Peter Peter Pumpkin Reaper

"Oh, Romeow, you came back!" The poodle cried, throwing her arms around her true love.

"Oh, Drooliet, how could I ever leave you? I was a fool!" The cat answered, twirling his delicate partner before capturing her lips in passionate kiss. Doves, in perfect heart formation, flew behind the dramatic couple, like the illustration in a storybook.

Exactly, suspiciously, like a storybook.

"At last," Mother Goose whispered happily, from her hiding place in the bushes. Sure, it has taken weeks of stalking and secret magical manipulation and more rocks thrown at bedroom windows than she could count, but the perfect Happily Ever was worth every pebble!

The witch magically cued the fountain, adding even more dramatic flair and subtle glitter to the romantic scene as the couple continued to express their love with outrageous PDA. This time, nothing could go wrong!


    • Harmonizer

      Except for one little thing. 

      In kisses of passion, it wasn't common for people to inhale foreign objects, and choke and then die. 

      But it happened. Some bits of glitter went down the poodle's throat, and within seconds, she began choking. 

      "O-oh, Romeow- I-I can't b - choke, cough - breathe..." 

      "Me neither... I'm just so excited!" he held her close, not noticing that she was turning blue and purple. "Just think, we'll be married tomorrow! We'll finally be together forever! Nothing can stand in the way of our love!" 

      His declarations of love went on for a few minutes before he realised she wasn't responding to him, or breathing. 



      "Come on, now. There, that was not so hard, was it?" 

      Death gently wrapped his arms around a kitten who was stuck in a tree. Although it yowled in fright and scratched at him, he held it gently and set it down. 

      Only for it to run up another tree. 

      Death sighed deeply, but he didn't have time to rescue the cat again. He had a duty to do. 

      Romeow Williams and Drooliet Speare were both scheduled to die today, and he'd held off on the woman long enough. 

      He did not even bother to make himself invisible as he stood nearby, watching the young man who was currently grieving his lost love. 

      "O my love, my life, Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty-" 

      Death rolled his eyes and checked his watch as the young man rambled on. He could see the young woman's soul, a ball of light, still clinging to her bosom. He decided to wait for a bit before harvesting their souls. It would be easier to do it in one fell swoop. Besides... it was quite a pity. But a death was a death, and it was his job to collect their souls when they died. 

      "...Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die." 

      The cat slumped over the poodle's body, dead. 


      Death walked over, regarded them for a moment, then swung his scythe upwards, ready to bring it down upon the unfortunate young couple and release their souls. 

      • Mother Goose
        Mother Goose

        "...What?" Mother Goose stared at the complete tone shift unfolding before her eyes. What just happened?! Did Drooliet just die?!

        "WHAT-" the goose hissed louder as Romeow chugged a small bottle of poison to join his beloved in death's cold embrace.  "Where did you even GET THAT-" Had the feline fiancé been carrying that around the whole courtship? It certainly raised questions about his character-but that wasn't the point!

        The point was they shouldn't be dead-

        Mother Goose wailed.

        It just wasn't fair! Everything was going perfectly-

        How could-

        Who was doing this to her?

        Was the universe just against happiness?

        It was very unlucky that Death had decided to be a fully visible, and thus, a fully blameable target for the witch's ire.

        "Don't you TOUCH THEM!" the goose screeched, diving out of the tree onto the unfortunate personification of Death before he swung the final blow. About seven feet of enraged bird, plus forty-five additional pounds of tulle, ruffles, and glitter landing on your shoulders should be enough to throw anyone off their game.

        "This was SUPPOSED TO BE A HAPPY! ENDING!" Mother Goose grappled with the skeletal vulture, doing her best to kick, twist, elbow, or possibly bite Death into letting go of his scythe. "How DARE you show up and RUIN EVERYTHING-!"

        "You- you horrid man!" she added, slapping the back of the reaper's skull for good measure.

        • Harmonizer

          Death only managed to utter a small "What." before the wild goose attack. Caught off guard, she managed to take him down, but not for long. 

          Well... long enough for him to drop his scythe anyway. 

          "Ow, ow, stop!!" 

          He peeled the raging Mother Goose off him by the scruff of her neck with his forefinger and thumb, keeping her at arm's length. 

          "Ma'am, please, I'm trying to do my job. Now, where is-" 

          It was gone. Oh, wonderful. Wait, how would a 100-inch reaper scythe disappear? 

          Being in such close range with Death and his aura, Mother Goose would see exactly what was happening. 

          There were two shimmering orbs of white, clinging to the threads of their mortal shell, before they broke off, and formed into misty pale forms of their human forms. 

          "Um... what." Ghost!Drooliet looked around curiously. 

          "Oh, Drooliet! I had the most terrible dream!" Ghost!Romeow hugged her. "You were dead, and I poisoned myself to join you!" 

          "You... poisoned yourself? That is... that's..." 

          Disturbing? Weird? Creepy? 

          "That is the most romantic thing you have done for Dream-me!!" she squealed and hugged him back. "Let's go get dinner!" 

          "You know, the amazing thing is that my heart is filled with love for thee, that I cannot feel hunger anymore." 

          No, what was probably more amazing was that they never even noticed their dead bodies the whole time. 

          Death reached out to grab them as they started to leave, hand in hand. 

          • Mother Goose
            Mother Goose

            Being held aloft like a naughty kitten was certainly a first. "Hey-! What are you doing, put me down!" Mother Goose complained hotly, swatting at the skeleton's arm. "I'm not letting you take them, you mangy bag of bones-!"

            The ghostly resurrection of the young lovers shut her up momentarily, their affectionate display proving that death had not parted them...

            There was still a chance this could work out! Mother Goose stifled a squee and grabbed excitedly at Death's robes, this time not to choke, but to plead with him.

            "Mr... Reaper? Can I call you Grim?" she hazarded. Too causal? "-Uhhh, I mean, Sir, er, Lord?" How were you supposed address Death? "Can't you just..." she wiggled her fingers at him. "Sort of squish them back in there? Pleaaase?" Her eyes watered with tears, a pathetic puppy-dog pout on her bill. "Juuuust this once? They're supposed to get married-"

            • Harmonizer

              "They're already dead, I'm supposed to take them-" 

              What happened to his scythe, anyway? Didn't he just drop it? This was worse than that time with the boy- 

              He looked down, frowning at the woman, and did not even suggest what she should call him. He took a deep breath, then sighed. 

              "I can't do that. Even if I could, I am not allowed to. I am Death, and I come for everyone eventually, no matter what they do. Their chapter had ended, and it's time to start a new page. Besides, do you want them to continue life when one of them had already asphyxiated and the other disintegrated his internal organs? This-" he gestured to the... well, where the couple were a few moments ago. "-is what I do." 

              Except... he couldn't do anything right now. His scythe was missing, and the souls were gone from his sight. He could still track them down... but there wasn't anything else he could do without it. 

              There was only one thing to do. 

              "You. Come with me." 

              He took Mother Goose by her hand and started to walk, filling her with an uncomfortable chill. 

              One thing at a time. First, the scythe, then the runaway souls. 

              • Mother Goose
                Mother Goose

                "Oh, please, it was just a little poison, how bad can-!" 

                Romeow's stomach burbled, his middle melting into a puddle of acid before their very eyes. "...yuck," Mother Goose conceded, before rebounding optimistically. "Drooliet can donate her organs! They're still fresh! Oooh, and how romantic how that be?!" she gasped, ignoring the issue of how many working lungs were required to live.  "I am positive you only really need 20% of a spleen-"

                "...Um..." the goose said in a small voice, as the cold traveled up her arm. It was starting to occur to her that walking off with actual Death was probably not the wisest course of action. "This isn't... I mean, I'm not actually offering to replace them..."

                • Harmonizer

                  Death turned to frown at her disapprovingly. "Even if you can, I won't let you. However, I am holding you responsible for the disappearance of my scythe. You are going to help me get it back," he said shortly, never releasing her arm or slowing his pace. 

                  They were romantic now, but not in a few months. He needed to get to them before something horrible happened. And for that to happen, he needed his scythe. 

                  He wasn't sure who could have taken it, but it could cause a major catastrophe if it fell into the wrong hands. 

                  • Mother Goose
                    Mother Goose

                    "Oh, b-b-boo," the goose said, through chattering teeth. Poets really weren't kidding about the icy grip of Death. "Can't they just be ghosts together..?" she tried. It wasn't exactly the big happy ending she'd pictured, but it still had a certain amount of poetic magic... throw her a bone already!

                    Er, metaphorically-speaking.

                    Death's actual bones had some kind of rotten-funk going on, like the kind of thing Negaduck would roll in. Another good reason to wiggle free of Death.

                    "Are you sure you had it when you left the house?" Mother Goose asked, trying to pry her poor frozen arm out of skeleton fingers. "Checked your pockets, that kind of thing?" How was it her fault Death was a scatterbrain? This was so unfair. "Can't you just get a new one?"

                    The only big pieces of wood laying around were trees, which didn't quite match her idea of the grim reaper's scythe. Did someone steal it during their tussle? There was a cute orange kitten dragging a big stick away, but otherwise the park was remarkably free of suspects. 

                    "Also, you didn't quite answer about the 'replacing them' part, Mr Reaper," Mother Goose said worriedly, tapping Death's arm. "I mean, it's not like it's my fault they're dead, right?" Right??

                    • Harmonizer

                      Death glared at Mother Goose. He was a man... err, entity of great patience... but sometimes living mortals could still get on his nerves. 

                      "I already have answered you. It is not possible to replace a human soul, and besides, it isn't allowed. And as for my scythe, you made me drop it, remember?" 

                      His sour mood seemed to make frost creep up her arm, but fortunately he had some knowledge of what frostbite could do to fragile mortal bodies and quickly let go. 

                      "I can get a new one," he clarified. "But any of my scythes, in the wrong hands, can cause a major catastrophe." 

                      He closed in towards Mother Goose's face, and in the darkness of his hood, she'd be able to make out two very faint blue lights flickering. His eyes? In any case, they were hypnotic. It felt like she could see the infinite in them, and a terrifying, suffocating feeling. A cold, harsh reality of the universe where there was no justice. Only him. 

                      "The blade can sap any living creature's soul. It will instantly kill them upon contact. That means no more happy endings. Ever. Do you understand?" 

                      He then straightened and looked around him. "Now, did you happen to see where it had gone?" 

                      • Mother Goose
                        Mother Goose

                        For a normal mortal, that view would be bleak and unfeeling. For someone who wholeheartedly believed that the world, deep down, really was just like a fairytale, with all the wonder and whimsy and blind optimism, it was simply crushing.

                        Mother Goose flinched back from the void, shivering violently from the claustrophobic vision. "...yes sir," she answered in tiny, shaky voice.

                        Those horrible, horrible eyes!

                        "Just... give me a minute..." Everything was oddly blurry. Did she lose her glasses somehow..? The put her hand up to check, only to discover her cheeks were wet... oh, she was crying. That explained it.

                        • Harmonizer

                          Death did a double take. Was she... crying?? Oh, dear... he didn't mean to do that to her. Was he really that scary? 

                          "It's alright..." he awkwardly patted her back and procured a black handkerchief for her tears. "I'm not angry. Please don't cry. We'll sort this out together." 

                          • Mother Goose
                            Mother Goose

                            Yes, he was a Very Bad Scary skeleton man.

                            Very Bad and Very Scary and offering her the softest handkerchief she'd ever felt...

                            Mother Goose took the hanky and blew loudly.



                            "Y-you're n-n-not mad?" Sniffle, sniffle. "Really?" She wrung the sopping wet hankerchief between her hands, trying not to look directly at Death's eye sockets again.

                            • Harmonizer

                              Death sighed. "Really. I'm not. You just acted in defence of your comrades. After all, it is common for mortals to hate me." 

                              That... sounded sadder and lonelier than he'd anticipated. He sighed again. 

                              "Now, please, I need to know where my scythe is." 

                              • Mother Goose
                                Mother Goose

                                "Hate you?" Mother Goose blinked at him, more confused than ever. "I thought you hated me!"


                                Meanwhile, the adorable kitten had dragged the big stick all the way to a pile of old tuna cans.

                                No, it wasn't a stick at all- it was the scythe?! (the trail of dead grass really should have given that away sooner). And the pile of metal wasn't tuna cans, it was-

                                Cat-sized super armor!

                                Oh, Death was a big dope, not noticing that the 'adorable', 'helpless' kitten he'd helped wasn't some random stray, but instead Fluffy, staking out the Grimm Reaper's weaknesses! He would have to thank that glitter-brained fool Mother Goose for the puuuuurrfect opening to steal the most powerful weapon in existence! 

                                "Soon all of St Canard will tremble under the reign of King Fluffy the First, master of life and death!" the super feline genius cackled to himself, swinging the scythe. "AHAHAHAHAHA-" twack. "Dogs!" Fluffy cursed, tugging at the scythe, squarely lodged in the heart of a (now extremely dead) tree. Using his strength in his roboticly-enchanced limbs and the boosters from his rocket boots, he managed to pull the whole tree out of the ground, scythe still embedded. "Double dogs!" Fluffy shouted.  He finally manage to free the scythe, with vigorous shaking, sending the tree crashing to the ground. The sudden change in weight nearly unbalanced the flying feline

                                "Is there a retractable option here?" the cat wondered, feeling up and down the shaft for a button or clasp. Having eight feet of perma-death stick was great in theory, but when you were maybe a sixth the size of your weapon, it was terribly awkward to wield.

                                • Harmonizer

                                  "I told you already, this is not your-" Sigh. This was getting nowhere. Death was about to ask her again and quite possibly scare her once more and make her cry all over again, when he felt... a wrongness in the air. Someone, or something, had just died instantly. 

                                  Also the tremors on the ground probably cued him in. 

                                  "Come," he told her, grabbing her again, this time by her collar. How considerate, no? 


                                  The tree that had been embedded with the scythe had wilted immediately. 

                                  Unfortunately for Fluffy, the scythe did not seem to have a retractable option. Death had never seen the need for it, or he would have customised it. 

                                  Maybe trimming the wood would make it better to handle? No pun intended. 

                                  • Mother Goose
                                    Mother Goose

                                    "Ack-" Mother Goose protested as she was dragged off once again. ""I can walk-!" Death really wasn't selling the idea he liked her. "Where are we going now- oh, oh I see."

                                    It was hard to miss the flying, scythe-swinging figure rising above the treeline, terrorizing the innocent living. "Death!" Fluffy cried, spotting the arrival of the skeletal figure below. "Come to witness the newer, better version of you?" he taunted.

                                    Mother Goose gasped in recognition. "It's a kitty!" Mother Goose cried, tugging on Death's robe excitedly."AwwWwWww~"

                                    Fluffy's eye twitched.

                                    "He's so cute with his little booties~" she cooed. "And that little cape! Aww!"

                                     Fluffy grip tightened, servos snapping the scythe in two pieces. "I. Am. Not. CUTE!" he raged, hurtling the extra piece of handle at the goose's head. "I have twice the IQ of Einswine! I have power over life and death-! Was does it take to get a little respect around here?!"

                                    • Harmonizer

                                      Death frowned. "But I already am a Death of Cats, and he looks nothing like you." 

                                      He then gave Fluffy a long, hard look. 

                                      "Weren't you the kitten I rescued earlier?" he asked curiously. "And indeed, Miss Grimm, it is very cute. Cats are dear creatures," he agreed wholeheartedly with Mother Goose. 

                                      He turned back at the sound of the scythe snapping and the kitten's tantrum, a brow raised, but of course no one can see that. 

                                      "Why do you despise being called cute?" Death asked, as he casually reached out and grabbed the broken end of the stick inches before it met her face. "You can be intelligent with adorable looks. But I'm afraid that power doesn't belong to you, so..." he held out his hand. "I'd like that back, please." 

                                      • Mother Goose
                                        Mother Goose

                                        Did Mother Grimm actually tell him her name..? No? That was slightly unnerving. As was the catch. She gulped quietly, glad the reaper was on her side, even if he made her neck prickle. 

                                        Fluffy met Death's eyes with cool indifference. Cats were not affected by stern glares by simple virtue of being cats. That said, the skeleton's agreement about how kittens were indeed adorable rubbed his fur the wrong way. 

                                        "HA, you try it sometime, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Intimidating!" Fluffy retorted hotly. "You'd think the world's greatest minds wouldn't care about looks, but oh no, when Fluffy T. Cat, F.D. tries to publish a groundbreaking paper on string theory, everybody laughs!" It was really quite hurtful.

                                        "So nerts to that, I'm holding onto this-" Fluffy swung the now cat-sized scythe gleefully. "Teach them to put a yarn-ball in my inbox," he muttered darkly, staring at the shiny blade. "In fact, I should start my new world order by getting rid of them! What a great idea!" Buoyed by his new-found purpose (and rocket boots), Fluffy aimed for St Canard University to trim down the tenured staff.

                                        "Well," Mother Goose said to Death, trying to put a good spin on things. "We got half of it back?" How much damage could a kitten really do..? Judging by Death's expression, too much.

                                        "Um- we could... fly after him?" She still had her broomstick locked in the bicycle rack. It would be a tight squeeze, but two would fit. "How are you with heights?"

                                        • Harmonizer

                                          Death, still holding the stick, folded his arms and frowned deeply. "I would not mind being cute, but unfortunately, that is not an option for me." Although Steven seemed to think he was adorable when he shapeshifted into a rat once. 

                                          He sighed as the kitten flew off. He had no idea of the power the steel blade had. It was like trying to reign in a wild horse, you needed a firm and steady hand. Once it found the wielder was not worthy, it was going to go out of control. This was going to be a big mess to clean up... 

                                          "I do not mind heights. Let's go," he nodded at Mother Goose. 

                                          The same might not be able to be said for her broomstick... especially if it had a mind of its own. 

                                          Meanwhile, a young woman carrying a cup of iced latte spotted the kitten and it slipped out of her hand, contents spilling on the ground. And then she screamed. 

                                          In delight. 

                                          "Aaaaaahhh!! It's so cute, oh my goodness!!" she squealed, pulling out her phone to take a snapshot. "Are you playing gardener dress-up? Aaaand, posted! Whoa, it's getting 50 likes already!" 

                                          • Mother Goose
                                            Mother Goose

                                            "You could be cute." Finally an area Mother Goose was an expert in! "You just need to accessorize better! Some nice bows, a little glitter, and oooh, get rid of those awful black robes- I mean, they just scream funeral-" Which is generally what you needed, meeting Death. "I. Erm. Powder blue is just nicer is all..."

                                            She busied herself with the broom, which was acting up. It could have been Death hovering nearby, or maybe the dead tree had been a beloved relative, but it was bristling unusually violently in her hand. "Behave," she whispered at it. "We have company!"


                                            Fluffy was pleased at the screaming until the dreaded C word passed the yuppie's lips. "Gardener?" The kitten's ears flattened and he hissed.

                                            "I'm the Grim Reaper!" he yowled, swinging the scythe around.


                                            Fluffy had aimed at her neck, but had hit the phone by mistake. It was still tremendously satisfying feeling it shatter, its little phone soul going to the Big Wireless Hub in the Cloud. The cat shook the shattered remains of the phone off, eying the gathering crowd snapping yet more photos of the adorable kitten.

                                            They still thought he was cute, did they?!

                                            Think again!!!

                                            The scythe in his metal mitts felt so good. Strong. Warm. It practically wanted to get to work. And the big people resembled nothing more than ripe crop that needed to be cut down...

                                            • Harmonizer

                                              Death looked affronted. "I like my robe. And what is wrong with funerals?" 

                                              He paused when she mentioned blue. What was a powder blue? Were there colours he wasn't aware of? 

                                              "I like blue," he admitted very quietly. 

                                              Tap tap tap went his fingers on the broken end of the scythe as he watched the feisty broom. He then bent down to peer at it. 

                                              "Perhaps it needs some-" 

                                              Whatever it needed, no one would know, because the broom suddenly gave a violent twitch and stabbed Death in the eyesocket with its end. Not that anyone could see it but there was a very painful-sounding, hollow thunk. Death, however, made no indication that he was in pain, only letting out an exasperated sigh. 

                                              "...I hate it when that happens." 


                                              The woman's eyes widened as her phone broke, but it just dissolved into a disapproving frown. With only a "Bad kitty!", she retrieved another phone and began snapping pictures again, because really, who carries only one handphone around these days? And especially in St Canard? 

                                              The blade of the scythe started to flash blue, blue like the eyes of its original owner. No matter how oblivious the citizens of St Canard were (and even more so, being university students), they just couldn't ignore that something was very, very wrong here. 

                                              But, naturally, they were mortals, and most mortals always had a hard time listening to their instincts. It was only when one person fell did Fluffy finally achieve mass panic from the humans. 

                                              • Mother Goose
                                                Mother Goose

                                                "Well, cut is very flattering on you," Mother Goose agreed.  Strong lines, classic trailing hems, form-fitting in all the right places... "But funerals are so depressing."

                                                He liked blue? Eeee! "If you want, I can charm it for you!" There was always time for a makeover. Without giving him a chance to actually object, she poked him in the robes. "Bibbidi, bobbidi- blue~!" Color leaked from the tip of her wand, washing over the somber robes, changing them to a soft, powder blue.

                                                So pretty~

                                                Even with a broom in his skull, he looked much-

                                                Wait, a broom in his skull??!

                                                “Are you ok- OH!” Mother Goose gasped. There was a six inch splinter poking out of the socket. If Death were the sort to blink, it would no doubt be bobbing comically. Mother Goose’s eyes watered in sympathy. “Does that hurt?” she asked in a horrified whisper.

                                                The broom, perhaps in terror at injuring the Grim Reaper, had gone still. It floated tamely at about knee-level, as if to say 'don't turn me into firewood I'm a good broom'.


                                                Swinging the scythe into the fleeing crowd, the little cat was filled with terrible joy.




                                                Fluffy batted at the terrified souls of the dead- playing with your kills was a hardwired cat instinct he couldn't fully suppress- and laughed. He loved this scythe. He and the scythe were going to have a long happy life ending other people's lives.

                                                • Harmonizer

                                                  "I like depres-" he paused, hesitating. "What would you recommend?" 

                                                  When he said he liked blue, he didn't mean this kind of blue. 

                                                  He seemed to ignore the splinter in his eye as he looked down at himself, almost in disbelief. The motion made the splinter teeter on the socket for a moment, as if deciding which way to fall, and ultimately slipped inside the skull. 

                                                  Clonk ra-ta-ta-ta clonk clank donk-! 

                                                  The splinter fell out on to the ground by his feet. He looked down at it, then looked at Mother Goose again, and did a double take. Why was she crying again? 

                                                  "Err. I'm fine," he said anxiously, reaching out to pat her on the head, wondering if it would help. His hand stiffened halfway through the second pat, however, as the souls of the freahly departed started to pull on him. So many, falling at once... 

                                                  "We're wasting time. Here-" 

                                                  With a snap of his fingers, Mother Goose was drenched in black ink- well, actually, her clothes simply faded to black, and shifted into something more suitable for action. Gloves formed on her arms, and her shoes turned practical. Oddly, the fabric felt a little chilly. 

                                                  "Protection," was the only explanation he offered. 

                                                  With another snap of his fingers, a cold wind rushed through them, and they appeared on the campus where everyone was running from the scythe-wielding kitty. 

                                                  He... he could do that the whole time. 

                                                  The strange thing was, they weren't getting trampled. It was as if the people could not see them, but instead of running into them, they were avoiding them as if by instinct, like water flowing around a rock. 

                                                  Mother Goose would also notice something else. She could see the shimmery, frightened souls amongst the panicking crowd, who were also trying to run. Some were sucked into the scythe at the first strike, but Fluffy was not very precise or well trained with it, and most of the spirits were not absorbed properly. And, unlike the still-living humans, they could see Mother Goose and Death. Which resulted in more panicking and running away. 

                                                  "Hurry. Gather the departed. I will allow it temporarily." She was a witch, wasn't she? There were a lot of soul-trapping spells they loved to use, which was annoying. But useful, in this case. 

                                                  He then turned to Fluffy, and drew a sword, pointing it at him. 

                                                  "Surrender, Fluffy, before you do something you'll regret." 

                                                  It probably wasn't as intimidating as he'd hoped to be, with the shiny pink blade he was holding. Or the powder blue robes. And pink ribbons. Glitter everywhere. 

                                                  • Mother Goose
                                                    Mother Goose

                                                    He... he could do that the whole time? Then why with the broom and the... outfit... Death, just why.

                                                    Mother Goose made a face at the all-black transformation Death had given her, plucking uncomfortably at the gloves and the shivery, sensible gown. Her hair, when she patted it, was even tied up neatly in an extremely practical bun. Probably with a black ribbon too. "You really... shouldn't have..." In her opinion, it was a great outfit for dying of consumption in and not much else.

                                                    "Aaah!" Mother Goose clutched at Death's arm when they lurched through space. "AAAAAAH!" she screamed when, oddly, the horde of fleeing students and faculty didn't trample them. "Ahh...?"  The goose experimented with their personal force-field by sticking her arm into the path of a frightened student. They veered out of the way, nearly hitting another kid in the process. "Freak-y." Was this what it was like to be Death?

                                                    Deeply distracted by this, she nearly jumped at the order for Death-approved ghost busting. "Right! You get Fluffy, I'll get-" the easily over a dozen ghosts. And still growing. Boo, no fair. "..Is it too late to swap?" she pondered, but Death was already challenging the super-powered house cat. "Ok, everyone calm down and just form a line- no, CALM,  no- wait!! STAY!"

                                                    Soul-trapping wasn't really something Mother Goose was well versed in, due to her stubborn instance on using magic strictly for crafting fairytale scenarios (though soul-trapping was an easy way for making deeply cursed objects)... but she remembered the basics. Mostly.

                                                    All you really needed was something to suck the soul into, like a lantern or a...

                                                    a vacuum cleaner...



                                                    "Pumpkins!" Pumpkins weren't exactly on Dr. Egon's approved materials list, but there were plenty of them around the campus.

                                                    Thank goodness for early decorators!

                                                    Plucking the gourd off the ground, Mother Goose took careful aim and bowled it at the panicking ghost crowd. With a loud SHOOO-OPP as it hit the target, the pumpkin sucked the restless soul inside, resulting a very surprised looking carving.  "HaHA!" Mother Goose cheered, grabbing another pumpkin.




                                                    Pumpkins rolling all over campus from out of nowhere resulted in massive tripping, slipping, and bruised ankles among the crowd, but Death ought to be proud of how well Mother Goose was handling herself~

                                                    Fluffy outright laughed at the pastel skeleton. "Well, aren't you just ADORABLE!" the kitten cackled. "Did your mommy dress you?!" Holding the scythe had changed the cat as well. At certain angles, Fluffy's fur looked almost transparent, revealing menacing skeletal grin. "The only thing I'll regret is not taking Dean Tightbill down!"

                                                    • Harmonizer

                                                      As soon as Fluffy showed no intent to repent, Death wasted no time swinging the sword against the scythe, which would trim the handle to an even shorter length. There was a possible chance that Fluffy was laughing too hard to dodge in time... but he was a cat. 

                                                      "I suggest you stop. You cannot control my scythe. It will rebel in the hands of a weak mortal." 

                                                      Maybe ixnay on the eakway, Death. Although the scythe seemed to be pulsating angrily with light now, growing colder and colder, like it had suddenly decided it did not like its new master. Black, transparent tendrils started to lash out, striking people of its own accord, which sapped them of their souls instantly. Mother Goose got a sharp boop on the shoulder, but the clothes seemed to do a good job keeping her soul intact. 

                                                      Overall, this wasn't looking too good. He was glad Briar Grimm was helping out, but Fluffy's soul was starting to leave him as well, teetering like on the edge of a wobbly table. He would not be able to catch it if it fell, without his scythe. He could grab it but it... seemed like it was in a bad mood. 

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