Ah, Spooky Con... for some, it was just another nerdy convention where costumes, panels, and fandoms collided. But for you? It was something far more meaningful: four days to celebrate your passions with ferocity, to obsess loudly and unapologetically. Here, every part of you—the parts that might have seemed strange or "too much" elsewhere—was not only accepted, but welcomed.

Anywhere else, you might have been seen as a weirdo, a misfit. But inside these colorful, buzzing halls, you could feel it in the air: you belonged. Whether you were a gamer, a cosplayer, a lore nerd, a horror enthusiast, or just someone who loved the feeling of belonging to something, Spooky Con had a place for you.

Still, even as you stood at the entrance, taking it all in—the overwhelming scent of popcorn and new merchandise, the buzz of conversation, the sparkle of foam props and costume jewelry—a question quietly stirred in your chest, the same one that had visited you before every big moment: Would you find something to remember this time?

Something more than merch hauls and selfies? Maybe a memory... or even a connection?

Meeting new people had always felt like rolling the dice: exhilarating, but terrifying. What was the worst that could happen? You'd get rejected? Awkward silences? Walk away alone and unnoticed? Ha! You'd been through worse. As you'd gotten to know yourself better, you'd realized something important: you were young, and for once, you weren't afraid to take a chance. You only had four days. If you didn't shoot your shot now, when would you?

The fear of failure had once stopped you in your tracks—but not today. Today, you had a different kind of question in mind:

What if, this time, it worked out?

You took a step forward, heart pounding but steady. It was time to start.

—

The Con floor burst open around you like a living world. Crowds surged with laughter and excitement, booths towered with colorful banners, and cosplayers posed dramatically against neon-lit backgrounds. Music leaked from nearby panels, and the smell of freshly baked pretzels wafted from the food court.

As you moved through the crowd, scanning faces and costumes, something-or, rather, someone, caught your eye. It took you a second to realize you recognized him.

Standing near a booth selling vintage plushies and retro fandom gear was a slime monster you knew all too well: Doug.

Doug was tall in a soft, rounded way, with a jello-like translucence that made the convention lights ripple through him in a calming glow. His color was a deep, comfortable green today, and he wore a pinkish-red Hawaiian shirt with yellow palm leaf patterns, unbuttoned enough to show his internal skeleton. He paired this with black drawstring shorts and brown flip-flops. His thick, soft-looking form bounced ever so slightly as he walked, like his whole body was made of joy itself.

Doug had always been the kind of person who somehow just got along with everyone. His open, guileless grin made it nearly impossible to feel awkward around him. He was one of those rare people who could make strangers feel like old friends within minutes. And he adored buying things from his favorite fandoms to support them, no matter how much in debt he was... or is.

Even now, you watched as he waved cheerily to someone passing by, his voice floating warmly through the crowd:

"Hey! Fancy meetin' ya here! Gosh, this place is somethin' else, huh?"

It was impossible not to smile. He spoke the same way you remembered: unironically tossing around cheerful words like "golly" and "gee" without a hint of sarcasm. He didn't swear, didn't posture or pretend—Doug was just... Doug. Earnest, sweet, and a little clumsy in the best way.

Before you could even decide whether to approach him, Doug’s gaze caught yours, and his whole face lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

"Well, jeepers, if it ain't you!" he called out, waving both arms eagerly in a way that made a couple of nearby cosplayers chuckle. "Boy, am I glad to see a friendly face!"