count your bones

dig up the laughing photographs / they're here somewhere or other / take what you can carry / but let me tell you, brother / still water's going stagnant, bodies bloat / and the cellar door is an open throat

an indie multimuse featuring canon and original characters from what we do in the shadows, batman unburied, sleepaway camp, the magnus archives, and more. exploring themes such as liminal spaces, religious trauma, the gray areas of morality, when is a monster not a monster, taking comfort in the weird, and finding strength in weakness.

“Hello?”  Tate seemed to have checked everywhere. Between all the aisles and behind the counter, NO ONE seemed to be in the place. Hm. He’d give it a minute or two, maybe they were just in the back or trying to take a piss. But in the meantime, Tate gathered his items under one arm and scanned his eyes over the candy they had displayed RIGHT UNDER for the sake of last minute sales; a box of Buncha Crunch was snatched up and stuffed into his jeans pocket. He looked back towards the EMPLOYEE’S ONLY door and there was still no movement. Next came a lighter. Plucked up and stashed away. He was about to go for another, before the cooler door went swinging open and he was no longer alone to take things as he pleased.

“Oh, HEY MAN. Don’t even worry about it. I got here like, two minutes ago.”  He unpacked what he was actually going to spend money on and piled it onto the counter top. A can of JOLT COLA and two packets of Butterfinger BBs.  “You’d think they’d have more than one person working but what do I know.”  Huh. Tate had never seen this particular cashier before. This was a station that he FREQUENTED quite a bit. He had gotten to know the night crew pretty well, and he thought for a moment that one of those assholes better not have quit without saying goodbye to him. In the pocket that wasn’t housing the stolen goods, he fished out a wad of dollar bills that were also precured through less than legal means- Maybe LARRY shouldn’t leave his wallet out unattended like that.  “Are you new?”

“No,  I've been here a while.”  The way the guy asked made it seem like he came in here often enough to recognize the regulars,  but Ryan didn’t recognize him either.  Or maybe he did;  there was something familiar there.  The midnight to six AM block was usually his shift but it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility that the customer just forgot about Ryan-  maybe he usually came in on Ryan’s off days.

As he came to stand across the counter from the customer,  Ryan offered him a smile,  then glanced down at the items between them.  Jolt Cola and Butterfinger BBs?  Brows furrowed as he picked up the candy and looked at the familiar yellow packaging featuring The Simpsons;  he remembered eating these as a kid but he hadn’t seen them in years.  And they definitely didn’t sell them here.  The same went for the soda.  In fact,  Ryan was pretty sure both of these were discontinued in the 2000′s. 

While he was looking down at the counter,  something else caught his eye and he slowly turned his head to look at the cash register.  The chunky machine with blocky keyboard keys was a far cry from the touchscreen he was used to.  He looked up then,  quickly glancing around the store at the lights,  the decor,  the signage,  the products.  Everything was different.  Even the bones of the store-  the shelving,  the tiles-  they looked fresh.  Dated,  of course,  but new.