers words of guilt, gait unsure around the being, A story of war falls from his lips, a tale well known, The beastly soul bows in assent, warmed only by gore, The man asks of the Beast, will you let me pass, The path clears, but a voice requests, Will you, O fallen knight, Will you let a monster trail?

The last time Soap was under a CO, the man spat in his face that he’s never going to amount to anything, not with his “attitude”. The one before it made him clean the latrines for three months, not that he stayed long enough to finish that sentence.

Ghost was… surprisingly different. His orders were clean cut, but Soap found them completely logical. And when he didn’t…

“We can’t go that way, the roundabout is full of equipment. Soldiers are constantly circling it.” Soap muttered next to Ghost. The SAS operator looked back at him. The skull mask adorning his face was cracked from untold battles long past, the sharp edges catching the low neon light from a nearby street sign.

Soap is sure if he saw that jumping at him from the shadows, he would scream like a wee girl. As it stands, the mask only makes him think of shirts edgy teenage boys would find on a sale at TK Maxx.

“How do you know?” the masked man questions.

Soap pulls a small bag from the rucksack he nabbed two days earlier, “managed to swipe some black powder from there when they weren’t lookin’.”

Ghost hums, “know how to use it?”

“Was a demolition expert, before…” Soap trails off, shoving the bag back into the side pocket, “we can go through the southern side, near the church. Think they’ve already combed that area.”

“Copy, lead the way Sergeant.”

Soap takes them through the winding alleys, hearing nothing behind, but knowing Ghost follows. For a man his size, he’s unnervingly dead silent.

“Where was yer exfil point set?” he starts. They would need to double time it, if it was back north…

Ghost is cryptid with his answers, as always, “we’ll have to set a new one.”

Soap frowns. “So our goal is just to put distance between us an’ the hostiles?”

“Affirmative. You got intel on their location?”

They enter an abandoned grocery store (as all stores in this area are), and Soap makes a detour at the cleaning aisle, looking for bleach and other solutions he could use for crafting. “I was ‘ere two days ago, dinnea where they are now…” he grins brightly when he finds a nice big bottle of bleach. With the vinegar he already has, he could create a good amount of chlorine gas. Pour it into a bottle and chuck it at hostiles, and they got a distraction should they need it.

“Stay focused, then.” Ghost murmurs, snapping Soap out of thought. He’s not used to having someone next to him, even before everything went to shit…

The church comes into view when they exit the store. Ghost stops to stare at it, and Soap takes the moment to inspect the Lieutenant further. Black gear over black clothes, no markings of country, unit, even blood type. Soap feels like there’s a lot more about this botched mission that Ghost isn’t telling him.

Not that the spooky bastard tells him much of anything.

“Could use the tower to scope the area. I see a line up there we can zip line down from.” Ghost eventually rumbles. 

“Sounds good, LT.” Soap responds, catching his slip belatedly. Internally, he muses, ‘ye can take the man out of the military…’

Ghost’s head snaps around to glare at him, and Soap can see his mouth open under the balaclava, before he turns around to stomp to the church tower, leaving Soap to jog to catch up.

The church looks ransacked, in a way that makes Soap’s gut churn. He’s not religious, not since he enlisted, but the way the soldiers destroyed everything without disregard…

It’s a view that haunts him throughout the city. How they don’t care that anyone lived here before.

Children laughed, babes were born, old men reminisced over long gone memories, girls played together. People lived and died here, this was their world.

And the Hunter’s soldiers crushed it all under their boot, spat on the graves of their ancestors and severed the ties.

Soap feels the anger building within him once more. His fuel for the firepower he throws at the hostiles. At first, he wanted to know why more than anything. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing can justify this.

He stares at Ghost’s wide back as they climb up the stairs to the tower, wondering what the operator thinks of all this. If he too feels his heart clench at the thoughts of senseless violence. Or if he doesn’t care, if the mission is the one and only important thing on his mind.

Soap wonders if there’s anything under that mask at all.

He asks himself, if there’s anything left behind his.

They reach the top, the city sprawling beneath them. The little lights blend together, shining between the dark buildings. Would’ve been a nice view.

Would have, if they didn’t spot the trucks rolling to a stop in front of the church.

Ghost and Soap share a brief look, and instantly he moves to climb out of the window to jump to the zip line, only to be stopped by the Brit.

“What are ye waitin’ for?! We need to go!” he almost yells.

Ghost yanks him back in, the sheer power knocking Soap into the wall. Fuckin’ hell, he hits like a beast.

“If we zip line now, they’ll shoot us down. We need to get through the ground floor.” he growls, turning away and starting to run down the stairs. Soap rolls his shoulders and runs after him, muttering a few curses under his breath.

Soap catches up to him, yelling, “there must be a back exit we can use-!”

Ghost stills on one of the last steps, shushing him. They both strain their ears, hearing far-off steps growing closer, and closer, and closer-

Soap shucks his rucksack off, taking out the bleach and vinegar, quickly pouring them into an empty beer bottle, “the fuck are you doing?” Ghost yells above him, crouching to hide behind the banister when the front doors are kicked open.

Soap ignores him, driving a piece of cloth down to stop the gas from leaking, and shoves it into Ghost’s hand as he makes another one, “throw this right before we go, they won’t be able to breathe right for days.”

Soldiers start spreading through the ruined church, Ghost testing the weight in his hand, “on my count.”

Soap nods, finishing up his bottle.

“One, two…”

One of the soldiers spots them, and Soap stops breathing.

“Three!”

They throw the bottles, the liquid within them splashing as they arc across the church. His bottle hits the soldier that saw them square in the face, and he instantly starts coughing and clawing at his eyes.

The gas isn’t visible to the naked eye, but Soap can track its spread by the way all soldiers start coughing. He and Ghost push off to run up the stairs, but as Soap casts a glance back, he sees some of them equipping a gas mask.

Why the fuck were they prepared for chemical weapons in a civilian city?!

“Ghost!” he shouts, slinging his rifle off his shoulder, “they have gas masks!”

He hears the man curse, “keep running!”

Not sooner after, bullets begin to ricochet around the spiral staircase. Soap swings around to shoot a couple of them, and as Ghost does the same, he notices his shots don’t land as they should.

He glances back at the Lieutenant, watching him rub roughly at his left arm. Right… Ghost did say he was broken. Soap didn’t realize how bad it was. 

A few seconds later, he realizes Ghost threw the bottle with his left hand, landing it perfectly between the soldiers.

With no time to maul it over, he pushes onwards.

Ghost is still grasping at his arm when they reach the window, and Soap can’t help but ask, “are ye gonna be able to zip dow-”

Ghost’s tone lowers dangerously, nailing him with a death glare, “I am not weak, Sergeant.”

He’s not sure who’s cornering who here. Ghost takes his eyes off him a second later, tugging on the line before asking, “got anything we can use?”

Soap continues shooting down the enemies pushing up the stairs, “check my pack!”

He feels Ghost rummaging through his rucksack, and it almost distracts him from the hails of bullets around them.

It’s… odd. How he doesn’t even know the man’s face, but he can trust him with his back.

Ghost zips the pack back up. From the corner of his eye, Soap can see two metal clothing hangers he picked up in one of his searches for a thicker jacket. In his other hand is his little project he used most of the black powder on.

He lifts it questioningly, and Soap answers while shooting, “a wee gift I made. It’ll trigger when someone steps on it.”

“How big’s the explosion?”

Soap smirks, “big enough.”

He can almost feel Ghost’s eye roll from his silence, and he would’ve chuckled if soldiers didn’t start coming closer.

“Ye ready to jump?” he yells.

Ghost hands him a hanger, dropping the charges on the last stair step. Soap watched him flex his left arm one last time, before swinging the hanger over the line, and jumping off.

Soap’s heart drops for a moment when the operator sways wildly, part afraid for him, but mostly for himself.

The hostiles at his feet don’t care either way, so Soap braces himself and jumps off as well. The way down is bumpy, rattling, and fuckin’ fast. Soap lets go of the hanger right before the end, rolling off on the rooftop, and stopping.

He hears his “gift” go off, and the sound is so beautifully familiar, it sends a pang of nostalgia through him.

Ghost is already making his way down, seeking to hide between concrete buildings. Soap hastily catches up.

“That was a wild one, wasn’t it, LT?” he says, a little out of breath.

That breath gets completely knocked out of him when Ghost slams him to the nearest wall. His eyes are obscured by shadows, leaving only two black holes when he leans down to growl in his ear.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. I am not your LT, not your CO, we are strangers. We get outta here, and you can go back to your civvy little life. Understood?”

Soap breathes out harshly, grinding his teeth. “Like I have a fuckin’ life-”

Ghost pulls back just to slam him harder, “do you fucking understand, Sergeant?”

He stares at the black voids, voice clear and flat, “yes sir.”

The Lieutenant finally pushes off, and Soap lingers for a moment. He wants to be angry, he wants to snarl and bite and talk back, like he used to when his past COs were yelling at him.

But Ghost is right. After this little “adventure”, Soap will have to go back to his life. To an empty apartment, which he has probably already been evicted from. To searching a job, only to find nothing truly worthwhile. To an airsoft field, a fuckin’ mockery of what he lost.

To a monotonous, repetitive, grey cycle, where John loses his mind just a little more every day.

Ghost is just telling him the truth.

Soap trails back behind Ghost, the man not reacting to his presence. He looks so much larger than him like this, blocking what little light is around them, casting a long shadow over Soap. 

He tried not to think of “what could have been” in the past year. But it’s so hard, when it’s literally within reach.

Could he have been like Ghost? This imposing, unrelenting soldier, stronger than anyone he’s ever fought. So powerful, he escaped a whole military worth of hostile soldiers?

There may be nothing behind Ghost’s mask, but there’s someone behind Soap’s. Someone weak, lost, and repulsive.

And Soap isn’t sure what’s worse.

They’ve walked in silence for the last hour or so, Soap lost in the tar pit of his own mind. Some part of him, hysteric and deranged as it is, doesn’t want this to be over. It disgusts him.

Ghost’s arm has been twitching minutely for a few minutes now. It distracted Soap from spiraling for a bit, wondering what exactly is wrong with him. He doesn’t see any rips in the fabric around the area, so it’s not a stab or gunshot wound. He thought about blunt force trauma, but that wouldn’t act up every once in a while like this. An old injury would, but if it’s bad enough Ghost can’t even shoot straight, no one in their right mind would send him on the field.

Soap exhales, his stomach knotting in warning. They didn’t stop moving since they encountered each other, so they didn’t really eat. Which Soap just remembered, and now can’t ignore.

He considers it for a moment before piping up, “ye hungry?”

Ghost pauses in front of him, slowly turning to stare at him. “You got food?”

Soap nods, pulling a few oranges from his bag. He almost hands one to Ghost before remembering his arm, and sets about to peel them both. Ghost watches him silently, as a sweet aroma fills the small back way. 

Soap gives him the first peeled orange, busying himself with the other while Ghost turns around to eat it. When Soap takes the first bite, a sour taste bursts on his palate. Yet as he chews, it turns sweet, and he closes his eyes for a moment, savoring it.

Ghost has turned back to face him when he opens his eyes again, a look Soap can’t place in his eyes. It makes him hurry and gulp down the rest of the fruit, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He starts walking, but this time Ghost walks beside him, his eyes still not straying from Soap.

Ghost’s eyes are a nice, rich brown, he notices for the first time.

[yunosweetheartxoxo]

🩷GREETINGS IN HELL🩷

💕✨💖 Welcome to Seth’s Sweet Sanctuary! 💖

Hello, lovely souls! I'm Seth, your cozy corner of terror and creativity here on Tumblr!

🌌 I’m so thrilled that you’ve stumbled upon my little hell, where we explore the eerie and the extraordinary! As I balance my collage (yes, I’m a busy student 🎓), I strive to make this blog a warm and welcoming space for everyone. Come, let’s dive into the world of chills and thrills together!

💖✨🖤 What I Write:

Creepypasta

Demon Slayer

Slashers

Jujutsu Kaisen (JJK)

Marble Hornets

John Doe

💖 Content Types:

Headcanons: Let’s dream up some interesting backstories!

Scenarios: Imagine the situations our favorite characters could find themselves in!

Answering Questions: 🗣️ Got something on your mind? Just ask!

❌ What I Won’t Write:

Any form of pedophilia, rape, or child abuse: These topics have no place in my sanctuary.

✨ Feel Free to Ask About:

Any questions you have!

💌My original characters (OCs) and their adventures!

Your requests for scenarios or headcanons!

Gore requests, because spooky season is every season in my heart! 🎃💀🌸

About Me:I’ll be 20 in three months! 🎉

I’m nonbinary and use they/them pronouns! 🌈

🍰 Tiramisu Lover Alert! 🍰

The “weird kid” in school? Yep, that's me!

Crafting is my jam! I love making bracelets and expressing my creativity!

Proud Slipknot Fan 🤘

✨I have Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD), so bear with me if I post a lot just to connect! I’m working on self-control, I promise!

💕💖 Let's Connect!Thank you for visiting my blog! I would absolutely love to take your requests, but please be patient with me as I'm juggling school. Your love and support mean the world to me! 💖Feel free to send me a message, and let’s create some delightful (and spooky) content together! Don’t forget to sprinkle some hearts and kindness everywhere you go! 🌟💕Let’s make this blog a sweet sanctuary for all! 💖✨