writtenbyjos

[writtenbyjos]

Gravity Falls: Starlight and Shadows Playlists

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Every story that I write always comes with a built in playlist/soundtrack, obviously cause I'm the biggest nerd I know. I absolutely LOVE character playlists cause they bring these stories to life. It's a way I can dive deeper and help others relate to them as well. Starlight and Shadows is no exception, I've created a few playlists for the general story, the prologues and Eliza and Matilda. I'll keep on updating them as I go!! ENJOYYYYY >:)

[writtenbyjos]

Starlight and Shadows: Gravity Falls Prologue #1

Prologue 1: Vagabond

((ALL FAN-FICTION RELATED CONTENT AND OC'S BELONG TO ME))

Gravity Falls, oh it is good to be back! I am BEYOND excited to share this with you guys, I've put my absolute heart and soul into writing this story, but I'm going to post chapters 1-5 whenever I can finally get them polished, edited and formatted the way I want. But this is the first prologue out of two that's going to set up the story before the story even begins. It'll introduce Eliza and Matilda, (Matilda's Prologue COMING SOON) and gives some context for where we'll pick up later in the story. It's going to be a full fledged story with all the angst, romance, mystery and adventure your heart can handle. To let you know what you'll be getting yourself into, we have a very charming and mysterious male antagonis with unknown intentions named Trick, changlings, vampires, the darker, more sinister side of Gravity Falls, inter-dimensional travel, heartbreak, a character who can see and communicate with ghosts, flashbacks and delving deep into some angsty Pines Twins content. What the people (AND ME) love to see. I've posted some artwork of my OC's, Eliza and Matilda if you wanna go check it out! I am so hyper-fixated on this fanfiction, its actually insane. Like, Gravity Falls has literally taken my mind and heart hostage and I am a WILLING participant. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little story as much as I have enjoyed writing it! :) <3 Attaching the Spotify playlist I created to read along with the stories. Enjoy!!

(ALL GRAVITY FALLS CONTENT BELONGS TO ALEX HIRSCH AND THAT KING ON EARTH ONLY WE ARE HUMBLE SERVANTS)

Summary:

PROLOGUE PLOT:

The first prologue (Vagabond) revolves around the happenstance meet cute and completely chaotic situation that Stanley and Eliza find themselves in. Eliza is an ex-pageant queen hailing from a wealthy family business, but escaping to big cities to live out her dreams of being on stage while haboring a complex darkness she can't seem to break free of. But right now, performing nightly at a seedy variety club downtown with her two best friends will suffice. After a heist gone very, VERY wrong, Stanley Pines, hunky drifter, takes cover from a cop chase and drug bust into an alley where he stumbles through a back door-- and onto Eliza, in a robe, smoking a cigarette out the door before she goes on for her first set. Their meeting would set off a butterfly effect, and set many events into motion. And the rest, my friends, is history.

MAIN PLOT (IN PROGRESS): After a year of sailing the seven seas and repairing their strained relationship and re-discovering their love and zest for life, Stan and Ford Pines return to Gravity Falls to spend a highly anticipated second summer with Dipper and Mabel, fresh off the track of their first successful year of high school. Dipper and Mabel have been trying to figure out how to be teenagers under the strain of their parent's failing relationship while Ford and Stan have made a fortune from their research. But while still trying to re-adjust to normal life after the traumatic events of defeating Bill and surviving Weirdmageddon, everyone still feels weary of calm waters and still haven't found their footing. But they know as long as they'll have each other, they can make it through anything. After the reunite, it was as if they had never left. The whole gang is back and better than ever. But in Gravity Falls, all is not always as it seems... and when Stan's long time old flame Eliza resurfaces and her estranged, mysteriously charming lover Trick comes looking for her, he brings with him a looming threat that no one could have ever imagined. This would be the summer where everyone's lives changed forever.

It was a hot, soggy-aired late afternoon where the days of august seemed to drag on like a bad movie. In Las Vegas, you needed three things, a tough hide, a sharp mind and a little dumb luck. In 1978, 'Grease' had just been released, and dancing was the capture of everyone's attention, but anew kind. Big cities like these offered the opportunity for young people with big dreams to think they could take the world, where it was almost still possible for people to have hope for the future, everything was so unknown, so mysterious. Stanley Pines was no exception. After a disastrous attempt to pull off a heist that involved certain "illegal" and "counterfeit" goods, exotic animal smuggling and a fake ID ended in being busted by two undercover cops. Stanley was once again evading the arrest and capture as he hurtled himself through the busy streets of one of his favorite cities in the world. He'd become well acquainted with the unpredictability and excitement of las Vegas. In other words, Stan had successfully learned how to be a full time criminal, evading the grasp of the LVPD many times in the past year. But this time… this time he may have taken things just a little too far.

As his heart pounded in his ears, he made sharp turns on street corners, jumped over chain link fences and ducked into a few port-o-poties eventually pushing some sad sack off their tourist bike and making a mad dash for the south side of town, where he knew he could find enough chaos to blend in with or a seedy bar to hide in. He cycled through the sidewalks and lights like a race car on a fast track.

He had become addicted to the feeling of escaping the authorities, it was the same rush he would get when he'd do something to get him sent to detention in high school. There was still no feeling like it. But he was so caught up in the adrenaline of outrunning the police, he nearly crashed into a construction site surrounding a large pot hole gaping in the middle of the sidewalk. He swerved around and barely missed it, laughing as he looked back, pounding a fist proudly into the air.

"Suckers!" He cackled. But what happened next was no laughing matter. He felt a small bump underneath the tires and his heart sank as the wheels began to pedal slower and slower.

"Goddammit, not now, not now! Fuck! Shit!" He cursed to himself, pulling over by a brightly lit club and hopping off into its hidden alleyway. He examined the front wheel: busted. There was a giant nail stuck in the tire, presumably from the construction site he almost fell face first into moments ago. He grabbed his hair in his clutched fists frantically and paced back and forth, in a disheveled suit he had sticky fingered from an old thrift store for this exact occasion. He put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.

"He went that way! We got him now!" He heard voices yelling from the street not too far away and knew he had to think of a plan and fast, if he didn't want to be locked up and sent off to the big house. He looked around frantically for an escape, and spotted a back door that was slightly open, cracked. He didn't think twice, just forward and lunged for the door, opening it and hurting himself inside. He managed to get himself through the door and flattened himself against the wall just as the cop car zoomed past the alleyway in the opposite direction, away from the club. It was one of his more graceful exits. But what wasn't so graceful, was his crash landing. He'd gotten his boot stuck in part of the ply wood that stuck up from the ground and fallen face first onto the dusty floor. Luckily, his giant nose broke his fall. He lay there for a minute, unsure if he could move his anything. He sighed and turned over to lay on his back, grimacing from the pain of falling flat on his forehead.

"Hey, this is a closed smoke session, buddy." A gravely voice startled him almost half to death, and it was coming from a short-torso-ed, long legged, blonde leaning against a door frame with a lit cigarette in her left hand, taking a long drag. Before he could say anything, she stepped over to him where he was sprawled out on the floor like a complete idiot about to make a snow angel with no snow. She was wearing nothing but a pink robe with fluffy cuffs and red platform heels—a specific detail that Stan would remember fondly for years and years to come. With every step closer she got, her heels echoed in the hallway full of metal shafts and a boiler sitting in the corner huffing like a train engine, presumably about to burst open. She seemed to walk in sync with the bursts of hot air, like the world was her stage and it beckoned to her every move.

"I—uh…sorry…" He scrambled to his feet as she towered over him, a look of annoyance plastered on her face as she took another drag and puffed it into the already clouded air. When he got to his feet and brushed his jacket off, he winced at the still open door that spilled into the street that he'd just been chased down. He closed it with two hands and huffed, turning back towards this mysterious stranger. And from this angle, he was almost stricken with how beautiful she was.

"Hey I'm smokin' here! Why'd you close the door?" She whined.

"I think you'll live." Stan muttered, catching his breath, searching around the room for something to barricade the door closed.

"Who the hell are you, anyways?" She asked, more inconvenienced than upset, watching him scramble about.

"No time to explain! Just help me keep this door shut, toots!" She eyed him suspiciously and crossed her arms. He looked at her with a pleading look and sighed, rubbing his eyes together with one fist. "Please?" He asked. The woman groaned and dropped her shoulders.

"Fine, fine." She said huffing. She threw him an old pipe from a pile of metal scraps and broken show signs in the hallway and Stan made a makeshift lock so that no one could barge in without exerting a good amount of effort. She came up right behind him and fastened a small chair and placed it underneath the door handle, making sure it was secure. She took her arm in his and put out her cigarette on a small ash tray by the door and lead him hastily to a small door down the hall. Upon entering, it looked like makeshift dressing room. He ran in and caught his breath, the lady shutting the door abruptly behind her.

"Y'know, most times I don't let strange men into my room until at least the third date." She said putting her hands on her curvy hips. Stan propped his forearm on a beam and wiped the sweat off his forehead panting a little from all the excitement. When his head cleared enough for him to realize she had just back handedly insulted him, he felt his face turn red.

"Hey! I'm not strange! Besides, y-you're the one who pulled me in here!" He said smoothing out his beige leisure suit and shook his head. "Strange men my ass…geez, women are so paranoid." He muttered under his breath, irritably. He'd had just about enough of today.

"How about I throw you back onto the street? Hello? I'm also the one who saved your ass back there!" She said, strutting over to him and poking an accusatory finger into his chest with force. "Where's my thank you?" She said crossing her arms definitely. Stan sighed and decided he needed turn on his charm to smooth his way out of this one, that is, if he wanted to stay hidden from Sergeant Amos and Deputy Jones. He grabbed her chin between his pointer finer and thumb, giving her a warm smile.

"Thank you, princess." He noticed her face flushed with a rose tint.

"I…y-you're welcome." She was trying to act big and tough, but Stan could see a quiver of weakness in her eyes, and he thanked his lucky stars for his natural wit and charm, and that he wasn't his twin nerdy twin brother.

"You got a name, sweetheart?" He asked. She gave him a look and smiled.

"Eliza. Like in 'My Fair Lady'." She held out her hand and Stan took it gently in his, grazing her knuckles with his stubbled lips. "But you can call me Liz." She said, walking her fingers up Stan's torso.

"My fair lady indeed….Liz, I like it. Pretty name for a pretty gal like you. I'm Staley Pines. But…you can call me Stan. Nice to meet ya." He said with an award winning smile.

"So, you man of mystery, I know I'm probably gonna regret asking this and regret letting you into my dressing room but, who or what exactly, did I just save you from?" She took a few steps closer with each word til she was inches away from his face, fiddling with the hem of his coat. He didn't know if she was pickpocketing him or just feeling him up. Either way, he didn't care.

Stan gulped and tugged on his jacket collar.

"See, if I told you, where's the fun in that?" He chuckled nervously.

"Oh look—my dressing room telephone…" She pulled away and grazed her hand over a pink rotary next to her lit up mirror and a few make-up brushes. "Hello? Hello operator? There's a strange man in my dressing room that won't leave me alone…" She pretend to be on the phone and twisted the wire between her little fingers, feigning fright.

"Alright, alright! I'll tell you, just—just put the phone down, shortcake." He held out his hands cautiously, as if he were talking her down from the ledge. "But… how do I know you're not just gonna call the cops for real?" She put her weight on one foot and played with the belt of her robe.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me." She said bopping him on the nose.

"Meh, cut it out!" He chuckled, gently swiping her hand away. "Fine…I was uh, I was sorta being…chased or something." He said sheepishly.

"Or something?" She asked, holding back a chuckle. "Who was chasing you?" She crossed her arms.

"Charley and Hudson Combs, L.V.P.D. Precinct nine." Stan waited for her to make the usual judge-y, freaked out or doped out reaction he'd usually gotten from everyone else, but she never did. She just nodded and raised an eyebrow, pulling a box of cigarettes from the breast pocket on her robe. She lit another cigarette and motioned for him to continue.

"I was… s-supposed to meet a few fellas about getting a few tigers and an alligator down across the boarder. Know what? I shouldn't be telling you this. You need plausible deniability." He winced, but there was still no reaction out of Liz except a slow, exhale of smoke from her drag and a nonchalant shrug of reassurance. Stan sighed. "…But when I met up with the buyers to seal the deal, they turn out to be undercover cops! They tried to arrest me but uh…" He chuckled proudly. "Let's just say these hands can get away from anything, out of any situation. I managed to outsmart 'em and get them off my trail…maybe just long enough to buy me some time to figure out my next move. But twiddle-dee and twiddle dumber put a slash in every one of my tires! Gonna cost an arm and a leg, too.

"So how'd you end up on the floor of my Long story short, I've been trying to outrun these asswipes for half an hour now!" He exclaimed.

"Well, why the hell didn't you just say so?" She asked casually, still holding out her cigarette with a bent wrist.

"What?" He asked, surprised at her accepting nature…or was he skeptical?

"Why didn't you say that earlier? It would've made things a lot easier! There's a secret stairway that goes up to the attic, dummy." She said matter of factly.

"Well, in a city like this, who knows who you can really trust? Or if…if you're a guy like me…" He said shifting uncomfortably. Eliza half smiled, knowingly.

"A hunky drifter with a thrill problem?" She asked giving him a look down. Stan ran his fingers through his hair and shot her a hand gun, winking.

"Haha, yeah!"

"Wait here." She said, turning around briskly and meandering towards the back of her boudoir.

"Look, Eliza… I appreciate you and all of this but I don't exactly have time to wait. I need to figure out what the fuck I'm gonna do! What if they come looking for me here? I left the bike outside, I mean…I'm toast! Christ on a saltine cracker…" He took a flask from his pocket and guzzled down a large swig of whiskey.

"Calm down, mon cher," she had disappeared behind a drape and he heard her fiddling through what sounded like a dresser or drawer of some kind. "You're bumming my good mood. Besides, all you need, is a little wardrobe change!" She sang.

"What the fuck?" Stan muttered to himself. "What the hell does a wardrobe change have to do with getting me off the hook? So I can take a prettier mugshot?"

"God. Men are so lucky to have women. You're all hopeless. Without us, you'd be chasing your tails, itching your fleas and off starting wars." She called. "Oh wait, too late."

"That's debatable." Stan muttered, taking another swig of his drink.

"Hey pal, I have a strict alcohol policy here." She said coming around the corner with a new suit, some make up and a bag of mystery supplies. Stan put his flask away quickly and blushed trying to play it off cool. She set down her haul on her make up table and put her hands on her hips.

"No alcohol allowed." She frowned.

"Damn, you really know how to have fun, don't you?" He asked, putting it away.

"I said, no alcohol…Unless you're willing to share." Eliza extended her hand expectedly and Stan felt a sly grin grip at the corner of his lips. He shook his head and sighed.

"Guess I misjudged you, kid." He said handing her the flask. She twisted one the top.

"Guess you did." She said taking a giant swig, both alarming and impressing Stan at the same time.

"You nervous or something? What's got you so thirsty?" He chuckled, amused as she wiped her mouth with her arm and handed him his flask back.

"Pre-show nerves. And there's a very devilishly handsome stranger in my boudoir." She hummed.

"Devilishly handsome, eh?" Stan tried to appear more confident and put together than he really was and leaned on the side of her mirror, like he'd seen James Dean do many a time in the movies."Hey, what's the plan with those? This devilishly handsome stranger needs to make like a bird and fly out of here, y'know…unseen." He stroked his chin, looking at the pile of stuff on her table.

"Cops can't arrest you if they don't recognize you." She said smiling, holding out the suit for him. It was flashy alright, it was black with electric blue lighting strikes and a silky pant to match. She had picked out a wig with long brown hair, and a fake mustache to tie it all together. It was a stretch, but better than anything he had on hand.

"Huh. You really think this disguise can hide me from the cops? Don't you think it's a little too…sparkly? What if I just draw attention to myself?"

"Thats the point! If you were trying to outrun the law, the last thing you'd be doing is going to a sketchy variety show at a dingy night club. You'll be hidden in plain sight! Besides, I've never met anyone who can grow a mustache in under half an hour, Stanley." She raised her eyebrows and Stan felt his stomach settle for the first time all day. This might actually work.

"I like your style, kid. That's impressive. Crazy, but we might be able to pull this off." He said taking the costume and draping it over one arm.

"Are you crazy? Of course we will. I didn't grow up learning how to make myself eight years older with my pageant make up for the fun of it…" She paused and winked. "I did it to help disguise shady figures and get them into the witness protection program."

"Pageants, huh?" Stan asked, masking a snort. Eliza was amused that he didn't even question her comment about the witness protect program.

"Yes." She gritted her teeth and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"Isn't Miss America supposed to be a role model or something? Like a goody two shoes in an expensive dress?" Eliza rolled her eyes.

"You have no idea." She shivered slightly and rubbed her arms quickly.

"You know doll, I did have this under control. But I appreciate the help anyways."

Eliza smirked.

"Right. Until you came stumbling in here with a broken bike and into the arms of a half naked stranger in a leotard? Yeah. Sounds like you have everything under control." She looked amused and Stan blushed. "It's a good thing you're cute." Stan puffed out his chest and cracked his knuckles.

"What can I say? I'm adorable! People can't get enough of me, even the cops keep ridin' my ass from here to New Jersey." Eliza giggled into her hand and adjusted her robe. Stan couldn't help his wandering eyes as they surveyed this lovely stranger he'd stumbled upon, literally, and the slip in her robe near her chest that was opening up just enough to get a better look. She was a good foot and a half shorter than he, with high cheekbones, long blonde hair and big, blue eyes. She had a small trail of freckles lining her nose, and they way her small waist and big hips swayed with every word she said, beckoned Stan to come closer.

"That's debatable." She smirked, turning around, hair hitting Stan square in the face. But he didn't care—it smelled like vanilla ice cream and babies' laughter.

He watched as she made her way behind a curtain and motioned him to look away. "Do you mind? I have to get ready… And you need to get into that suit, pronto."

"R-right, sorry…" Eliza slipped behind a pink curtain by the velvet couch and disappeared. He instinctively turned around and crossed his arms, hearing a zip and a tug here and there. Stan's face flushed and began to shed his layers and put on the blue suit while Eliza was still getting her dress on.

"Where did you say you were from?" She called.

"Uh…that depends. I've been banned in seven states including my hometown…"

"Seven states? No way." She said impressed "And you're hometown…Which is…?" She asked.

"Glass Shard, New Jersey. Born and raised. But like I said, I'm not exactly…allowed back. Got a lot of angry people with fake pitch forks waiting for me if I ever do." He chuckled.

Eliza peered around the satin drape and looked pleasantly surprised when she got a good look at Stan. And vice versa. Her robe had disappeared and she was now wearing a sparkly a two piece set, with a white, bedazzled, form fitting tank top and matching pants with bell bottoms and platform heels that almost brought her up to Stan's chest. She had on big, circle, blue tinted glasses and her hair was teased.

"Very nice. Very Bowie." She said signing Stan to do a turn around with her twirling finger.

"Not so bad yourself, toots. Damn. You're a sight for sore eyes. What I wouldn't give to be walking around the streets of Vegas with a gal like you on my arm." He took her hand and twirled her around slowly, ending her in a dip, locked in his arms. They stayed like this, locked in time for a minute and Stan's eyes wandered to her pink lips, so soft and so thick.

"I mean…if you play your cards right…" She said, the breath taken away from her by their embrace. There was a moment—just a fleeting moment—where he thought she might want to kiss him back, but before she could there was a knock at the door and Stan nearly dropped her on her head before catching her mid fall. She hit his arm and dusted herself off, scoffing. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to be quiet.

"Eliza? Your little girl group is on in fifteen. Sage Green is finishing up her last set." A male voice called from the other side of her door.

"Thanks Julio." She called, turning back to Stan, she sighed and went to get the fake mustache and matching wig. "Now then, after you put this on, you're on your own. I have a show to do." She took the mustache and applied a thin line of glue on its sticky side, and stood of her tip toes to reach Stan's upper lip. She stuck it under his nose and smoothed the edges, her fingertips brushing against his lips every now and then. Next, she fitted the wig over his head. Her hands pulling and tugging at his hair was doing more than he'd care to admit. But the look was pretty convincing…and Stan couldn't deny her obvious expertise.

"One more thing…" She reached for her makeup palette and grabbed a brush readying herself to work on Stan's face.

"Woah, woah, woah…that is not touching my face, doll face." He said defensively. "Guy's don't wear makeup! I'm not some kind of sissy." Eliza raised an eyebrow and snickered to herself, dipping the brush in a red color, then a blue, then a black.

"There is so little you understand about the world, Stan. Get your head out of your ass. Do you want to look convincing for the cops or not?" She asked. Stan looked at her, then the make up brush with powder on the end and sighed.

"Fine. But you better not make me look bad." He said. After a few moments of breathing in Eliza's perfume which was a heavenly blend of amber and childhood wonder, he began to grow tired of the poking and prodding of the prickly brush and wondered how the hell women could sit still and do this for hours when he could barely sit still for five minutes. He had a newfound respect. He liked having Eliza stand so close to him, he could hear all the small catches in her breath as she honed in her focus, their lips barely inches away from each other. "I still don't understand how this is gonna help."

"Of course you don't," she sang. "C'mon, admit it, you secretly love this. I know you do." She found his discomfort quite hilarious but Stan just groaned in annoyance.

"Oh yeah, I love getting stabbed in the eye. Feels like I'm kissin' a porcupine. Hey!" He flinched. "Be careful with that thing—you're—you're getting powder in my cornea!" He blinked, scrunched his face up and tried to rub the make up out. Before he could start messing up all her hard work, Eliza scolded him and slapped his hand away. "Great, just great!"

"You big baby. Hold still…" She hissed. "Aaaaand…all done." She stood back and tilted her head. She looked pleased with herself. "Take a look." She stood behind him as he checked himself out in the mirror. And he had to admit it, she make him look like an entirely different person. The wig and mustache combo made him look like a young and hip club goer, and the suit didn't look half bad. What really threw him was the fake black eye she had given him, he assumed with the red and blue make up.

Somehow, she had managed to re-sculpt his face with what little make up she used and he was amazed. He put his hands on his hips and beamed. "And thus, Stanwick Pinestone was born." She winked at him through her reflection.

"You can really do all this with make up?" He looked intrigued, admiring his newly sculpted jaw line.

"Duh! I told you! Make up is the most magical tool in the world. It can turn you into anyone you want to be; on stage and off. Now that's my kind of thrill. It probably doesn't beat illegally smuggling exotic across the Mexican border or being on the FBI's most wanted list, though." She eyed Stan who was rubbing the back of his neck."One thing I do know, is that those guys aren't looking for someone with a black eye and a mustache." She crossed her arms and cocked her hip to one side with pride.

"Lizzy, you're a genius! But the good kind!" He picked her up by her waist without thinking and spun her around in the air. She laughed and gripped tightly onto his forearms, throwing her head back with pride. The thin, blue veiled skirt attached to her was it billowed around and twirled as she did. When he put her down they both took a beat and chuckled uncomfortably.

"I just meant—you—well…thanks. For this." Stan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You really are somethin' else." This time, he found it in himself to give her a real, genuine smile.

"Just don't get arrested, I will need that disguise back." She laughed. "And you know what? The mustache combo isn't a bad look for you, in fact, I think it's kind of sexy."

"Yeah, not bad, huh? Let's just hope its enough to keep me out of trouble…for now." He checked himself out in the mirror a few more times, smoothing his fake hair back and stroking his brand new stache.

"Not that I'm not enjoying our little pow-wow, but I do have to get to stage before they cut our act altogether. Are you good from here?" She asked, grabbing a little tiara from a shelf by the door and placing it on her head.

"I'm good from here…" Stan paused when he turned around and noticed the glimmering crown placed carefully on her head. "…Princess." He flashed her a smile.

"You can stay and watch y'know…if you want…" She said.

"Hey, I gotta act the part anyways, right? Can't give it away too soon." Stan said cooly. "Might as well stick around and pretend like I'm having fun. Y'know, sell the look."

"I swear to god, if my girls don't show up soon, I'm going to throw up." She said adjusting her hair and costume.

"Your girls?" Stan air quoted, squinting.

"Ellie and Betty…they're my partners. We sing together? In the variety show."

"What's your act?" Stan asked.

"We're all named Elizabeth…does that count?" She shrugged making Stan chuckle. "The Three El's…it's—it's a work in progress." He could see her blush in the mirror as she powdered her face.

"Oh joy. There's three of you?"

"Hey, I'll have you know we're very popular! Any day now and we'll have a real residency here in the city. Just you wait." She squinted and pointed, getting right up in his face.

"I have no doubt about that. Who wouldn't love you?" He said, coming off as way more confident than he felt, and it was secretly making Eliza's knees weak. She blinked and shrunk off her tip toes.

"If they show up…I hope they're okay. They know how important this show is for us! It's exposure!"

"Hey doll, cheer up! Even if they don't…who need's em? You've got that crowd in the palm of your hands. Knock 'em dead! Break an ankle! Isn't—isn't that what they say in theatre or whatever?" He asked, rolling his wrist.

"Something like that…You're not totally wrong." She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"Course I'm not! I'm always right!" He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"And hey…" He lifted her chin. "If you need someone to play off of, I'm already dressed for the part, huh?" He stretched out his arms and did a turn around.

"You know, you're pretty alright. For a criminal." She winked.

"You're not so bad yourself, y'know… for a pageant queen." He replied. She looked side to side, taken a back slightly.

"How did you…my title?" She shook her head, scanning his face.

"I used to live in Jersey! A.k.a, pageant capital of the East. I know a first place tiara when I see one, kid." He looked up at the little, silver crown on her shelf right above them, picked it up and fitted it on the top of her head gently and she blushed furiously, stunted for words. He mustered all of the courage he didn't have and bent down to kiss her quickly on the cheek. Her face was completely red now, she absent mindedly touched the place he had kissed with her fingertips and smiled, immediately snapping out of it and the color from her face draining at the reminder that she had to go on without her two counter perfomrers.

"Well—partners or no partners! The show must go on! I've gotta get going! Shoo!" She ushered him out the door and she waved as she fled through the hall, but not before turning around, running up to Stan and giving him a quick, hesitant peck on the lips, returning the favor and leaving him stunned and frozen in place. It was…electric. It made him wonder what her lips might've really tasted like.

"Thanks for the drink, Stanwick. See you out there! At least try to act like you're having fun." She saluted him and disappeared into throw two big, double doors, leaving Stan to his own agenda. He already missed her, and wondered how could so much change in the span of half an hour, after having lived without her his entire life.

He entered the main stage area complete with a piano, a bar, a microphone and sea of weirdos clinking glasses and dancing with the disco music blaring from the speakers. He did exactly as him and Eliza had planned, he grabbed a drink, mixed and mingled and tried to stay as calm as he could. He was actually starting to feel like things were going to be okay, until he saw the two cops that were chasing him, slip through the back way and spill into the room. All sense of confidence abandoned him and he began to worry that their entire idea was a bad one that would put him directly in arms reach of the people he was running from. Stan anxiously began to shuffle through the crowd, dodging investigative eyes.

He started to panic, to fear, to imagine himself locked behind bars with no family that cared enough to come and find him. His thoughts were racing, till he felt pressure on his wrist. For a split second, he wondered if his time had finally come. But when he turned his head, he saw Eliza, practically glowing underneath the disco lights, grabbing a hold of his wrist.

"Eliza?" He pulled her in close, sure she could hear the pounding of his heart. She pulled away with a panicked look as well—had she seen something she didn't want to?

"Stanwick, I need your help!" She looked at him with pleading eyes, and Stan melted under the veil of sweet relief that he hadn't been caught yet. Her disguise was working. She pulled him to a back room behind the stage and caught her breath, fanning herself. "I'm going to kill them, I'm going to kill them!" She said frantically.

"Careful, sweet thing. You're still in ear shot of the cops, they came through the front like fifteen minutes ago!"

"Well, they haven't found you yet!" She said dismissively. "Look. You gotta help me. El and Betty—my scene partners, bailed on me! They were supposed to be in costume with their heinies on stage fifteen minutes ago, and no one has seen them! And I need someone to fill in for them and make this a duet. And that someone is gonna be you!" She took his shoulders and shook him.

"Woah, woah, woah there is no way that I'm getting up there with this—"

"You said you'd help me!" She frowned and it was adorable. "Consider it pay back for saving you life!" She put emphasis on the end expectedly.

"Doll, I can promise you, nobody, and I mean nobody—including you—wants to hear me get on that stage and sing. It ain't happenin'. Being a silent stage prop, now that's more up my alley." He said defiantly. Eliza huffed and looked around, as if to find an answer to her situation. "Besides, I thought you said you could handle it by yourself?" Stan said.

"Thinking about doing it yourself is a hell of a lot different than actually doing it by yourself, you know! I didn't think they'd really bail on me!"

"Not…happenin'." He said firmly.

"Look, if you help me with this, I—I'll get you a ride. Anywhere you need to go. I know a guy that works here at the club with a limo we can borrow." She said. Stan looked apprehensively at the stage doors, and then back to Eliza's pleading face. He must've been absolutely out of his damn mind. "Seriously, he can get you anywhere you need to go, but I can't go up there alone and sing a song meant for two or three people by myself!" She pleaded, clasping her hands together. Stan sighed and his shoulders dropped.

"Fine. Since you're practically humping my leg…I'll…I'll do it." He said begrudgingly. Eliza squealed, throwing her arms in the air and then wrapping them around Stan's neck happily.

"Thank you, Stan! I'll make it up to you, I promise!" She hung around his neck like a necktie.

"Kid, this ain't gonna be pretty. I'm warning you now." Eliza dropped down to her feet and grabbed his wrist, pulling him through the bustling dancers and to backstage.

"Just follow me, I'll lead. And…don't worry about those cop guys. They won't bother you." She said slowly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, kid."

The next few minutes were spent getting the stage equipment ready for singing, and touching up their hair and costumes. It was a smaller club, but everyone involved seemed to be eager to put on a quality show for their patrons. The stage lights shifted and Eliza and Stan stood with hand held microphones with anticipation, his bad and her's good. She took his hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze as the club owner, a tall man with about fifty gold chains around his neck and a mouth full of silver grills announced them.

"Give our little girl a round of applause. To continue our night of nostalgia variety show, Eliza and her—friend will lure us into a night of romance with their rendition of a timeless classic." He said, turning around to face them. He whispered to both them within ear shot:

"If I see those two, it's their heads and your ass. Don't fuck this up." They both nodded.

As the curtains pulled back, the heat and harsh light from the stage lights nearly blinded him, throwing a hand over to shade his eyes out of instinct. Eliza was already posing, holding the microphone like she'd rehearsed what spot to be in. She was absolutely beautiful under the glow of the overheads. But it didn't distract Stan from the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. The last time he'd gotten up on stage was when he was faced with the decision to be in a high school production for community service hours or face suspension because he had busted into the gym and stolen equipment and left a half smoked joint behind. He was usually prepared for anything, but this wasn't something he was ready to jump head first into.

Stan immediately recognized the song being played on the piano as 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough'. This was gonna be rich.

Stan put on his ultimate con-man facade, to pull off one of the greatest scams ever, tricking this crowd into thinking he could sing. He followed Eliza's lead clumsily but kept up pace. He noticed the uproar in the crowed when Eliza's verse came on and her smooth as silk voice echoed through the microphone. She had the audience completely captivated, and as they came together in harmony, they soon both had them eating out of the palms of their hands, cheering and moving to the rhythm blindly. Eliza's stage presence was unlike anything Stan had ever seen in his life, she was graceful, smooth, confident and…shining. Literally, she was glowing like a star in the night sky. The way her hips moved, and how to crowd moved with her, was intoxicating. It almost made Stan enter late on the second chorus.

As they sang, Stan noticed the two cops swaying in the audience too, as if they had been dismissed from duty like nothing had happened. They even made eye contact once or twice and…nothing. It was like they'd been caught into a trance of some kind…weird. It got him excited enough to really let loose on stage and get caught up in the rhythm of his singing partner and of the song. He and Eliza made a very convincing duet, their chemistry was electrifying the whole room, wether they intended for it to happen or not. Without the fear of being caught, Stan finally let his fun side run wild. He busted a move and tangled Eliza into his arms at every chance he got, conjuring a few excited screams from the ladies in the crowd. After shedding his jacket and letting his gold medallion shimmer in the disco ball's reflection, a pair of underwear was thrown at him and he smiled egregiously. He hadn't had this much fun in years.

Then just as the song ended, the crowd went wild and cheered for the new not-so-power couple. He saw the two cops high five and leave through the front entrance. He had never felt so alive. It was a rush like he had cheated death or gotten away with murder. He and Eliza joined hands and took a bow together, exiting stage left to make room for the other performers. As soon as they were back stage, they burst out into laughter and embraced passionately.

"That was so fucking awesome!" Stan let out a belly laugh, spinning Eliza around in his big arms. "Did you see those moves? I was on fire!" He cheered.

"And to think you tried to tell me that you couldn't sing! You lair! That was amazing!" She pushed a pointer finger into his chest. "I don't think I've ever seen someone throw underwear at a variety show!"

"I've never done anything like that before…I felt so alive. Being there with you—kid—that was…thanks. And…the way you saved me from jail tonight, nobody's ever stuck out their neck like that for me before."

She gave him a warm smile and looked at her feet.

"Don't mention it. You saw them leave too, right?"

"Walked right out that door after looking right at me right in the face! Idiots! Don't know how the hell that happened but who am I to argue with fate?" He ran his hand through his hair, still shaken up by that entire performance.

"Do you…still need that ride?" She looked up at him, a twinge of sadness in her big, pale, blue eyes.

"Well, I mean…if I got those guys off my back, maybe I could…stick around town a little longer. Y'know if the mood strikes me. I've got places to be and suckers to scam. Y'know how it goes." He tried to play it off as aloof, but wished he could just take her in his arms and never let her go again. Because the thought of walking away from someone like her was almost unbearable to think about. Funny how fast things can change on a dime.

"Well, you're always welcome on my dressing room couch. I could use a partner like you…maybe I'd actually be able to get out of this city, make a name for myself." She glanced over to the stage doors.

"Look, I know I con people for a living, so take what I say with a grain of salt but kid. I'm being honest when I tell you I've never heard a voice like yours before. And I've even been to Minnesota!" He barked.

"Thank you, I think?" She half smiled, unsure wether to take it as a compliment or not, considering who she was talking to. Nevertheless, she couldn't ignore the feeling in her chest, that felt like the warm glow of a sunset on an august evening like this one, where everything seemed absolutely perfect. They paused, unsure of what to say but very sure that neither of them wanted to part ways yet.

"Do you…I was supposed to get dinner with the girls but…they aren't here so…" She said twirling her hair anxiously.

"Girls shmirls…They didn't even bother to show up! I mean, you'd have to be pretty dumb to pass up an opportunity like that." He said.

"I just hope they're alright…It's not like them to miss a performance." She rubbed her arms, shivering slightly. Stan realized how cold it was back stage now that they were out from under the heat of the moment and of the crowded, musty stage room. He paused, then draped his suit jacket around her arms.

"I'm sure they just just got caught up in traffic or they're doing lines somewhere. Isn't everyone these days?" Stan smiled at her. "But hey, I gotta admit…kinda glad they didn't show up." Eliza blushed and pushed a strand of loose hair out of her face, almost completely engulfed in how big the jacket was, and how small she was.

"Yeah, who needs 'em anyway?" She said. It was then that Stan noticed a little dimple in the left corner of her mouth and a small gap between her front teeth. She was about as adorable as they come.

"So, you were inviting me to dinner?" Stan chuckled.

"It's funny…I seem to remember you offering to pay." She said sneakily.

"Hey, hey, woah…Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, what kind of man would I be if I enforced those toxic stereotypes? This ain't the nineteen-fifties anymore, baby. But if you're nice to me, maybe I'll buy you a shake."

"What a gentlemen." She said sarcastically.

"Come on, let's get out of these clothes. The sequins on this damn top are making my tits itch." She pouted.

"What happened to the 'third date' rule?" Stan put his arm around her and pinched her cheek. "Did'ya finally find your exception?" He grinned from ear to ear.

"Not a chance." She said putting her head on his shoulder as they walked to her dressing room. "I just don't wanna be worried about getting burger grease on this outfit."

They got back to her room, just as they had left it. Stan felt as though his life was now divided into two parts, before he met Eliza…and then everything that comes after. She freed herself of his grip, and disappeared again behind her changing curtain. Stan looked long and hard in the mirror before he took off his disguise. Was this some divine intervention to get him off the streets for good? Was Eliza some kind of heaven sent protector? He glanced over to a pair of arms that were held up and visible above the curtain rod. Her top was coming off and she stretched, letting out an adorable little grunt.

He changed back into his old clothes, that felt sweaty and smelled like cigarettes. His reflection turned from hunky drifter back to a lost, disheveled, low-life, con-man. Far from the world of glitz and glamour that he'd just been exposed to. He slumped his shoulders and sighed. Where had everything gone so wrong?

"Stan?" Eliza appeared in the mirror next to him, brushing his arm. She had removed her make up and her hair was now up in a messy ponytail, her small stature being devoured under the fabric of a baggy hoodie. The dark circles under her eyes were more evident now, she looked tired. Normal. Angelic.

"Nice to know you're still there under all that make up." Stan teased. She shoved him lightly in the arm and gazed at herself, standing next to him. Maybe she wouldn't let him in on it yet, but seeing them stand side by side brought her a great deal of comfort to her.

"Nice to know you're still an asshole under that wig." She reciprocated.

"Touche." He muttered. "So this is you? The girl behind the pop star?"

"I can be both…" She fixed her hair slightly and sighed.

"I don't know about you, but you better be careful, baby. I could get used to this." He chuckled and turned to face her, running a hand through her hair. She let her face rest in his giant palm and before either of them could think, they both leaned in, their lips touching at last. It was the perfect kiss, tender with purpose and meaning. Stan cupped her small face into his hand and ran his thumb along her ear. After what felt like an eternity of bliss, they pulled apart and looked at one another. Neither of them would admit it, but this was the first time in either of their lives that they felt they had been truly seen by someone else.

"Well, I could get used to that." Eliza said smiling. She was about to lean in for another kiss when she purposefully missed his mouth and whispered something in his ear instead. "Shakes first, kissing later." Stan shivered at her voice in his ear.

"You're making this so hard." He teased. Eliza looked down at his pants and then back up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug look.

"No… just you." She bopped his nose and took his arm, leading him out the back door into the alleyway where he had entered from. He followed up with a loud, 'HA' and pointed a finger gun at her quick-witted remark.

"You're trouble alright…I like trouble….Maybe if you're sweet to me who knows where the night'll take us?" He escorted her down the street and into the bustling Vegas street.

"Who knows? If you buy me dinner, I might be nice to you." Stan stopped in his tracks and gave her a long knowing look. She was the one. He was done searching, but he'd never admit it to her, not till he was sure she felt the same way.

"What?" She asked, still holding his hand.

"Nothin'. Just thinking about how good that shake is gonna be when you pay for it." He chuckled and tickled her waist, bringing her back into a warm, tight embrace. They walked together, side by side, hand in hand to a greasy old diner underneath a train track that looked like the toilet water would give you sepsis, but as far as they were concerned, it was absolutely magical.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, she laughed at all his jokes at the right time, and he listened when she told him about her dark and twisted past with American beauty pageants, her strained relationship with her mother and step father and how she planned to take over broadway one day. It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. It was no secret both of them had had it hard the past few years trying to make it on their own, but they agreed that finding other people to sit in the shit-storm with you, made it considerably less horrible. It was the start to the beginning of a new chapter for both of them and they could feel it. It couldn't have been a more perfect night, and Stan even paid for the shakes.

[writtenbyjos]

it has progressed… I’m super not amazing at drawing still, I feel like my hands are still shaky when I try and I am so bad about getting into my own head. So weird how life and trauma can just shut off certain hobbies and interests in your life, I’m just excited to pick up the pencil again after cooking up some really embarrassing art in my early teens and DeviantArt era RIP 😭🤞🏻

But being excited about a fandom, especially one as special to me as Gravity Falls, feels so freeing and exciting. I miss creating shit!! Fuck it if it looks like shit. It’s a process. I’m healing through my art and that’s a good feeling :) not too bad for a 10 year hiatus :’)

help I literally love them

Tilda (and her, “I’m done with this shit” face) and Sixer (and his “finding out that too much caffeine makes him hallucinate and his toes go numb” face)~

[writtenbyjos]

help I literally love them

Tilda (and her, “I’m done with this shit” face) and Sixer (and his “finding out that too much caffeine makes him hallucinate and his toes go numb” face)~

[writtenbyjos]

Ford’s hand looks like it went through a ninja blender so pls ignore it 🤩🙂‍↔️🫣

initially I hadn’t included the other sketch cause I was working on Ford’s face but I absolutely love them and I cannot get enough of themmmm!!

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

A little back story for Matilda my OC, she was a really good friend of Fiddleford who came from Pennsylvania so I have her coming from an upper class Pittsburgh family with too much time on their hands, and not enough love for their only daughter, the only girl of three older brothers. She was an engineer major with big plans and an even bigger heart. She and Ford had a meet cute in the hallway one day in the beginning of their freshman year at Backupsmore U, where they collided face first into one another trying to get to class. The rest was history. We later find out that she has a special ability to see and communicate with ghosts, something only Ford ever knew about. She was the one who helped him investigate the paranormal side of Gravity Falls and even illustrated some entity’s for his journals … *wink wink nudge nudge*

They moved to Gravity Falls together after college, until Ford’s ambition and treaty with Bill pushed her away, to where she loved him and knew she always would, but had no room in her heart for darkness. She came to a cross roads when she got offered a big time engineer job that would change the way the world used clean and renewable energy, but it was in New Zealand. Bill was a big part in their eventual split, ending in her trying to get Ford to come with her, but of course, he was very tempted by everything that Bill was promising. She knew Bill was not to be trusted from the beginning, which strained their relationship further till his mental demise. Before he asked Stan for help, they had somewhat of a falling out and Matilda set off for New Zealand, heart broken. Never to hear from him for another 30 years.

Her story is one of my favorites of any OC’s I’ve ever come to meet, and I can’t wait to publish the rest of her narrative :) I can’t tell you guys much else, but I can tell you a few things. Where the story picks up in that I’m writing now, a year after Weirdmageddon, she is finishing up her term in the peace corp and that she and Stanley have kept up with each other via letters since Ford was pushed into the portal. And she’s coming back, baby. In full force!

Thank you for all the support and hype :)

[writtenbyjos]

drafts from the sketchbook todayyy ~ Stan, Eliza, Matilda and Fordsy <3

[writtenbyjos]

my babies I love them :’)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

introducinggggg Eliza Montgomery, giving main character energy. She and Matilda are my two ladies for our two favorite, trauma ridden old men.

Does anyone else get guilt for putting their OC’s through just too much lmfao

Without giving away too much from the fanfic I’m tryna bring to life, she’s an olllllllld friend from Stanley’s past and up until recently, believed to still be dead from the car crash he faked. She moved on and made deals with being she’s shouldn’t have, and has been bound to a contract that has directed the course of her life. So much for broadway.

I’m still reeeallly really insecure about how well I can draw them BUT I’m getting excited about drawing again :) it’s another way I can bring my kids to life!!!!

Anyone whose interested I’ll be posting the first chapter here soon 🩷

[writtenbyjos]

I picked up the pencil after like ten years and two abusive relationships that sucked the creativity out of me, and here before you is officially fan art now that Gravity Falls is making a comeback and all us fallen stars can emerge victorious once again!

This is Matilda and Fordsy ~ a little screen cap from an upcoming fanfic I’m writing >:3 she has been about twelve years in the making so I hope yall love her as much as I do.

[writtenbyjos]

nothing will ever amaze me the way fanfiction authors do. like, you wrote silly little stories about my favorite little guys? and i can read them?? for free??? that’s fucking wild.

you poured your heart and soul and very being into your writing and then put it out there for anyone to read? insane.

you spend a truly incredible amount of time writing novel-length, high quality stories, again, FOR FREE, that anyone can read, again, FOR FREE??

shoutout to every single fic author in existence, you guys are fucking incredible and i love all of you so much

[writtenbyjos]

Spellbound: A Ghostly Tale, Chapter 9

"Flyin' Solo"

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

A small boy, just approaching his thirteenth year, lay under the covers with a thick cloth over his sickly, pale forehead. A croaky, hoarse cough escaped from his blue lips , and beads of sweat dotted his temples. As he approached the archway, Stinkie's view of the boy grew larger - more gruesome. There were five other people in the room, sitting in silence, not one daring to move. Stinkie put a sympathetic hand on the shoulder of the man sitting in a small rocking chair with his fingers tightly clasped around the back of his neck, his rounded glasses hanging loosely off the tip of his nose.

"Brother," the man said, rising from his fatigue. He brought him in for a tight hug and a firm pat on the back. He beckoned Stinkie out into the hallway where the December snowflakes piled up against the hallway window.

"How's he holding up, J.T.?" He asked quietly. J.T. shook his head slowly and wiped his face with a sigh. He glanced at the boy through the doorway and lowered his voice.

"We'll be lucky if he makes it until Monday evening," he said closing his eyes.

"He was fine, just last week," Stinkie said.

J.T. nodded and adjusted his loosened tie. "Well, Dr. Peterson said the best thing we could do is to keep him comfortable." He didn't take his eyes off the boy lying in the bed, holding onto his last inch of life.

Stinkie looked in his hand at a small paper bag he'd been carrying. He walked slowly towards the boy, kneeling down gently next to him and giving him a smile.

"Uncle Joey…?" A vague smile flickered on the boy's face.

"Hey kid," he rubbed his forehead and moved a couple of stray, sweaty blonde hairs out f his eyes with his thumb. "How ya hangin' in there?"

The boy answered with a shriveled cough and a wheeze in pain. "My chest hurts." He looked over at the woman standing by his bedside, a rag in her hand and a bowl in the other. A solum but kind expression rested on her tired face. She looked down at the rag and squeezed it lightly.

"Your mama's taking good care o' you," Stinkie said, facing the woman.

She smiled and relaxed her shoulders. Even though her hair was pulled up a few strands were running astray, and her eyes were bloodshot.

"I know," the boy said, so faint it was barely audible. "That's what she does best." Stinkie looked over at the last two men sitting close to the boy's mother, and a shorter woman clutching one of them on the bicep tightly. He broke free of her grasp and stood. Gently, he reached forward to squeeze the tired woman's hand. He bent to kiss her lightly on the forehead, but said nothing, only looking at her son with a pained expression on his face. The other sat with his large hands hiding his mouth, fighting back tears.

He looked back at the boy. "Hey, um, short stack, I've got something for ya…" Stinkie reached into the bag and pulled out Boo, his teddy bear and oldest companion. "Now, Boo here is very special. Promise you'll take care a' 'im for me?" He handed the beat up stuffed animal to the sickly boy, who nodded slowly and reached out his hands. A shiver ran through the room as he exposed his darkened, dead looking fingertips. Stinkie flinched and closed his eyes, instantly regretting it as the boy began to cry softly.

"I'm scared, Mama, I'm so scared…"

His mother sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her lips to his forehead, whispering softly to him. "Shhh, it's okay to be scared, love. But everything is going to be okay." She gently wiped the sweat away with the cloth and smiled reassuringly.

Stinkie staggered away to the corner, still clutching the bag between his sweaty palms. He bit his lip in worry at her slightly forced expression.

The boy shivered under his covers. "Am I going to die?" He asked quietly.

"Hush, you shouldn't speak of such things," the worry became more obvious in her voice now.

"It's okay, mother, please don't cry," he said. "Please, mama…"

"Uncle Stinkie…?" Stinkie woke with a start, his hands draped over the side of an old, velvet arm chair situated in a dark corner. To his surprise, Boo was caught in the high clutch of his right hand. He blinked a few times and shook his head violently, coming eye to eye with a very confused Casper. Stinkie squinted and saw the same blue eyes that had blinked up at him from the dying boy.

He felt like the heart he once had would burst.

"Oh, Casper!" With wide eyes he flew right towards him and scooped him up into a hug, twirling him around in the air. It only took Stinkie about a minute to realize what had just happened—it took Casper about five seconds.

"Um, Uncle Stinkie…?" Casper said, his voice muffled in his uncles embrace. Stinkie opened his eyes and let go immediately, his face twisting in confusion.

"Casper…I…"

"Are we interrupting something…?" Lucy and Kat appeared in the doorway, their expressions blank. His face cleared when he saw Lucy, she was so cute and—uh oh, he was starting to stare.

"Nothin'…just—just tellin' Bulbhead ova 'ere to mind 'is own business." He grumbled, crossing his arms.

"But you—" Casper began to say.

"…have business to take care of—business that ain't yours." With that, he huffed and flew out of the room, unable to hide how flustered he was. The teddy bear fell from his grip and onto the dusty ground.

"Stinkie, wait," Lucy tried to grab his arm, but her hand went straight through his nonexistent skin. She drew back her hand quickly, sighing. She knelt down and picked up the teddy bear, dusting it off carefully.

Without looking back, Stinkie flew down the stairs, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. And what was this warm feeling in his chest? He scoffed and shivered, trying to rid himself of the fuzzy sensation.

What a no good, terrible, awful way to start off the morning. Finally, he had a decent run in with Lucy and he blew it, all sky high. But what had happened? A dream? A memory? He hadn't had one of those in a long time, especially not one with such familiar faces. Lost in his thoughts, he glided down to the kitchen, losing track of his brothers' whereabouts and not giving a second thought to the harsh judgment that would most likely follow.

Upon entering the kitchen doors he found an unsuspecting James humming the "Munster's" theme song rather loudly while pouring himself a glass of milk. Stinkie took advantage of this opportunity and disappeared into the countertop, popping out just as James raised the glass to his lips.

"Mornin' Doc!" He yelled, cackling aloud as James choked violently on his spilled milk. He slammed the glass down clutching his chest and coughing.

"Notin' like a good ole' mornin' scare to get the blood a' pumpin'!" He laughed, diving for the fridge door. James gave him a sour look and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as Stinkie took a long, sarcastic sip of orange juice straight from the jug.

"I thought it safe to assume we were past the jump scares. Guess I shouldn't have jumped to such radical conclusions," he shook his head.

"You know what 'dey say Doc!" Stinkie smiled and put his arm around him. "Makes an ass outta you," he jabbed a finger at James's chest, "…and me!" He held the jug in his hand this time and took a large sip before slamming it down on the counter and letting out a loud and satisfying belch.

"Always a pleasure Stinkie," James forced a patient smile. "Are your brothers up yet? Your session starts in five minutes."

"Is it time ta undermine our feelings and listen to all your wishy washy medical talk?" Stinkie stuck out his tongue and made James chuckle lightly.

"You mean like 'defense mechanisms'?"

Stinkie frowned and rolled his eyes. "I ain't 'defensive'!" He said in a mocking tone.

James gave him a look. "I'll see you in my office in three minutes."

Stinkie sat twiddling his thumbs together, alone and stranded on an old red couch across from a silent James. With one leg crossed and his bent glasses perched on the tip of his nose he looked ready to probe and dissect Stinkie's every word with razor sharp precision. He tapped his pencil on his clipboard lightly.

"It's so rare that I get solo sessions with any of you. Ever." He raised his eye brows. "And, I've been anxious to talk to you."

"Why, little ole' me?" Stinkie flashed some fake eyelashes and chuckled to himself, but his shoulders dropped when he glanced around and found the rest of the couch unoccupied.

"Not so easy when your brothers aren't around?" James asked quietly.

Stinkie felt like he might blow chunks—and not the good kind. He thought back to his dream, and all the photos and memorabilia he'd found in the attic thanks to Lucy—Lucy. Oh right, Lucy.

"…Stinkie?" James snapped his fingers. Stinkie shook his head and blinked.

"Wha…?"

"I asked how you're feeling today."

Stinkie was silent. How was he feeling today? He'd never really thought about it before. He hadn't spent a night alone in over a century…he never really thought he'd enjoy the solitude so much.

James frowned and tilted his head. "Try the mood chart!" He quickly pulled out a long, laminated chart with a multitude of faces on them, all with corresponding feelings. "What face do you identify with today, Stinkie?" He asked, almost giddy.

Stink squinted and looked over every face. There was number one, which showcased a green face and puffy cheeks titled, "icky". He liked that one a lot. But then another, a face that was misshapen and had wide eyes, called "anxious". He liked that one too. But the one that caught his attention the most was a solemn face, tinted blue. This was called "a little blue". Unconsciously he pointed to it and mimicked that face on the paper.

"You're feeling blue?" James asked a little surprised. Stinkie rubbed his forehead and lifted his tail to exit the room.

"Maybe this ain't such a good idea, Doc."

James quickly jumped to his feet and shook his hands.

"No, no, no! You're finally opening up about you innermost feelings! This is phenomenal progress, Stinkie! We must proceed!"

Stinkie reluctantly sat down and crossed his arms.

"Why don't we start with why you're feeling blue," he picked up his pencil and scribbled something on his clipboard.

"I—uh…heh…" he rubbed the back of his crooked neck slowly, trying to think of something to say. "I had a dream last night, or at least what I think was a dream."

James nodded slowly, urging him to continue.

"What happened in the dream, Stinkie?" He asked.

As he thought back on the events of the dream, it made Stinkie feels something he hadn't in a long time—sadness. True, raw sadness.

"See, dere was a room, with lots of people in it," he motioned with his hands. "…And a boy, laying sick in bed. I think it was…Casper." His voice softened.

James stopped writing immediately and furrowed his brow.

"What did he look like, Casper?" He said shifting his legs into the chair.

Stinkie shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"It was awful, Doc. He was pale and sweaty and coughin' a whole lot." He caught a consoling look from James, and this made him feel strangely vulnerable. "I brought him my old teddy bear, Boo. And his mother was there wid' 'im…. wipin' his tears."

"Perhaps, this was how Casper passed?"

Stinkie nodded. "And…" he stopped in his tracks, trying to remember. "J.T. was there too."

"Who is J.T.?" He asked.

"John…" Stinkie said pounding the couch lightly with his fist. "John…Thomas. My brothah. Our brothah. But… that's all I can remembah." James looked at Stinkie with a consoling glance.

"But 'ey, I ain't losing sleep ovah it, I mean, he's a ghost like us now anyways." He said stiffening his back.

"One you constantly belittle, bully, and take your anger out on?"

Stinkie shrunk back into the couch with each word.

"You know, you don't have to conceal your feelings, not even from your brothers," he continued, furrowing his brow. "Not here."

"Pfft, I nevah shoulda went through all my old stuff. It brought me nothin' but old, sad memories. I'm already dead, they can't do me any good now!" Stinkie shook his head miserably.

"They could, you know."

Stinkie shot him a disbelieving look.

James sighed and sat quiet for a moment, thinking. "You mean to say, that the objects you found somehow spawned this phenomena? That they caused you to actually remember an important moment for your life?"

"I don't know if you'd call it important…." he said, cautiously.

"John Hopkins!" James exclaimed, suddenly. "A breakthrough!" He laughed so hard that his glasses nearly fell off his nose. "A whole year of shenanigans, pranks and some ruined trousers and we're finally getting somewhere!" He jumped up from his chair and stopped in mid dance, clearing his throat.

Stinkie sat there picking from his ear and pulling out an impressive amount of slimy, green, earwax. James sat back down and brushed off his sweater-vest. "I mean, excellent job, Stinkie, this means we're making progress at last." He beamed at the ghost.

"To be poifectly honest wit ya Doc, I'm not sure exactly what it is I did to get ya knickers in such a twist," he crossed his arms, still miffed.

"Stinkie don't you see?" James said. "We're another step closer to figuring out your unfinished business. What made you deny your right to a happy and peaceful afterlife…why you didn't cross over."

"Oh brothah, are you still on about that, Doc? If we've told ya once, we've told ya a million times. We ain't crossin' ovah, because we like bein' ghosts! We're meant to be here," he growled.

"We?" James, said squinting.

Stinkie followed James' look to the empty cushions beside him and scowled.

"Me," he said defensively, pointing a thumb to his chest.

"You said 'we'. Curious. You don't do things without your brothers very often do you?"

"Why the hell would I wanna do that?" He crossed his arms. "They're all I got in this afterlife."

James smiled and nodded, writing down on his clipboard.

"Whataya smirkin' at, huh?" He snapped.

"I want to know how you feel. You, Stinkie." James pointed to him with his pencil.

"About what?" He asked surprised.

"How do you feel about crossing over?"

"Okay Doc, I'll play your game…" he sulked. "Say I do crossover. Leave my brothahs here. Abandon them. Leave the only home I've ever haunted. Bullshit. I ain't goin' nowhere."

James was silent but nodded. A couple of awkward moments went by and nothing was said, leaving Stinkie frustrated. Why wasn't Doc saying anything? Judging him no doubt. "You know you act like you know everything but you don't know us! And you sure as hell don't know me," He snarled.

"I have my guesses," he said calmly.

Stinkie waved his hand derisively. "Be my guest, but you's wrong, whatever your little guesses are," he said, pompously.

"Well, Stinkie…I'm detecting fear in your voice. Hesitation. You're scared to be alone. We could've easily moved on in this process months ago if you'd been willing to, any of you three. But that would bring about the possibility of leaving your brothers behind, and perhaps the possibility that there's no one waiting for you on the other side." He tapped his pencil. "Am I close?"

"Couldn't be further from the truth," Stinkie lied, James's words burning straight through his head like a bullet.

"I see," James said. "Then let's move on. What else can you tell me about the dream?"

"Nothin'. I told you I don't remember anything else, 'bout it."

"Is it possible you've tried to subconsciously block all the memories due to early childhood trauma?" James asked, point blank.

"Look, Doc," he shot up. "While I was goin' through all da pictures and da old toys, it just made me realize how much I love bein' dead! Dead, dead, dead. Dead as a doornail. And that I never want to relive anything from when I was alive!" He crossed his arms, feeling pleased with himself.

"Yet, here you are." James smiled.

"Me bein' a ghost ain't got nothin' to do with my old life. That part of me died a long time ago."

James shook his head and set down his clipboard. "But don't you see? It has everything to do with your life. All this denial and emptiness is holding you back from crossing into the light. And you know what, Stinkie? You've just gotten so lost, putting on this act, playing the clown, masking your unhappiness that you've completely lost sight of it and how to get back on your feet." James crossed his leg and picked up his clipboard again. "You've all forgotten who you are. It's clearest to me now that the living impaired suffer far more than the living could ever imagine."

A long moment of silence hung in the air, thickening the solemn mood. Finally, Stinkie spoke.

"…so who am I then, Doc?" Stinkie asked.

"Well, if you accept my help, maybe we can come to find out together. Your brothers too!"

Stinkie fiddled with a stray piece of fabric, detaching itself from the rest of the couch and twisted it between his fingers.

"I'm not proposing that it'll be easy, and there might be some painful things to uncover. But it's all part of the process of crossing over." James said softly.

"Right…crossing over."

[writtenbyjos]

Spellbound: A Ghostly Tale, Chapter 8

"Lost In The Aftermath"

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Stinkie looked around, from the motorcycle he'd technically stolen, to the place where Lucy just disappeared, and then to the clear sky above him. He couldn't help but think of the ugly fate that awaited him back at the mansion…what would Stretch do to him if he'd seen him kiss a fleshie? Seen him kiss Lucy? And what about her? What would she think if she knew the truth? She wouldn't want anything to do with him, he was sure. But maybe she'd never have to find out the truth… a small rumble in his stomach interrupted his thinking. His head shook, and he watched as his limbs began to twitch spastically. Falling to the ground, he arched his back and felt his eyes roll to the back of his head. This pinhead was finally fighting back, he'd almost forgotten he was in someone else's body.

Stinkie felt for the widest exit and slithered through his victim's mouth like a snake. He slithered across the ground and stretched his arms with a loud groan. He quickly made himself invisible as the lazy lump laying on the ground regained consciousness. Stinkie raced to the nearest high tree branch and sat, watching the specimen lift himself up on his arms and shake his head violently.

"Woah," he looked around, bewildered. Once he got to his feet, he squinted and smoothed his large part back behind his ears. "That was dope." He cracked a grin.

Oh boy, what a brainiac this guy was.

"Wait, where the hell am I?"

Stinkie sighed, looking at his white, transparent hands. As empty-headed as this guy seemed, he had to admit he was more handsome. And more human.

Stinkie shook his head of that. His fairytale night was over and he needed to move on. He sighed and watched the so called, "Tom Browning" hop onto his motorcycle and drive away with ease.

"Pft," Stinkie smirked. "Can't even drive da damn thing right." He sulked on the weathering branch and crossed his arms sporting a pouty look.

After five or so minutes of non productive pouting, Stinkie rose from the branch and began his short trek back to Whipstaff. He felt the wind blow through his body and closed his eyes as he flew. What was this tingly, knot-like feeling in the pit of his tail? Fear? Anxiety? He had't felt anxious since the one time when Stretch disappeared for a week and came back with a drinking problem and a new tattoo on his right bicep.

Wait… Stinkie stopped mid-flight. Did I just…remember? He rubbed his head. He did…he remembered something from his past. Stretch… No—no. Vin—Vinnie? Vincent! Stinkie pondered this for a moment. And then he was slapped in the face with a cold, hard piece of reality. Stretch. Stretch was going to kick his ass when he got home. He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and glided through the northern sky, completely immune to the blisteringly cold air that nipped at his large nose.

Cutting through the park, he started eyeing people walking hand in hand along the garden paths he found himself lost in his own thoughts, eventually wandering back to the shape of Lucy's hips and how they swayed to the loud music at the ball. The way her hair bounced when she ran, how her lips were so small and perfectly sculpted and—

"No!" He yelled in exasperation. He held his head and shook it. Stop it, stop it, stop it! He thought. "Get a hold o' yaself!" He slapped his face and shook his head. "She's a human, you's an undead apparition."

"But maybe…" he began to slip into a daze, but caught himself. "No, no, no! Gah!" He grabbed his head and bent forward, trying to shake the thought of Lucy right out of his ears. "I gotta get outta 'ere."

Stinkie flew in silence and watched as the color from the sky seemed to drain to an opaque grayish tone. He approached the mansion and hovered in the air with a solum frown.

"Well," he sighed. "'Ere goes nothin'."

He flew through the doors and looked around slowly. No movement, no sounds. Shoulders slumping in relief, he began to ascend the staircase to his room, trying not to make a sound. When he entered through the wall he wasn't met with two sleeping ghosts, but four eyes glowing red with anger.

"What da hell was you thinkin'?" Stretch snapped, squinting his eyes in a glare.

"You left us, alone on da battlefield!" Fatso mimicked severing his head and held it in his hands, playing dead.

"Things coulda gone a lot woise," Stretch looked Fatso's way and smirked. "But you still abandoned ya duty! Ya left all google eyed with some air sucker!" Stretch popped his eyes out and wiggled his long, nimble fingers. Stinkie floated in the doorway rubbing his arm, feeling shame crawl up his neck.

"I know, I know. I'm a lousy brotha, I 'eard it all before," he sighed and sat on his bed with a frown.

"What was goin' on in that big, head a yours, huh?" Stretch's voice softened, much to Stinkie's surprise he looked genuinely upset.

"I was…" Stinkie began, Fatso and Stretch leaning in close with suspicious eyes.

"Yeah?" They said in unison.

It was at that moment when there was a loud banging on the door, and Stinkie added this interruption to his short list of blessings, grateful that he wouldn't have to answer his brothers' prying questions, for the time being.

"Open up!" Kat called from outside the door, her voice raised in anger.

"Hey, no girls allowed!" Fatso pulled the covers up to his chest and squeaked. "I don't have my boxers on!"

Kat barged in with her face glowing red like a Christmas tree ornament.

"What," she said gripping the doorknob. "…was that?" "Good evening to you too, Kitty Kat," Stretch snickered.

"Thank you for gracing us wit your presence," Stinkie muttered and crossed his arms.

"Don't play games with me, slick. What the hell was that?" She was practically fuming.

"What?" They all questioned, feigning innocence.

"Quit playing dumb! You guys totally wrecked the whole party! The entire town is traumatized and the whole school's gonna think I had something to do with it!" She crossed her arms and huffed. "'There goes Kat, the freaky ghost girl!' Remember the halloween party?"

"Poor kid," Stretch pouted his lower lip. "Did you hear dat boys? The whole school is gonna be talkin'!" They all held their hands to their faces in fear and laughed.

"It's a hard knock death, for us! It's a hard knock death for us!" They sang, crowding her as she sulked.

"I was just trying to do something nice for Lucy! Now she's never gonna leave her room."

"Well ain't that a damn shame," Stretch said sarcastically. "Now we'll nevah get to see dat freak, Lulu." He snickered along with his brothers. But behind his smug chuckle, Stinkie felt a burning feeling in his chest at Stretch's snide comment.

"It's Lucy," Kat said under her breath. "All three of you stay away from her. The last thing she needs is the likes of you making things more complicated for her." She waved her pointed finger towards all of them. Fatso threw up his hands in surrender.

"Oh it's so hard being an air breather, oh my shoes are too tight, oh I didn't get asked to the dance, oh I have bills to pay, oh bleh!" Stretch waved his hand. "Better for us that we don't have to die another day to see anothah fleshie in our domicile. Now get out." Stretch opened the door and held out his hand.

Kat turned on her heel and stomped out the door in a huff, the Ghostly Trio bobbing their heads out one by one, watching as she headed down the hall.

"Sweet nightmares, Kitty Kat!" Stretch sing sung.

"Don't forget, the bats smell fear!" Fatso called.

"'Stead of kisses, we get killed, 'stead of livin' we are dead, it's a hard knock life!" They sang together falling back on their beds, rolling with laughter.

"'Dat nevah gets old," Stretch said wiping tear from his eye.

"Wind her up and watch her goooo…" Fatso made himself into a deflating balloon and spun around the room.

"Well boys I'm butched," Stretch yawned, his mouth expanding about two feet. "I'm gonna get some shut eye for da night." He cooed and snuggled under the covers, situating himself into a comfortable, rolled up position.

"But first a midnight snack," Fatso reached into his pillow and pulled out a footlong hoagie, swallowing the whole thing in one bite.

He rubbed his belly and smacked a few times before settling into bed. They were both snoring within a matter of seconds. Instead of his usual routine however, Stinkie stretched his arms and propped his hands under his head. He lay that way for a long while, unable to sleep. And then he did something even more curious, he reached from under his bead and pulled out a small knit blanket that was folded neatly in a wooden box and smelled it. He sighed and held it close turning on his side. Kat's words were ringing in his head: "All three of you stay away from her…" Then a scary, more unsettling thought crossed his mind scape, giving him goosebumps down his non-existent pale arms: Maybe I don't want to stay away from Lucy…

He sat up and rubbed his face. He needed some milk. Yea, yea, milk sounded good. He looked at his brothers to make sure they were sound asleep and slowly rose from his bed and snuck out the door and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Lucy was awake too, but instead she was busying herself with charm making since the last one had failed so terribly. She swore to herself to be more careful this time. She glanced at the balcony and glided over, opening the door to let in the moonlight.

"Like Ona said, just a pinch will do the trick."

She carefully opened the cork of a tiny, glass vial, and held it up towards the moon ever so slightly. Her small hand shook and she nearly dropped it trying to seal it back again. Once closed, she blew a strand of hair out of her face and sighed.

Gliding over to the table, she set down the vial and picked up a small piece of parchment, squinting at the small print.

"Three tears, check. Strand of hair, check," Lucy winced and glanced upward. "Full moon, moonlight…check." She straightened her back and smiled. "And last but not least," She read and shot back in exhaustion. "Rosemary? Really, Ona?" She let her hand fall and looked towards the door. "Surely Casper wouldn't mind if I snuck some from the kitchen…" she set down the parchment and slipped on her nightgown.

Carefully, she draped a silk cloth over the bowl and headed quietly out the door. She glanced at Kat and Casper's room, hoping they'd still be asleep. Both doors were closed. The realm of the Ghastly Trio, closed. The snoring was prevalent. She deemed it safe to wander onward to the kitchen. She looked at the main hall from the staircase and smiled. She'd never seen it late at night before. The moon was radiant and shown through the large windows surrounding the room. It was peaceful and quiet, yet solemn at the same time.

She stepped lightly and quickly down he stairs and made her way through the kitchen. She popped her head in the doorway. Empty. She sighed in relief and made her way looking through the cabinets, searching for a spice rack of sorts. She grabbed what looked like a bottle of rosemary and examined it. Success! She did a small victory dance and turned on her heel and walked the opposite direction of the counter.

Just as she turned, she tripped and fell flat on her face, dropping the rosemary bottle with a thump. She sat up and rubbed her head, and hesitantly lifted her gaze. The two brown eyes that met hers almost made her wet herself. She froze in place and felt her joints stiffen. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move…she couldn't do anything. She was staring straight at Stinkie, the one she had ran into completely naked just a week before.

His appearance was almost laughable, his eyes bloodshot and droopy, there was milk stained on his mouth and floor marks on the side of his face. But Lucy was in no laughing mood.

"I…" she tried to speak but no words were coming out.

"Um…at least you ain't naked this time…?" Stinkie blurted out awkwardly. Lucy felt her cheeks turn bright red. Stinkie shook his head and floated upwards. He held out his hand for her to take and she eyed it suspiciously.

"I'm sorry I was such a jerk beforah," he said, not retracting his hand. Lucy nodded and slowly took it in hers. It was cold, tingly, and unlike anything she'd felt before. She stood up and looked at the broken glass on the floor.

"Ah don't worry, short sheet'll get it tomorrow mornin'." He shrugged and smiled. Noticing her blank expression his smile slipped away and he cleared his throat.

Lucy tried to stifle a grin but felt more like she'd passed gas. How awkward could this possibly get? She motioned with her mouth while looking at his rugged appearance.

"Oh, what, 'dis? It's just milk. Couldn't sleep… so—I—fell asleep on da floor."

She chuckled lightly and he immediately stood up straighter.

"I came to get rosemary," she said, glancing at the floor. "That didn't really work out."

"Yea, yea I'll be feelin' that tomorrow," he held his tail up in one hand as if to examine it for bruises.

"Sorry," Lucy said, looking at her feet.

"Oh that's nothin'! In da summa o' '79 me and my bortha's, we was wrestlin' see," he motioned with his hands. "And Fatso dog piled me so hard on the tail that it was crooked for a week." He laughed to himself.

Lucy realized that this was the first time she'd seen him genuinely smile. No maliciousness, just happy memories. He met her glance and she got butterflies in her stomach. She thought back to the photo she'd seen of that same, kind smile.

"Lucy?" He asked.

"Huh?" She snapped back into reality and caught herself staring. "Right, sorry. Still pretty tired, I guess."

"No I mean…can we start ovah?" He looked at her pleadingly.

Lucy squinted suspiciously.

Immediately, Stinkie threw his hands in the air. "No gimmicks, da boys are still asleep. Just little ole' me."

She thought for a moment, then held out her hand.

"My name is Lucy Gilliam. It's nice to meet you."

He grinned and took her hand in his. "Mine's Stinkie. Pleased to meet ya." They shook hands and smiled at one another.

She shot back a little upon touching his hand, still not used to the feeling of literally touching the undead.

"You're, you're freezing!" She examined her hand and made a face.

"Yeah well, you get used to it aftah, I dun know, a century give or take?" He looked at his hand.

"You know, you're nicer than I thought you were," Lucy pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her cold fingers, smiling at Stinkie's look of surprise.

"You're not as weird as I thought you were."

Wow, what a compliment. "Gee, thanks." Immediately she saw him become very flustered, scrambling to remedy his mistake.

"Well I didn't think you was weird, or a freak, I mean I did, but that was before I—" his cheeks went red during his struggle to come up with an excuse.

"Stinkie?"

"Yeah?" He asked quietly in a cute, sheepish voice.

"I was kidding…"

Stinkie moved his lips in an attempt to say something, but just paused and lowered his hand. "Right."

There was an awkward moment of silence that filled the room, other than the pale moonlight that shone through the windows. Lucy tapped her fingers on the kitchen counter and Stinkie sniffed a couple of times. The one minute that consisted of no talking felt like it would go on forever. Finally, Lucy laughed slightly and furrowed her brow.

"Why 'Stinkie?'" She asked him. He pondered this question and tapped his large nose slightly.

"I…" he looked slightly bemused. "…I don't know." He laughed slightly. "Must've been because of somethin' when I was a fleshie."

"You mean, you don't remember your past life?" Lucy felt sorry for the ghost.

"Nada. It's been so long—since I—'remembered' anythin'," he motioned with air quotations. "I don't think I even remembah my own name." He said blankly, looking at the ground.

Lucy was silent. She'd seen memory blips and amnesia before, but nothing like this…

"Sometimes I wish I could forget," she said quietly, closing her eyes.

"What? A pretty girl like you? What do you have to forget?" He said, showing his front buck teeth.

"A lot," she began fiddling with her hands.

"At least you can remembah."

Lucy looked at him and flattened her mouth.

"I don't even know what color my hair was. Did I even have any hair? I wouldn't know!" His eyes widened in distress.

"…do you want to find out?" Lucy asked, biting her lip.

Lucy and Stinkie navigated the mansion to find the attic. Lucy had to admit, she wasn't good at a lot of things, but she did have a wicked good memory. Through passageways and up staircases, Stinkie and her ventured until they found the attic door.

"Is this da attic?" He asked, frowning.

"Yeah, come on!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the door.

Stinkie looked around, bewildered by all the old stuff piled all the way to the ceiling. Lucy stood with her hands behind her back next to the chest where she'd found the teddy bear. She felt a warm feeling in her stomach as she watched him slowly explore his surroundings.

"I was up here the other day looking for a costume for the party and…" Stinkie looked up at her wildly and froze.

"The pahty?" He exclaimed with fear in his eyes.

"Yeah…? The masquerade party? You guys made fun of…my dress." She frowned, the sickening feeling slowly creeping back into her mind as well as the bad jokes they'd made about her, Kat, and Casper.

"They pushed me into it," he interjected quickly. "You looked—" Stinkie froze. "…nice."

Lucy smiled and shook her head.

"Anyways," he continued, "I wouldn't know anything about that party, cause I wasn't there." He gulped holding up his pointer finger and one hand behind his back.

"Right…" she said, perplexed. He sure was acting odd all of the sudden considering the calm demeanor he'd just had on the way to the attic. "…anyway, Kat, Casper, and I came across a lot of…memorabilia." Stinkie raised an eyebrow and made his way over to her slowly.

Stinkie opened the chest slowly, and Lucy peered over his shoulder and watched, with caution. Once it was open, he stared blankly at every object. He brushed his hand over the picture frame and picked it up, rubbing a finger over the sly grin the man in the picture held.

"Is that you?" Lucy asked, kneeling down and resting her arm on the rim of the chest. He nodded slowly.

"I think we got our answer," he said seriously.

"To what?" She looked up, worried.

"I did have hair," he held up the picture and made the same, cunning grin as photographed in the picture.

Lucy got that burning feeling in the pit of her stomach again. She could see it now, the same kind brown eyes, and the same large nose. She giggled and moved around some more objects in the chest for him to examine. They both laughed at some old pictures of Stinkie and his brothers, and the ridiculous outfits they bore from old bowties to slicked back hair. Stinkie pointed out how tall Stretch was, even in his youth.

"He got teased all da time for bein' so tall. The kids in town called him 'Stretch'. Dat's how he got 'is nickname." Stinkie smiled imitating a face Stretch had made in another photo. "You can imagine how Fatso got his nickname." He snickered, causing Lucy to hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"So? How'd you get yours?" She asked now completely mesmerized by his stories.

Stinkie rummaged through he chest and held up picture of him, in overalls with a straw hat, masking his unkept hair. He was smiling widely.

"Heh," He muttered. "I spent most o' my time in my uncle's barn…and I hated takin' showers." He pointed to the cows in the pictures.

Lucy snorted and buried her head in her arm.

"I'd be out there for days at a time, until we moved to…" he furrowed his brow. "Whipstaff." He looked around and wiped his nose. He set the picture down and froze for a moment. He reached in and pulled out the teddy bear Lucy had found.

His reaction was surprising; Stinkie fiddled with the torn ears and the red satin bow, almost completely faded to a sickly grey color. He was focusing so hard on the bear, Lucy wondered if he even noticed she was still there. She reached over and put a calm hand on his arm. He jumped and smiled halfway, then sunk back into his serious demeanor.

"Stinkie?" She asked quietly.

"Hmm?" He asked, but didn't look up from the bear in his clutch.

"Are you alright?"

"…It's just…" He stroked its head softly. "I think I'm remembahrin' some 'a da bad stuff is all. 'Is name's Boo." Lucy smiled. "Sometimes it was just me and Boo against the world. From nightmares to Pa's outbreaks, 'dis lil guy served me well. 'E was especially handy for my panic attacks." He mused. "Heh, Ma thought I was possessed by demons or somethin'! Ain't that a hoot?" He laughed ad Lucy forced a nervous chuckle. "I remembah it gettin' better for a while aftah Charlie came to Whipstaff. But then woise again aftah…" He slumped his shoulders. "Never mind." He said closing his eyes.

Lucy sat straight up and startled Stinkie to the point of dropping the teddy bear in through his lap and onto the ground.

"Geez! What's your deal? Got bugs in ya pants or somethin'?" He asked.

"You remembered," she said, looking straight at Stinkie. His smiled faded into a look of sheer surprise

"I—I remembahed?" He stared at his shaking hands. Lucy stood up and laughed putting her hands to her mouth.

"You remembered!"

Stinkie looked at her and scooped her up into a hug.

They laughed and twirled in the air for a split second. For a split second they departed with their hands intertwined. And for a split second Lucy felt something. But it didn't last. They both let go instantly smiled awkwardly. Lucy fiddled with her hair and looked at the ground. They avoided each others' glance, but their eyes soon met again. They each let out a sigh and Lucy could feel her cheeks blushing furiously.

"Well, Congratulations!" Lucy held out her hand and Stinkie shook it firmly.

"Couldn't have done it without you." He said. "Thank you."

Lucy waved her hand and made a raspberry with her mouth.

"Oh it was nothing." Another moment of silence. "Hey, listen. I'm gonna head back downstairs…"

Stinkie nodded and rubbed his arm.

"You should stay up here a while, if you want." She suggested.

Stinkie smiled and looked around and back at the chest.

"Yeah, I think I will. I've got some remembering to do."

[writtenbyjos]

Spellbound: A Ghostly Tale, Chapter 7

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Saturday, October fifth approached with haste, and the whole town was talking. Not because of the Jerry Spinster's mysterious heart attack he had to be hospitalized for, but of the annual Harvest Festival.

"A little eyeliner never hurt anyone, now hold still," Kat took her charcoal liner under Lucy's crooked eyes.

"Um, Kat?" She said, looking up. "It feels like you're stabbing me in the eye with a pen," she muttered quietly.

"Honestly, what's the difference?" Kat smudged it with her thumbs and stepped back to look at her work. She smiled and turned Lucy around in her stool so she could see herself in the mirror.

"You know I used to really hate makeup," Kat said. "But then I realized it's kinda a chick's best friend; a little bit can go a long way."

Lucy touched her face and turned to see every angle, but didn't say anything.

"You okay?" Kat asked.

"I…" Lucy whispered. "I like it." She smiled softly. "I never really go the chance to go to a high school dance before. Not with homeschooling and how crazy everything was getting…"

Kat knelt down to meet Lucy's reflection. "When are you going to tell me your mysterious and trying backstory?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Soon. And honestly? Sometimes it feels like it's straight out of a horror movie or something."

"Hey," Kat said reassuringly. "I moved to ten different states with my crazy dad, who's a therapist to the dead, and now we're living in a hundred-year-old mansion being haunted by four crazy ghosts," she raised both eyebrows. "People can surprise you. You can trust me, okay?"

Lucy smiled. "Okay."

"Good. Got your mask?"

Nodding, Lucy picked up a silver Colombia mask beside Kat's old jewelry box. Kat took a crescent moon shaped emerald one. They placed them on their faces and giggled at their reflections.

"This is really weird…but in a good way." Lucy stood up and smoothed her dress.

"Ready?" Kat asked, turning the knob to her door.

"Ready."

Lucy and Kat met Casper out in the hallway. He was draped in a long black cloth with his mask sewn onto the front.

"Very dashing," Kat chuckled.

"Why thank you, m'lady," he said, taking a bow. They descended down into the main hallway where James was waiting for the three of them with his large camera.

"My goodness, is this what the kids are wearing now a days?" He chuckled.

"Dad," Kat sighed, a little annoyed. "It's a masquerade party." She eyed the camera and began inching towards the door.

"Well get together the three of you, let me get a good picture." He held the camera upside down and snapped a quick photo.

"Um, Dr. Harvey?"

He eagerly pulled out the photo as it printed and frowned with the outcome.

"The camera's upside down," Lucy said, pointing shyly.

James smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"See, that would explain…the—and—okay, okay get going."

"Bye, Dad," Kat kissed James on the cheek and Casper shook his hand.

"Well, well, well if it isn't Twiddle Dee, Twiddle Dum and Twiddle Dummer!" Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso entered the room laughing.

Lucy suddenly felt vulnerable, and the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach came back when she glanced Stinkie's way. Funny thing, she could've sworn he'd been looking at her before she met his glance.

"Aw, did you guys want to come too?" Kat asked in a mocking tone.

"I wouldn't be caught livin' in one of those…whatevah you call that mess," Stretch pointed to Casper's costume.

"Hey!" Casper said. "Took me a whole hour to make this."

"Yeah and it really shows," Stinkie and his brothers snickered.

"Real mature. Don't you have some kids to scare, or some chains to rattle?" Kat snarled up at the three.

"Oh, rattling chains is so seventeenth century," Stretch said waving his hand.

"Come on, let's get outta here before the scream team decides to throw a party of their own," Kat mumbled.

"A-greed!" Casper said from under his sheet. Kat pulled Lucy's arm and fled through the door, Casper flying close behind.

"Oh, kitty-cat? Don't talk to any strange men!" Stretch waved to them with a kerchief and one hand on his chest.

"Call if you's comin' home late!" Stinkie cooed.

"And don't get any stains on your adorable costumes!" Fatso called after them. "You're father and I paid good money for those!" He wrapped his arm around James causing his to drop the camera.

Once they were out, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. That could have gone much worse. They hurried to the car and piled in, Lucy in the passenger and Casper in the back seat. Kat noticed Lucy's turning white as a sheet and gave her a look. "Don't let those guys bother you. They're just miserable apparitions who do nothing but drown their sorrows in soap operas."

"Right." Lucy said, dropping her shoulders.

"Okay, you two. Lets get this party started!" Casper cheered. Kat turned on the first FM station and "September" by Earth Wind and Fire blasted through the speakers.

"What is this?" Lucy yelled over Kat's loud singing.

"It's called music," she replied, tapping her hands on the steering wheel to the beat. Lucy rolled her eyes and scrunched her brows together.

"It's really loud," she made a face at Kat.

"Yeah, so?" Kat laughed watching Casper dance in the backseat. "Come on, it's like an instant classic!"

Lucy relaxed her her shoulders and felt the bass jingle in her bones. Maybe she could use a night to relax. Besides, at a masquerade ball in the sleepy town of Friendship, Maine, what could go wrong?

Arriving at the building lit up with lights and filled with people, the Ghostly Trio could barely stand the excitement of reclaiming their title as the scariest, and the most daring ghosts in the afterlife. They made themselves invisible and hovered over the building watching those air suckers enter through the doors, all clothed in their ridiculous attire.

"Step one, find a sucker," Stretch said cooly looking around.

"Quite a selection tonight, eh Stretch?" Fatso smiled devilishly.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I think I'm going for that guy ova there," he laughed, spotting a tall, shamelessly handsome guy sporting thick black hair all gelled around atop a purple suit.

"Hey that looks like the airhead from Grease!" Stinkie joked. "Aw, he's got your nose. You'd think they'd have to have one 'a dose masks custom made." He nudged Fatso in the stomach and they burst into a fit of giggles.

"We'll see whose laughin' when I got da best lookin' dame on my arm at midnight," Stretch smoothed his head and grinned.

"Hey, hey, hey! What about Paul Bunyan over there?" Fatso pointed to a large, board shouldered man strutting at least a foot higher than every guest at the party.

"Go get 'em kid!" Stretch pushed him into the air and he flew into the large man. Fatso struggled to gain control of his victim and spun around a couple of times, hitting his head with his meaty hands and cursing out-loud. Once he gained control, and a few concerned glances, he gave his audience a thumbs up and a large and confident smile. He strutted over to a nearby tree and nonchalantly looked at his fingernails.

"Wish me luck brotha," Stretch carefully snaked his way amongst the crowd and slipped into the large gaping hole that was this charismatic cat's mouth. Making his way comfortably inside, the man bent backwards and waved his hands around resisting his new found 'roommate'. Finally, he found his way and took control. He straightened up and looked around, smiling widely. He liked the feel of this guy, he could tell it was gonna be a wild night. On his way to his brothers, he spotted a thin younger woman and approached her with ease taking her hand.

"Hiya, doll-face," he bowed suavely and lightly kissed her gloved hand. "Catch you on the dance floor later?"

"Sure," she said dumbfounded, her cheeks flushing a rosy red.

He clicked his tongue, pointed her direction and walked away with a wide stride and a kick in his heels.

"Hey, the chicks out here ain't half bad," Stretch elbowed his brother excitedly. "I'm gonna make 'em melt like hot fudge on a ice cream sundae if ya catch my drift." He cockily lifted his shirt collar.

"Mmm, sundae…" Fatso rubbed his stomach.

"Hey, eyes on the prize you big ball of bleach," Stretch hit him on the back of the head and Fatso winced.

"Hey, that actually hurt," Fatso massaged the place where Stretch had smacked him. For a moment, Stretch looked quite taken aback but quickly regained his posture and yelled in Stinkie's direction. "Oi! Stink! Get movin'!"

Stinkie had to admit, he was having a little bit of trouble regaining his focus much less his confidence. They hadn't done this in years! Swallowing his fear he saluted to his two brothers and flew above the crowd, praying not to be seen. In a fit of panic to find someone suitable, he dove in for the nearest person he could find. He was tallish, had messy black hair, a large nose, and a large, black leather jacket. Stinkie collided into him and sent him sprawling to the ground. He'd never met such an impressionable one before, and such a hollow-headed one, at that. Much to Stinkie's surprise, he easily gained control and stood up on his feet, wobbling a bit. He turned around and was met eye to eye with a large black motorcycle.

"This fleshie's deluxe! Wheels and everythin'!" He said a little too loudly. A couple people started starring, and he turned on the intimidation card.

"Whataya you lookin' at?' He spat. He puffed his chest and stuck his hands into his pockets, jiggling the pair of keys inside them. "Hiya fellas." He said cooly.

"Lookin' good boys!" Stretch said. "I'd forgotten how good this feels." He shook and swayed his hips around slightly.

"The smells, the music, the babes," Fatso's tongue was hanging out like a dogs in summertime.

"Gentlemen?" Stretch pulled his newly 'fleshified' brothers into a large bear hug, but admittedly it was harder considering how tight the suits were—and Stinkie's skinny jeans. "Let's go rustle dat hornet's nest."

Strung together like a candy necklace, arm in arm, Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso strolled into their newly found surroundings with confidence and ease. They burst open the doors and pushed past a large group of fire-themed, feather ridden folk.

"Somebody cancel da medication and up the booze, because we're just what da doctor ordered!" Stretch said throwing his hands up to the crowd with Stinkie and Fatso behind him.

"Do I spot a dance floor that needs some attention?" Fats tapped his large fingers on his stomach and gazed.

"Go to 'er…" Stretch set his head on Fatso's shoulder and gazed at the vacant dance floor. "She's calling your name." He snickered.

"What if they don't like me?" Fatso fiddled with his fingers.

"You shake 'em up with da old 'buttercup' and even Michael jackson'll be runnin' for 'is money," Stretch smiled.

"You really think so?" Fatso straightened up, beaming.

"Whataya think I'm an idiot? Get out there and tear up dat dance floor!" He pushed him off his heels and into the center of the room.

"Now if you'll excuse me I've got some dames I gotta 'shake up' myself," he smiled, extending his index and thumb outwards towards Stinkie. He left him standing there, vulnerable and awkwardly scratching his now-numb crotch. How the hell do these fleshies wear such tight clothes?

Stinkie maneuvered his way through the crow spitting out "hello's" with an extra smelly breath. The sound of people gagging and choking at the whiff of his ghastly stench was absolute music to his ears. He moon walked his way through the crowd and interrupted conversations at tables just to get a good breath in.

"…you know," he said sitting down at one table, propping himself up on his long elbow. "You guys look a little too cheerful for this shindig. Here, let me help lift the mood." He let out a belch that sent a wave of green air amongst the table that made the flowers wilt and the people flee their seats, holding their breaths. "Where yah goin'? We was just gettin' to know each othuh!" He held up a wine glass and took a large gulp, shaking his head violently forgetting for a moment the buzz that alcohol gave him.

"Hey!"

Stinkie heard one woman gasp.

"What the-?!" Another one shrieked. Stinkie gazed back over his shoulder and saw Stretch scooting from one woman to the other from behind. He had a devilish grin on his face as he ran his hand over each of their backsides, causing gasps and shrieks to come from behind each mask. He took one poor gal into a spin-n'-dip and suavely kissed her neck before gliding her over to the center of the dance hall. Stinkie quickly turned around as she cursed and kneed Stretch in the groin before storming away. He knew it would make Stretch angry if he caught his younger brother watching.

Fatso, obeying Stretch's wishes, was indeed 'tearing up' the dance floor; as everyone's favorite songs came on, he led the crowd in a series of dance moves, as his large stature made the ground shake with every step of his large feet. From the 'Reebok', to the 'Roger Rabbit', to the 'Hammer' and the 'Sprinkler', Fatso was the star of the show. The perfect way to reel in their victims to a night of fun before they scared their dancing feet away.

Stinkie rose from his seat and headed for the buffet table, but for food this time. He filled his plate with brussels sprouts, cheese and fried asparagus piled on top of each other. He licked his lips and turned around quickly, not in enough time to realize there was someone standing next to him, filling her punch glass. Bumping into him, she squeaked as she spilled her punch onto his jacket. Simultaneously, Stinkie dropped his plate on the floor, scattering food everywhere. They both sank to the floor and began to remedy their mistake.

"Oh, geez, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Yeah you better be! This jacket's worth—" as he looked up, he met her nose inches from his.

The world suddenly fell into slow motion as their eyes met. He noticed a small trail of faded freckles lining the bridge of her nose below the mask. He noticed that one of her blue eyes was paler than the other. Her lips were painted a pale shade of pink; they were small and perfect. He hadn't been this close to a fleshie in years. He stood.

"I mean, it ain't a problem, Miss," he extended his hand and she looked at the floor before grabbing it. Her gloved hand was small and soft and quick to retract back to fixing her long, white-blonde hair.

"Thank you…" She said awkwardly. He was completely dumbstruck. This mysterious stranger wasn't half bad for a fleshie.

"I'm…" he began extending his hand a second time but froze in his tracks, realizing he had no name to introduce himself with. "Tom…" he nodded. Yeah that was good, but what about a last name? He looked around for inspiration. He caught sight of a sign over the door that read, 'Browning Community Center'. "Browning. Tom Browning, yeah," he said frowning slightly. The girl shook his hand and smiled shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Lucy Gilliam." Stinkie froze. The world's motion was changing but not slower, it was speeding up. His heart was racing, his head was pounding.

The dame he'd fallen for was the same air sucking intruder who he'd seen naked in the bathroom just last week? The weirdo who hung around with his nephew and Kitty Kat? The one who's face he'd thrown chewed up pancakes at? No this was not happening. Stretch had warned him and Fatso to steer clear of her, there was something fishy going on. Something dangerous. But what? This girl didn't seem dangerous. She smelled like lilies, and her hair was soft, her glance was kind and gentle and her silk dress curved in all the right places— and he had to look up. He realized he was looking at her hips. He shot his eyes upward and-oh god, even behind the mask he could see a sparkle in those eyes.

"Lucy! We've been looking everywhere—who's your friend?" Kat wandered up behind Lucy and shot Stinkie and suspicious look, breaking his train of thought. He straightened up and adjusted his collar.

"Kat, this is Tom," Lucy nodded looking at her feet.

Kat sized him up and sighed, looking towards Casper. "Well come on, we were gonna go dance."

"Yeah that guy's a maniac!" Casper said, from underneath the cloak. Lucy looked form Kat to Stinkie and flattened her lips.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna stay here, you guys go ahead."

"You sure? This guy isn't giving you any trouble?" Kat asked cautiously.

"Who me?" Stinkie put a and to his heart and pretended to look offended.

Kat rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Lucy said.

"You know where to find us." Kat gave her one last look and disappeared with Casper into the crowd of people surfacing under the disco ball. Lucy turned around and fiddled with her hair some more.

"So tell me, Lucy," Stinkie poured them each another glass of punch to fill the awkward silence that had settled. "What brings you here dis fine evening?" He took a slower, steadier sip than before.

"Well, I'm really not one for parties…" she shrugged. "But, my friend wanted to get out of the house for a change, maybe get some human interaction for once."

"Well ain't it a good thing she did," he felt a wave of confidence in his new form. Lucy giggled softly and avoided his glance.

"You know I don't think I've seen you around here before," he said raising an eyebrow. Maybe in this form he could get some information out of her. She stalled hard and adjusted her mask.

"Well," she began. "I'm new to Friendship. I''m just here as a drifter, I guess. Um…this party's nice," she said looking Kat and Casper's way.

"Yeah," Stinkie could tell she was trying to change the subject, so he dropped it. As she turned her head he found his gaze outlining her pronounced neck line, then wandering a little ways down…

"So-what about you?"

Stinkie immediately met her glance again feeling his cheeks flush. He stuttered and took another sip of his drink.

"I'm sorry…?"

She chuckled lightly. "What do you do here in Friendship?"

"I—I—I'm a toilet…uh…engineer." Well that was stupid.

"A toilet engineer…?" She laughed the cutest laugh Stinkie he'd ever heard. "You mean like a plumber?"

"Yeah, yeah a plumber. That's the word I was lookin' for."

"That's so cool!" She grinned.

"Yeah. Do you wanna dance?" He interjected quickly. She looked surprised. "Um…"

"I've got a friend in common wih' da DJ," he half smiled, tilting his head.

"I'm not much of a dancer…" she shrugged, her cheeks turning pink.

Stinkie dropped his chin and took her small hands in his. He kissed each one lightly. She looked caught off guard and weak-kneed all at the same time.

"Come on, I'll teach ya!"

She smiled, and picked at her lip nervously. He had to admit, as much as he hated walking in this guys shoes, (literally) it gave him a surge of confidence he'd never had before.

"Well, okay," she met his gaze.

Stinkie felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt in over a century. No one had ever made him feel this way before, at least not a one he could remember.

They danced for a while, and Stinkie almost felt like a normal guy. For once in his afterlife he almost missed being alive. He twirled her around to the upbeat song and caught her mid fall. They danced for what seemed like ages, not even growing tired. That is until Stinkie felt his stomach drop like a rock. The plan… he sighed and pulled Lucy close so she could hear him.

"Hey, you wanna get outta 'ere?" He asked.

Lucy frowned and looked around, her whole demeanor changing.

"For a milkshake or somethin', I mean," he elaborated quickly.

"Tom, that's real sweet of you, but I—" before she could respond the lights all went out with a flash.

Stinkie and Lucy looked around but it was pitch black. When the lights returned, Stretch was on top of the stage still inhabiting his sucker's body. He smiled and his teeth sparkled almost blinding the audience. He tapped the mic and leaned over.

"Ahem?" He beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen…I'd like to introduce," he put his head down and held out his hands. "Me, and my pals." He grinned and nodded at the DJ. He motioned for Stinkie and Fatso to join his side.

"I gotta…" Stinkie boldly kissed Lucy's cheek and headed for the stage to join his two brothers.

"Come on boys, let's rock this mother!" He said into the microphone making the crowd cheer. "Sometime's, when I'm feelin' a little low, I gotta head down to a little ol' place I call…" They all dipped their heads, just like they'd rehearsed. "The love shack," they crooned in unison. The music on the speakers began to play 'Love Shack' and the crowd reeled with laughter and excitement. Everyone began to clap and stomp their feet to the contagious rhythm.

"If you see a faded sign that says, 'fifteen miles to love shack'," Stretch sang out, in a beautifully strong voice as Stinkie and Fatso 'doo-bopped' to the beat.

"Love shack, yeah, yeah," Stinkie and Fatso joined in sounding better than ever. As they sang, they patted, twirled and dipped each other suavely, receiving several hoots and hollers from the dancing crowd.

Stretch grabbed the mike and fell to his knees, soaking up all the attention from the screaming girls letting down their hair.

"The love shack is a little place where we can get togetha…love shack baby," he thrust his hips forward as he got to the chorus.

The crowd was going absolutely nuts as they sang in butchered harmony. Nearing the end of the song, just as the trio had planned, the lights began to dim.

"Bang bang!" They chanted with their fists. "Bang bang!"

Stinkie felt his stomach drop like a boulder as the lights went out completely.

This was the end, the last chance he's ever have with Lucy. She'd never notice him, never look his way, and would never speak to him again. Unless…

When the lights came on and Stretch and Fatso began to cackle delightedly, Stinkie felt his heart pounding like a drum. Would he ever be able to win his brothers' trust again? Maybe not. But it was worth it. Every second he could spend with Lucy - he'd take it. He dove from the stage and fell flat on his face. He could feel the tension like a thick fog and knew that what he was about to do would change his afterlife forever. Nevertheless, he ran into the crowd, found Lucy, grabbed her hand.

"Do you trust me?" He whispered. He saw her pale face with every flash of the lights grow more serious.

"Wait, what? What's going on, Tom?"

Taking her hand he shed his jacket and put it around her. "We gotta get outta 'ere before we become yestaday's garbage." He pulled her behind him as they rushed out the front door and away from the commotion.

Stinkie heard glasses breaking and screams erupting from hundreds of guests as he led her quickly to his motorcycle. He scrambled to find the fleshie's keys and handed the spare helmet to Lucy.

"Rather safe 'den sorry," he said, flashing her an awkward smile.

"What is going on?" Lucy demanded again, pushing the helmet away and flashing him a glare.

"I told ya, you gotta trust me!" He snapped back, mounting the seat of the motorcycle.

"I met you two and a half hours ago!" She yelled above the noisy street. "You expect me to get on this machine in blind faith?" She held on to his jacket tightly. At that moment, hundreds of screaming people came flooding out the door. A baseball bat came flying through the window and slammed to the ground, dangerously close to Lucy's feet. A fouls stench filled the air, one that Stinkie knew all too well—the stink bomb he'd spent days perfecting with his brothers. Lucy squeaked and jumped onto the bike, clenching her nose tightly.

"Scoot over!" She yelled wrapping both her arms around his torso. Stinkie stopped to catch his breath, losing himself for a moment when she touched him.

"Put this on!" Stinkie plopped the only helmet onto her small head and she adjusted it, tightening it to the very last fixture.

"Go, go, go!" She hit his back repeatedly and out of impulse he started the motorcycle too fast, jolting them both back quickly.

"You know how to drive this thing, right Tom?" She pleaded.

"Nope!"

Lucy held on tight and together they fled the scene hearing a series of loud cackling behind them, as well as breaking glass and tornado like winds.

Stinkie had never driven a motorcycle before, and he felt the chunks rising from the pit of his stomach like a volcano. He dodged car after car, almost knocking them both off the wheels. He hit a couple of newspaper stands and hit his head with a tree branch once or twice, but somewhere along the way, he found his ground. They zoomed into a parking lot and straight towards a lamp post. Stinkie slammed the breaks and it sent him tumbling over the front of the shield and onto the asphalt.

"Tom!" Lucy squealed, running to his aid. She knelt down beside him, taking off his helmet. His hair was in disarray and he was missing a tooth, but he was still in one piece. She held his head in her hands and Stinkie opened his eyes, dazed.

"Wowzah," he said dizzily looking into her face. She laughed and pushed his hair back.

"You're mental," she said softly.

"Does that mean you gotta take care o' me?"

Lucy blushed and stepped back. "It means you need help, silly," she laughed and pulled him up.

"Nah, I'm fine, I'm fine," he stood and brushed off his jacket. He stood there awkwardly and stuck his hands in his pocket. He made a few inaudible sounds as he inched closer to Lucy.

"I, uh—I—," Stinkie stuttered.

"Tom," Lucy said quietly. She looked up at Stinkie and he felt her eyes burn in his stomach like a hot dog that went down the wrong pipe.

"Thanks for the—ride," she said not breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, uh huh…" He said unable to use his words. Lucy blinked a few times and leaned in. Stinkie felt his heart race, his palms sweat and his thoughts go completely blank. He closed his eyes and leaned in.

It was soft, and quick like a kiss from a bunny, but still…It was magical. She smiled and began to inch backwards, the wind was barely seeping through her hair as the moonlight outlined her whole body making it glow in the dark night.

"Wait," he pleaded regaining his posture. "Where are ya goin'?" He shook his head slightly.

"Home." She said matter-of-factly.

"Ya don't want me to take ya home?" He furrowed his brow.

"Not after that ride." She laughed. "Thank you for the dance though. I'll see you around, Tom." And with that, she turned on her heel and bounced in the direction towards the main road barely making a single noise. Stinkie looked at his watch: 12:30 am. He looked back up in Lucy's direction but she was gone. In fact, she was nowhere in sight.

[writtenbyjos]

Ghost-est With The Mostest For All Hallow’s Eve 👻

[writtenbyjos]

childhood horror + favorites

[writtenbyjos]

CASPER (1995) Dir. Brad Silberling

[writtenbyjos]

Doc Harvey awww

BILL PULLMAN in CASPER (1995) dir. Brad Silberling

[writtenbyjos]

Spellbound: A Ghostly Tale, Chapter 6

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Three hours later having been to a costume store sold out of costumes, a jewelry store far too expensive and a dress shop that only sold dress sizes, two sizes too small, a melancholy Casper, Kat and Lucy trudged into the front doors feeling defeated. That is, until Casper had an idea.

"Come on, slowpokes!" Casper flew between wall after wall, and poked his head out to meet Lucy and Kat's tired faces.

"Well, sorry we're not as fast as you are, Casper," Kat chuckled.

"Yeah, we're definitely not as good as you are at walking through walls," Lucy said.

Kat glanced behind her shoulder and laughed at Lucy's snide comment while Casper rolled his eyes.

"God, how many stair cases can one house possibly have?" Kat said, out of breath while Lucy nodded in agreement.

"Twenty-eight, not counting the basement," Casper said cheerfully.

"Peachy," Kat groaned.

"Okay, this is the last stop," Casper floated over to a large, maroon bookcase.

"Thank goodness," Lucy said, pulling her hair out of her sweaty face. Her heart was banging wildly against her ribcage, and her legs burned.

"Now, all we have to do is find the right book…" Casper squinted and ran his finger over the series of dusty books lined up on the shelf. "Aha!" He said. "Dr. Bog's Big Book of Biology! A classic." He took the book out of its place and the bookshelf slid open to reveal, much to Lucy and Kat's dismay, another large set of stairs. Lucy felt her heart sink to her toes.

"More?" She said dropping her hands to her thighs.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kat said eyeing the narrow staircase.

"Hmm," Lucy said, putting her hands on her hips, "four ghosts, cockroaches everywhere, cobwebs in every corner, and a giant cliff overlooking a ferocious ocean…yet this is the scariest thing I've yet to see." She recalled all the ghoulish sights that inhabited Whipstaff Manor she'd had the displeasure of encountering.

"Told you it was scary," Kat muttered.

"Oh, boo, hoo!" Casper laughed. "Stairs won't kill you!"

"But a heart attack might," Lucy said.

"And besides," Kat cut in, "you don't have any legs! Or a heart! So you don't have room to judge here, mister." She smiled, squinting slightly.

Casper surrendered his hands in the air.

"Uncle, uncle!" He called. Kat shook her head and proceeded up the stairs as Lucy followed behind.

The three walked up the stairs, huffing and puffing the whole way. Once they reached the top, Casper stopped them at a large door.

"I swear to god Casper," Kat said adjusting the hem of her shirt, "if that's another set of stairs you'll be dead. Twice."

"Not stairs, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at what we find," Casper smiled. He turned the knob and the door opened with a loud creak. Kat and Lucy coughed, waving away the dust that had collected over the years.

Inside was a large room filled to the brim with boxes, and old, antique furniture.

"What is all this, Casper?" Kat asked.

Lucy glanced over and saw her friend's eyes widen in curiosity.

"An old attic, long forgotten." Casper put his hands on his hips and sighed. "I don't know why I didn't think to come up here sooner. But look, look," he flew over to an old rocking horse and began to rock back and forth. "This is Jimmy! I played with him all the time."

Lucy looked around, amazed at all the boxes and junk that surrounded her.

"And this," Casper flew over to a dusty closet and pulled out an old tuxedo. "My mother made this for me, I only ever got to wear it once. I still remember the day," Casper ran his fingers across the lace and laughed. "I wore it to a church dance, and some jerk 'accidentally' spilled punch all over me! No girl in that entire rom wanted to dance with me."

"Aw, Casper," Kat smiled gently and took his hand.

"Hey, no sweat!" He shrugged it off and smiled back at Kat. "Girls back then were all boring anyway, not like you." Kat blushed and looked down at her feet.

Lucy smiled at the gentle way Casper looked at Kat.

"Any who," Casper broke the silence. "There's just a lot of memories up here."

"Yeah, right!" Kat chuckled nervously and cleared her throat. She made her way awkwardly over to a box with the label, 'Don't Touch!', scribbled crudely in dark red marker on the lid.

"Oh, I have to see this," Kat said smiling.

Casper flew over and watched over her shoulder as she pulled the box open. Lucy tilted her head sideways to better see the the writing on the box. Her long hair was inches away from touching the dusty ground. Kat pulled out a golden shield on a wooden plaque and held it up to the window's light. There was a black engraving on the front.

"In honor of Theodore McFadden, for an outstanding demonstration of his musical talents and abilities through his Operatic rendition of Romeo and Juliet." Kat frowned and felt the plaque. "And Theodore is?"

"Oh that's Uncle Fatso—er Uncle Theo…?" Casper shrugged.

"No way." She blew the dust off the plaque to reveal the dates. "The Annual Sunbury Music Festival, 1883."

Lucy raised her eyebrows. Fatso didn't strike her as the performing type, even though she had to admit he and his brothers were a bunch of drama queens.

"Uncle Fatso was really talented from what my dad told me—and he never told me that much about my uncles." Casper squinted at the writing.

"Why not?" Lucy asked.

"I dunno, I think they might've had a rough history together or something," he shrugged. Lucy thought back to her own 'rough family history', specifically the one between her grandma and mother.

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or scared…" Kat said.

"I'd say both is a safe bet," Caper suggested. After she placed the plaque on a wooden table, she reached back in and pulled out a metallic flask.

"Oh, that was Uncle Stretch's!" Casper pointed to it and smiled.

"Look at this engraving," Kat squinted and read aloud. "To my sweet, Vinnie Bear, with love, Charlie." Kat snorted.

Casper cringed and nodded. "Gosh, Charlie." His face softened as he rested his elbows on the table. "She was a character."

Kat half-smiled. "Who was she?"

"She lived in New York for years before she and Uncle Stretch got together. Oh boy, those two were always all over each other!" Casper stuck out his tongue and grimaced, making Kat laugh. "When they'd come to visit, back in the early days, she'd tell me stories about her adventures in women's rights campaigns." His fond smile faded. "Three months before their wedding…she went to a protest, in Manhattan. Things got out of hand," Casper's brows furrowed. "Someone shot her from behind while she was speaking." He floated sadly to the ground. "Uncle Stretch wasn't the same after that…"

"God, Casper. I'm so sorry," Lucy's eyes welled up watching the little ghost.

He tried to brighten up. "She did live a good life…I just wish she had lived it longer."

"With Vinnie Bear?" Kat smiled, trying to cheer him up.

"Yep, Uncle Vincent." He chuckled.

Lucy looked at the engraving and smiled. It warmed to her heart to think that someone could've loved Stretch in another life.

"I think it's sweet," she said quietly. "An epic love story for the ages."

Kat looked at the engraving again and shook her head. "Someone get me a grater for all this cheese." She shivered and placed it back in the box. She searched around again and pulled out a beaten up teddy bear with a faded red ribbon around his neck.

"Uncle Stinkie used to carry that around on his really bad days," Casper said. "He had crippling anxiety all his life." Lucy glanced at Casper, surprised. Anxiety? Sure he seemed a little nervous, sometimes, but she would never have guessed it was as severe as that. "So the great asshole really does have a sentimental side?" Kat broke into her thoughts. "How touching." Despite the hardness in her voice she placed the bear back in place with care.

"So, why did you bring us up here again?"

Casper jolted upwards and snapped his fingers. "That's right! Costume ideas! For the festival!"

Kat and Casper began rummaging through the other boxes and under the furniture around the room, leaving Lucy alone with the box. She picked up the bear slowly and sniffed it. It smelled like old books and very faint perfume. She knew it had been a bear well loved. It reminded her of her old rabbit that she would cling to when her grandma and mother would get into fights. She kissed its matted head softly and placed it on top of the lid in a sitting position. She joined Kat and Casper, who were now occupied with a box filled with old furs and jewelry.

"Eleanor Roosevelt." Casper said excitedly.

"Who?" Kat looked at him with a confused expression.

"You don't know who Eleanor Roosevelt is? What do they teach you kids in school these days?" He said, exasperated.

Lucy laughed to herself and shook her head. She wiped the dust off her hands on her jeans and examined another box. It was titled, 'Photos' in a fine black ink. She pulled out a large portrait of three mystery somebodies: a tall younger man holding a baby in his arms and a younger woman with dark messy hair pulled back in a bun. She wasn't looking at the baby, but at the man. Her eyebrows were thick and dark, cresting over bright, sparkling eyes. The man grinned back at her, and Lucy saw the love in both their expressions. Maybe these weren't random somebodies after all…

The man looked familiar, with layered black hair and a tall frame, pale eyes and a wicked and dashing smile. Stretch, Casper, and Charlie? Or did Charlie ever have a baby? She placed the picture back into the box and selected another of a different man making a snide face at the photographer. Lucy recognized those eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through her. She tilted it into the light. His hair was gelled back and he was wearing a suit that squeezed all the wrong places. Still, his face was cute, round and kind. She could've sworn she'd seen him before…

"Whatcha looking at, Lucy?" Casper hovered in front of Lucy with a large yellowed sheet hanging over his arm. Lucy jumped and almost dropped the portrait, catching it before it hit the floor.

"Nothing, nothing," she scrambled to put the portrait away.

"Hey, that's Uncle Stinkie!" Casper said picking it up again. "That was the day my Mom and Dad got married." He looked closer. "Mom made them all wear something nice, she said they fought her on it all the way." He chuckled.

"What was his name?" Lucy asked, feeling her face flush at the now-familiar mischievous smirk she had seen before on Stinkie's face.

"Joseph, but we all called him Uncle Joey."

An odd burning sensation in the pit of her stomach, causing her to just smile awkwardly. "Did you find a costume?" Lucy said trying to change the subject.

"Yeah!" Casper held up the sheet enthusiastically. "This way I can cover up and cut out some eyeholes."

Kat nodded in agreement. "Casper found a chest full of costume accessories on the shelf. And I found these bad boys in that closet over there," she pointed to a large leader oak chest covered in dust. "Plus all these masks!" Kat held up a long black dress and an old fashioned white evening gown and a pair or masquerade masks. "Aren't they groovy?" She said turning to Lucy.

"Yeah," she replied, still feeling odd.

"My mom made my costume almost every year, she was a wonderful seamstress. She was always making my pirate play clothes when I was little! How handy is that?" He took a plastic sword from the chest and started swinging, pretending to duel with someone.

"The dress might be a little big but I'll bet you could just find a spell make it fit…?" Kat suggested. Lucy laughed slightly.

"Or I could break out my sewing kit. I can sew, like normal." She said quietly. Kat blushed slightly.

"Oh yeah, we'll stick to that then." She lowered her arm noticing Lucy's uncomfortable demeanor. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, just feeling a little sick to my stomach all of the sudden is all." She put her hand to her tummy—that part was true. "Must be all this dust." She scratched her nose and rocked on her heels.

"Well come on, I know a shortcut back to the living room." Casper said.

Kat frowned and took Lucy's hand.

"Maybe we can find you something in town, just the two of us," she said smiling. Lucy nodded. Casper took an old cane and knocked it against the wall three times, causing a wall to creak open and reveal a secret passageway.

"Don't tell me you knew about this the whole time and never said anything," Kat crossed her arms defiantly.

"Not the whole time—just when we got to the third floor…oops." He smiled sheepishly.

Kat rolled her eyes. "Well, come on let's get out of here already." She motioned to her friends and disappeared into the archway.

"Aight boys," Stretch followed by his brothers flew into the night sky. "To da town centah," he said proudly.

They looked over the sleepy town of Friendship. There were no lights, no people out and about in the late hours of the night, nothing. Nothing but an old owl sitting on the gnarled branch of an oak tree.

"When the sun's away the trio comes out to play," Fatso said eyeing the large full moon.

"There—" Stretch pointed to the town center and they dove down silently, letting the wind carry them. "Dis is where the coasties are havin' this little shindig," he smirked. "They won't know what hit 'em." He smiled mischievously. "Stink, you got the bag o' goodies?" He turned to his brother.

Stinkie nodded. They slid through the brick wall around the back entrance.

"It smells like sugar cookies in here!" Stinkie snarled, holding his large nose.

"Mmm, sugar cookies," Fatso said dreamily.

"Someone get me a dead fish or somethin'!" He hissed.

"Mmm, dead fish…" Fatso rubbed his stomach.

"Hey wait a minute…" Stretch stopped Stinkie and Fatso abruptly. "Yous hear that?" He squinted his eyes and looked to the double doors. They heard footsteps coming and grinned at each other. "It's showtime boys," he said.

Timid footsteps could be heard approaching the main hall. It was the midnight shift for the 100-year old security guard, Jerry. As he slowly opened the double doors his flashlight shook in his wrinkled hands.

"Hello?" His voice was croaky and small. Perfect scaring material. "Damn, teenagers! Go find some other love shack! Not in this town center! Now scram!" He yelled, hunched over. "Hello?" He flash his flashlight around the room. The chandelier began to shake a little, making small tinkling sounds. He shown the flashlight on it quickly and the shaking ceased.

"Jerry," Fatso said cooly, sounding almost like the wind or a breeze.

"Wha—" He turned around quickly and held onto his flashlight for dear life.

"Damn hearing aids," he said shuffling out quickly. But poor Jerry didn't see it coming. Stretch, Stinkie and Fatso swept in front of him and bared their fangs with piercing red eyes.

"BOO!" They all yelled and raised their hands like claws. Jerry let out a shriek and fell over backwards dropping his flashlight. The trio hugged and laughed together pointing at the old man. Stretch wiped a tear from his eyes.

"Oh that nevah gets old," he said putting his hands on his hips.

"Whata we do with 'im?" Fatso asked.

"Ah just leave 'im, someone will find him in the morning," Stretch grimaced looking at this ancient face.

"God, what is this dude, one-hundred years old or somethin'?"

"Nah dis bozo's a local legend! He's one hundred and two!" Fatso threw his hands in the air.

"He's not breathin', Stretch," Stinkie poked him slightly on the stomach and he gurgled slightly. They all loomed over him and watched in silence. Jerry made a small spasm, causing them all to jump back a little bit.

"That's good enough for me!" Stretch said flying upward. "Aight, do we remembah the plan, boys?"

They nodded.

"We possess some poor fleshies bodies at da begginin' of da party," Stinkie said rubbing his hands together.

"Then we get in there and wreck havoc as usual," Fatso said grinning.

"Then as just before the clock strikes two -" Stinkie said.

"- the stink bomb will go off! And as a bonus we'll reveal ourselves and scare the livin' pants off the entire town!"

They cackled together, gathering in a small huddle. "And bada-bing bada-boom we're back in business," Stretch said, smoothly.

"It's the perfect plan for a night them fleshies won't evah forget!" Stinkie said.

"Now let's get movin, if we're gonna get this bomb ready in time for the party tomorrow," Stretch said.

Stinkie and Fatso grinned at each other and pulled out the bomb. It was round and a puke green with a stink cloud on the front of it.

"My finest work," Stinkie brought it to his face. "Let's put her to work, this time tomorrow? The entire town will be the stinkiest town in all of Maine."