#it's definitely not for everyone but it IS for me <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ummbassically]

📷 This is my lockscreen (not my drawing):

🍫 Chocolate! Especially dark chocolate. Cheese dust grosses me out.

✨ Bass, Bassically, Count Clyde (that's a joke a friend and I have)

🎵 "Corrosion" by RIProducer

✏️ Yeah, I have a bunch of fancomics/fanfic in the making (around 34 if you're counting) but I've only published one 🥲 Curse you, executive dysfunction and procrastination-

😏 Yeah! I'd love to message anyone on discord, but please ask before you DM me!

💛 Nope. Needles scary.

🐰 If they shit talk or not.

🍪 Oatmeal raisin. You thought you were getting chocolate chip? HAHAHAHA, no, you have been DECEIVED-

🐶 Dog person, dog person DEFINITELY. Cats scare the shit out of me...

🎧 Headphones all the way! Both for noise cancelling, music listening, and the warm hug feeling around the ears! Plus, earbuds hurt to shove in and damage your eardrums.

🌼 "That's okay, not right now."

🙃 Comics oftentimes feature a simplistic main character design to gain an audience and get people to see themselves in the character. If it was hyper-realistic, they would assume it was that person only, but a stick figure? Could be anyone. Could be everyone. It gets you into perspective, regardless of who you are.

🦉 Night owl, unfortunately. My entire family, including me, hates mornings but would probably stay up till 3 every night.

🧸 On a mega beanbag, squishing into a comfy shape, curled up like a cat.

🏳️‍🌈 Yup! Genderfluid and genderflux, and aroace (apothisexual quoiromantic)!

🦋 Wonky, anxious, imaginative

👖 JEEEEEANSSSSS

🥤 I don't go to Starbucks. I'm not a coffee person.

🧡 The sludgy, burnt yellow of pissed-on snow.

💎 Oof, I'm gonna sound screen-addicted, but I really love my IPad. It's my drawing pad. Other than that, my sketchbook, my bookshelf, and my stuffed animals.

☕ Tea. Cinnamon tea!

🦖 Pachycephalosaurus, the dinosaur with the world's longest name. It has a bulbous, thick forehead-skull that sticks up earplug-shaped, with little spikes surrounding it. The name means "large, thick headed lizard".

🌙 3 months. I'm preeeetty new.

🌴 Cyanide, in case all goes wrong.

🐸 Ehh, irl my aesthetic is "whatever is comfy" but in my head, I have an eclectic punk novelty shop-esque style.

🔮 Interpreter, indie animation artist, witch, or activist.

💙 Happily single foreverrrr! 🧡💛🤍🩵💙

🌿 A Stevie Nicks Concert Tour t-shirt, a jean jacket with 500 different patches, multicolored pants and decorated sneakers.

🎤 There are a LOT. Most of them relate to past special interests/hyperfixations.

🤎 Dark, dark brown. I'm told it'll turn black as I get older.

💌 ALLLLL THE TIMEEEE. Mostly to shut off anxiety.

💄 Nah, not really.

🌸 "You're one of my best friends!"

💞 Anyone I'm moots with

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK-A-CARD: What's your lowkey powerful move? ˚୨୧⋆.˚

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I. II. III.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

Hey there! Welcome to another PAC reading on my blog page—I hope you all enjoy it! Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3 How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

get your own personalized paid reading here! it would really help me out!😊🦋

My KO-FI link: HERE! 🫶🏻

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

⋆˙⟡Pile I

Ohhh, bestie, this spread is JUICY. I can already feel the energy radiating off these cards. So, the Ace of Pentacles is giving “I walk in, and the room shifts” vibes, maybe some of yall even feel that thing. people see you as someone who knows how to manifest real, concrete results. You give off that effortless “I make things happen” energy, and the wild part? Half the time, you don’t even have to announce it. You just move in silence, and suddenly, things start aligning in your favor. It’s like you have a golden touch, and people feel that. Now, here’s where it gets interesting—because the Magician reversed is shaking things up. Normally, the Magician is that “I have all the tools, I can do anything” card, but reversed? This is the art of the illusion. You have this insane ability to make things look effortless when, in reality, there’s a whole strategy behind it. nobody ever fully understands how you do it. Are you lucky? Are you secretly a mastermind? Do you have some divine favor that keeps you ahead? (👀 Spoiler alert: it’s all of the above.) this spread overall screams natural-born leader—you don’t even have to try to command attention, you just do, some of yall have held some major leader position in their lives, maybe in school or in now in your work space. What keeps people thinking about you? It’s the way you exude confidence in a way that’s not cocky, but magnetic. You have presence. You don’t need to brag, you don’t need to prove yourself, and you definitely don’t need outside validation. yall seem to be really secure in yourselves. but I would def say, Some people may even wonder if you’re manipulative, or if you’ve got some sort of secret advantage. People admire you, but they also lowkey fear you—because not everyone can handle someone who just moves differently.

This is the kind of energy that leaves ex-friends and past situationships wondering if they fumbled the bag . So keep doing what you’re doing, because this is powerful energy. Now tell me, does this reading not scream “you”? Because I feel like I just exposed your entire aura rn. 😂🔥

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

⋆˙⟡Pile II

first of all i was so shocked when I saw all cards of this deck was cups. we’re not just talking about leaving a cute impression on people. This is some straight-up, ‘I met them once, and now they live rent-free in my head’ type of impact. Let’s break it down. Your Vibe? Ethereal, Emotionally Addictive, Unforgettable. Look, not everyone has the ability to make people feel something so intensely that they’re out here journaling about it six months later, you're that airport crush of people 😭.You are that person. The Knight of Cups, Queen of Cups, and Six of Cups together? Ohhh, this is emotional witchcraft. You have this almost cinematic energy—people don’t just remember you, they replay you like their favourite movie scene. It’s like you’re the embodiment of a nostalgic song that makes them stare out of the window like they’re in a music video. You’re not trying to be unforgettable—you just are. People feel safe with you, seen by you, and understood by you. And that?? That’s rare as hell in a world full of surface-level interactions(cmon we all what a pile 2 person in our life) . This also tells me your impact isn’t just strong—it’s lasting. People don’t move on from you quickly. Even if they don’t see you for years, something will trigger a memory of you (a song, a scent, a random moment), and suddenly, boom—there you are, sitting pretty in their mind like you never left.

people always remember you anyway. It’s not about being the loudest in the room—it’s about how deeply you made them feel something. And let’s be real: people forget words, but they never forget emotions. You might not even realize the weight of your presence until years later, when someone confesses, “You changed my life and didn’t even know it.”

So yeah, your power move? You leave emotional fingerprints on people’s souls. And the gag is? You don’t even have to try. 🤷‍♀️

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

⋆˙⟡Pile III

They’re screaming depth, and an almost frustratingly intriguing energy. Like, people think they know you, but then you do or say something that makes them go, “Wait… who are you, actually?” And that question? That is why people cannot get you out of their heads.

Let’s talk about The Hanged Man sitting right in the middle—because that’s the core of your vibe. You don’t operate on the same wavelength as everyone else. Your energy is like when you’re watching a thriller, and the main character does something weird, and you just know there's a deeper reason, but you won’t find out until the end. You have this eerie, compelling stillness that makes people want to decode you. Then we have The Moon along with the hanged man, which? Chef’s kiss—because now we’re getting into that dreamy, slightly chaotic, almost unreal quality about you. You give people just enough to feel like they’re getting closer to understanding you… only for them to realize they have no idea what’s real and what’s projection. People get lost in their own assumptions about you. They see what they want to see, not necessarily who you actually are. (💀 Tell me why this feels like exactly the kind of energy that makes exes spiral at 3 AM, trying to figure out why they still don’t understand you.)You don’t need to flex your growth because by the time people catch on, you’re already five steps ahead. There’s something almost intimidating about how quietly powerful you are. Like, you might not even realize how often people compare themselves to you. You make people feel like they need to level up—but they’ll never admit you were their motivation.

Listen, you’re not just memorable—you’re the unresolved mystery in someone’s story. The “what if,” the “I never quite figured them out,” the “damn, I wish I could talk to them one more time.” People replay their interactions with you because they feel like they missed something. You don’t just linger in their mind—you haunt it. And the best part? You don’t even try. You don’t have to force an impact, you don’t need attention—you just exist in a way that makes people feel like they almost got close to understanding you… but never fully did. And that? That’s the kind of unforgettable energy that lives rent-free in people's minds forever.

Liked the reading? get your own personalized paid reading here!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[evie-doesnt-write]

Obsessed with how Lottie is one of the only Yellowjackets who is not mean to or annoyed by Misty. I’m not saying she’s exactly friendly to her but at the very least she’s polite and non-judgemental. Even when she’s dismissive or exasperated it doesn’t come off as an aversion to Misty herself (like when faced with Misty’s aggressiveness towards her in s2). In s3 ep2, Lottie even awkwardly hugs her and attempts to comfort her about Nat’s death and her own guilt. It’s even funnier because Misty is often annoyed, suspicious of and weirded out by Lottie,

[ravens-two]

PAC: What Will Sex be Like with your Person? (18+)

This reading includes:

how sex will be like with your person

The extended reading includes:

dirty talk with your person

what they will think/feel during sex 

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

telepatía - Kali Uchis

Three of Swords, Page of Swords, Ten of Cups

You have such a dreamy vibe, pile 1. The energy here is almost Pisces like, you seem like a very sensitive soul and a dreamy person. I think that during sex you tend to use a very soft, breathy voice that contributes to this dreamy vibe. I also get this vibe that with this person in particular you're not just fucking them, you're fucking their mind too, if that makes sense. It's because with you and your partner the seduction game isn't just about the body, it's also the mind. Before the foreplay even begins you're both already seducing one another with your words. It's hard to put into words but this isn't just dirty talk, you know? It's something deeper that leaves you both crazy for each other because it makes you appreciate your partner so very much. Maybe you both get off on each other's intellect.

I think that in your sex life with your partner everything moves quite slowly. The buildup is slow - maybe even happens throughout the whole day for some of you - but the act itself is slow too. You're both very interested in getting the most out of it, so you want to enjoy and appreciate every single moment. This is not the pile for people who enjoy quickies, in fact I don't think that your person would even enjoy it that much.

For this pile I'm also seeing a lot of sexting, sending sexy photos and videos. For some in this pile you might be in a long distance relationship, so phone sex is just a part of it by default. But for others is just because you like to tease during the day so that you and your partner are as needy as possible. On that note, the song needy by Ariana Grande is also coming up.

With the Three of Swords here something that's coming up is pain and bondage. This is going to be different for everyone, of course. For some of you this might be actual BDSM, spanking or getting spanked by your partner, shibari, etc. But, in general, I think that it's something a little milder for most people in this pile. I feel like your partner enjoys holding down your wrists or putting you in handcuffs, and giving your ass or your thigh a smack every once in a while. Again, something milder, more playful rather than intense. In general, for this pile I also think that you tend to be a little more "submissive" than your partner - and honestly what I mean by this is that your partner tends to take initiate more during sex.

No matter what, sex between you and your partner is focused on the love and intense feelings you have for each other. It's a very dreamy and loving experience for the both of you. But more than that, it's also a healing experience for you both, especially if you've been through a traumatic experience.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 2

La Tortura - Shakira

Two of Cups, King of Pentacles, Death

Pile 2, oof, I had to take a deep breath because your energy is so strong and so damn sexy. Like, damn, your vibe is something else. You can picture Shakira, Megan Fox or even Salma Hayek - there's so many examples but those are the ones that came to me right now. Your energy is definitely the dominant one here. I think that your partner would get down on their knees and downright worship you if you let them. You're just that intense.

All of my piles are gender neutral, but for this pile I feel like most of you are women in a relationship with a man (but of course feel free to ignore this part if it doesn't apply!). I think that you walk that man like a dog. He may think that he's "the man" of the relationship, but you're the one actually holding the reins. You're the one that initiates sex more often than not, and your partner just follows after you like a lovesick little puppy desperate to fulfill your every desire. But I also get this vibe that your partner is ready to go whenever and he's just waiting for you to give the go ahead.

When it comes to the sex itself I have to begin by saying: unbelievable orgasms. For both you and your partner. It's so so good it almost feels like you're dying for a second there. You both might take a long time recovering afterwards from how intense it is. I also think that during the act although you're in a more dominant position, I think that you prefer to receive instead of giving. The amazing part is that your partner not only is fine with that, they absolutely love it. You just have to tell them what you want and they will do their very best to make it happen.

Something else that I'm picking up is that you're both very big on touch, so you're probably glued together during sex, exchanging caresses and kisses. You know that type of caress that starts from your hips and ends up on your boobs? That? I see a lot of that. Your partner adores your body and wants to touch as much as they can, but vice-versa. No matter if it's a man or a woman you also really adore your partner's body (and a little secret for you, your touch completely undoes them). If your partner is a man I see him being quite big.

In the end though, sex between you two is about pleasure of course, but also about showing love and appreciation for each other. It's never just fucking. There's a lot of love here. Also, even if you consider yourself to be a little more submissive your partner is just so crazy about you that to them nothing else matters - they just want to please you, not dominate you. I already said this, but your touch really undoes your partner. Like a very simple touch coming from you makes them whine and gets them closer than they'd like (especially the men).

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 3

Religion - Lana del Rey

Seven of Swords, King of Swords, Eight of Cups

Pile 3 for you I see two scenarios for you immediately. With this Eight of Cups you guys might be in a long distance relationship or your partner might be into edging. Because there's this sensation of longing here. You want something so very desperately and they don't want to give it to you/can't give it to you. (also, the image you chose is about a couple that will never see each other again, so there's this really "dramatic" energy of missing your person/their touch).

The other thing I'm picking up immediately with the Seven of Swords is that during sex you like being at your partner's mercy. It's this energy of giving yourself to them, allowing them to do what they want with you, because you just trust and love them so much. It's safe to say, that your energy is coming off more as submissive rather than anything else. You just trust in your partner's experience and in their caring nature to believe that they will never hurt you. This might lead you two to experiment with "riskier" things like breath play for example. But for others this can be even more intense with CNC scenarios, for example. You seem to like the idea of being at their mercy.

Aside from this, sex between you two seems to be a very pleasurable experience for you both, especially because your partner seems to have a lot of experience. They might have more experience than you, and that also makes you feel "guided" during the experience. During the act your partner might be a little harsher on you, more commanding, almost a little cold (and this seems like a big departure from who they really are as a person), but in the end your person really does like you very much.

Despite the more intense scenes that you'll probably be doing, there is never a sense that you're in danger or that you might be hurt. Both you and your partner have trust in each other, and a very good communication. You know that you could stop at any time. Also in reference that what I said before that your partner might seemed colder in the act, I think that you'll never feel as though they're being "mean" or wanting to hurt you, because there will be these little moments of reassurance and love between you.

check out the extended reading on patreon

Pile 4

Juno - Sabrina Carpenter

Four of Swords, Knight of Wands, Ten of Wands

Pile 4 your energy is as playful as Sabrina Carpenter's. Everything seems so light and fun, even if you and your partner are trying out some crazy thing you've seen on the internet. By the way, I got this vibe that you two will sometimes see something and go like "hey, why don't we try that out?". The vibe here is so good honestly. There's a lot of giggling and joking even during the act, especially when there's a weird or funny noise. I actually even see your partner tickling you because you laughed at something they did.

Something interesting that's coming up is that your sex life is very different from the energy you project to other people as a couple. Maybe your partner is a very serious person in their day to day life (or you, or even both of you) and so everyone would expect that they would also be very serious during sex. But it's actually the opposite. For your partner this is a moment of deep connection but also of lightness, there's no reason to take sex so seriously when it's something that's to make you both feel good.

With this Knight of Wands, Ten of Wands combo you're two are probably going at it like rabbits. You'll have as many rounds as you possibly can until you both slump to the side unable to move. You both seem to have a lot of sexual energy - but maybe sometimes not at the same time. What I mean is that maybe on one day your partner has a really high libido, but you not so much (and vice-versa). So, when this happens you have to find a balance that will satisfy you both.

In general, your energy is just so playful. You'll try anything at least once, even if it doesn't really end up working out or if you don't like it. Like, I'm getting the mental image of a couple trying out spanking, but they just can't stop giggling. Because again, it's not that serious. It's supposed to be fun. This isn't to say that there won't be serious moments, it's just that most of the time the energy is lighter. You're the only pile where I'm getting positions and I mainly see cowgirl, to be honest. But again, you two seem to experiment a lot. When it comes to dominant or submissive energy, I don't think it's clear in your pile. Both you and your partner are happy to play around with it, so maybe we could say that you're both switches.

check out the extended reading on patreon

[antianakin]

I'm not against the idea that Ahsoka ends up a little lopsided, but I think for me it'd be more about her emotions than her skillsets.

Because she is actually canonically a perfectly good teacher. We see her teach a group of Mandalorian teenagers about government corruption in like season 3. She helps advise a teenage Prince about how to manage being a leader in season 4.

The EARLY seasons of TCW would definitely have Ahsoka acting like this, for sure. The idea that Ahsoka doesn't realize that some of her actions might put her in front of a military tribunal when she first lands on the field is completely understandable. The idea that she finds Rex's disappointment really terrible is completely understandable.

But I don't really buy that the Ahsoka of later seasons would continue to have this issue, that she'd be able to understand the inherent unfairness of the system in place for the clones but not understand normal crimes exist or that her own actions could have military consequences. If she's observant and smart enough to recognize the consequences her men could face, she's smart enough to recognize the consequences SHE could face. She also literally goes into the normal criminal underground on Coruscant in like season 1 or 2 to get her stolen lightsaber back with a dude whose entire career has been about chasing normal criminals.

Ahsoka was likely given plenty of regular life skills in her earlier 14 years training to be a Jedi. It's not like they'd have taught her to be a soldier in a war given that they wouldn't have had any idea it was coming for a while and were actively trying to KEEP it from happening more recently. Ahsoka's training would've been aimed at helping her do more usual Jedi stuff and just giving her basic life skills, which is why she's perfectly able to teach a class of Mando teenagers and help a Mon Cala prince learn how to lead. It's not like Ahsoka's entire education started when she got put onto a battlefield, she's had YEARS OF IT prior to this and it was clearly pretty extensive, including things like politics and flying and teaching and childcare and basic social skills alongside some fighting skills.

Her primary flaws when she's younger aren't that she's unobservant or doesn't have basic life skills, it's that she's impatient and overconfident in herself. These are flaws that we DO see her learning how to address in the first three seasons and that she seems to have mostly mastered by season four.

But THAT'S where I'd want some of that lopsidedness to come in later in life. Ahsoka in Rebels should still be kind-of overconfident and impatient sometimes. I want to see her rushing into things and getting her ass handed to her sometimes. I want to see her overestimate her own abilities a little and Kanan or Hera or Ezra has to jump in to help her or point out that there's something coming she can't see and she needs to LISTEN to them instead of believing she knows better than everyone else.

I want the education Ahsoka is lacking to be her JEDI education. I want her to struggle more with managing her own emotions than the usual Jedi would. It isn't even explicitly because she grew up too fast but because her Master was the Worst Jedi To Ever Jedi and a complete failure at basic Jedi skills, so he never really manages to teach her some of these things. He can spit out platitudes until he goes blue in the face, but Ahsoka seems to learn primarily by EXAMPLE and, well, Anakin's example is a pretty shitty one to copy. Anakin teaches her to bottle things up, Anakin teaches her to believe she knows better than more experienced Jedi, Anakin teaches her to be secretive and not to trust the Jedi or their ways. I want to see Anakin's lessons be something that continues to fuck her up later. I want to see Anakin's influence be something that exacerbates her flaws from when she was younger instead of being more stabilizing. I want to see some of the better Jedi characters like Kanan or Ezra or Luke needing to help HER learn how to regulate her emotions better.

I want to see Ahsoka realizing that her Jedi training was stunted from the beginning and, if she ever wants to truly find peace, she has to let go of what she learned from Anakin and accept learning from a REAL Jedi (like Luke probably).

She IS disjointed because she DID get some Jedi training in her younger years that helps her be more functional as a person, but she struggles. A lot. More than most. She often seems perfectly fine, but then there are times when it becomes super clear that she's absolutely NOT fine and she's just mostly able to cover it up and get away with it due to the circumstances. She can spit out platitudes like her Master, tell Hera that she needs to learn to let go, but then, much like Anakin, she isn't capable of letting go of anything herself. I want to see people noticing that Ahsoka IS struggling, despite how put-together and competent she might seem, because her education was so lacking.

Unpopular opinion: I think Ahsoka is at her best and most interesting in the first two seasons of TCW and has only gotten progressively less nuanced as the years have gone by.

Ahsoka in TCW intentionally has flaws. They're pointed out more than once, there's ENTIRE EPISODES dedicated to Ahsoka having to fix her mistakes or being punished for disobeying orders or having to learn how to be better after she messes up and hurts people. Ahsoka has to keep learning lessons from Tera Sinube, and Aayla, and Luminara, and Padme, and Yoda.

But by the time you hit around season 4, Ahsoka starts being PERFECT. She is suddenly FLAWLESS as far as the narrative seems to see it. Even if she's doing the wrong thing, you're supposed to recognize that she is doing it for the right reasons. She's constantly level-headed, wise, and often treated as though she's practically an adult Jedi by the other Jedi around her despite having been young to be a Padawan at all and with only 2 years of training tops. It's no wonder so many people were so ready to believe that the Jedi were ready to Knight her at the end of the Wrong Jedi arc, Ahsoka's being written as though she's suddenly 25 years old with a decade of training, similar to how we see Obi-Wan acting in TPM instead of the barely trained child she should still be.

And then you hit Rebels and she's literally making entrances BATHED IN LIGHT LIKE AN ANGEL, incapable of being beaten by anyone except Darth Vader himself, she's got lightsabers of PURE WHITE LIGHT, and the other two Jedi characters treat her like a Master. And then she dies, walks off into the shadows, and comes back swathed in white robes and with a white staff, haloed in light like a wise shaman of some kind.

At least Din manages to push back against her choices in The Mandalorian, it's probably the first time we've seen Ahsoka have an opinion that someone else disagreed with and that the narrative explicitly treats as WRONG, forcing her to reconsider and make a different decision.

But by The Book of Boba Fett, she's schooling Din now, back to being the wise shaman who knows everything and can do no wrong.

In Tales of the Jedi, Ahsoka is practically perfection incarnate: more skilled than any other Jedi, more compassionate and connected to the galaxy than anyone else, someone who tamed and rode on the back of an apex predator before she could walk.

I want Ahsoka to have FLAWS again, I want the narrative to let her be WRONG and reap the consequences of that, I want to see Ahsoka LEARN SOMETHING again, I want to see her GROW as a character for the first time in over a decade.

[lkblackham]

No Time To Apologize, pgs. 2-3

See, logistically, I know putting this much effort into this fan comic is ridiculous, but also, when I stop to ask myself "is this enough" my hyperfixated ADHD brain says "NEVER" so here we are.

Honestly, doing this comic brings me joy, quite unlike my thesis, and I need to give my poor ADHD brain a treat, so this is me giving myself treats for writing boring grownup words all day.

If you didn't know (or need reminding, I guess), this is part of the comic I'm doing about what the team in Veilguard got up to while Rook was trapped in the Fade. These pages come after this one (ugh) I posted earlier.

You might notice it looks different. The big changes are 1) everyone looks grubby now, gotta add those effects the game couldn't, and 2) I got the Art of The Veilguard book and now finally have access to perfect reference images for everything. I highly recommend the book if you're a Dragon Age fan or concept art nerd in general, by the way. It WILL make you really sad about everything the team was not able to do because of EA execs being massive assholes, but it WILL definitely fire you up to create S-tier fanwork.

[artdcnaldson]

I want to blow art in a public place, hes wriggling away from me because its wrong, his eyes desperately looking around but he cant help but buck and grind into my mouth because it just feels soo good, hes got drool gathering in the corners of his mouth

OUGHHGHHHHHHHH

early pros!Art...... sucking him off at the practice courts for a tournament. It's either so early that no one's really there yet, or so late that everyone's already gone, but the risk that someone's lingering and could see is definitely still there.

You just need him so bad. He's sweaty from practicing— all flushed and intense and you just have to sink to your knees on the hard court and take him into your mouth <3 he tries to resist, at least verbally.

Someone could see. Anyone could come over here right now. You can't do that here, baby. But he doesn't stop you as you tug down his shorts and briefs and take him into your warm, eager mouth. He has to bite onto his fist to stay quiet, and he's so tense and alert that it's honestly getting him there faster. He didn't realize he would be into exhibition until that very moment, when the thought of someone finding you like this with him stuck in his mind.

[sukeruton-san]

A Coffee Heart pt 3

First Previous Next

" Drake, why are you looking at a civilian's family history "

"The adults are Midwestern villains their secret hero son may be my long lost twin and they also have a daughter but she's mostly fine by herself. We might need to overthrow an entire government branch though"

"Excuse, me"

" You're excused"

After chatting with Danny for a while and getting more information without it sounding like an interrogation also making sure he'll be fine for couple of hours I went digging for the rest of the day.

And oh boy you won't believe what I found.

The Fenton's are fucking wild, after breaking through several firewalls just for the town and then even more for their security I found out 'the haunting world' really means haunted like ghost haunted. These people are the definition of mad scientists proudly stating that they built a portal to another dimension in their basement, and judging by the floor plan right below where Danny sleeps, said portal was letting dangerous ghosts out onto the city, but not all of the ghost are like that though.

The 'echoscientist' are heavily biased when it comes to ghost stating that they are 'nonsenseient' and 'don't feel pain' that they need to be a 'contained' 'experimented on' or even 'eradicated'' which is bullshit and horrifying. It's pretty obvious that there are several neutral and even some good ghosts appearing, most noteworthy being Phantom the hero of Amity Park (I know that majority is painting him as a villain but that is so far from the truth! there is an hour long video of him playing with children at the park helping everyone with daily tasks and more) also it seems pretty clear to me that Lazarus water and ectoplasm are similar in compounds which is frankly something I rather not think about right now.

The Fenton's cause so much property damage it's not even funny. they seem to not care for human lives and their excuse for doing so being 'dangerous ghost in the area' when it's clear that Phantom has it handled they don't even shoot at the attacking ghost they shoot at him which is so wrong on so many levels. the anti-ghost inventions they make seemed to even cause several attacks as well. Phantom already has enough on that his plate with the ghost attacks being 24/7.( Poor guy looks exhausted and burnt out) He doesn't need to have to hide/escape/be afraid from the people he's trying to protect. Hell even the red huntress(another vigilante) makes allies with him then shoots him in the back when the danger is over.

Looking closer at Phantom he has fluffy, soft, and thick white hair that seems to move like it's underwater; piercing, glowing, Lazarus green eyes; body type like Danny's but you can see more of the muscle and shape with his clothing being more skin tight, speaking of clothing he looks like he's wearing a hazmat suit with a symbol(a stylized D with a P in its negative space) postered on it and a utility belt. both the symbol and utility belt were added on later to the original suit which seems to resemble the ones the Fenton adults wear constantly

Actually Phantom looks a lot like Danny in general. . .

And Phantom has been called 'halfa' by some of his rouges. . .

No. . .

OH NO

Phantom and Danny looks so similar because they are the same person!?! after looking at Danny's school absences, tardys, and straight up running out of the class with the ghost attacks they line up

Danny seamlessly shows up with injuries that phanton has gained from Ghost attacks (but they're also injuries that seems to come from something else). Danny is apparently known to run from ghost attacks and as soon as that happens Phantom comes around the corner. Phantom uses Fenton tech that has been modified from the original, which probably he did, another similarity to add between us. . .

Wait I can add being a vigilante/hero as a similarity between us as well!

SHIT! Phantom is a ghost, dead, not living, did my twin brother die at some point!?! Cuz he sure as hell wasn't born like that!?! It must have been the day the portal was open. from what I was able to gather he was the only one home that day and the portal spontaneously worked after failing at first. And about a week later the first official ghost attack happened.

Also what is all this shit about the Anti-Echo Acts and the GIW!?!?! A whole government branch dedicated to the horrendous sayings of the Fenton adults!?!?! It looks like a lot of the Ghost attacks are dying down because it's became too dangerous for them to be out there.

We probably wouldn't have even noticed about all bullshittery with the government and this town in pacifically if if it wasn't for danny coming here.

. . . . .

Danny is here.

He is Phantom.

He said he was forced to be here.

He was forced into leaving his town.

The town that is attacking him at every corner.

With a support system that seems to be nonexistent.

And from looking at the old videos/photos he was learning everything from scratch.

With barely any appreciation for the things he does.

With the government trying to dissect him ( the fuck)

So logically after taking down the government and shutting down the portal if possible ( don't know if Danny needs it or if they environment has changed too much) Amity Park wouldn't need a hero if there's nothing to do there.

plus with their treatment of obvious heroes they could deal with their shit themselves, how does he deal with that I don't know.

They wouldn't mind if Phantom stays in Gotham would they? Probably not.

Oh well

He should probably start that welfare check now he'll do a more thorough investigation with the government later, twin brother priority right now.

" Drake, where are you going? You can't just say all of that and leave! Drake!!"

Yup welfare check

(think I'm getting better at writing shit!)

[abyssconqueror]

Thanks for the tag @myoldcrow! <3

Sylus somehow managed to worm his way into becoming the love of my life so

I tend to avoid sunlight. As in, I sleep with blackout curtains and get jokingly called a vampire often irl because of how often I complain about how bright it is and how often people see me just sitting in the dark

I was definitely a loner growing up and even now prefer to do a lot of my hobbies alone

I love music and singing (I can hold a tune much better than Sy tho sorry babe)

I'm not a huge red fan (#coolcolorsgang for life) but I am a huge fan of black, silver, and leather in general

Humor as a coping mechanism I like to think I'm funny

Truly prefer loving to fighting (though I'll do it if I have to)

100% a brat an angel 😇

I think everyone I would've tagged has been tagged already, so if anyone sees this and wants to join too, consider yourself tagged by me ❤️

so let's play another game

Tell something you have in common with your favorite (s) LI(s) then tag someone else

Me and Zayne are both lightweight. Y'all I can't drink alchohol to save my lips 🤚💀 without ending up tipsy just a glass of wine is enough to make my head spin .

Me and Rafayel are both dramatic but only with people we care about , I like to get on my friends and family's nerve (that how I show my love 😔)

@jinwoosbabyboo @yourlocalcatscammer @erensfeed

[pastlivesxpastlie]

Get Below Me vol 3 🖤

you and everyone’s baby boy, simp!roommate!Vessel spend some quality time on his bed after making out in the living room. and whatever you have saved to your phone DEFINITELY has his attention

simp!roommate!Vessel x virgin!fem!reader

Head’s up: consent checks, watching porn together, teasing, reader finally asks for what she wants, someone else finally strokes vessel’s cock other than himself

A/N: what will be finished first this weekend? The actual smut chapter or my sourdough?

🎀taglist: @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @0hg00dgirl @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @evisnotok @cheomain @chaosandchaos @sage-m-sepia @dreamer-lost-in-wonderland

You sat between Vessel’s legs on his bed, your hand shaking softly as you unlock your phone. His wide hands stroked your tummy as he placed little kisses behind your ear. “It’s ok to be shy.”

“I know…” you sigh. “But I’ve never…shown anyone what I’m into.”

Vessel chuckles softly, his breath tickling your neck. “And like I said, love, we can just talk…”

You start scrolling and breathing a little heavier. Obviously you’re turned on from making out with Ves but now you’re showing him your secret little “Fun Time” folder and it’s having a Pavlovian effect on you. “If I try to talk about it, I’ll start giggling again.”

But Vessel doesn’t respond, at least verbally. His cock throbbed against your lower back. You had already begun mindlessly scrolling through your folder, not realizing his eyes were glued to the screen. “That’s what you want, sweetheart,” he asks as you hover for a moment over a clip showing a girl getting bent over and playfully spanked by…whoever this guy was. But Ves did notice the man was quite tall and slender, not too dissimilar from him. Even in the next clip, which was just the close up of a guy fingering his very receptive, squirmy plaything, Vessel noticed how wide the man’s hands were. Spidery. Like his. “What excited you first…boys with big hands or just ones that look like me? Hmm?” He’s so turned on just knowing you get off to these videos but the idea that you could have saved them because the guys look like HIM…he could cum just from grinding against your lower back right now.

“Uhm,” you lay your head back on his shoulder, “hard to say I guess but…I can say for certain you’re my type. Definitely my type.”

“Hmm. Interesting…” he whispers as his breath catches. The next clip shows a girl with a body like yours getting folded in half and eaten out. The man in this one isn’t quite enough like Vessel for his liking before he remembers he has the real thing tucked up against him ready to eat out of his hand. “Such a shy little thing. I’ve been here the whole time,” he coos and tickles your sides. You toss your phone down and start giggling again. Giggling so hard your lungs feel like they’re on fire.

“Ves, that’s not fair!”

He finally stops and holds you close against him like a teddy bear. You both breathe heavily between small laughs. Vessel’s hand gently brushes your cheek, encouraging you to look back at him. When you do, your lips meet in soft little kisses. He leaves you breathless ever…single…time. “Y’have to remember, darling. You’re in control. It’s your night. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.” Vessel breathes heavily against your lips and moans softly. “And…if it’s too much or you don’t want something stop me. Please…”

“Can I suck you off?”

Vessel’s face heats up. “You up for that…?”

You’re already on your knees by the bed, gazing up at him. “I’m a visual learner,” you chuckle. You’re trying to be carefree and sexy but you’re so nervous. You want to do good for him…to make him happy. Make him cum the way you’ve imagined you could.

Ves sits on the edge of the bed in front of you and undoes his pants. “That’s so naughty, babe. You like watching your little videos, huh? Imagining that’s us?” He tsks and chuckles softly as he watches your mouth drop open and your eyes soften a little. “What’s the matter,” he teases. He drags his hand up the underside of his cock, letting your eyes trail from his heavy balls up to where his fingers now delicately rub at his leaking head.

“I’ve never…” you steel your nerves and come closer. You gingerly put out your hand touch Vessel’s cock. The warmth and weight of it in your fist causes a thick heat to spread from your pussy up to your stomach. This was so totally different from feeling him up over his pants. “This…this is so fucking cool.” As your hand moves up you take in Vessel’s reaction.

“Oh…sweetheart…” he bites his lip and grins as you stroke him. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You’re so lost in this new experience that you just want to experiment and see what you can do. Vessel is like a new, perfect toy.

[issues4him]

surprising rafe as his pilot on his flight!

rafe x pilot!reader

a/n: sorry if yall aren’t into this, but i’m a pilot so obviously i need to incorporate rafe into my aviation life right lol

cw : fluff! airplanes & aviation terms, one use of yn

rafe sighed against the wall, absolutely NOT wanting to be at the airport right now. his plane was delayed by an hour—“maintenance issues” or some shit. he was currently sitting inside norfolk international airport, stuck in the middle of the terminal waiting on the motherfucker 10 spots in front of him to just shove his luggage into the upper head bin.

rafe absolutely hated airports. he hated how busy they all were. he hated being in the midst of how dumb people could be. he hated the crammed seats and having to get stuck next to a big, smelly old guy. and yeah—he was a nervous flyer. he had no idea how you did it. he’d never admit it, but it was honestly intimidating to him.

“fuckin’ hell.” he grumbled, rubbing his face with his hand in frustration. finally, the line starts moving once again. rafe places his hand on the outside of the airbus a320, feelings it’s cold metal against his fingertips. it was his own superstition he had—the reason he always landed safely was because he touched the plane before he entered.

rafe made his way down the aisle, giving the prior motherfucker a glare as he sat down in C3. he fumbled with his things, shoving his carry-on bag underneath the seat in front of him. rafe was so pissed off he felt like he could kill everyone within a 1 mile radius.

he was on his way to houston, texas, to meet ward and rose for a ‘vacation’. of course, he didn’t want to travel with them, as that would’ve set him off for real.

“excuse me, i think you’re in my seat.” a deep voice was heard beside him. he turned his head, eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“nah. ‘m not.” he said sharply to the middle aged man standing in the aisle. the mans eyes widened in shock at rafe’s bluntness.

the older, brunette flight attendant came over to the both of them, an annoyingly fake smile on her face. “excuse me, are you rafe cameron?”

he looked up at her, honestly not prepared for the definite stress she was going to throw at him. “uhuh.” he mumbled.

“we’re going to be moving your seat up to first class.” she explained, waiting for him to grab his things and get out of the tiny seat he could barely fit in.

confused, but certainly not mad about it, rafe obliges and stands up out of his seat. he follows the flight attendant up to the first class area, mumbling a ‘thank you’ as she pointed to his new spot. sitting in the wide, squishy chair, rafe couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. this whole day was stressing him out, and knowing that they were going to be airborne soon was enough to make his forehead bead with sweat and stomach turn in knots.

he laid his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes, trying to find some sort of comfort.

“good evening ladies & gentlemen,” a female voice was heard through the airplanes speakers. rafe’s eyes shot open at the instant recognition of his girlfriend’s sweet voice. he looked up at the front of the fuselage, his heart nearly stopping as he saw you standing there in your white button down and black slacks, smiling back at him.

“my name is yn and i’ll your first officer today on our flight to houston. our flight should be just under four hours, approximately 3 hours and 47 minutes. the weathers looking sunny and a high of 79 degrees down in houston,” rafe smiled up at you in adoration as he listened to you speak into the black phone on the wall.

near the end of your routine speech you smiled back at rafe, “also, if you’re a nervous flyer, don’t worry. my boyfriend is on this flight so consider him your lucky charm.” the passengers chuckled, a few noticing the way you were smiling at rafe.

with a thank you, you set the phone back on the hook. you walked down the aisle to rafe, giggling when you see the huge grin on his face.

“what the hell i had no idea you were even working today…” rafe exasperated, still in shock. he grabbed your hip, pulling you down into a hug.

“i wanted to surprise you, silly,” your laugh was muffled into his shoulder. you pulled away and planted a kiss on his lips. “wish we could talk more, but i really need to get back to work. gotta keep my baby safe.” you pinched his cheeks playfully, and walked back inside the cockpit, sealing the door shut.

rafe’s smile still hadn’t faded by the time you were lined up on the runway and the engines began roaring. rafe had honestly never felt more safe in his life. the person he trusted the most was the pilot flying his plane. he relaxed into his seat, thinking to himself,

‘maybe i don’t need that xanax in my bag after all.’

[merakiui]

HALLOWEENIE. [3]

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 one and part two.

Fellow saves everyone from the nail-biting tension by not scheduling you and Skully together, which takes the duo out of his prized Dynamic Duo. Now you’re just a disaster. Skully doesn’t fade into obscurity, though. Rather, he’s ever-present in your thoughts. You think about him when you drag yourself down the halls at school, occasionally sticking your head into the drama club or the music room in hopes of spotting him. You’re not sure why. You’ve never had anything to do with either of those spaces, but now you’re haunting them like a pesky poltergeist in search of something just out of your grasp.

That’s what it feels like to have this cavern open up between you and him. As if you’re confined to separate worlds. You dwell in the realm of the dead and Skully exists in flesh. It’s impossible to cross paths like this.

No one seems to know of him either, which makes him seem more cryptid than he actually is. When you interrupt a drama club meeting with, “Which one of you nerds knows Skully J. Graves?” they blink owlishly at you.

You’re beginning to think he really is the ghost and you’re actually the living person.

You’ve considered visiting him during one of his shifts, but then you’d be no better than Salad Fingers.

This is so lame. Why do I care so much? I shouldn’t, you think, scrolling on your phone while Rollo does inventory for Fellow. You search for Skully’s number before remembering you never exchanged contact information.

“Your moping is bringing sales down.” Fellow raps his cane against the linoleum to get your attention.

“I’d argue it’s bringing in more business. Not often the customers get to see me without my usual swag.”

“That’s what she’s calling it?” Rollo mutters from behind his clipboard.

“Miss (Name), it pains me to see you in such a tizzy. Skully hasn’t been any better, I assure you.”

You perk up at the mention of him. “What does he say? Does he talk about me? Does he hate me? Should I disappear forever and never return to this town?”

“Whoa, whoa! Where is this coming from? Honestly, the youth are so complicated nowadays.” It’s a whack from Gidel’s hammer that sets Fellow straight. “Ahem! Right. What I meant to say was that it’s obvious this situation is causing a fair bit of trouble for both of you. These conditions limit your ability to work as you normally would. As your boss, I should only intervene when it’s truly detrimental, but as someone with a brain I think we’d all benefit from a quick solution to this mess.”

“Believe me—if I could wave my magic wand and fix this, I would. But we can’t just kiss and make up. I hurt his feelings.” You run your finger over your phone and catch your shattered expression in the cracked screen. “No amount of apologizing can undo that.”

“You ought to know he asks after you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“It’s true,” Rollo adds. “Incessantly.”

“Why?” When all three of them look at you like it couldn’t be more obvious, you throw your arms up. “No one answer that. I’ll take you out back and curb you if you do.”

“I won’t speak on Skully’s behalf, but I believe it’s rational to assume he would never want you to disappear.”

“And he certainly wouldn’t hate you. Goodness, I don’t think that boy has the heart to harbor hate.”

“No, he does. He definitely does,” comes your and Rollo’s swift correction.

Gidel opens to a page in his notebook, where he’s doodled you and Skully holding hands in a heart. It reminds you of the flower wreath, which still resides on your desk even though the flowers are beginning to curl up and wilt.

You groan and slump in your chair, arms hanging limply at your sides. “Halloween’s in two weeks! If I can’t find some way to make it up to him, he’s gonna spend his favorite holiday sad and miserable.”

“Heartbreak isn’t something you can simply mend with goodwill. It’s a process. You heal over time.” Melancholy descends on Rollo’s face. You get the feeling he’s weathered the woes of a broken heart before. If anyone understands loss, it’s Rollo Flamme.

He loves me and I crushed him.

“You don’t think I gave him false hope, do you?”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Even though it was as clear as glass to anyone looking in,” Fellow murmurs, and you choose to ignore that. “Well, what’s done is done. Cliché as it sounds, you can only move forward from here.”

You lift yourself off the chair and stretch. “I’ll grab the broom and get to sweeping.”

“Don’t bother. We won’t do all of that tonight.”

“Ooh, looks like someone was bitten by the bug of benevolence. How sweet.”

Fellow chuckles and collects the completed inventory from Rollo. “You’re free to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. And, Miss (Name), try to get some sleep.”

Immediately, you open the camera on your phone to check for any noticeable signs of sleep deprivation. Finding none, you scowl at Fellow.

“Not funny. I actually thought you were being serious.”

“But you checked.”

“That she did,” Rollo notes with a small grin.

“Because you—ugh. You could’ve just said my shoes are untied.” You click past the both of them in your Mary Jane pumps. “What does it matter if I’m losing sleep?”

“Are you?” 

“I’m not. Shut up.”

You’ll bury yourself alongside the worms and maggots before you confide in them about your recent sleepless nights, each one punctuated with a replay of your fight with Skully and all the ways it could’ve gone differently had you just been honest.

There are two sides to your honesty: the lies that can pass as the truth and the actual truth—the truth you were keen to shelve ever since it cropped up.

The truth that feels a little like the onset of…

You won’t dwell on it or the profound consequence it has on tonight’s dreams.

You’d praise the convenience that is small town logic if it applied to Skully. In this foothill town enshrouded in trees and mountain peaks, everyone knows everyone. Students only have one choice for university, and it’s a dinosaur-aged institution that’s probably seen every era and more with countless graduating classes having been fostered in its brick walls. If you’re searching for someone, you shouldn’t have to look very far. Inevitably, you’ll stumble upon someone who knows someone who knows someone who can get you into contact with that person. Everyone’s stapled into the paper chain here.

Everyone except Skully, apparently. 

It continues to baffle you that no one—not even any of the students in his classes or club—knows of his existence.

“Skully J. Graves,” you stress to the head of the drama club, who stares absently in reply. “He’s literally in your club. White hair, glasses, tall, kinda nerdy but overall really sweet. Does any of that ring a bell?”

When you’re met with silence from him and the rest of the club, you smack your hand against your face and groan. “Jack Skellington.”

A murmur of collective consideration sweeps through the group.

“You mean that weird guy who keeps to himself?” a girl pipes up.

You give her a censorious look. “You’re gonna hafta be more specific, girlfriend. You’re naming, like, a decent chunk of the school’s population.” 

“Always has his face in his books,” another offers. “Not really friendly, that one. Definitely on the quiet side.”

“And he’s usually scribbling stuff in a journal during club meetings, right?” a third student asks.

“Yes!” You clap. “That’s my guy!”

“Ohh, you’re talking about Halloweenie,” the head of the drama club says, snapping his  fingers once the descriptions finally click.

Halloweenie?

You’ve known Skully to go by all kinds of nicknames at the shop: Skulls, Skeleton, my boy, and (from snotty Salad Fingers), Prince of Darkness. This one, however, is brand-new. You don’t need a thesaurus to get the general gist of the meaning behind that self-explanatory name.

“What do you want with him?”

Apple-red lips curl up into an impish grin, and you lift your finger in shush. “It’s a secret.”

“Well, good luck finding him,” he says with a snort. “Halloweenie’s practically a ghost when he isn’t working on props for the shows. He could be anywhere on campus.”

The rest of the club confirm this with mechanical nods. It’s so synced it’s almost like they’re a group of mind-controlled marionettes.

I can’t believe none of these losers know where Skulls is.

You remember browsing the drama club’s website with Rollo. Skully was noted as an ordinary stagehand there. Once more, it seems like fate is having a grand time keeping the two of you apart. Maybe it’s better that way. Maybe you don’t deserve a friend like Skully.

Before you can sink into self-deprecation, you whirl towards the door. 

“You come by looking for Halloweenie a lot, y’know,” a member accuses, arms folded like some hard-boiled detective. “You into him?”

What the fuck? Why is everyone assuming that?

“Nooo—oh, hey! What’s this?” You point to the poster pasted on the door. The words Drama Club Presents: A Thrilling Tale of Treacherous Love and Music! are printed in fancy font above an infamous mask. “Is this what you’re putting on for this year?”

“For Christmas, yes. It was either that or an actual Christmas play. Like ‘A Christmas Carol’ or something equally festive. Majority wanted the charming and dangerous Opera Ghost.”

“Good taste. So where can I audition?”

“Can you sing?”

“In the shower.”

“Can you act?”

“What is life if not the stage we play on?” you counter, stealing a philosophical page from your boss’s book of esoteric wisdom.

The head of the drama club isn’t impressed. To be honest, you’re not either. An actor’s life is not for you.

“Why? No offense, (Name), but you’ve never been interested in us or the work we do. You’ve gotta have passion and soul to put yourself on that stage—something you so clearly lack. If you’re only doing it for Halloweenie—”

“That stings, Prez. And here I was ready to dazzle my way to stardom.”

“Sure.” He rolls his eyes. “If you have no other business with us, have a good day.”

Are all the presidents in this school hard-asses?

Sensing your presence is no longer welcome, you wink and take your leave.

Now left to aimlessly wander the halls, you think back on Skully’s lamentations from before: I was all alone before you moved here—nothing more than a quiet, transparent existence.

You know what that’s like because that’s exactly how you lived when you were growing up. There is no trick to surviving the devils of childhood. You just have to hope that if you’re silent enough they’ll leave you alone. Because hiding beneath the covers only works when they’re figments of your imagination. When they’re very real and oh-so-tangible, they can dismantle the seemingly impenetrable blanket fortress you put so much faith in.

If you lived as a ghost back there, then this dreary town was your resurrection.

Perhaps she, sitting solitary on her throne, is lonely just like me.

Skully was right. As it happens there is no truth in being accessible to everyone in your infamously obnoxious, effervescent way. You’ve built yourself up on flowery lies—a faux Spider Queen who isn’t so venomous as she’d like everything to believe. The (Name) who smiles and flirts, who holds every bed partner at arm’s length because she’s too scared to let them into her embrace, is a phony.

The Spider Queen is scared of loving and being loved.

That’s why she strings everyone up in her web, never letting them know what hides beyond gossamer strands woven so meticulously thick.

Because once they start to disassemble her messy masterpiece they’ll see its flaws and insecurities woven into unmistakable patterns.

Get it together, (Name). No way were you about to throw yourself into a school play all for some guy! Be more swag and less dramatic.

But just as you admonish yourself with that, a discordant note rings out. You failed to realize you were traversing random halls until now, where you find yourself in a desolate corner of the building, just outside the music room. Shaken from your self-doubt, you peek into the room out of plain curiosity…and immediately come to regret it when you spot a familiar head of white hair.

His back is turned to you, head bowed, and he plays according to the sheet music propped in front of him. You linger in the doorway to listen and it hits you then—what he’s playing.

A piano rendition of “The Music of The Night.”

Transfixed, you allow yourself to creep in closer. The soft, soulful melody lulls you into a state of serenity. Watching him and his fingers waltz along the keys, you can’t help but feel like you’ve missed your chance. What that chance might’ve been, you don’t have the guts to name.

Just when he’s about to reach the chorus, he misses a chord and the entire piece falls apart.

“Consarn it!” He slams his hands down on the keys.

You wince at the strident smash that echoes through the room, but nothing is more jarring than his language. You’ve never heard Skully, the quintessence of chivalry, curse so openly, even if it’s very 1800s. But after your argument with him, you’ve acquainted yourself with his temper and all that boils within it.

“It needs to sound just like the song.” The sound of shuffling sheet music follows. “If I can’t get past this chord…” He sighs and taps a few keys in random succession. “My dear will never be impressed with my lousy performance.”

Your heart flips over in your chest, knots itself like Ouroboros, and then collapses into your stomach. Any confidence you had in approaching Skully vanishes in a blip. Of course he’s still into you. Why wouldn’t he be? Rejection and a few weeks of separation aren’t going to undo years of infatuation. Silently cursing the world, you press the heels of your palms into your eyes, realize you’ve just ruined your eyeliner, and drag them away with an aggravated breath.

“Is someone there?”

Skully turns on the bench right as you stumble out of sight. Your sneakers squeak on the tiles as you make your escape, darting around a corridor just in time to avoid the confrontation. That’s all you’re good at. Salad Fingers’s criticisms play in loops. You hasten your steps. Running away.

Rollo’s slender fingers work deftly to lace up your corset. In the background, faintly pouring in from the kitchenette, Halloween music plays. 

“Tighter,” you hiss at him, bracing yourself on the edge of your vanity desk, hips jutted out and ass raised high. “Make it so I can’t breathe—like I’m getting disrespectfully choked by the latex. None of that ‘Love Me Tender’ shit. I need to be fighting for my life in this fit.”

“This is foolish. You should prioritize your comfort over…whatever this is.”

“Aww. You really are an angel, looking out for me and my lungs.”

In retaliation he yanks on the ribbons and the corset cinches around your ribs, effectively stealing your breath. You crumple against the desk with a wheeze.

“Is that tight enough for Her Majesty?” he asks, smirking at you in the mirror. 

“P-Perfect…” You raise a weak thumbs-up. “Thanks, Uriel.”

Rollo rolls his eyes. He looks every bit the modest angel in pure-white robes with accompanying gold accents. The look is finished off with feathery wings, a halo headband, and a pair of open-toed sandals. He adjusts one of the aureate cuffs around his wrist and scrutinizes his reflection in the cheap material. Conversely, you’re dressed as a sexy succubus, all red, tight-fitting, skimpy latex and matching thigh-high stockings. The costume came with horn hair clips, an attachable tail, and a pitchfork. It was your creative idea to accessorize with a black choker, sheer, lacy gloves, and suede knee-high heeled boots. You even got your nails done for the occasion, and they drip in grisly patterns of blood splatter.

“It’s missing something.” You pull Rollo against your hip so he can see what you’re attempting to visualize.

“Your makeup looks fine, (Name).”

“Not that.” Your blunt-toothed, smiling reflection peers back at you. “Oh, I know!” 

You rifle through your makeup box to find them: the packaged fangs you swiped from Fellow’s store just the other day. Your boss graciously gave you and Rollo the day off after it became clear he wasn’t very willing to shell out holiday pay. Knowing your erudite roommate, he would’ve debated Fellow into his grave until he budged. Day off or holiday pay? It would’ve been his losing battle no matter which side of the argument he fell on. 

Gleefully, like a cannibal ripping into a corpse, you tear open the plastic and fit the fangs on over your teeth. 

“What do you think?” you ask, flashing a wicked grin at Rollo. 

“Appropriately hellish. Anymore and the Devil might come up here to give you his regards.”

“Aren’t I just the luckiest girl?” You giggle and nudge him. “You’re not half bad yourself, Bible Study.”

“High praise coming from Satan’s Sweetheart.”

“The Devil wears imitation Prada.”

“‘By all means,’” he quotes, draping a fuzzy jacket over your shoulders, “‘move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me.’”

With a snicker you follow him out the door, playfully poking at his back with the pronged pitchfork to hurry him along. He swipes the car keys on his way.

Paper lanterns and strands of amber-hued lights are strung up on low-hanging branches. In the very center, hollowed out into the ground and circled with sizable stones, is a bonfire pit. The flames lick towards the stars, wavering in time with the bass thumping through the trees. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the swaying silhouettes were monstrous fiends gathered for Halloween night.

Having left your jacket in the car, you’re quick to pull Rollo towards the refreshments. You’re desperate to warm yourself with a few drinks before you make your way towards the fire and the throng of bodies. Rollo, while not the partying type, is very particular with his preferences, so you don’t expect him to jump at the sight of beer. It does, however, startle you when he slides the cloth covering away from the basket draped on his arm to reveal a bottle of sacramental altar wine.

Sometimes you forget your roommate can be cool.

“You’re the best.” You pull him against your side in another hug. He doesn’t fight it. The yellow-orange glow casts shadows on his face, obscuring his pleased smirk. “I cherish you, you know that?”

“Yes, well, I can’t allow you to indulge in this party slop.”

“Amen!”

You squeeze him once before releasing him from your constriction to grab two cheap chalices. After checking to make sure they’re clean and haven’t been tampered with, you stride over to Rollo. You notice he’s eyeing the pit warily, his haunted expression looking much more cadaverous in the firelight. Gently, you shake his shoulder and step in front to intersect his view of the fire.

“Hey, you okay?”

Rollo shakes himself out of his head and loosens his grip on the bottle. “Yes… Yes, I’m fine.”

You want to trust him, so you hold out the cups. “Wanna say our prayers and indulge in the Body of Christ?”

He taps your head with his fist, features drawn in a humorless lour. “Bread is the body. Wine is the blood.”

“My bad, Father.” You pout at him. “Forgive me for my sins and transgressions and everything else. I’m just sooo unholy.”

He spends a quiet moment staring at you—long enough that it has a smile spreading on his lips. He breathes a soft laugh. “What a peculiar choice of words for a demon.”

“Even more peculiar for an angel to be drinking on the job.”

“I suppose that makes us even.” He unscrews the cap and pours a generous amount in both cups. You watch the scarlet liquid slosh within. Capping the bottle, he tucks it away in the basket and takes the cup from you. “Merci.”

“A happy Halloween to us.” You raise your cup and his bumps against yours in toast. “Are you ready to be dead on your feet for tomorrow’s shift?”

“Only undead,” he replies, following you to a fallen tree. “I’m driving, so I mustn’t become too much of a zombie.”

“Who cares about coherency? Live it up tonight! We can sleep in the car. I’ve got pillows and blankets in there.”

“Mhm,” he hums around the plastic rim.

You plop down on the tree trunk and take a gulp, smacking your lips in approval. “If it’s cold, we can just cuddle.” You bump shoulders with him.

“I’ll pass. The last thing I need to earn is more of Skully’s frosty envy. I’d like for my plants to survive winter, if possible.”

“Ugh, right.” Your gaze drifts to your pitchfork propped against the tree. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I mean, I almost joined the school play for him. That’s bonkers even by my standards.”

“As if the club would allow that.”

“They hate me for my potential.” You click your tongue. “How can I make this…not worse? Because it feels like all I’ve been doing is making it significantly worse.”

“You should have a proper conversation. One that isn’t senseless screaming.”

“He was inside me, Rollo. How the hell am I going to have a ‘proper conversation’ when that’s our history?”

He peers into his chalice, contemplation burning behind his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to lay with him. ‘Disprove his alleged crush,’ she said and then proceeded to do the exact opposite.”

“I mean, I don’t want him to think I hate him or that he has to avoid me. That’s not it. And I wasn’t trying to sound so cruel that day. Stuff just slipped out unchecked and he wasn’t listening. It’s not like we can go back to being friends with this whole cloud of unrequited romance hanging over our heads.” Sighing, you draw circles into the leaf-strewn ground with the tip of your boot. “I wish things weren’t so complicated. It’d be easier if he was terrible through and through, but he’s not.”

“What makes it so complicated?”

“His feelings.”

“Are you sure that’s all?”

You narrow your eyes at him, perplexed. “Why? Is there supposed to be something else?”

“What about yourself?”

You chug the rest of the wine in your cup. It burns the back of your throat and straightens out your thoughts. Not so much your heart, though. Rollo takes his time pouring to give you a moment. He even offers you half of a baguette from the depths of his basket, which draws a snort from you.

“What? You can’t drink on an empty stomach. Last time you did that, you sullied the car with your vomit. It took days to clean and freshen up the interior.”

“At least it was pink! That’s much prettier than non-pink barf.” You shake your head, unwilling to argue old news. “Thanks for your concern, Little Red Riding Rollo, but I’m not hungry.”

“I’ve brought an assortment of jams and cheese.”

“Oh, my gosh,” you say around a high cackle. Rollo doesn’t see the humor in any of this, but he still manages a pinched smile. “You’re amazing. The best roomie I’ve ever had.”

“I try.”

“Okay, Father, I yield. Break the bread and let’s give thanks.”

Between sips of altar wine, you and Rollo munch on pieces of baguette spread and topped with strawberry jam and nettle cheese. 

“Why me?” you ask around a mouthful of bread. “I know Skulls isn’t sociable at school—drama club told me all about the unlikable Halloweenie—but I’m sure there are better candidates for him to crush on. I’m a mess. I can’t garden or look after houseplants like you do. I can’t do any of that cute shit girls do on their socials—like live aesthetically or be effortlessly adorable. I don’t think I’m Skulls’s type.”

“Hmm.”

“He said I’m the only one who’s ever understood him, but isn’t that what friends do? You and I understand each other and we’re friends.”

“Somehow that’s different.”

“How? What makes it different?”

Rollo shrugs. He looks like a mouse as he nibbles at his bread and cheese. “Perhaps it’s because my relationship with you is nothing like the one you have with Skully.”

You scowl at the crowd of dancing, costumed partygoers. It’s only different because of love and sex.

“Putting that aside, what makes you think you’re not his type? Have you ever considered what his type might be?”

You hadn’t given it much thought. Skully has never mentioned love and its variations at work. That’s your job—to complain about and commend all of your flings and situationships whenever it’s necessary. To flirt with customers who look wealthy, attractive, or like they’d be good in bed. To aim for a phone number or an exchange of socials when they’re funny, sweet, or just annoying enough to seem charming. Your list of past lovers is as long as a photo spread in a wallet.

“If we consider his poetry,” Rollo says, as if pushing you towards a cliff you don’t want to jump from, “his preferences aren’t so elusive.”

Even though there’s no reason for it, you feel an unusual warmth climbing up to settle under your cheeks. You hurry to tilt your cup back, putting your mouth on the same lipstick stain from earlier.

“So what sort of type is the Spider Queen?”

“She’s meant to be you, is she not?”

But you’re not sure what he sees in you—in the Spider Queen. You annoyed him during the first real conversation you had, back when he was just fifteen and you were an angsty eighteen-year-old trying to look like she hadn’t just gotten disowned by her family. What changed in the four years since then? You remember he absolutely hated the Halloween party and spent the entire time scribbling in a journal. You wouldn’t be surprised if the entry about his first impression of you was written that very night. He has every right to despise you for your rowdy spirit. What he sees in you, you clearly can’t see in yourself. Maybe you’d feel less guilty about the situation if he hated your guts, but that’s not the case.

“I don’t know!” You groan. “Maybe he’s in love with the character he’s created and not me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Do you have candy in there? I need something that’ll mess me up and make me forget all about this.”

I need to stop running away and face reality.

“I’m certain the alcohol will do the trick.”

And it is. You haven’t kept count of how many chalice-sized drinks you’ve had, and at some point you’ve even swiped the bottle from Rollo’s basket. 

“Shall we address the facts?” he tries again, and you’re tempted to listen because he’s logical enough to sort through the emotions. “Skully is in love with you, a truth too blinding for you to notice, but we were all wearing sunglasses.” You smack him for that and he clears his throat. “Right. The two of you went on a ‘date’ and it ended in bed. You’ve told him you don’t love him. Really, (Name), if your feelings don’t match his, I see no other reason to stump yourself.”

And isn’t that the truth?

But there’s a niggling sense of something more that you can’t confront. You push it down to make room for the wine.

“I need a cigarette.”

“From one vice to the next. Very clever.”

Your acrylics tap anxious pitter-patters against the glass bottle. A distraction would suffice—anything to take your mind off of Skully. If you could saunter into the crowd and fall into the arms of a temporary thrill, you would. It’s what you plan to do as your eyes survey the crowd, cherry-picking faces from the firelight. And then, just past the flickering flames and undulating ghouls, you see him.

“Erik!”

You stand up so quickly that you lurch forward. The bottle almost slips from your grasp. Rollo catches your arm before you can fall.

“What?” Rollo blinks up at you in bewilderment. “(Name), sit down. You’re drunk.”

“Piss off. I know what I saw. Someone’s come as the Phantom.” You throw your head back to suck down the rest of the wine. “And it takes more than that to get me tipsy.”

“Congratulations. How’s the liver?”

“Ha-ha-ha,” you snap, sarcastic. “Unlike you, I’m about to tongue it with the Phantom. Not many can say they did that on Halloween night. Be back soon!”

“No one else is trying to accomplish that!” he calls after you, but you only catch part of it as you beeline for the fray.

Pitchfork in hand, you weave around kissing couples and clusters of friends. You have your sights set on the mysterious Phantom, his back turned to you. You call out to him: “Hey, you!” but your voice is lost in the deafening beats and the ecstatic, tipsy whoops from the partygoers.

“Excuse me! Pardon,” you hiss, pushing past a witch and a knight. “Move.”

You’re nearly there. But then someone knocks into you, and you stumble into another person. He catches you with a whistle, his palms strangely slimy.

“Hey there, little lady. Looks like it’s my lucky night. You sure you’re not actually an angel in disguise?”

You scrunch your face, looking past him. The Phantom is gone. “Fuck!”

“At least introduce yourself.” He laughs and spit speckles your cheek. “Then we can get there, yeah?”

“You want an introduction?” You slam your heel on his foot and are quite pleased when he draws back with a curse. “How’s that for angelic? Happy Halloween, asshole.”

Equipped with a mission, you disappear into the darkness. Stapled to your feet, your shadow stretches into the trees behind you. In hopes of locating the familiar mask or cape, you whirl to and fro. It seems like you’ll never find them, and for a second you wonder if they’re a hallucination birthed from your tumultuous feelings. Of course you’d be imagining the Phantom after that day in the bookstore with Skully. It’s like he’s everyone you look. How could he not be? Halloween is his day.

You hope he’s happy, even if it’s only for tonight.

This is a waste of time. I’m going back.

You pivot on your heel…and there he is. The Phantom of the Opera, hunched over between the trees, his gloved fingers splayed against the rough bark. The exact opposite of graceful and mystifying. More of a mess than a graceful, gothic beauty. Your mouth drops open, and then you cringe when you hear a not-so-musical retch.

Oh.

He’s sick.

“Uh, hi…” You inch closer. “I recognized your costume. You’re supposed to be Erik, right? The Phantom. You know—that guy from the opera?”

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and turns to look at you, woozy and mechanical. Your heart rushes into a gallop when those infamous orange eyes fall upon you. Even with the mask hiding half of his face, you know it’s him. You think he’s worked out your identity as well because he straightens to his full height on unsteady feet, as if he’s been slapped sober. The only indication he’s inebriated is the way he sways like a spinning top on the verge of falling over. 

“Skulls—”

“(Name)—”

“Ah, um. My apologies. You should go first.”

“No, it’s nothing.” You wring your hands around the length of the pitchfork. “Um. You… You came.”

“I was looking for you.” He gestures to the crumpled can at his feet, sheepish. “Found that instead.”

“Why?”

Skully twists the hem of his cloak in his fists. “I wanted to wish you a happy Halloween and show you my costume.”

His costume? You remember he told you and Rollo he was going to dress up as something scary, and while the Phantom is technically a fearsome villain… It’s not the first thing you’d think Skully would go for. Did he dress up for my sake? What if he had another costume planned but changed his mind after—stop that. Don’t go down that rabbit hole.

“But you hate parties.” You poke at the can with your pitchfork. “And you don’t drink.”

His eyes glaze over. You watch his lip tremble. “I’m sorry. I… I thought that if I… If I could just—” He inhales a rattling breath. “If I was more like you—like Mr. Rollo or any of your partners—you might… Y-You might want to—” He breaks off from that sentence with a choked cry and sinks to his knees.

“Skulls…” Lowering to his height, you reach out for him, hesitate for a strained breath, and then gingerly peel the mask away to reveal his teary, snotty face. 

“I’m so s-sorry,” he continues, his voice breaking more and more. “I yelled at you. I wouldn’t listen. I pushed you into a corner and provoked you, and that wasn’t right. I was no better than Salad Fingers.” He places his palms on the ground to steady himself. A sob shudders through his body. Salty globs pool along his lash line and slide down to his chin, landing in steady drops on the leaves below. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair, not fair, not fair! All of those undeserving people who get to behold you! Those… Those foolish, idiotic bastards—none of them are worthy of you. I don’t understand. They never see you. They’re so attached to flimsy, vapid pleasure that they don’t even cherish you properly. Why?”

You manage to find your voice then. “I don’t care about them. I mean, I did. I always care. Just not like…that.”

“So then why? Why do you let them—why won’t you let me—”

Love you?

“Skully, you’re drunk.” Hardening your heart, you stagger to your feet. “Now’s not the time for this.”

Running away again. Typical, Salad Fingers jeers. She’ll eat your heart if you aren’t careful. Save yourself while you can.

You swat his influence away.

A twig snaps behind you. You almost don’t hear it over Skully’s sniveling.

“Do you know how many fools have been pointing me to ‘Grandmother’s House’ whenever I ask after you?” comes Rollo’s voice, every accented syllable threaded through with annoyance. “I’m sick of this asinine nonsense. It’s not even funny. I’m very clearly an angel, and yet everyone thinks I’m on my way to see—oh, Skully’s here. Ahem. Pardon me.”

“It’s just not fair,” he’s mumbling to himself, over and over, like a broken record. He doesn’t even acknowledge Rollo’s arrival or greeting. “Not fair, not fair, not fair.”

“Is he…all right?”

“Does that look ‘all right’ to you, brainiac?” You knock Rollo upside the head with your plastic pitchfork, and he rounds on you with an indignant glare.

“You tell me! I only just found you.” Rollo can’t hide behind his handkerchief, so his frustration is on full display. It twists his features into something loathsome.

“He’s drunk.”

“Clearly.” Sighing, Rollo stoops over him. “Skully, can you hear me? How did you get here?”

He pans his bleary gaze over to him and sniffs. “What’re you supposed to be?”

“God’s little lamb.”

“That’s not terrifying at all.”

“It is if you carry the guilt.” He takes a harsh elbow to the ribs for that, one he begrudgingly accepts with a scoff. “You should go home, Skully.”

“Did someone bring you here?” you ask, peering into his face. It’s hard to imagine him willingly coming with a friend or classmate.

Actually, it’s hard to imagine he came here at all.

He lifts an unsteady arm and gestures in a general direction. “Bicycle,” he says.

A silent debate mushrooms between you Rollo, wedged in the space where your eyes meet.

“He’s a liability,” you whisper after pulling him aside.

“A liability to your love life, maybe, but we can’t just leave him here.”

“I wasn’t saying we should! I just don’t think it’s gonna help if he comes home with us. He’s not thinking straight. And last time he was there…”

“So we drop him off at home and his parents can handle it. I know the way.”

“They’ll kill us. Are you looking to be lectured tonight?”

“He’s nineteen.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s their baby—all two-hundred-something centimeters of him—and he’s drunk off his ass on Halloween night.”

“He risked a scolding all for you, didn’t he?”

“He…” You groan, unsure of what to say. “I’ve never met a guy like him. He’s in another league of his own.”

“And I don’t suppose he’s ever met a girl quite like you.” Smiling, Rollo cocks his head playfully. “You’re meant to be.”

“I’m meant to punch you in the mouth if you keep talking stupid. Just—ugh, fine, whatever! You carry him back to the car. I’ll get his bike. He can crash with us tonight. A slumbie is safer than getting him and ourselves in trouble with his parents.”

“So the demon’s secretly a good girl.”

“All that altar wine’s going to your head and making you cheeky, ‘God’s little lamb’. I guess you do care for your friends after all.”

Index pressed to his lips, he hushes you. It takes a few minutes of coaxing and “Lift your head, Skully. How else are you going to look up to Jack Skellington?” before Rollo manages to get him to his feet. He’s all gangly limbs as he drapes himself over your roommate, clinging like mildew to a damp corner. Grunting with the effort, Rollo hoists his arm over his shoulders and Skully flops against him like a worm.

Before the two of them begin the hobble to the car, Rollo asks, “Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’m the Devil. There’s nothing I can’t do!” You wave your pitchfork around and flash a fanged smirk. “They don’t call me God’s strongest soldier for nothing.”

“Uh-huh. Well, be safe. If you’re not at the car in the next five minutes…”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll exorcise me on the spot. I hear ya.”

Rollo turns away then. “Could you be any more boneless, Skully?”

“Why, of course I can! Does this help?”

“Wha—hey! Don’t go limp! Stand up straight!”

After locating his bike and wheeling it through the woods to the car, where you and Rollo work together to load it in the back, you both head for the driver’s side.

“I’m driving.”

“No, you’re not. I am.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you merrily sipping your little God juice like a sailor.”

“You had more than me, and it’s not ‘God juice’. It’s sacramental altar wine, sourced from the finest—”

“Blah, blah, blah. My name is Rollo Flamme and I—”

“My wonderful, spectacular, amazing…deeeaaarss,” comes Skully’s slurred voice. He pokes his head out from the back, half-leaning out the open door. “I can drive.”

Rollo stares blankly at the very inebriated Skully.

“Yeah, go on, Rollo. Let the Phantom drive. I trust him with my life.” You stick your arm out and present him with a cheerful thumbs-up.

“Skully, sit back down. And don’t even think of getting sick in the car.”

“Yes, sir.” You hear the click of a buckle and then, miraculously, he passes out.

“Walk a straight line and I’ll let you drive.”

“I got this. Watch.”

You shove your pitchfork at his chest and, looking to make sure he’s observing, walk along the strip that divides the road from the forest. It doesn’t feel like you’re doing it right, your feet blurring and crossing over each other clumsily, but somehow you think it must look straight to Rollo. Once you’re thirty paces from the car, you whip around to hear the verdict.

“Well? Straighter than straight, yeah?”

“About as straight as a rainbow. Now get in.” He opens the passenger side for you and tosses the pitchfork in the back next to a snoring Skully.

Wordlessly, you perform your staggering walk of shame back to the car. The drive home is punctuated by the sophisticated notes of Indila’s Mini World album. The song’s instrumental—the one where you can only parse the lyrics love story—reminds you of a music box. You sink into the worn polyester seat and paint yourself as a princess in a grand, glittering palace. Waiting for you in the gardens, haunting your head like your very own gothic ghost, is the too-tall, dorky Phantom of the Opera.

Maybe it’s the alcohol—it’s definitely more than just the alcohol—but you feel warm thinking about him. So warm you forget you’re not wearing your jacket.

Fuck. This altar wine is really hitting. How are they not partying during every sermon? Oh, wait, they only drink a pinky’s worth. Laaaame.

“I think, if I were to murder someone, I’d get your help getting rid of the body.”

“Please don’t,” Rollo mutters, awkwardly lifting Skully out of the car with your aid.

“Don’t ask for help or…?”

“Don’t make me accomplice to a crime and don’t murder anyone.”

By the time you’ve carried Skully up the stairs to your door, you feel the mawkish beginnings of affection weighing on your shoulders. That, and Skully’s arm.

“Hey, Rollo?”

“Mhm?”

“Thanks.”

“What for?” He fiddles with the keys in the dimness, half-listening.

For being my friend. For never getting tired of me even when I’m nothing but trouble.

“For being my roomie.”

His hand stills. “Don’t be foolish,” he says, clicking his tongue in chastisement. The key twists in the lock. He pushes the door open with his foot, revealing an apartment cloaked in shadow. “You said it yourself. We’re a team. We need to stick together.”

“How else is rent going to be paid?”

He exhales a short, authentic laugh. “That’s the million madol question.”

Skully is deposited on the sofa, snoozing away like it’s the middle of winter and he’s hibernating. After locking the door and flicking on the lights, where you then proceed to hiss like vampires as said lights burn holes into your eyes, you and Rollo roll your stiff shoulders.

“We should stay indoors next Halloween.”

“Agreed. Maybe introverts know what they’re doing. This was exhausting.” Plopping down on a nearby stool, you work to remove your heels. It’s more challenging than it seems, what with alcohol muddling your motor skills. “My feet are killing me.”

Rollo pulls the fridge open and pokes his head inside for mindless inspection. “Hmm. Whose turn is it to buy groceries?” 

“Mine, probably.” You toss your boots across the room and flex your toes. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“We can survive a little longer. At least until the middle of the week.”

You snort. “So are we leaving Skully out here? Should we call his parents?”

“I doubt they’re worried. Not truly.” Rollo shuts the fridge and comes to stand on the other side of the kitchenette peninsula. “It’s a small town with a middling population, and the majority are harmless elders.”

“But what if they think he got murdered?”

“Because someone’s itching to put Halloweenie in his grave. Sure.”

“Okay, fair point.” You glance over your shoulder at Skully, his legs hanging over the end of the armrest. “He’d make for a difficult corpse.”

“If two of us struggled to drag him back here, imagine how much more burdensome he’d be undead.”

“Ooh, a zombie. Something tells me he’d rather be bones than rotting flesh. Just like Jack.”

“Somehow—“ Rollo drums his fingers along the countertop— “I feel it’s poor manners to talk so morbidly of our very alive and well coworker.”

“Mm, probably.” You swivel in your seat. “More importantly, where’s he gonna sleep?”

“I’m keen to leave him here. We’ll dim the lights.”

“Kinda rude to make him sleep on the most uncomfortable couch in the world.”

“It could be worse.” Rollo walks around to the wall opposite of you to lower the switch. The lights lessen in their intensity, from searing to merciful. “Besides, where else is he going to sleep? There isn’t room on my bed.”

“He can sleep in mine,” you say without thinking, and you really aren’t because he looks at you like he can’t believe he’s hearing you right now. “He deserves a comfy bed, at the very least… It’s not gonna mend heartbreak, but it won’t give him stiff joints in the morning.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the floor.”

Rollo raises a dark brow. “The (Name) I know would never sacrifice her comfort for someone else.”

“For flings, fuck no. But he’s a friend.”

“All right,” he concedes. “Let’s get him to your room. He’s staying there, though. I’m not going to move him anywhere else.”

“Roger that, roomie.”

Like before, the both of you lift him from the sofa and, taking care not to disturb his slumber, transport him to your room. He’s lowered onto your unmade bed. You move with absolute precision, undoing the clasp around his neck to pull his cape from his person so it won’t tangle around him in sleep. And then you drag a fluffy quilt over him. His fringe falls over his face in a way that reminds you of Sleeping Beauty…only if she had been pie-eyed and prone to vomiting in the hours before her eternal slumber. He looks less of a prince and more of a pale monster.

Sleeping Liability.

You wince. That sounds a lot like something Fellow would say. You’re too young to start thinking and speaking like your boss.

It’s then when you realize you’ve been staring at him like you’re about to lean in for true love’s kiss.

“Are you going to bed?”

“No, I’ll be up.” Rollo rubs his tired eyes and stifles a yawn.

“Try to get some sleep. I’d say let’s watch a movie, but I don’t think I can stay awake for another hour.”

“Don’t force yourself. We all need the sleep for tomorrow’s shift,” he says, but you suspect he’ll be up late into the night and he’ll wake just as early.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I guarantee Fellow’s gonna be just as sleep-deprived as we are. Gidel probably kept him out as late as he could for trick-or-treating.”

Shaking your head, you begin to pick off pieces of your costume. The detachable tail, the horns, the little fangs. You prop your pitchfork against the vanity desk.

“So we all have valid reasons to complain.”

“I’m always ready to be a hater. No fair we have to go into work after a fun night. Why couldn’t he be nice and give us tomorrow off as well?”

“One can hope.”

“And one does.” You open your closet and retrieve a few spare blankets from within. “Good night, Rollo.”

“Yes. Good night to you as well.”

His footsteps pad down the hall to his room and then you hear him ease the door shut. It’s not even a minute later when your thoughts begin to buzz in your ears. You busy yourself with spreading out the blankets and creating a comfortable place for yourself on the floor, listening to the low hum of a fan in place of soothing music. The fairy lights strung around your bed shine soft light on the snoozing Phantom, who’s curled into your bed like it’s to become the chrysalis that envelops the squishy, vulnerable pupa that is Skully.

You don’t want to think about it. About why he was here tonight and why he came dressed as one of your favorite characters. And the last time he was on your bed was when…

Blotting that memory out, you snuggle into the blankets and rest your head on a sizable plush you’ve swiped from the end of your bed. If you can sleep all of this mess off, you’ll have a better time making sense of it once morning dawns.

That was your plan, but now that you’re in the position for sleep, eyes closed and mind racing, you find yourself unable to settle down. You turn one way and spend the next few minutes in your own head, tossing around Skully’s motives and what everything means. Maybe you’d sink into slumber if you were contemplating brain-bruising philosophy, but when every route leads back to that complex, confounding feeling it leaves your body crackling with nerves.

Shifting over on your back, you gaze up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Skully,” you whisper before you can stop yourself. “Salad Fingers was right. I’m only good at running away. I’m the best at being the worst. I’m, like, super, pathetically, abysmally bad at romance. I don’t know how to do it or what it means to feel it. I… I’ve never given myself that chance.”

I’ve spent too long pushing everyone who’s ever tried to love me away. 

You feel around blindly for your goat plush and hug it to your chest. His name is Mini Rollo.

“The truth is that my worst fear isn’t even thunderstorms. I hate those, too, yeah, but it’s love that scares me the most. Which probably sounds really silly to you because you’re so…full of it. Full of love, I mean. And I was afraid. Afraid that you’d found something about me that’s worth loving. I mean, you kinda saw through me from the very beginning and not many people do that. It made me feel so itchy. Like, what the hell? Who does this guy think he is, solving me like I’m some lousy cube puzzle? How’d you do that?”

A weak laugh tumbles out of you then. You’re not sure where the humor is in any of this. Maybe you’re just laughing at yourself.

“What scared me most, though… I caught myself considering it. It’s all I’ve been able to think about, actually.” You bury your face in Mini Rollo to save yourself the embarrassment of addressing a dim room with an unconscious audience. “I really don’t know how you do it. You’re like an infection. Or, uh—hold on. That came out wrong. Ugh. Just as bad as the lice poem. What I meant to say is that you’re so good at making me feel happy. So I guess that means your energy is infectious?”

Sighing, you shut your eyes and place yourself in the memory of that day, swapping cruel cowardice for a real confession. Mini Rollo’s soft head is tucked beneath your chin. “No one’s ever danced in the rain with me before to chase away my anxiety. And they’ve never made me their muse or written pages and pages of poems about me. They’ve never made me smile and laugh as much as you do. They certainly didn’t come to my door to give me an entire handmade flower wreath. That’s the stuff you’d only find in romance novels. You’re seriously one of a kind.” You force another sad, pitiful laugh. “I don’t deserve you or your love. If anything, you’re the cool one. Definitely way more than a fly.”

You’re my Pumpkin King.

“Never mind. What am I saying? Ew, ew. Gross. This is so…yuck.”

Stop talking. You’re making it worse, (Name).

You yank the blanket over your head and stuff down whatever else is threatening to spill out in this moment of alcohol-addled vulnerability. Although you’re not sure how much of that was liquid courage.

Is love supposed to feel so…itchy?

Like a sweater woven from coarse wool. Like an irritating bug bite that’s just out of reach. Like an allergic reaction. 

But then that same love is also so welcoming—a blanket fresh from the dryer, a flattering poem penned from the heart, a dance in the rain. A distinctly Skully-shaped love, one that’s cradled in the cobwebbed confines of his heart. 

You don’t want to run away from that—from him.

Warmed by these revelations, made weightless from the truth, you drift away on a stream of waning consciousness.

Good night, Skully.

Morning trickles through the mountains, bringing with it strips of sun that shine through the thin part of ratty curtains.

Your body is strangely light when it should be heavy with a skull-crushing hangover. Even your mind, which is normally fuzzy and filled with an unshakeable pressure in the dawn of last night’s chaos, is the shape of a Zen garden. You think you hear movement in the kitchen, but your sixth sense tells you it’s still too early and so you roll over in search of Mini Roll, who somehow slipped from your embrace during the night.

You find Skully instead.

He’s squished in the space between your bed and the nest of blankets piled around you, and it leaves you wondering how he managed to get down here. From how soundly he slept last night, you didn’t take him for a restless sleeper. You realize then that his eyes are open, watching you, and suddenly nothing else matters.

Oh.

“H-Hey,” you whisper, cringing at the roughness in your voice.

“Hi.” His voice is no better. More of a crow’s call than fluttery birdsong. “Good morning.”

You’re not sure what to think at first. Is this real? How did he get on your floor? Why is he here? Where’s Rollo? Where’s Mini Rollo?

You reach out; your palm hovers over his head. To save you the trouble, he leans into your hand. He feels real. He looks real.

“There’s only 365 days left until next Halloween,” you blurt.

Skully blinks at you. “364.”

You start to smile. He follows your lead.

He’s real. It wasn’t a dream.

“Um… So,” you start, but he reels back before you can get the rest out. 

“S-Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m much too close.” He scrambles to sit up, but the sudden change in position has him gripping his head. “Spinning… Oh, I feel ill… Please give me a moment and then I assure you I’ll be out of your hair.”

You bare your teeth in an awkward, sympathetic simper. Welcome to hangover hell.

“Why were you on the floor anyway?” you venture, sitting up with him, and then the shitty feelings descend. You hiss out a colorful word.

You realize you’re still wearing your costume from last night and, even though you think you should wrap yourself in a blanket, it’s nothing Skully hasn’t seen before. He’s seen all of you, as a matter of fact, and the knowledge of that sends a timid tremor ricocheting through your veins. You feel like you need to cover up now, as if you’re somehow exposed in your skimpy latex and sheer stockings, and it’s a ridiculous thought. The time for diffidence and modesty has long since passed.

Skully refuses to meet your stare, opting to gaze at a boring corner of your room instead. “I…” He sighs. “I heard you last night. And shortly after you retired… Well, I was struck with a jubilation like no other and I…”

“Rolled right off the bed?”

You picture it then: a squealing Skully squeezing the pillows and kicking his legs out, tangling himself in the sheets, every nerve alight with celebration.

“I’m sorry. I would’ve moved, but I feared I’d wake you if I wasn’t careful. You looked so relaxed… I couldn’t bring myself to risk it, so I remained there until now. Oh, but I promise I didn’t do anything untoward while you slept! I’d never!”

You exhale through your nose. “I trust you, Skulls.” And then you stiffen. “Wait. You heard me? H-How much?”

“All of it?”

You flop back onto the floor and muffle your groan in your hands. Not how you’d been hoping to start your morning. The hangover, you can handle. No problem. Whatever’s going on between you and Skully? Big problem. Massively heart-sized problem.

But you’re not going to tuck your tail and flee. Not this time. You’re better than that.

“I think…” Skully hesitates around the mouthful perched on his tongue. “I acted rashly last night. You saw such a terrible, immature side of me—and on Halloween, no less! There are no words in the dictionary to describe my shame.”

You remember his drunken meltdown. It’s not the prettiest image, but there’s no one else in this world you know of who’d go to such lengths for you. 

“You’re upset. I get it. Alcohol will do that to you. Makes you ten times more of an emotional wreck than you already are. I would know.” You’re not sure where you’re going with this, but you peek through your fingers at him and hope the tenderness in your tone hits its mark. “What I’m trying to say is that I’d like to try. If you don’t mind. If you’ll have me.”

I think I understand now—what I want.

“Try?”

“This. Us.”

He stares at you with dinner plates for eyes. A few seconds of silence bloom between you, and all throughout it he’s growing more pink-cheeked.

“We don’t have to! I mean… I completely understand if you don’t want to after everything. I’m a mess and I haven’t treated this situation very well, but I’m willing to give it my best shot. Fellow always says there’s only one way out of a ditch and maybe—”

Skully’s outstretched arm is in your face next. You follow the length of it to find his encouraging expression. Tentatively, you place your palm in his and allow him to help you up from the floor. You sit in front of him on your bed, and it’s as if you’re the last two humans on the planet.

This is new. The anxiety and the nervous sweats. The rushing blood in your ears. You’ve never felt this way before.

Then again, you’ve also never done any of this before. It’s all instinct; you’re treading the path projected by your heart this time. It’s every bit the terror you imagined it to be, but it’s exhilarating and refreshing all the same.

He’s still holding your hand. When you look down, you notice it’s shaking. You can’t tell if that’s from you or him, but it settles once your fingers interlock. 

And then, before you can prepare yourself, he’s yanking you towards him. The force of his pull has you falling, and your arm shoots out to prop yourself above him. 

“MayIkissyou?” he babbles, hurrying through the question so it’s pronounced like one gasping breath. And then he catches himself. “Forgive me. I’m just…so relieved! Oh, I was terrified you’d hate me and think I was a rotten person.” He’s tearing up, but you surmise these are happy tears. “I thought we’d never end up together. Like in ‘Sally’s Song’! I thought we were doomed. I thought I wasn’t the one for you…”

“No, I couldn’t ever hate you! You’re not a rotten person. Never. I—” think I’m falling for you— “I’m feeling things for you. Like in-my-heart things. Good things. That’s a horrible way to put it, I know, but I promise I mean every word. I’m just not as eloquent when it comes to these things. Compared to your poetry, I probably sound so dumb and—whoa!” 

His arms wind around you, and he traps you in a tight embrace.

“(Name)… My darling.”

“Y-Yes?” 

He sounds so serious… Wait, wait. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! Don’t tell me he’s gonna say it? The L word! I don’t know if my heart’s ready. It wasn’t the first time he said it. Will I be okay? This is fine, right? It’s normal. It’s just…love. Aaahhhh!

“I’m pleased we’re so close.”

“Uh, yeah. Me too.”

“Without my glasses, I can scarcely see anything. You’d be nothing more than an indistinguishable, blurry shape. A beautiful shape, of course, but still impossible to discern!”

“Oh.”

Never fucking mind.

Hand in hand, you emerge from your room as more than friends. A couple. Lovers. A pair. So many florid titles you could probably fill the remaining pages in his poetry journal with. You’re not sure which one you should use to describe you and Skully. You’re used to temporary affairs. But this—what you have with him—feels like more than that.

Us. It’s us, you decide, and it’s the cheesiest thing but you’ll be damned if you deny yourself this newfound sweetness. 

Skully’s wrapped you up in his cloak. He’s also still clad in his costume, and he made quite the fuss about yours just moments ago.

“Now that we’re together,” he said with a childish pout, his face burning red-hot, “I don’t want others to see you like this. It’s selfish, but I can’t help it. I want to preserve these lovely sights for myself.”

“It’s just Rollo,” you argued. 

“Especially Mr. Rollo.”

You find his possessiveness endearing. Maybe you’re crazy for thinking that, but it’s addicting to be wanted so robustly and appreciated in full. Honeymoon phase be damned. You want to giggle and blush over everything Skully says and does, even if it’s complete nonsense. He could tell you the moon is made of cheese and you’d turn gooey like fondue. 

“Good morning, you two,” Rollo greets, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. His pale lips quirk up knowingly. “And what a good morning it appears to be. Gidel and I are due for a payout.”

You level him with a glare that could wilt lettuce. “I can’t believe you. Your greed sickens me. Isn’t gambling a sin?”

What happened to being honest examples for the youth, Fellow?!

“When it’s a gamble you have every chance of winning, does it truly count as such?”

“It does if you’re betting money! And even Gidel got in on it? Are you serious?”

“Fellow owes him new art supplies. The fancy kind.” 

“Well, if it gets the kid his crayons…”

“Might I ask what the bet was for?” Skully pulls out a barstool for you, ever the winsome gentleman. He seats himself beside you.

“Whether you and (Name) would get together on Halloween or Christmas.”

“In that case, my sincerest congratulations to you and dear Gidel! Isn’t that wonderful, my love?”

“H-How do you know we’re together? You don’t even have evidence to confirm…” You trail off. Skully props his elbows on the countertop, a moony look softening his eyes.

“Surely you’re not as blind as you are dense.” Rollo glances between the both of you, as if asking, Are you seeing this shit?

Before you can snap back with defensive vitriol, he sets a paper bag down. A sugary peace offering awaits. It works a little too well because you forget everything he’s ever done at once.

“Pastry day! You’re the best, Rollo.”

“I’m aware.” 

“It looks and smells divine! Thank you graciously, Mr. Rollo.” Skully fishes something from out of the bag. “Shall we share this croissant, my dear? In honor of our first meal together as a pair of love-doves.”

Whoa. That’s so official. Hearing that is…really nice, actually. Kinda huge and a little scary, but nice.

“Skulls, I’d say let’s do it, but I’m way too hungry to go halfsies.” He’s quick to wither at that, his cuteness a weapon you’re unable to fight. You giggle and lean it to peck his cheek. “How’s that instead?”

“Not even a dozen sugar cubes could compare to how sweet you are.” He clutches his chest, swooning like a fanboy struck down by Cupid. “Aah, I adore you most ardently.”

Rollo fills two mugs with what’s left in the coffee pot. “There’s tea if you’d rather that.”

“It would be rude for me to turn down your hospitality. If it’s not too much trouble, tea would be much appreciated.”

“More for me.” You take hold of both mugs and are instantly soothed by the warmth bleeding through the ceramic. The caffeine will ward off the rest of whatever hangover symptoms might be encroaching.

While Rollo fills the kettle with water, Skully searches through the bag for a pastry that suits his tastes. You’re already licking your fingers clean of croissant crumbs. 

“I must thank you for allowing me to stay here through the night. I apologize if I caused you any trouble.” Skully bows his head. “You must forgive me. I don’t quite remember much of last night’s escapades.” 

“It was nothing. We weren’t gonna leave you in the woods.” 

“We considered it.” Rollo sips idly, unbothered by the now distraught Skully. 

“Don’t listen to him. Rollo’s being morbid on purpose. We’d never do that to you.” You take Skully’s hand beneath the counter and squeeze it. “We almost dropped you off at your house, but we decided against it at the last minute.”

An awkward chuckle rumbles through him. “I owe you more than my gratitude.”

“As long as you’re safe and comfortable, that’s all that matters. Make sure you let your parents know if they’re asking after you.”

“Mr. Rollo… Your kindness precedes you.”

“Rollo has a big heart today,” you tease around a bite of pain au chocolat. “He bought sweets, he made coffee, and he’s so chatty. Must be a lotta money Fellow’s coughing up if you’re in a good mood.”

He rolls his eyes, quietly amused. “We all have reasons to be pleased.”

You suppose that’s true. It’s a happily ever after for each of you.

“Oh, that reminds me!” You turn towards Skully. “Give me your phone. There’s something I owe you.”

He relinquishes it without a second thought, which allows you to input the digits for your number. You should’ve done this a long while ago—back when you first extended your hand in friendship—but as they say there’s no time like the present. You can move forward with this. It’s a stepping stone in a new direction!

You catch a glimpse of his contacts while you make one for yourself. He doesn’t even have ten contacts. Of the few saved, you spot his parents—named Mama and Papa separately—and then Rollo and Fellow. And then there’s the latest addition: you. You’re not sure what to call yourself, so you simply leave it as your name. You’re certain Skully has plenty of contact names in mind already. You won’t veto any of them because you’re positive they’ll stick.

“There.” You hand him the device. “My number’s saved.”

With a gasp, he stares at the screen with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Oh! Oh, how splendid! I will treasure this gift forever.”

“It’s not that special,” you start to say, but the rest of the argument dies in your throat. It is to him. Very special. You don’t want to take that away from him. “Don’t hesitate to text me. I’m always down to chat.”

“I shall text you every morning and night without fail. And every hour between then, too.”

“D-Don’t overdo it!”

“She says that, but she’ll enjoy every second of it,” Rollo cuts in, setting a fresh cup of tea down in front of Skully.

You hide in the ruffles of Skully’s oversized cloak. “I never said I was opposed to it…”

To think I was missing this all along. This warmth… It’s so sweet.

You waste the rest of the morning away with the both of them, laughing about whatever you can remember from last night’s Halloween.

 “It may not have been very successful, and it certainly wasn’t my ideal Halloween,” Skully explains to Fellow and Gidel hours later, both of them rapt, “but it didn’t end in complete disaster.”

“All’s well that ends well,” Rollo applauds.

“Of course you would say that,” Fellow grumbles. “To be loved is to be changed apparently. What a scam.”

“Ah, that’s right. Seeing as our resident lovebirds have taken to the nest, I do recall someone owes me the sum we agreed upon. And Gidel is awaiting his art supplies. It’s only fair, no?”

Gidel, who is brimming with excitement on Skully’s behalf, a supportive mirror image of his joy, snaps over to give Fellow puppy eyes. To really sell it, he digs around in his pockets for a few halves of crayon. Your squirming boss is looking everywhere but at the two of them, sweating from head to toe.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Fellow lifts his arms in timeout. “Why must we let our desires lead us? Shouldn’t we learn to live as minimalists? Repeat after me! Hi-diddle-dee-dee! A minimalist life for me.” When no one follows suit, he drops to his knees in desperate prostration. “Best two out of three? We can bet on whether they’ll stay together long enough to get married or if they’ll split along the way. How does that sound? Just peachy, yes? If we’re in agreement, just name the terms and then we shall see! I’ll double the payout. Gidel, you can have an easel and oil paints. Isn’t that much better than a few measly crayons? And Rollo—my fair friend, surely you’d rather pay rent for the next five months rather than just one?”

That was fast. He really has mastered the art of begging like a bitch baby, you think, folding your arms over your chest. A few customers glance at the spectacle, curiously attracted to the obnoxious whines of a grown man.

“You made a bet and you lost. I’m merely here to collect my promised payment, as is Gidel.”

“How’s about you get yourself something from the store? It’s on me!”

Rollo surveys the store and the major half-off sale that has descended over what’s left of this year’s stock. “I don’t celebrate Halloween.”

Gidel shoves the broken crayons at him. Neither is going to budge. It’s amusing in the way an old sitcom is, but the way they interact with each other makes them look more like puppets than people.

“Aaaaghh! You’re unrelenting!”

“Just give Rollo his money and Gidel his art supplies.” You prop your feet up on the counter, your back poised against the wall. Skully nods in agreement. “Begging only makes you look worse, Fellow.”

With a growl, he pushes himself up onto his feet. “Yes, yes. I suppose you have me cornered.” And then with a woeful sigh: “Skully, my boy, couldn’t you have waited until Christmas? The holiday is right around the corner according to every marketing scheme ever. Halloween isn’t even remotely romantic!”

Skully gasps, scandalized. “It is if you’re Lord Jack and Sally! Halloween is the most romantic holiday! Have you never heard of traditional gothic romance?” He huffs and turns his nose up. “You have much to learn, Mr. Honest.”

“You’d be ill-advised to argue Halloween with the Phantom of the Opera,” Rollo says, holding a hand out. He scowls behind his handkerchief. “My money, if you would.”

“All right, fine. Don’t give me any more trouble, you hear?”

“Perhaps next time you should have more faith when placing bets.”

He stuffs a handful of crumpled bills in Rollo’s palm, grumbling all the while. You watch your roommate count each one, double- and triple-checking to ensure it’s the correct amount.

Gidel blinks up at him, hammer raised in threat.

“Yes, Gidel, I’ll get you those supplies. You have my word.” Fellow heaves a withered sigh. “You little devils are so conniving.”

“You love us. Don’t lie.”

“We cherish you, too, Mr. Honest!”

“I suppose you’re not impossible to tolerate. A semi-sensible boss,” Rollo agrees, pocketing his well-earned cash.

Fellow huffs, face tinged pink, and refuses to look at any of you. “You’re all nothing but trouble. I can’t believe I’ve put up with you kids for another year. How many more can I take?”

That’s right. Halloween’s over. The store closes in a week, you realize with a start. It went by so fast, and so much has changed.

You look at your humble work family—because that’s exactly what they’ve become in the time you’ve known them—and feel a smile stretching. These are your people. Misfits who have struggled to find their footing in the world. You watch a smirking Rollo and Gidel playfully push all of Fellow’s buttons, with Skully occasionally chiming in with a comment of his own, and you can’t imagine working minimum wage with anyone else.

If someone told you you’d end this season with love, you’d have laughed in their face. Back then, the mere idea was preposterous! Lust has always been your prerogative—loveless desire placed on a towering pedestal, far enough from the blooms of romance cluttering at the base, desperate to claw their way up into your heart. It’s not a joke or an aversion anymore. It’s real. Your first relationship that isn’t built on intermittent sex.

You wonder if you’re still stuck in last night’s Halloween, drunk off your ass and on the verge of passing out. Maybe you did and this is all a surreal dream—a fantasy spun from the silky strands of your heartstrings.

It’s not. Thank the stars it’s not.

There’s a lot you don’t know about romance and what it takes to maintain a relationship with sentimental stakes. You’re not an expert and neither is Skully. Perhaps no one is. Perhaps there is no such thing as experts and perfection where love is concerned. It’s a mystery—one you won’t be investigating alone.

Glancing at Skully, who’s still without his glasses and has been squinting at things from afar ever since this morning, you realize he looks different like this. In his Halloween costume—something he wore exclusively for you—and with his autumnal eyes uncovered by his trademark shades.

He’s cute.

And he’s all yours.

What a magical thing.

The sticky, sweet smell of sugar cookies and gingerbread umbrellas the apartment, cloying like dew on grassy lands in the first rays of sun. A cinnamon-scented candle mixes with the natural scent of the balsam fir positioned in a corner of the sitting room. It reeks of Christmas in here—of commercialized cheer and festive fun—like Santa Claus crash-landed through the door and spattered against the walls in a smattering of good tidings and season’s greetings.

Rollo was against a real tree at first, grousing over the mess and all the work, but even he couldn’t remain a grouchy Scrooge for long. He always softens around the holidays, which makes it easier to exploit his tender heart. And so together, while blasting a playlist of Christmas tunes at full volume, you hung ornaments and strung lights and garland along the full, fragrant boughs.

“We used to do this a lot,” he told you as he placed the star at the very top, and you turned the speaker down to hear him. “Before my brother… Ahem. My father would lift him onto his shoulders and he’d be the one to put the star on the tree.” He smiled at it, his eyes glazed in reminiscence. “And what a luminous star it is.”

You pulled him in for a reassuring side hug. “It’s gonna be a good holiday. Your brother would love it. He’d like that you’re carrying on the star tradition, too.”

Rollo hummed, and for the next few minutes you stood and admired the tree in peace.

Now you’re weeks into December and basking in the break from school. Normally you’d take this time to catch up on lost sleep, wasting the hours away into late afternoon in a comforting cocoon of blankets, aimlessly scrolling through your phone, but today you’re up plenty early. Excitement buzzes through you, even more so when you sniff the air and come away with all kinds of mouthwatering smells. You jump out of bed at the sound of “Last Christmas” and throw on a slim-fitting white sweater and a red jumper skirt with fur trim. After gliding through your makeup routine, you pucker your ruby-red lips in the mirror and fit a Santa hat on your head. It matches the peppermint patterns on this month’s set of acrylics.

You find Rollo hunched over the counter, wearing an apron and garnishing the Yule log with red currants and fondant mushrooms. He sprinkles icing sugar over the cake to give the impression of snowfall.

“You’ve outdone yourself.” Whistling, you examine the counters crowded with all kinds of dishes—some native to Rollo’s hometown and others from your favorite recipes. “Santa’s Little Helper works so hard. I hope you got some sleep.”

He smacks your hand away when you reach to pluck a berry from the cake. “This is nothing. Besides, I’m almost certain Skully’s going to bring snacks.”

“Probably.” Pouting, you cradle your hand and feign hurt. It’s ineffective against the no-nonsense Rollo Flamme. “You should’ve seen the way his parents lit up when he introduced me last month. You’d think he was telling them about how he won the lottery or something—the way they couldn’t stop gawping. I guarantee they’re sending him over with a tray of something to repay the favor.”

“Good. And I hope that Fellow sticks to his promise of bringing an appetizer.”

“He will. Gidel’ll make sure of it.” You sniff your wrist and frown. “Do I look okay? Am I overdoing it? Too much perfume?”

Rollo glances at you. “It’s Christmas. Everyone overdoes it.”

“I know, I know. But… I dunno. It’s my first major holiday with Skulls and I don’t wanna look like I’m trying too hard.”

Rollo places the glass dome over the cake and sets it off to the side. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“You’re not helping. Do I look nice, at least?”

“You look very nice.” And then he ducks down to check the cookies in the oven. “Why are you so worried? Skully will appreciate you and your efforts regardless.”

“That’s just it! What if I look just okay? I’m not saying he has to drool over me, but if he shows up looking like a prince and I look like a bog monster—”

A sharp rap at the door shakes you out of your spiraling ramble. You and Rollo look between each other and then at the door. He starts for it and you throw yourself into his path to intercept him. 

“Wait! I’m not ready. Put a different song on—something to hype me up. Like Michael Bublé’s Christmas album! I need his confidence.”

“(Name), you’ll be fine.”

He strides past you, but you race the rest of the way to get to the door before he can. Wrenching it open, your heart sprouts wings like Icarus…and then immediately burns away at the sight of Fellow and Gidel. Temporarily relieved, you usher them in with a welcoming grin.

“Happy holidays!” You bend down to Gidel’s height and ruffle his hair. He beams up at you, his face half-hidden in a scarf that seems to swallow him whole. “Are you excited for Santa, Gidel?”

He nods and, digging through his pockets, pulls out a crumpled list. You read through the shaky misspellings (and the added corrections from Fellow) and your heart melts. It’s so wholesome. He wants art supplies, carrots for the reindeer, a new sewing kit for Fellow, books, a new hat…

“This is a great list! I’m sure you’ll get everything you want and more.”

“Now why can’t there be a Santa for adults?” Fellow huffs. “I’d love for the big man to come down and shovel my walkway or pay my bills. Winter Wonderland, they say, and yet I’m more frozen than the tundra!” He shakes himself out of his coat, which Rollo gracefully hangs on the nearby rack. He takes Gidel’s winter wear next. “Merry Christmas, both of you. I’ve brought apples.” Looking quite proud, he holds out the bag.

“Nice to see you, too, Fellow.” You lean in to embrace him and he returns the gesture merrily. “I hope the winter’s been kind to you and Gidel.”

“You’re too kind, dearie.”

“You didn’t think to do anything with the apples?”

“Now that, my fine friend, is where your imagination comes in! An apple is a very versatile fruit.” Fellow plucks one from the bag and, after shining it on his sweater, takes a greedy bite. “To some, it’s just an apple, but to others it could be candied or turned into pie. Limitless possibilities.”

“Hmm. Well, thank you for this. I’ll wash them and put them out with the rest.”

“Make yourselves comfy,” you add.

“Oh, and by the way… Would you assure (Name) she looks the furthest thing from a bog monster?”

“What’s this about a monster?” Fellow peers at you, incredulous, while he helps Gidel out of his winter boots.

Embarrassment flashes through you. “N-Not important! Don’t listen to Rollo.”

“She’s fretting over her appearance.”

You bark out a sudden laugh. “Who said anything about that? Me, fretting? No way. I’m just…conscious of today and everything. You know how it is.” You wring the hem of your dress. “It has nothing to do with fretting.”

The three of them—yes, even Gidel—look on with mutual disbelief. Fellow’s the first to break the silence.

“You’ve been together for—how long has it been now?—a month or so, and now you’re afraid of these things?”

“It’s been one month, three weeks, and three days, actually, and I’m not afraid.” You scoff. “Christmas is a big deal for couples. At least, I think it is. If the movies are to be trusted—”

“Miss (Name), take it from me—”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Holiday romance is a scam—ack!” Gidel jabs Fellow in the side for that. He clears his throat before carrying on. “But! But, but, but—I’ll be the first to tell you that that boy loves you more than anything, be it during the holidays or on a regular day. Bog monster or not.”

Nodding quickly, Gidel points at you, poses like Skully, and then forms a heart with his hands. 

“Based on what we saw of his poetry, he’d probably salivate if you became a monster,” Rollo says, and you can’t refute his claim. “So what’s really plaguing you?”

Sometimes you hate how easily Rollo can read you.

“I haven’t told him I love him. We’ve been together all this time and he showers me in it—it’s obvious—but I haven’t been able to say those words myself. I don’t know why.”

You miss the way they all facepalm.

“I don’t want him to think I don’t feel the same—because I do! I love him to bits. Just…how? How to put those three words into a sentence, and how to say that sentence to him?”

“‘I love you, Skully’. Easy. Wouldn’t you agree, Gidel?”

He stalls around a nod.

“If only.” Rollo sighs. “You show your appreciation for him in other ways. I’m sure he understands.”

“But I think he’d like to hear it. Anyone would.”

“Lucky for you, Skully isn’t ‘anyone,’” Fellow remarks, patting you on the shoulder.

Still… It’d be nice to say it.

Just then, a rhythmic knock resounds. You look to Rollo for help, but he, Fellow, and Gidel have retreated to the oven to pull the cookies out. Why it’s a two-man-plus-spectator job, you don’t know.

The door opens to reveal Santa. A much thinner, lankier version, but Santa nonetheless. With a beaming smile and a hearty chortle, Santa Skully announces his arrival.

“Merry Christmas to you, my dear! You look as lovely as always.” He grabs hold of your hands and pulls you in, kissing each of your cheeks in turn. “Simply ravishing.”

You’re hot down to your toes. The cold air from outside helps regulate your temperature, if only for the moment.

We literally went on a date last week and yet I can’t stop myself.

“You look very handsome, as always.” You tug him down to your height to return his smooches with some of your own, placing one directly on his mouth. You linger long enough to leave him reeling with rekindled cravings. “I hope I’m on Sandy Claws’s nice list this year.”

“Let’s see,” he teases in a singsong, pretending to unfurl an imaginary scroll. He scans it for a few seconds and then leans in to whisper, “Sandy Claws says you’re just shy of naughty, but we can arrange a solution.”

“It won’t be an easy fix.”

“Then aren’t I lucky to have a wonderful soul such as yourself to call my own? A little naughtiness never hurts.”

Fuuuuck. I love him.

With a giggle, you release him and pat his suit down. “Everyone’s already here. Let’s get back inside before we freeze.”

“We wouldn’t want you to become Frozen Charlotte. Beautiful as you would be, I quite like you warm and alive.”

“As do I.”

You step aside to let Skully in. He hauls a red sack through the door. “Good day, wonderful people! Happy holidays and Merry Christmas!”

“Skully, my boy, you made it!” Fellow slinks over to shake his hand. “A very merry one to you as well.”

You shut the door to keep the cold out and watch as he takes his turn greeting everyone.

“I’ve brought gifts for everyone, and my parents sent me with a treat for today’s gathering. They send their well wishes and regards, each one baked into this tantalizing treacle tart.” Carefully, he pulls it from the bag, wrapped delicately in foil, and passes it to Rollo. “It’s my mother’s own recipe. I wish I could take the credit, but unfortunately I’m still learning how to bake.”

“I’ll be sure to send them a card to express my thanks.”

“Why, I’m honored, Mr. Rollo! They would love nothing more.”

“Ooh, a tart? Now that sounds scrumptious. What say we tear into the food, Gidel?”

Gidel agrees with two thumbs raised.

“If you fill up on sweets now, you’ll never have the appetite for dinner,” Rollo scolds.

“By the time the food’s done cooking, we’ll be plenty hungry. And we have lots of stuff to do to pass the time.” You make a vague sweeping gesture with your hand. “Decorating cookies, making gingerbread houses, watching movies… It’ll be fine.”

No one’s going to argue with that. And even if they were about to, the delightful Christmas music puts everyone in bright spirits.

While you and Rollo prepare the main courses, Fellow, Skully, and Gidel clear the table to make space for trays of now-cooled cookies and gingerbread. A rainbow of frostings and various toppings are set down next.

“A very smart use of your guests’ labor,” Fellow comments, but he doesn’t have any credibility when he’s clearly putting his soul into crafting a little bow for his gingerbread man. And then he catches Gidel’s arm before his sleeve can drape into one of the bowls. “Be careful! Now what have I told you about rolling up your sleeves when you’re going to be working?”

He sets his cookie down and turns in his chair to help Gidel fold his sleeves back. He’s given a grateful smile in return.

“What do you think of mine so far, dear Gidel? I’m recreating Lord Jack’s terrifying likeness in cookie form! Ooh, are you decorating yours based on Mr. Honest? How darling!”

Skulls, you’re a delight. I hope you know that.

“What is it?” Rollo asks.

“I’m thinking,” you reply absently, gazing at your reflection in the oven. The Christmas ham cooks within. 

“How dangerous.”

“I really like him, Rollo. It’s one thing to show it, but I want to be able to tell him. I want to say it and not feel so…insecure. Yeah, that. That word fits.”

We’ve gone on dates, we kiss, we hold hands, we have sex. He tells me I’m pretty and I melt. I give him all kinds of things because I like spoiling him. I’m going to spend Christmas Day with him and his parents. Everything we do is lovey-dovey, so why can’t I say it? It’s not like it’s a forbidden phrase.

It was for most of your life, though, and that’s the crux of the problem. The phrase has negative connotations. It’s been weaponized in the past, a verbal dagger meant to carve at your chest. Even now, a month into your relationship, you can’t tamp down the surprise whenever Skully lavishes you with that three-word phrase. Over and over, as if it’ll imprint itself on your soul if spoken enough. He means everything he says—each iteration of fondness. You wish you could be so unfaltering in your approach. You wish you could just scream the words because they’re trapped inside your ribs and you desperately want them out. You want Skully to know.

“I’m glad everyone can come together like this,” you say instead, and thankfully Rollo doesn’t press the matter. “We should get together to celebrate the New Year, too.”

“So long as our schedules align.”

“As if Fellow’s gonna be too busy for a free meal.”

For the rest of the day, you decide it isn’t worth it to sweat over the complications of love. You can do that after the holidays. Or later tonight when you’re alone with your thoughts in the shower. Either way, now’s not the time.

I’m too pretty to stress over this.

Somehow it works. You’re beginning to wonder if procrastination (alongside a dusting of delusion) really is the solution to all of life’s issues. Maybe not a long-term fix, but it provides temporary relief from the demons haunting your every thought.

I’ll say it once I’m ready, you catch yourself thinking hours later while Skully feeds you. Mindlessly, you open your mouth to receive another spoonful of whatever’s on his plate. There’s not a time limit on stuff like this. It’s not like I have to say it today or tomorrow or two weeks from now. 

“I really should capitalize on Christmas…” Fellow announces, mostly to himself, as he peers out the snow-frosted window. “This town grows so soft during the holidays. It seems far more profitable than Halloween.”

“We can dress Lord Jack up as Sandy Claws and have him pose in the very front!” Skully suggests, pausing midway to accept a bite from your fork. “Wouldn’t that be marvelous?”

“Hmm. There’s potential.” A flicker of mischief spots Rollo’s green hues. “You could play mall Santa and listen to everyone’s Christmas wishes.”

Fellow laughs and cuts into the slab of glazed ham on his plate. “Sounds to me like someone’s offering to stand in as an elf.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” You slam your hand down on the table. “He’s Santa’s Little Helper! Who’s with me? Gidel?”

Said boy is looking at Rollo with hope painted across his youthful face. Any initial objection Rollo had promptly vanishes at the sight. He sighs loudly behind his napkin.

“Ask me again next year and then we’ll see.”

“I didn’t hear a no! Did you, Skulls?”

“We can all dress up together! How lovely!”

“Then it’s settled. Santa’s Workshop will open for business next holiday season!” Fellow raises his glass in toast, and the rest of you follow suit.

“Cheers to that!”

Some time later, while you and Skully exchange gifts with Gidel, Fellow and Rollo slip out of the room. You don’t realize they’re gone until it’s just the three of you, Skully’s chatter filling the space and tricking you into believing there are more people present. It’s not like them to scheme so collaboratively, and they’re not going to pick at the desserts. Suspicion crawls up your back and spins its web in your chest. Those two are up to something. You’re sure of it.

“This one’s for you.” Skully’s voice draws you back to the present. He hands you a tiny box with a bow. “From dear Gidel.”

“For me? Oh, that’s very kind of you.” You peel the lid back and lift a beaded necklace with an accompanying drawing from inside. It’s of you and Gidel holding hands, happy smiles and flowers all around. “This is beautiful! Did you make this yourself?”

He nods, face flushed with pure happiness. You fasten it around your neck, swelling with pride the whole time.

“It suits you well. An excellent job, dear Gidel! And your art looks exquisite. You’ve captured my darling’s radiant smile.” Skully pushes his gift into Gidel’s hands. “Here—open mine next!”

The packaging remains intact for all of five seconds before it’s shredded to pieces. Inside are an artist’s sketchbook and a how-to art guide. Gidel’s mouth falls open at the sight of them.

“I thought you could use something a little more professional. Notebooks are great to start with, but a real sketchbook suits our budding artist even better!”

He hugs both books to his chest and then, setting them down, throws his arms around Skully. 

“You’re very welcome! I await the masterpieces that shall soon grace these pristine pages.” He places his hat on Gidel’s head. “Nurture that imaginative spirit of yours and never stop creating.”

“Miss (Name), would you be a dear and come here for a second? Rollo needs you for something,” Fellow calls from just down the hall.

And then Rollo, in a hushed hiss: “Fool! You’re supposed to call Skully first!”

“Oh, pish-posh. They may as well be one body, the way those two fawn over each other.”

“Just be quiet!”

These idiots… you think and shake your head, amused with their antics. 

“I’ll be right back.”

You kiss Skully’s cheek and pat Gidel’s head, and then you’re rising to your feet to tromp down the hall towards your bedroom. You’re not sure what to expect when you round the corner and find the both of them there. And nothing’s amiss. Your suspicion triples, and you cast a dubious glance between them.

“Okay, you two, what’re you doing? It’s not like you to plan…whatever’s happening here. Hold on. What is happening?”

“Call it a Christmas miracle, dearie.”

“Or a favor. Whichever is sweeter on the tongue.”

You roll your eyes and that’s when you spot it. The mistletoe hanging from your doorframe.  

“All right, Gidel, you can bring Lover Boy over!”

Right on cue, Gidel drags a sputtering Skully along. 

“What’s this about? Dear Gidel? Mr. Honest? Mr. Rollo?” He looks at each of them. “Is this a surprise? Am I meant to cover my eyes?”

He’s brought in front of you. Gidel grabs both of your hands and forces them together.

“Merry Christmas, you two,” Rollo says as he departs for the sitting room, where a few gifts still linger untouched beneath the tree.

“Three words,” Fellow reminds you with a hum. He mouths them to you as he passes: You got this.

Even Gidel offers you an encouraging thumbs-up before he, too, skips after Fellow.

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Look up, Skulls.”

He turns his bespectacled gaze skyward and gapes at the mistletoe. “Oh… Ohhh! Did they put this up for us?”

“Seems like it.”

Awkward silence gathers in the hall.

“Should we kiss?”

“We should kiss.”

“Ah, sorry. You first.” You shrink away, but Skully holds firm to your hands. 

“I would be honored to kiss you.” And then he squeals. “Aah, it’s really mistletoe! My first kiss under the mistletoe with my sweetheart!”

He leans in, but you’re not ready. You can’t kiss him until you’ve told him. Until you’ve uttered three magic words.

“Skully, wait!” 

He pauses. “Is… Is something the matter?”

You steel yourself. “I… There’s something I want to tell you.”

“I’m listening. You can tell me anything, my dear. Anything.”

“Okay. Cool. Good.” Where the fuck am I going with this? Words. Love. Right. “I know we haven’t been together very long—I’m hoping we stay together forever—and you’ve always been so expressive about your feelings. Heart on your sleeve and all that. But I… I’m not the best at this and I know it’s painfully evident, but I’m really happy to call you mine because you get it. You get me. And I guess I’m the luckiest girl alive to have someone like you. No, not guess. I know I’m the luckiest. Wait, that’s not the point I’m trying to make. Ugh. This is so rambly. Sorry, sorry. The point I’m trying to make is…”

I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and I need to say it. I need you to know.

Skully’s hand grasps your chin and turns your head back to face him. The contact—his warm palm, soft fingers, gentle, magnetic touch—reminds you of why you feel these things. Tongue-tied, buoyant on a sea of clouds, always strung up in the wonderful web that is romance.

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this. I wanted to say it the first day I realized it, but I couldn’t. I was scared and maybe I still am, but I want to tell you.” You inhale a deep breath. “Skully, I… I really, really… Really, really, really—”

He sweeps you against him, his lips on yours for but a breath. “I know,” he murmurs, closing his hand around yours. “I love you, too. And until you feel comfortable saying it out loud, I’ll continue to echo the sentiment. Now and onwards.”

You stare at him. The first tear tracks down your cheek and then another. Before you can stop yourself, you’re crying. He smiles in that sweet, sympathetic, Skully way. It sculpts your heart into a candle, and the wax organ weeps all over your ribs. Messy. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“No fair… You’re too cool and I’m a mess.”

Thumbing your tears away, he cradles your face in both hands like a saint. “The Spider Queen is always cool and so is my darling (Name). I will always think so.”

“Even when I’m a dreadful mess?”

“Especially when you’re a dreadful mess because that, too, is beautiful. Dreadfully beautiful.”

“You’re seriously amazing… I adore you, Skulls.”

Glassy-eyed and sniffling, you yank him in for a starved kiss underneath the mistletoe.

You might not be able to say those three words right now, but this comes close.

It’s love all the same.

[luv4arinn]

THIS!!

April is my comfort character (and yes, I also love Megan Fox, I’m not complaining). She’s so sweet, I adore her. I’ve always seen her as a mother/big sister figure to the turtles, and that dynamic is pure gold.

BUT GOD— Bayverse April had SO much potential for real character development.

And what did they do with her? Oh, right, they added that super necessary shot of her butt in the first movie. Wow. Such a great contribution to the plot. Absolutely essential. I hate how they sexualized her.

Like—HELLO?? This girl lost her entire family in a single night. Her father died in a fire, and the only thing she had left were four little turtles and a rat. And not only did she save them from the flames—she freed them, let them live, and loved them from the very start.

While anyone else would have run away, April treated those five mutant experiments as her family, even as a child.

Don’t tell me she didn’t feel incredibly guilty when she left them in the sewer.

Don’t tell me she didn’t cry in her bed, wondering if they survived.

Oh God, my girl.

And then she grew up admiring SACKS, only to find out that he was responsible for her father’s death.

She also grew up believing it had all been a dream, that the turtles and Splinter had died that night. Until one day, years later, she sees them again.

Where is April’s emotional arc? Where is her trauma?

You’re telling me she felt guilty when she accidentally led Sacks to the lair???

And the worst part? That Shredder showed up and almost killed Splinter.

WHAT A LOAD OF CRAP.

AND ON TOP OF THAT, you’re telling me that by the second movie, Raph DIDN’T teach her how to break skulls??

LMAOOOO. Be serious.

Better yet, you’re telling me they cut scenes between April and Raph??

WHAT.

We need MORE Bayverse April content. I’m on my knees. Begging.

So YES, I’m joining the cause.

Here, have some more headcanons for our sweet April <3



April is absolutely obsessed with yellow. It’s her color, her essence, her vibe. But not just any yellow—her yellow. If you see a piece of clothing in that shade in her closet, chances are she bought it in multiple versions: jackets, blouses, heels… even phone cases.

April is an honorary turtle, whether she likes it or not. She’s their human sister, and you can bet they’re always causing chaos in her apartment. Pizza stains on the couch? Of course. Mikey hanging from the ceiling fan? Don’t ask. Donnie trying to install some weird tech in her toaster? Definitely.

April and Donnie are the ultimate geek disaster siblings. There’s no way she understood all the information Donnie dumped on her about Baxter Stockman in the second movie the first time. God, I know she was a fan of him too before realizing he was insane. She gets excited over the same nerdy topics as Donnie—though sometimes, she just nods and pretends to understand.

April knows Mikey has a crush on her. She’s not stupid, it’s so obvious that UGH— but she doesn’t want to hurt him, so she pretends she never noticed. To her, Mikey is like her little brother. She gives him hugs, ruffles his bandana affectionately, and tells him he’ll find someone amazing one day.

Leo respects her more than he lets on. He doesn’t trust many people outside of his family, but April earned that place. When he’s stressed, sometimes she’s the only one who can calm him down with a simple “Hey, breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

April drives like a lunatic. They trust her to get them out of dangerous situations, but every time she gets behind the wheel, EVERYONE holds on like it’s their last day on Earth. Raph yells insults, Mikey enjoys it way too much, Donnie calculates survival odds in his head, and Leo just accepts his fate.

When she found them again, she spent nights watching videos of their childhood. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she laughed, but mostly, she wondered what her life would’ve been like if she had never lost them… or her father.

After the first movie, Raph taught her how to kick ass. Oh my God, YES. Though she had to wait for him to take the initiative because she didn’t want to be a burden (she never would be). Now she can take down a guy twice her size without hesitation.

THIS WOMAN FACED SHREDDER ALONE HUNDREDS OF FEET IN THE AIR. WOAH. She’s got nerves of steel.

That’s why she’s 100% protective of her family and loved ones. Yes, even Vern. Especially Vern, because she knows he’d probably be dead without her.

If someone says anything even remotely offensive about them, April is already throwing daggers. Say one more word, and this woman will POUNCE. She’s mastered the “watch me destroy you with a single sentence” technique in interviews and doesn’t hesitate to use it.

She’s incredibly studious and takes her job seriously. I’m sure she had to fight to stop being seen as just a pretty face. She probably had to deal with way too many condescending remarks in her career, and every time someone tried to belittle her, she responded with cold, hard facts.

She can go hours without sleep when researching something. One time, Leo had to literally take her laptop away because she hadn’t rested in two days.

She has a special connection with Splinter. He’s like a father figure to her, and even though she doesn’t always talk about her emotions, there are moments when Splinter simply serves her a cup of tea and says, “I’m proud of you, April.” And that’s enough.

Her apartment is always a mess, but somehow, she knows exactly where everything is. Donnie tried organizing it once. Big mistake.

Mikey once took her skating through the sewers, and while she screamed like crazy at first, she ended up laughing like never before. It was the highlight of her week.

She’s an absolute fan of heroes and comics. And I know she loves Star Wars. (I’m sure Leo does too, but he just pretends he doesn’t.) Ask her anything about it, and she’ll hit you with incredibly specific information and bibliographic references. Donnie and Mikey once tried to test her knowledge, and they ended up with their heads stuffed full of facts about the original trilogy, Legends, and why Han shot first.

Absolutely, she buys/gives merch to Leo. And to the turtles, too. If you see Leo wearing a black hoodie with the Jedi Order logo, that was April. If Mikey suddenly shows up with a glow-in-the-dark Deadpool t-shirt, that was also April. Raph with a Punisher jacket? Yep, April.

I’m convinced the wardrobe change for the turtles in the second movie was all her doing. I mean, Donnie wearing solar panels as a loincloth… we all cried. April made sure they were dressed more appropriately, but also in a way that fit each of their styles. Mikey was the hardest because he liked everything (“BROOO, what about this? Or this? OR THIS?”), and Leo only agreed because she assured him that “Jedis also evolved their armor.”

No doubt she expands Splinter’s tea pantry. If there’s a rare, expensive, and hard-to-find Chinese tea, April has already gotten it for him—in three different versions. Mikey and Raph don’t understand how there can be so many differences between “grass-flavored teas,” but she and Splinter can spend hours analyzing them.

Yes, she supplies them. Clothes? Yes. Food? Yes. When she saw their fridge stocked with nothing but soda and pizza boxes, she nearly cried. Now, half of it is still soda and pizza, but at least there’s some fruit and protein.

She shares a love for bonsais with Splinter and Leo. It’s their relaxation activity together. But ironically, I know this woman has killed a cactus at least once. Mikey never let her live it down.

You cannot convince me this woman hasn’t gotten at least one tattoo. She loves body art and shares that interest with the brothers. I’m sure she let at least one of them tattoo her—probably a design by Mikey. Something small on her wrist or behind her ear, with a meaning only they understand.

Leo and Donnie made sure everything was 100% safe and sterile. Donnie literally turned Mikey’s space into a mini improvised tattoo studio. “God, April, if you’re going to do this, at least don’t die of an infection”.

Mikey was way too excited. “BROOO, THIS IS ETERNAL ART!” He made at least five sketches before she finally chose one.

She and Raph have a tradition of watching UFC fights together. He yells like he’s in the arena, and she just watches with a beer in hand, completely unfazed—until she sees the perfect kick and mutters, “Shit, that was brutal.”

Even though she helps them in their crime-fighting, she keeps trying to remind them not to forget how to live. Sometimes they show up at her place expecting to plan their next mission, only for her to force them to watch movies, play video games, or just hang out like a normal family. Well… as normal as four giant ninja turtles and an infiltration-expert reporter can be.

Donnie has taught her basic hacking. Not at his level, but enough to sneak into certain databases without getting traced. This is a problem, because now, whenever she wants a big scoop for work, Donnie gets a message like: “Hey, hypothetically speaking… if you had to break into TCRI Industries’ private files… how would you do it? Just curious.”

If Mikey is sad, April notices before anyone else. And even though she can’t give him what he truly wants (her romantic love), she always makes sure he knows how much she loves and values him. She’s the first to hug him, to make him laugh with a dumb joke, and to remind him that someday, he’ll find someone who loves him as much as he loves the world.

If she ever disappears, she’s probably at a nerd convention dressed as a Jedi. Leo would pretend not to be interested, even as she tries to convince him to come with her.

I mean, in full cosplay, who would even realize he’s an actual mutant turtle and not just a Jedi-Hulk crossover?

Obviously, Leo said no.

“April, it’s a public event. I can’t risk it.”

“Leo, there are guys in Iron Man suits that look straight out of the movies, and no one questions them. Literally no one would look at you twice.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

In the end, Mikey did go with her, dressed as a Mandalorian. He ended up signing autographs because everyone thought he was a hyper-realistic animatronic.

She has a theory that turtles don’t have actual fingerprints.

After multiple failed attempts to get them to use touch ID, she concluded that their prints are too irregular for normal sensors to read. Donnie took this personally when he tested it and failed. “This is impossible. My hands are scientifically perfect.”

She has the power to calm Raph down when he’s too fired up. Not with words. Just with a look.

When he’s about to lose control, she gives him the stare. The one that says “No. Don’t do it.”

And… well, he doesn’t always listen, but at least he hesitates.

She knows exactly how to make Leo agree to a plan that isn’t his. Just make him think it was his idea. It’s an art she has perfected.

“It would be great if someone designed a strategy that included this and this…”

“Hmm… maybe we could—”

“That’s an excellent idea, Leo! I knew you’d think of it!”

“…You’re manipulating me, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She has her own underground information network. Being a reporter and the turtles’ best friend has taught her how to move in the shadows. She has contacts everywhere—hackers, informants, low-ranking cops who hate corruption… She knows how to get intel without leaving a trace.

If she needs to go undercover, she does it with ridiculous disguises. No sleek, sexy black suits—she goes full grandma mode with awful wigs, oversized glasses, and the most unflattering clothes possible. Nobody suspects the clumsy woman who drops her purse every five seconds.

One time, Raph took her to train with Casey. And dear God, this woman fought for her life not to fall flat on her face on the ice. Raph mocked her mercilessly until she threw a snowball at his face.

She’s the only human on Earth who immediately understands Donnie’s jokes. Sometimes, she even finishes them before he does. Mikey considers this a scientific abomination beyond comprehension.

She drives like a maniac but has never crashed. It’s a miracle. She’s come dangerously close to hitting poles, jumped between moving cars, pulled off maneuvers that defy physics… but her record remains flawless. The cops can’t catch her if they can’t keep up.

Raph nicknamed her “ferrous” after watching her stand her ground against Shredder.

“You’re tougher than most people I know. You don’t break.”

She won’t admit it, but that nickname makes her smile a little every time she hears it.

She’s a fan of rock and alternative music. She has a playlist for everything. Training with Raph? Metallica. Investigative work? The Killers. Speeding away from the Foot Clan? AC/DC.

She does not fear Baxter Stockman. She did for about 0.2 seconds the first time she saw him. Then he opened his mouth, and she realized she could manipulate him into spilling information. Spoiler: she did.

If anyone hurts her turtles, she becomes a vengeful demon. She’s not a fighter, she doesn’t have super strength, but she’s smart and completely unafraid to get her hands dirty. She can make someone’s life a living hell with just a few phone calls and some well-done investigative work.

She’s been kidnapped so many times she doesn’t even panic anymore. The first time: “OH MY GOD!” The fourth time: “Okay, what’s the plan this time?”

If Casey calls her “babe” at the worst possible moment, she hits him. Not seriously, but just hard enough on the arm to make him understand that now is not the time.

Vern is only alive because she tolerates him. She genuinely cares about him, but there are days when, dear God, that man is unbearable.

If any of the turtles are injured, she’s the first to act. She’s not a doctor, but she’s learned enough from Donnie to perform advanced first aid. She’s also the only human strong enough to hold Raph up when he’s stumbling from an injury.

Mikey uses her as his human meme reference.

“APRIL, I LEARNED HOW TO MAKE MEMES WITH YOUR FACE.”

“Mikey, I swear if you Photoshop me into another Shrek meme…”

“…Oops.”

One time, she beat Raph in a pizza-eating contest. He swears he was just having an off day. She never lets him forget it.

If Splinter says he approves of her, then she’s family. And if anyone messes with her… They mess with the turtles.

that’a all bye <3

bayverse! April headcanons

because i hate the way megan fox was sexualised in the movies i wanna give her more personality than just being hot and smart 😭 i heart u bayverse April

- she thrifts! not just expensive 'real vintage' designer labels but everything, she also finds clothes than can be easily upcycled and tweaked for the boys. Her signature color is yellow so you KNOW she has rare and whimsical pieces she collects in her wardrobe

- speaking of which; she sews! Mikey often rips or breaks his stuff (like shoes and shirts) and hes always giving her bits and pieces to fix up. As much as Donnie is a tech wiz, Aprils expertise lies in the art of DIY! shes tried to teach Don how to sew but ironically its one of the few things he cant crack

- shes a stem nut, OBVIOUSLY! her and Don bond the most over new technology and the advancement of science and digital technology. her and Don made her a pc from scratch and its one of her most precious memories

- April has a really bad sweet tooth, when the guys get pizza for the rare nights in, she's reaching for Mikeys candy stash for sure (she makes sure to replenish it with all their shared faves)

- her favourite candy is anything sour! but actually sour, we're talking throat numbingly sour to the point where at the end of the bag all you taste is blood 💀 it freaks everyone out lmao

- she has a masters in journalism and a degree social sciences, its so important to her to give visibility to the stories rarely talked about. Shes very dedicated to her profession and genuinely gets mad that all vern cares about is attention from fans and the camera

- April is also very passionate about nutrition and fitness! she goes total big sister mode when the turtles neglect their protein intake especially with how big and physically demanding their jobs are. a few times she's tried to teach Leo how to cook for his brothers and hes just about learned how to not burn eggs on toast but shell be damned if she starts cooking for 4 6ft men 😭 respectfully not her job!

- she's incredibly protective of her friends, whoever they may be, even Vern. she doesn't take lightly to disrespect and she WILL trash talk you to silence if you make anyone she cares about feel less than

- when she was younger she wanted to be a zoologist or anthropologist. Like her dad, she's always had a love for science and research, but she loved animals so much as a kid and it crushed her when she realised her father was experimenting on animals

- she feels personally responsible for the turtles and Splinter, she visits them atleast once a night, whether on face time or in person. the fact that they feel theyll never be accepted in society weighs heavy on her heart. she wishes things were different

- she knows Mikey has a crush on her, but she doesn't know how to let him down gently and honestly doesn't wanna open that can of worms, so she just pretends she doesn't notice his very desperate flirting

- sleeper build april. SLEEPER BUILD APRIL. people treat her like shes fragile just because she's beautiful but shes also incredibly strong with amazing endurance. i mean hello?! SHE CAN RUN IN HEELS. thats badass

- she loves game nights w the turtles and Casey, she loves playing MK and her go-to character is ofc Mileena (goated and no im not biased)

- she may or may not have a dedicated collection of disguises for super sleuthing and recon. shes very proud of it and will give a tour if asked

- she wants to learn ninjitsu, just doesn't know if she should ask or wait to be asked. she feels awkward and sometimes wonders if its not her place, even though in reality Splinter would be happy to train someone so dedicated to justice.

- her favourite drink is banana protein smoothie!! the lair has a smoothie just for her 😭 they have to hide it from Mikey before he gets back into his liquid pizza phase again

- she likes hero comics/shows (like 2012 leo!). Naruto was her childhood and its kinda beautifully ironic that she's like a ninja by proxy now

thats all for now! its been like 5 years since ive written headcanons so sorry if the format is boring, lmk if you want more headcanons! ok bai

[incorrectfatui]

some Fatui headcanons before we resume the quotes (some funny, some sad, some just random idk) these are all over the place but oh well Pierro: Really liked talking to Signora about magic. They both use very different kinds, but they still have similar understandings, and no one else really wants to hear him ramble

Capitano: Oblivious to romantic relationships. Thinks everyone is just really good friends.

Dottore: Got so seasick on the way to inazuma and back, that he genuinely considered never visiting again. Spent like 5 months trying to research medication against motion sickness and ended up poisoning himself. Intentionally makes mathematical mistakes in his budget reports, just to annoy Pantalone.

Columbina: can't swim.

Arlecchino: Says "I don't have a favourite child", but definitely has a favourite child. Tried making Dad jokes once and failed miserably, mostly because she didn't understand the joke herself. Sometimes forgets that most the Harbingers are immortal, so she'll have situations where she mentions researching some long dead person, only for one of the others to go "oh i knew that dude personally". Somewhat salty that she isn't hundreds of years old.

Crucabena: Her birthday is on christmas. She doesn't know what christmas is, so it doesn't matter, but she just gives off the vibe of being born in winter and I think it'd be funny. Wrote letters trying to get Neuvilette to implement the death penalty monthly, but never received a reply. Has, one more than one occasion, used Hydro not to fight, but to drown people, because she liked watching them struggle.

Clervie: her and Peruere once illegally operated an Aquabus while on a mission. Peruere may have used it to commit vehicular manslaughter. Also she made mother's day presents every year, despite them being thrown away. Tried to teach herself elemental magic, but couldn't figure it out without a teacher. Once overheard Crucabena praying to the Cryo Archon. briefly had hope that she changed for the better, only to hear "Thank you your Majesty for giving me the ability to give people hypothermia".

Lyney: Genuinely thought Arlecchino was a guy for like 3 months after being adopted. Also sometimes forgets that Freminet isn't his biological brother.

Lynette: More cat-like than Lyney. Has caught birds and eaten them raw before, but doesn't do it anymore, even though Arlecchino approves.

Freminet: More powerful than Lyney and Lynette, even if it doesn't seem like it. Doesn't have all that much control over his cryo vision yet, so he mostly uses it as a support for his claymore, instead of the other way around.

Pulcinella: Has a lot of fun calling everyone a child, even if he isn't older than them. Dottore? Unruly teenager. Scaramouche or Sandrone? Practically a toddler. Arlecchino and Childe? Babies. Only ones he doesn't do this to is Columbina and Pierro. Columbina because he's scared, Pierro because of respect.

Scaramouche: One of the only people who actually understands how Ei's Realm of Euthmiya works. Has tried to explain it to several people, including Pierro and Dottore, but get's frustrated every time because they don't understand it exactly. So overcharged with electro energy, that touching him may give you a small shockl (yes, even after Sumeru). Is actually not completely sure how his body actually works, and neither is Nahida. Dottore has a pretty level of knowlegde (although he still gets a lot of surprises), but the only one who actually understands his body completely is Ei.

Sandrone: Tried to become active in Fontainian politics at some point. Promptly fell asleep in the courtroom because she spent several all-nighters trying to complete a project of hers. Complicated feelings about Scaramouche, ranging from "I want to dissect him" to "no one understands this guy more than me, ignore the fact that we talk like once every 5 years"

Signora: Even with the cryo delusion, her body temperature runs really, really hot. Is basically a walking heater- Columbina likes using her as a portable source of warmth. Also, her blood being liquid fire is not an exaggeration- got wounded in the palace one time, only to burn down half a library.

Pantalone: Once suggested suing Raiden Ei for child support. It did not work.

Childe: Completely unaware that Arlecchino isn't the first Knave. Thinks she's immortal too. Also only figured out that Dottore has clones after about a year of being a Harbinger.

[kissbyoon]

𖼥ৎ⠀“RECIPE OF LOVE.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯ INWHICH kim mingyu—the nation's favourite chef, is willing to lose against you.

₍ ... ₎ EXPLORE? ✦ chef!mingyu & chef/f!rea ⋆◞ 𝒈. romantic, crack, angst & fluff by the end · 𝒄𝒘. reader wears (long) skirt, mentions of scissors & food, kissing⎯⎯ ꒱

리자: part of valentine's special event—RUSH FOR LOVE! stop stop! Highly recommended to listen to 'I wish' during the last angsty scene and 'to you' during the kiss (also at the last) <3

"Kim Mingyu—the rich, famous and insanely good-looking chef of the country that worked in the same multi-million company as you. Expect, you just joined the company. And what you thought was rivalry between you two, turns out to be something much more sweeter."

“He is so handsome!” “How can he be so perfect?”

Just like any other new staff, your first impression on Kim Mingyu was just that.

But as time passed by, you started to despise the fact that he always overshadowed others.

By others, I mean you.

And the way everyone was always over him—’Kim Mingyu this, Kim Mingyu that’—it made your blood boil in anger and jealousy.

You swore that you could beat his cooking skills.

One problem, though; Mingyu wasn't just an ordinary professional chef. He was famous, rich, invited in every cooking show you've ever watched as a judge.

But when the company acknowledged you as one of the capable people to do the work for their biggest product projects─it didn't take long for Kim Mingyu to be your opponent.

Mingyu would work on his recipe, and you would on yours. And the best one gets selected.

How hard could it be? Right?

Not when your opponent is already starting his work, and you are still processing how to get things done.

It was exhausting and draining. But you kept trying to come up with something until there was only two weeks left. There was no way you could get this done now.

But when you arrived to work the next day, you found two large sticky notes by your office desk. It was a dish recipe.

You were used to writing down your recipes and pasting them around your house. So, thinking that it was yours, you decided to give it a try and head to your department's kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, the first person you see is Kim Mingyu—stirring something in a bowl. You try to ignore his presence, and reach out to grab an apron from the hanger.

"Good morning," Mingyu wished, making sure his presence wasn't ignored. You turned to look at him, and he wore that same stupid grin on his face.

Faintly smiling, you nod your head in acknowledgement and get back to your work. Mingyu didn't find it interesting to pester you further, so he focused in his work as you did on yours.

After a few minutes of silence, you were startled by Mingyu's voice suddenly calling out, "That's not how you do it," he said, and he looked genuinely offended at how you handled the recipe.

"Oh? Then teach me, Mr. Perfect Kim." You taunted. But the man simply grinned and stepped forward to grab the pan handle from your hands.

"Watch, and learn." He slyly smiled, wearing a mischievous glint in his eyes that made your lips curve into a small smile.

"Okay, Mr. Kim. I'm watching."

"Stop being too formal." He complained.

He then poured the batter from the bowl on the pan, and effortlessly began to toss it in the air. The sweet and tangy smell of the sauce filled your nose as he slowly spread it evenly on the fritter.

Your eyes glittered with awe at the sight of his cooking. And what also didn't go unnoticed by you, was the way he showed off his biceps while flipping the pan—causing you to giggle at his antics.

After the fritter was done, he grabbed a plate from a nearby cabinet and served the fritter ready.

It was perfect. It smelled perfect, looked perfect and would definitely taste perfect.

And maybe, you underestimated his potential.

Turning around with the plate in his hands, Mingyu grinned from ear-to-ear, waiting for you to say something.

"That's how it's done." He said, stretching out his arms to hand you the plate. "Take a bite, and tell me it's perfect!"

Holding in a smile, you take the plate from his hands. "Fork," you gestured towards the countertop, where a bunch of utensils lied. Mingyu followed your command and quickly grabbed a fork before handing it to you.

You break the fitter in half, scooping up a small bite in your mouth—while the man in front of you waited eagerly for your comment like a kid.

"Hm," you hummed, furrowing your eyebrows. And Mingyu's smile immediately dropped at that.

"What," his lips jutted out in a pout. "Is it not good?" He asked, playing with the ring on his finger.

It would be a disappointment if you didn't like it. Because the recipe itself was made for you. By him.

"It's..." You sighed, gulping. "Amazing." You breathe out, widening your eyes to prove your point.

"I knew it!" Mingyu grinned adorably, clapping his hands together. "You're such a tease."

"Look who's talking."

"Hey, I'm your senior, have some respect!"

"You were the one who just told me to stop being so formal?"

"...right."

From that day onwards, you realised that Kim Mingyu... wasn't so bad as you thought. There was a reason everyone was so down bad for him, and now you start to see that too.

During work hours, Mingyu would often offer to help you out with the kitchen work—even staying behind during night shifts.

He was a kind, handsome, respectful, funny and a loveable guy. You don't know why you couldn't see that before.

As the day of selection neared, you started to notice how giddy Mingyu would get when you mentioned the recipe you were making.

And on the day of selection, you surprisingly won against him. Were you happy? Yes, of course. But did you like to watch Mingyu lose like you wished? Strangely, no.

And you tried your best to ignore it for seven whole months, until one day.

You were scanning through your desk when you found your scissors missing. So, when Mingyu was passing by your office, you asked him to let you borrow his scissors for sometime.

He agreed, but was busy with work, so he suggested you to get it yourself from his desk.

As you started to search for it, your eyes landed on a small notepad—likely of his recipes. Interested and meaning no harm, you flip the page and read through. Completely neglecting the fact that you were here for the scissors.

But, your eyes caught a specific page.

04.06.24 — RECIPE FOR Y/N ♡

(do not let her know about this...)

"What the fuck," you muttered under your breath, reading each and every step of the recipe. It was exactly the same as yours—the one which you thought was written by you.

Did you really just find out the real reason behind your selection after seven months?

"Did you find it?" Mingyu stepped into his office, closing the door behind him. But before he could look at the notepad, you slide it under your pocket and glance around his desk.

Mingyu makes his way to his desk, searching for the scissors. As your eyes caught the scissors lying over a stack of books, you quickly grab it and nod your head.

"It's here, idiot." you gently smack his head, earning a laugh from him. He straightened himself, and reached out to rub the part where you hit—dramatically scowling with a pout.

"That wasn't very nice, y'know," he complained, waiting for you to fall for his cute actions and maybe earn an apology.

You giggled, waving the scissors in your hands. "I'll return this later," you say. "I'm off to work now!" Completely ignoring the man in front of you, you make your way towards the door and Mingyu just stands there, watching you walk away.

"There's something called being considerate!"

"What's that?" You turn around for the last time, making him frown with your words. "Hey—" "Also, meet me at the corner shop tomorrow at six. I'll be waiting." Cutting him short, you then walk away to your office.

And the subtle shift in your tone by the end didn't go unnoticed by Mingyu.

The next day was the 14th of February, or you could just say Friday.

Which meant that you had gotten off work earlier than usual—around 3PM. While Mingyu gets off at around 4. So it's fair for both of you to arrive at the corner shop at 6.

As soon as the clock hit 6, Mingyu was off to the corner shop and he reached there sooner than he had expected to. But you were nowhere to be seen. So, he went inside and bought two ice creams for himself.

"Alright, thanks," Mingyu thanked the young cashier, making his way out of the shop with two ice creams in his hand.

Just as he began to savour the first bite, he felt the ice cream on his other hand getting snatched away—making him turn around in the speed of light.

"Wha—"

"I see how it is, chef." You teased with the nickname, taking a bite of the ice cream in your hands. "You were going to eat these alone?"

"No, I—" Mingyu gulped down, blinking with a pout on his face. "You shouldn't eat ice cream in this cold weather," he mumbled, reaching out to take the ice cream from your hands.

You sway his hand away, watching his expression drop. "Double standards?"

Mingyu clicked his tongue and turned away with a disappointed look. "It wasn't bought for you anyways!"

Letting out a sigh, you stretch your arm in his direction, offering him the ice cream back. "Okay, big baby, you can have it."

The man turns around to face you with a look of disbelief. "I was just joking! Do you see me as a kid who cries over ice creams?" He rants with a small offended pout. "And plus, isn't it obvious that I bought it for you?"

"Honestly?"

"No, leave it."

You laugh at his defeated expression as Mingyu sighs with a faint smile. His hand reaches out to hold yours. "Let's go take a seat."

You let him take you to a nearby park, that was rather empty. He guides you towards the swings, helping you to sit down on one and takes a seat himself.

"So, is there something you want to..." Mingyu trailed off, turning to look at you. You nod, taking another bite of your ice cream before handing it to him and pulling out a notepad from your long skirt's pocket.

"This," you say, reaching your hand out to show him the notepad that was turned at a specific page—RECIPE FOR Y/N.

You thought he'd panic, or he'd become nervous at the sight of it—but he just smiled, and shifted his gaze on you. "What about it?"

"I—" you pause, blinking. "I wasn't supposed to find it!"

"But you did," he simply said, taking the last bite of his ice cream. "And it was perfect. I don't see a problem with that."

You wanted to protest, but instead, you just sigh and lean back, staring at the page. "Why would you even do all this?"

"For you," Mingyu's voice softened, making you glance at him. "I did it for you."

"I didn't want it!" Your tone was slightly harsh, but when your eyes met his gentle ones, it softened immediately. "I never said I wanted it..." Your lips unknowingly formed a pout. And your eyes became glossy at the sight of Mingyu.

"Yes, I did want to win against you. I did want to prove to everyone that I'm also a good chef," you ranted, tears welling up gradually. "I also wanted to show everyone that you weren't as good as all of them thought you were!" Your voice cracked by the end, as you reached out to wipe the tears rolling down your cheeks.

Mingyu immediately stood up, rushing to your side as he kneeled down. "Hey, hey—"

"But you made it hard for me to compete against you!" You cried out, hiding your face in your hands. Mingyu's hand instinctively reached out to brush your hair away from your face, gently removing your hands and held it in his.

"Why do you have to be so kind?" As he pulls you into a hug, you mumble against the thick fabric of his jacket, his hands patting your back in a gentle motion.

"You want to know why?" His voice was barely a whisper, gentle and warm. You nod, waiting for him to continue.

"But," he slowly pulled away from the hug, hands reaching to cup your cheeks. "I thought I was obvious enough?" Mingyu tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows in a cute manner.

You stare up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," he sighed. "Does that mean my hints didn't even reach you this whole time?" A chuckle escaped his mouth at the sight of your genuinely dumbfounded expression.

"Could you be, like, a little more specific? Please?" You held back the urge to pick up a fight with him, because how could he laugh in this situation?

He leaned down, subtly closing the distance between you two, making your breath hitch. "It's because I care about you," he smiled, tucking a hair strand behind your ear. "And it's not friendly shit. Not at all. I hope you get what I mean."

Your eyes lit up and you made no effort in trying to move away from him. It gave you warmth and comfort, to be this close to him.

When you took a little too long to respond, Mingyu could swear his breath got caught up in his throat and he tried his best to act normal. "I might need a response from you to move on," he tried to laugh it off, leaning away to step back.

But you immediately stood up, gently but tightly grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a sweet, beautiful kiss that you both knew you two craved. Your lips fell quiet against his, waiting for him to respond back. And he did, kissing you softly with a smile forming on his lips.

A few seconds into it, he slowly pulled back, staring into your eyes like the whole universe hid behind them.

"You scared me," Mingyu chuckled, pressing a light kiss on your lips.

"Don't be a coward and initiate the kiss, Mr. Kim." You giggled, cupping his cheeks in your hands as he nodded with a determined expression, and pulled you by the waist to kiss you again.

He pulled back, face red from blushing and grinning. "Like this?"

Maybe this is what you call a recipe of love.

[just-a-creep-babe]

SFW REQUESTS FOR VALENTINES DAY?????? *blows up*

What about Jeff, Toby and BEN with a deaf s.o.?

I wrote these with the assumption that the s/o was born deaf and mainly uses ASL/BSL to communicate—I hope that’s alright!!

Also, I’d love to hear more about people's experiences being deaf—so feel free to share and let me know if I did alright with these headcanons! ^^

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

This motherfucker likes the sound of his own voice so damn much, just because his s/o’s deaf, that absolutely doesn’t mean he won’t stop talking

So, like, even though he knows his s/o can’t hear him, he’ll still yap all damn day without pause

Which, honestly, kind of makes being deaf a benefit for when it comes to enduring him

He’s, unsurprisingly, really fucking stubborn, so getting him to learn sign language won’t be the easiest

He’d much rather just flap his arms around like an idiot or write whatever he wants to say on a piece of paper or something

Which isn’t very intuitive because A: it’s impossible to decipher what he’s trying to say when he’s doing the chicken dance

And B: his handwriting absolutely sucks

Even if his s/o really tries to persuade him to learn ASL, he’ll likely only double down on his refusal to do so

But if he notices that it genuinely upsets them, he’ll secretly pay more attention to their style of nonverbal communication

And he’s actually not horrible at learning new things, so he might be able to learn a few words here and there just through observation

Who knows—after a few months, he might even be able to string a whole sentence together!

If his s/o teases him when he messes up though, then it’s absolutely over

He’ll be even more adamant about not knowing a damn thing about ASL

But, on the other hand, if his s/o encourages him, then he’ll become increasingly more open to learning it

Other than that, Jeff’s a pretty protective boyfriend

If anyone tries to make a nasty comment about his s/o being deaf, he definitely won’t let it slide

Nobody disrespects his s/o—and he’ll make damn sure everyone knows that

Even though he acts like a big tough guy, he, ofc, is always soft for his s/o

And since their communication can be somewhat restricted at times, he’s very much so comforted by physical contact instead

Like, he still understands and appreciates it when they sign their love to him, but it means a lot for him to feel it too

So any kind of kissing, hugging, and touching of any sort is super important to him

Despite Jeff’s many flaws, the relationship is actually really cute~

BEN Drowned

BEN actually knows ASL!

So there isn’t much of a communication barrier between him and his partner

And dating him is, well, fairly easy-going

That is, of course, with the assumption that his s/o mainly communicates with ASL

But even if that isn’t their preferred method of communication, he’s a fast learner, and he’ll be quick to adapt to whatever they prefer

Either way, he really likes that they can both share this secret language no one else understands

It’s actually kind of his dream come true <3

He loves shit-talking the people around them whenever he gets the chance lmao

Which inevitably leads to them sharing a lot of inside jokes

Which, like, might get annoying to the others—but hey, that’s their problem, not his

Eventually, their secret language brings them close enough to the point where they can communicate based on expressions alone

Which, of course, only leads to so much more mischief

They inevitably develop a bit of a reputation around the mansion, rightfully dubbed the dreaded partners in crime

Even the other residents would think it’s cute—if they weren’t such little shit-disturbing miscreants, that is

Other than that, if his partner struggles to communicate with some of the other creeps, BEN will happily act as an in-between mediator

He’ll try to encourage the others as much as possible to learn the best methods of communication for his sweet lil’ s/o

Honestly, all he wants is to be as helpful as possible

His partner’s brought so much joy and ease into his life, he just wants to return the favor

Ultimately, their deafness really doesn’t change much in their relationship

And, if anything, it really only makes them closer

He’s happy he can be there for them, and he’s truly blessed to have them in his life as well <3

Ticci Toby

Toby also knows ASL!

There are times when he goes nonverbal, so he actually really appreciates not feeling pressured to speak all the time

He also ticks less when he communicates via sign language, so he really enjoys it

And, again, if ASL isn’t his s/o’s preferred method of communication, he’s more than happy to learn and adapt to fit their needs

Once he understands what they prefer, like BEN, he’ll also try to get the others on board with learning their preferred method of communication

And he also similarly acts as a mediator between them and the others

Toby needs a decent amount of accommodations for his various disorders, so he never makes his partner feel bad for any of their accessibility needs

He actually always encourages them to be more assertive about their necessary accommodations

And he thinks the different way they maneuver the world without their sense of hearing is super interesting

So his s/o should get used to regularly being asked plenty of questions lmao

Like they could just be chilling, and he’ll randomly bring up this thing he heard about deafness once in passing

And he’ll give them his full attention as they explain their point of view on the matter

Like—he’s definitely curious about hearing sounds through vibrations, for one

And he also once heard that many deaf people assume the sun makes a sound—does his s/o think that too?

What do they think sounds sound like??

Do they think in sign language or in abstract concepts???

Honestly, if the questions get exhausting, his s/o will have to straight-up tell him—no beating around the bush, because he might not get the hint otherwise ^^;

Even though he tries not to be, he’s generally insecure about a few sound-related things he does—like snoring and ticking verbally and such

So he’s actually glad his s/o can’t hear everything he does

It’s also a huge relief that his partner doesn’t judge him for things out of his control—whether it be sound-related or just accessibility issues he faces

He feels much more comfortable around them just knowing they also deal with stuff most people don’t otherwise understand

He loves his precious lil’ s/o <3