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Halloween Snippets (CT:OS)
🕑 Added 2025-10-30 14:39:49 +0000 UTCSAM O’CONNELLY
<In high school>
Sam shows up at your house covered in glitter, wearing fake vampire fangs that are a little too big for their mouth, a superhero cape draped over their shoulders, waving a lightsaber, with a pirate hat to top it all off.
You can’t stop laughing. “Sam, what the hell are you?”
Sam grins, already munching on a snicker’s bar. “There’s no rule saying you can only wear one outfit at a time!"
The two of you bike around the neighborhood with a handful of your friends, hitting every party within a ten-mile radius. Sam makes you laugh till your sides ache.
By midnight, you’re exhausted but vibrating with a Halloween candy sugar-high and happiness. You grin. “So… wanna sleepover at my place?”
Sam leans on their bike, fangs flashing. Their lightsaber has run out of battery long ago, but somehow the glitter has stuck, and reflecting the lamplight. Your heart flutters a little—weird—when they grin at you, stepping close. “Movie and pizza?”
“Of course. I’ve got your favorite.” You smirk. “Pineapple is on the menu.”
“Hell yeah,” Sam exclaims, bumping your shoulder. “Best. Night. Ever.”
RAYYAN
Rayyan does not want to dress up. “I’m busy.”
“You’re always busy,” Deepal points out. “If it helps, you can dress up as a candle and pretend you’re celebrating Diwali. For my sake.”
“Except Diwali’s over, and I did celebrate it with you,” Rayyan says.
Deepal snaps their fingers. “Right. We watched Legend of Prince Rama. Didn’t finish it though—”
Tobin appears by the doorway, grinning as they hold out a tennis umpire’s outfit with some devil’s horns. “How’s this? You hate umpires.”
Rayyan groans and shakes his head. “Not you, too? Halloween is a capitalist distraction designed to boost consumerist purchases of costumes and snacks!”
Tobin smirks. “True. But I didn’t buy these—oh crap.” Their eyes go wide. “The eyeball meatballs!” They sprint out.
Rayyan raises an eyebrow at you. “Do I even want to know what an eyeball meatball is?”
You laugh. “Probably not.”
Once everyone’s gone, it’s just you and Rayyan in their room. “You know,” they say gruffly, “I can think of one thing that would make this ridiculous holiday bearable.”
They tug you forward and lean in for a kiss—you close the distance, kissing them back slowly. When they finally pull back, there’s the smallest hint of a smirk playing on their lips.
“Tell me you’ll come to the team gathering,” they murmur. “Someone has to appreciate my devil Umpire outfit.”
TOBIN
Tobin takes Halloween way too seriously.
You show up at their place expecting some chill pumpkin carving. Instead, it’s a full-blown Halloween-themed tournament, accompanied by a feast they've prepared from scratch: eyeball meatball pasta, burnt human face casserole, blood punch, and bat-shaped cookies for dessert.
“Winning team gets first dibs on pumpkin pie!” Tobin announces, clipboard in hand, wearing an extremely impressive DIY Black Panther outfit—another year, another Marvel superhero.
“Best damn pie in the country,” Emerson says, nodding seriously.
Tobin smacks them in the arm. “I told you not to taste-test it!” they chide.
“But… how else would I know it’s the best damn pie in the country?” Emerson pouts.
After an exaggerated eyeroll, Tobin explains the three rounds of the tournament: pumpkin carving, horror-movie jump-scare, and a candy treasure hunt. “Winning team gets first dibs on whatever’s left of the pumpkin pie.”
The room descends into glorious chaos — Emerson somehow gets frosting on the ceiling, Rayyan complains about the “unsanctioned scoring system,” and Akimi keeps waving their outfit’s retractable toy knife, shouting, “Outta my way, or you’ll trigger my NPC villain arc!”
When it’s all over, you help Tobin clean up. They pull a Tupperware from behind a bowl of candy. Inside: one lopsided heart-shaped cookie. “I saved it for you,” Tobin says with a smile. “From the evil bat batch.”
Later, you’re on the couch. Tobin slings an arm around you, presses a warm kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “Next year, I’m making it a doubles tournament. We’d win for sure.”
“Definitely,” you say, scooting into Tobin’s warm embrace. “By the way, that pecan pie really was the best in the country.”
Tobin’s eyes sparkle with pride.
GENEVIÈVE / GUILLAUME
You show up at the party G had invited you to at half-past midnight. It's a blur of bass and sweat. You scan the mass of bodies dancing in the living room, but G's nowhere to be found.
Ten minutes later, you find them outside, on the lawn, surrounded by a half-circle of admirers hanging onto their every word. Of course.
You head over, raising a wry eyebrow. “What new cult are you starting this time?”
G lights up, pausing in mid-sentence to grin at you, grey eyes sparkling as they hold your gaze. They’re wearing all-black, nursing a glass of red-wine in one hand. “We were just discussing the scientific likelihood of ghosts being able to contact us through radio frequencies.
Later on, when you finally accompany G back to their room, a little tipsy, they murmur, “you look hot. Been thinking about you all night.”
“Me and ghost communication, apparently,” you reply, even though your heart skips a beat. You reach G's door, and pause outside. You don't want to say goodbye just yet, but you're still mustering up the courage to invite yourself into G's room. So, instead, you wave an arm at G and ask, “What’re you even supposed to be, anyway? You’re just in your usual outfit.”
G grins at you. “I’m an existential crisis. It’s not about the external appearance. It’s the essence I’m embodying. The horror of self-awareness.”
“So… I’m supposed to feel dread in your presence?” You continue to make no move towards your own room.
G laughs, pulling you into a kiss. “No, not you. You’re immune to me.” They raise an eyebrow, pulling their door open with a small, knowing smirk. "Wanna come in?"
