#I also like to think howdy when bored just wiggles his head around moving his antennae in swaying motions

[clownsuu]

Thank you for indoctrinating me into being a Wally/Howdy enjoyer. It's not the pair I would have expected to see but still a cute pairing (with GREAT potential angst) nonetheless.

I saw a pajama-outfit meme a few days earlier that fit these two very well, though I forgot to save the actual thing it’s self smhhhh (basically it’s the ship dynamic of “slay slay bich serve” and other is literally just in their boxers MCGFGYDHJDD)

I like to think when ever howdy is content/sleepy/wholesomely happy, his antennae wiggle a lil bit

also bonus Sally and Julie cause I love their chaotic energy MCHHDH

[earthseaborealis]

New Traditions and Worlds

My @homestuckss gift for @dykeiatrist ! I used “Davekat,” “Jane,” and “Hurt/Comfort” (with a bit of DirkJake) to create a cute little holiday fic! Hope you enjoy it :D Have a wonderful holiday season!!

Also on ao3 (@detective_in_space if the link doesn’t work!)

“Twas the week before Christmas,” Dave started before pausing, “Yo Rox, what’s somethin’ that rhymes with Christmas?”

“Ass? Wait, no, no that doesn’t work… Christmas…” Roxy muttered, “Okay so, like, the only thing I’ve got is Christmas, but you absolutely cannot rhyme ‘Christmas’ with ‘Christmas,’ right?”

“You’re definitely right,” Dave sighed as he scratched out the words in his notebook, “Dude, like absolutely nothin’ rhymes with Christmas words.”

Roxy moved over and rested their hand on his shoulder, “Karkat will appreciate the thought at least. Hey, there are other things than Christmas raps, like festive interpretive dances! Or Festive slam poetry?”

“Well, duh, it’s Karkat we’re talkin’ bout,” Dave laughed, but in his defense, it was true. Karkat would yell and insist that he hated Dave’s most ‘ironic’ gifts, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. Like it was just a whole elaborate game. The edges of Karkat’s eyes would wrinkle as his lips curled into a small grin. A small chuckle would escape, which Dave would obviously point out, and in response, Karkat would punch him (before wrapping him in a hug). Oh god, that was the best… 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Roxy interrupted, as they lightly hit the side of Dave’s head, “Did ya invite me over here just to fall asleep?”

“Nah dawg, I was just thinkin’ about the usual,” Dave brushed their hand aside. 

“So,” Roxy drawled, “Karkat?” Roxy wiggled their eyebrows at Dave. 

“No,” Dave exclaimed, “Fuck, I mean, no. Hey, do ya know any, like, traditions that people do for Christmas and all that jazz.” Now that was a smooth change of topics. 

“Smooth like a baby’s bottom,” Roxy laughed, “But, nah. I didn’t even know Christmas was like a real thing… thought it was an urban myth or something.” Oh, right. Roxy lived in some highly-futuristic society that was enslaved by a fish bitch, but there was none of that oppressive dictatorship on Earth C. Trolls, Carpacians, Humans, and well, any other species were free to chill by the fire and enjoy whatever holiday they wanted. Now that, was what sweet, sweet democracy was about (preach Obama). 

“Lit, lovin’ that we’re both oblivious of any cultural traditions… hey, you think one of the Crocker-Harley-English… berts... would know more about this? I’m feelin’ like they’d be all up in that shit,” Dave said, “Oh fuck, I’m so smart. That’s like totally their thing.”

After quickly picking up all his stuff and saying goodbye to Roxy, Dave picked up his phone and dialed Jane Crocker, the holiday expert, on his way home. Wait, oh fuck, what if she was busy? It’s not like he usually talked to her, so was it out of the question? Oh no, maybe he should’ve just texted John...

The phone picked up, “Hello, Jane Crocker speaking?”

“Oh… oh! Hey Jane, it’s Dave… ya know… Dirk’s cooler bro,” Dave started. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Yes, he could be floating around, but exercise was important. 

“Well, howdy there Dave. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it,” she chuckled, “Anyways, did you need anything?”

“So, like, Rox and I were talkin’ about Christmas and stuff… and well, we’re both dumb and have no idea what people actually do for it, so I thought you might be the expert on the subject? Because it totally seems like it’d be up your ally,” Dave rambled on. 

“Well golly, I’m flattered. It’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated the holiday, but of course, I’ll help you! Before the game, my father and I had so much fun celebrating… let’s see… Well, I’m sure you already know this, but we’d go out to a farm together and pick out a tree. I’d always search for the fattest tree, and my father would help me cut it down. And then we’d go get Hot Cocoa and pick out ornaments together, and well, oh sorry, I’ve gotten a bit off-topic, haven’t I,” Jane apologized.

“No, no! You’re literally the best… lemme just get a piece of paper to write this on,” Dave fumbled around his captchalogue, and pulled out an old notebook (of course, with Obama on the cover). “Okay cool, I got one, hit me with all that sweet, sweet info.”

“Alright… let’s see, what else… oh, well after we decorated the tree, we’d make and frost sugar cookies and cakes together. Oh! Karkat and you are welcome to come over together sometime and make cookies with me if you’d like,” Jane offered. Hell yeah, she was a literal legend. Roxy and Dirk had the best friends. 

“Yeah, dog, we’d love to! I’ll hit you up with a date once Karkat checks the calendar. You know him and… schedulin’,” Dave said as he continued to write down Jane’s suggestions. 

Jane chuckled, “Sounds good… and one more thing… My father and I would always put cheesy Christmas music on. That was the best… we’d make absolute fools out of ourselves, but it was so much fun. Literally, we’d just dance around and belt the lyrics… those we’re the days,” Jane’s voice started to crack… fuck… had Dave made her cry? “Sorry…” she continued, “I don’t mean to be so emotional. Oh lord, I’m sorry. I… I hope I helped you a bit, and just, feel free to come over whenever for cookies…” 

“Fuck, no,” Dave searched his brain… what would Karkat say… “Sorry for bringin’ up those memories. I know it sucks and all. I’ll give you some time and just hit you up later.” 

“Yes, that’d be great… see you later then,” Jane said as she hung up. 

Well, shit, Dave had already made one person cry and it was only 11 a.m. Maybe Christmas was just an emotional time and stuff. Jane was cool, though, so he hoped that she was okay. Plus, she gave him some kickass advice, and he was so ready to get his holiday spirit on. 

The rest of the walk to his place was boring. Dave tried to come up with some more sick raps for his Christmas album, featuring the new and improved version of “Jingle Bells.” The air was crisp and way too cold for Dave’s Texan roots (he blamed John for the freezing wind), so he was thankful when he finally reached the door. 

“Yo, Karkat, I’m home, and I come with words of wisdom from the one and only Jane Crocker herself,” Dave announced as he closed the door behind him. He attempted to throw his coat and hang it up, but it fell clumsily to the floor. He shrugged it off and continued through the cozy lil’ condo, finding his way into the kitchen, where he found Karkat doing a load of laundry. Yes, the washing machine and dryer were in the kitchen… it was only the most ironic, British mom location for them. Dave, being the coolest man to ever exist, ran up to Karkat and hugged him from behind. 

“Jesus fucking shit Dave! Are you trying to give me a blood pusher attack?” Karkat screeched as he jumped like fifty feet in the air (okay maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it basically happened). 

“Nah dude, you wouldn’t dare be all anime protagonist on me and faint. Like, imagine me runnin’ to cradle you in my arms while you murmur ‘I’m goin’ to have to kawaii the shit out of your desu.’ Literally, imagine that” Dave rambled. 

Karkat groaned at this, “Stop spending time with Dirk. You’re turning into a shitty weeb Karkat said as he pushed Dave away. 

“I can’t help it… it’s who I am,” Dave clutched yo his chest and fell to the ground, pulling the other boy down with him. Karkat’s words. The worst weapon of all. 

“I’m going to go live with Kanaya and Rose,” Karkat grumbled, falling to the ground as dramatically as possible (making sure to land on Dave with as much force as possible). 

“Like you’d do that,” Dave scoffed, “She’s worse than me. Plus, is you did, we couldn’t be all romantic and celebrate human holidays together. C’mon dude, we gotta act like a high school couple. Get all up in each other’s space and kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, speakin’ of that! I talked to Jane, who is literally the best, and she was like ‘oh Dave! Check out this super lit tradition I did back on the o.g. Earth. Like, you get to cut down a tree and decorate with the most ironic ornaments.’” 

“Sound detrimental to the environment and a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating a fucking tree,” Karkat asked.

“Dude, it’s a pine tree, which is superior to all other trees. Besides,  it’s about family and friends. I mean, I never celebrated Christmas with Bro, but you can’t just diss Karen like that,” Dave said, using his best white mom voice. 

“Fine whatever. I’ll celebrate your dumb human holiday, but I call picking out the decorations,” Karkat bargained as he stood up and dusted off his pants (getting rid of Dave’s germs).

“Hell yeah, deal! Get your coat on, we’re gonna get a tree and bring it in our house,” Dave exclaimed, quickly getting off the ground. 

The boys quickly got ready and we’re out the door, hopping into their car. Dave has gotten it because well, basically of all Karkat and his friends could fly. He has listened to Karkat’s complaining enough and invested in an older, used minivan. And man, did he love the thing. Hey, maybe he’d become a car person after the holidays were over. 

Dave was about to drive to the nearest park with a saw, but Karkat demanded that he call and ask Jane first. Jane recommended a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and with the use of a GPS, they eventually found their way there (after a few hours of trial and error).

“Jane said that fat trees were better, but honestly, I’m lovin’ this tall ass one right here. I mean look at it. It’s taller than the Empire State Buildin’… wait, is that still a thing? Like an Earth C Empire State Buildin’?” In Dave’s defense, it was a totally valid question. Like, did Earth C have the same seven wonders of the world? Who knew. 

“Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a tree, not imperialism,” Karkat groaned, “And besides, our house isn’t big enough for that.”

“But Karkat, the economy,” Dave whined, “But like, what about this tiny one… it reminds me of you, short stacks.”

Karkat shoved him, “And the other reminds me of your flat ass.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment… since you're lookin’ at my ass and all,” Dave pulled down his Stiller shades and winked.

“Shut up, you fucking twink. Let’s just celebrate your weird human holidays and get the tree,” Karkat grumbled as he attempted to pick up the tree. 

Dave doubled over laughing as he watched the 5’3 troll struggle, but once Karkat shot him an angry glare, he rushed over to aid him (with his huge muscles, of course). “Nice, I can feel it pokin’ me through my mittens. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

After endless trial and error, the pair managed to carry the tree to the register and on top of their car, a red minivan that Dave had picked out.

“So,” Karkat started, “We just put a tree in our block and decorate it? And then some creepy old man flies around the world and gives presents to children by putting them under the tree?” His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand human traditions.

“Dude, I can’t even explain it. Humans can come up with some weird shit when they put their minds to it,” Dave laughed. The rest of the car ride consisted of Karkat rambling about trollian traditions. Their hands managed to find one another and rest comfortably on the center console (Dave, of course, kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times… hey, safety is important). 

Their next stop was the local hardware store. It was owned by a sweet, older Carpacian. In all honesty, she reminded Dave of the Mayor… a kindred spirit whose goal in life was to just lead and help make others happy. She made the place seem like the opposite of a place to buy tools. The place was decorated with festive garlands and cheery music rang through the air. Dave waved at her as the pair walked towards the Christmas section.

“So,” Dave drawled, “What kind of ornaments are we lookin’ for? Personally, I wanna find a dick shaped one… for the memories of cockscotch. Bless that game.”

“This is a family store, dick-muncher! And we’re getting triple-f ornaments! Family fucking friendly!” Karkat screeched, marching ahead (but not before grabbing Dave’s hand and pulling him along). 

“Fine, fine, I get it… gotta make our house grub friendly, for when John comes over,” Dave snickered as they walked the ornaments aisle. Who knew there were so many different variations in fucking decorations? You had some for your Karens, poor college students, newlyweds, too many to count. Karkat busied himself with the… glass ball? Well, whatever that kind of ornament was called. 

“These are nice,” Karkat noted, showing Dave a set of jade glass baubles (haha, like Kanaya).

“But like, dude, they’re so borin’,” Dave whined, “We gotta spruce this tree up… get it? Spruce is a kind of tree.” Dave chuckled at his own dad joke. Shit, he was hilarious. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to make this actually look nice. We’ll get other colors too, and “spruce” it up, as you say,” Karkat said as he went back to check out the boring ornaments. Dave, on the other hand, went to look at the children’s ornaments on the other side of the aisle. Most of them were new pop culture things that Dave didn’t recognize (God was he growing old). However, there were a few that grabbed his attention, and obviously, he was gonna have to show these to Karkat. 

“Yo, dawg. Check out these cool little fuckers. They’ll make our tree look mads cool,” Dave opened his hands to reveal a bunch of little crab ornaments. They were cute and not boring glass balls. Plus, crabs were like Karkat’s thing… he’d definitely appreciate them.

“Crustaceans? Don’t you just know the way to my blood pusher,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “Just put them in the basket before I change my mind.”

Dave threw his fist in the air and gave Karkat a side hug, “Hell yeah, you won’t regret this. We gonna get so festive up in this joint. All the moms will be beggin’ to check out the coolest tree in the neighborhood, which if ya didn’t catch on, will be ours.”

“You got me. I’m only doing this to make Carol jealous. She fucking deserves it,” Karkat chuckled. Yes, Dave knew he was doing swell when he made Karkat laugh. If only he could give himself a, well earned, golden star. 

“Dude yes, I fuckin’ hate Carol. C’mon, let’s get more lights. We gotta make this flashy and blow a fuse, speakin’ of which… do you know how to fix a broken fuse? Because I do not wanna call Dirk over to fix it for us. He’ll be like ‘Dave, I’m just tryin’ to celebrate the holidays with my darlin’ boyfriend… have I mentioned Jake’s ass? Damn, lemme just rant about that and never actually fix your broken utilities.’ Can you imagine the pain, Karkat,” Dave lamented? He loved his brother, don’t get him wrong, but he did not want to mess with Dirk this close to the holiday season. 

“I can, actually. Remember what happened the week before Jake’s birthday? Dirk is batshit crazy, but he gets it from you,” Karkat smirked as Dave feigned an offended expression, “Now, can we stop talking about his love life and actually pick out some decorations?”

The pair still had one more destination before they could go home and relax, maybe even decorate the tree… but knowing themselves, they’d probably wait until Christmas Eve to put the new lights and ornaments up. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Jane said as she opened the door, “I’ve already got everything out, so all we have to do is bake and decorate cookies… and perhaps eat a bit of dough.” She ushered the two inside. 

“Hell yeah, you’re the best Janey,” Dave said as the pair put away their coats and walked to the kitchen with Jane. Everything was so clean, especially when compared to their house. Karkat would always fuss about his habits, but Dave felt a sort of comfort in the messiness. So what if there were shirts thrown on the floor and an unorganized stack of papers on the kitchen table. It built… character. 

“I’ve never had what you humans call ‘cookies,’ but thank you for having us,” Karkat added. 

“Oh please, it’s no problem. I love baking, and I especially love helping people get into the holiday spirit,” Jane said. The trio fell into a simple routine once Jane showed them the recipe, helping the two boys when need be. Dave filled the silence by rambling under his breath about whatever he deemed important, while Karkat concentrated on making his cookies perfect. 

“Hey look,” Dave exclaimed while holding up one of his doughy creations, “It’s a Karkat angel! A Kar-Angel… a Karkat Van-Angel!” His cookies were shaped into gingerbread men with nubby horns and an uncharacteristic smile. 

“And I made a Dave-Cookie… oh wait, it’s just a blob of dough, my fucking bad,” Karkat retorted, going back to rolling out his dough. 

It was a long process, but after a few hours, the boys had successfully made their first batch of Christmas sugar cookies. A few of the cookies weren’t burnt on the edges, but they were delicious nonetheless. Jane demanded that the pair take home their creations, as she didn’t have enough room in her cabinets for more holiday desserts. 

“Goodness, thank you so much for coming over and making sugar cookies! I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been a while. Feel free to come by and help me whenever you all would like,” Jane chirped. 

“Of course, Janey,” Dave replied, “You best bet we’ll be back for some more goodies! Gotta get my housewife on. I can’t be accidentally poisoning Karkat with some undercooked cake.” 

“You’ve poisoned me with every meal of your’s, except the Kraft Mac and Cheese, but only because Roxy helped you,” Karkat spat. 

“Oh well, we certainly can’t have that. I’ll be seeing you both again soon then. Have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful new year!”

It was dark by the time they were home. Karkat and Dave both felt the sleepiness enter the body, as they kept yawning. It was too late to decorate the tree, so it was leaned against a corner. The pair immediately plopped down onto the couch and put on a holiday classic, Tim Allen’s “The Santa Clause,” which Dave argued was the best Christmas movie known to mankind, trollkind, and carpaciankind alike. 

“Y’know, I never imagined that I would celebrate Christmas. Like, dude, that shit was mads uncool,” Dave said out of the blue, interrupting the beautiful sound of Tim Allen interacting with CGI reindeers and kidnapped children.

Karkat groaned, “Well, me either, yet here I am, celebrating a dumb holiday for dumb human grubs.” He was just trying to enjoy this wonderful holiday film, but with Dave, silence didn’t last long. In a way, it provided comfort to the pair. He knew that Dave absolutely hated the silence, as it reminded him of his Bro. For Karkat, Dave’s endless rambling allowed him to take his mind off of his worries. It was an odd relationship, one that had taken years to achieve, but here they were… they had made it, yet Karkat knew there were still shaky moments for the two of them. Like now, for example. The pair both would jump around certain barriers, trying desperately to aid one another, while still attempting to not dig too deep. 

Dave rested his head upon Karkat’s thighs and snuggled into the pile of blankets, reminding him of their time on the meteor, “Y’know, I wouldn’t have this whole thing any other way. ‘M glad my first Christmas is with you, instead of Bro.” His words are slurred together and slightly muffled, and Karkat can’t help the stupid ass blush that creeps onto his face at the sound of them. 

“Fuck that guy,” Karkat spits. After a moment, he starts again, this time with a gentler tone, “And it’s nice to have you here too, no matter how fucking dumb your endless rants may be.”

Dave could almost hear Dirk whispering “Tsundere” in his ear as he chuckled, “Awe, love you too, KitKat.” He sits back up, nearly smacking the top of his head into Karkat’s jaw. He looks away for a second, briefly hesitating, then leans in, closing the distance between the pair. It’s just a brief peck, but it leaves the two of them speechless. Dave looks at Karkat through his shades. A light brush coated his cheeks and his lips curled into a small grin. 

Karkat pulls Dave into his side and looks towards the corner of the living room, where their small, fat tree is leaning against the wall. It was empty and in desperate need of attention (aka Crustacean ornaments). Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he paused the movie and stood up, pulling Dave with him, “Get off your lazy ass and get fucking festive. We have a tree to decorate.”

[joygaytrash]

Love Guidance - Chapter Six

Word Count: 1771

Notes: Howdy, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted the last chapter lmao. Anyways, there’s not much to say besides if y’all got any questions, feel free to ask.

September 2nd, 2017

Emile woke up early that morning, earlier than what he usually woke up at on the weekends. Emile usually woke up at 9 in the morning, but today, Emile woke up two hours early.

He sighed softly and pushed himself off his bed, gathering some clothes before going across the hall and into the bathroom. Emile placed his clothes on the counter then turned the shower to a decent temperature. After that, Emile took off his pajamas and got in the shower.

Emile hummed 'A Giant Woman' as he washed the shampoo out of his hair then grabbed the bottle of conditioner. Emile put the conditioner in his hair before putting the bottle back and grabbed the body wash.

When he finished his shower and got dressed, Emile quietly made his way into the kitchen. Elliott and Patton were still asleep on the couch, practically using each other as pillows. Emile couldn't help but smile at them, releasing a relaxed sigh.

Emile loved his kids from the bottom of his heart ever since day one. To Emile, it felt like it was only yesterday when he brought Elliot home from the foster group home. He remembered how excited Patton was to finally have someone else to tell his jokes and puns to. He remembered how emotional the three of them had gotten when Emile told Elliott that he was adopting them.

Another relaxed sigh left Emile's mouth when the coffee machine let out a soft beep behind him, telling him the coffee was done. He turned around and went over to the cupboard, grabbing himself mug. Emile then poured some coffee into his mug before placing the coffee pot back on the machine. After doing that, Emile grabbed the creamer from the fridge, pouring a generous amount into his coffee then put it back.

As Emile drank his coffee, he let the family dog, Muffin, outside, letting him do his business. Once Muffin came back inside, Emile closed the door behind him and watched as Muffin went onto the couch, laying down next to Patton. He smiled fondly at the memory of Muffin's first day in the house.

He remembers Patton begging him for months about wanting a dog, promising to take care of the dog as much as possible(Patton was nine at the time, there was no way Emile was letting him take care of a dog by himself). But, nevertheless, Patton had done an amazing job taking care of Muffin when he was younger.

After Emile finished the rest of his coffee, he placed his empty mug in the sink then went back to his room, deciding to get some house chores done while the kids were asleep. He stopped by the laundry room on his way back to his room, grabbing the basket of clean clothes off the floor and carried it to his room.

***

Elliott groaned at they woke up, the sun shining in their eyes. They blinked whatever sleep was left in their eyes before trying to move, only to be trapped by Patton and Muffin. Elliott let out another groan, closing their eyes again. Elliott opened their eyes once more when they heard their phone buzz on the coffee table.

They reached over to the table and grabbed their phone, looking at the screen. It was a message from Mitchell, Elliott's asshole of a boyfriend.

Mitch: hey babe, wyd?

You: Just woke up. Wyd?

Mitch: nothin' much

Mitch: just bored

Mitch: and thinkin' about you, of course ;)

Elliott rolled their eyes, leaving Mitchell on read as they turned their phone off and dropped it on their lap, sighing.

Patton woke up a few minutes later, stretching his arms and almost hit Elliott in the face when he stretched. Once their little brother was fully awake, the two untangled their arms and legs, making sure not to kick or hit each other on accident.

"We good now?" Patton asked once him and Elliott were finally apart.

"Yup. You think Pops is awake?"

Patton shrugged, standing up off the carpeted floor. Muffin sat on the couch and barked, making Patton laugh and pet him. Elliott smiled, pushing themself off the couch. They then made their way to the kitchen, Patton and Muffin followed behind them. Elliott grabbed two bowls and spoon while Patton gave Muffin his food.

"We need more food for Muffin," Patton pointed out, holding up the empty dog food bag.

"Okay, I'll let Pops know," Elliott said, grabbing the cereal box. Patton beamed at Elliott, giving them a quick hug. Elliott laughed as they gave Patton a one-armed hug.

Emile ended up coming back downstairs once he heard laughed, seeing Elliott and Patton in the kitchen. He walked in and hugged both of them, making Patton jump a little before he giggled. Emile laughed, placing a kiss on the two's foreheads.

"Morning Pops," Patton and Elliott greeted at the same time as Patton returned Emile's hug.

"Morning, you two. Whatcha putting together for breakfast?" Emile asked, letting go of his kids. Elliott shrugged, motioning towards the bowls and spoons on the counter. "We're just having cereal for breakfast. Also, we need to get more dog food for Muffin," Elliott explained.

"Okay. I can get some when I bring him to the pet groomers downtown. They have a pet store right next to it," Emile stated.

"Ooh, I wanna come! I've been aching to take Muffin out for a walk, if we are walking there, of course since we don't live that far from the downtown area," Patton said, rambling a little.

"Of course you can come, sweetheart. And we are walking, the weather is too nice to drive in," Emile replied, grabbing himself a bowl and spoon.

"Yay!"

Emile couldn't help but laugh, loving the hyper energy Patton gave off.

The three sat at the counter and had shared a simple breakfast of cereal. Emile was having his second cup of coffee for the day, fully waking himself up this time with this cup.

"So, you have fun last night?" Elliott asked, looking over at their dad. Emile nodded, taking another drink of coffee. "Mhm. I had a fantastic time and I met this nice guy there," Emile replied.

Patton let out a small squeal, "Oooh! Was he cute? What's his name?"

Emile blushed lightly at the second question, setting the mug down. "Well, yes, he is cute but we just met and I don't want to seem like I'm desperate or anything," Emile explained. Patton squealed again, running over to his dad and hugging him.

"Oh my gosh, Pops, you're in love!" Patton looked over at Elliott, "You hear that, Ell? Pops is in love!"

"I am not, you goof. All I said was the guy was cute, I never said I liked him," Emile said, trying not to laugh, "And besides, I'm pretty sure he doesn't even like me like that."

A small ding came from Emile's phone and Emile wiggled out of Patton's grip to grab it, looking at the screen to see who it was. And speak of the handsome devil himself; It was Remy.

Remy: Gm cutie <3

You: Morning :)

Remy: [Image attached]

Remy: The puppies have taken my son from me.

The picture Remy had sent Emile was Remy's son, Thomas, with probably 10 to 15 puppies on him and around him.

"Ooh, whose Remy, Pops?" Elliott asked, peering over Emile's shoulder.

"He's the guy I met last night,"

"And you already got his number? Nice,"

"Oh shush, El,"

You: Oh my gosh, he looks just like you

You: I guess I found the new meaning to like father, like son

Remy: Aw, Em, you flatter me ;)

"Oh my gosh, Patton was right, you're head over heels for this Remy guy," Elliott pointed out, placing their's and Patton's empty bowls in the sink. Emile rolled his eyes, focusing back on his conversation with a little smile clear on his face.

You: And you easily make me smile

Remy: That's the plan, Em ;)

And Emile couldn't help but laugh, causing Patton to let out an excited squeal.

***

"Dammy, I am such a disaster," Remy confessed, leaning on the deserted counter.

"No, really, I totally didn't notice," Damian sarcastically shot back, currently feeding the snakes in the reptile section of the store. Thomas was next to him, watching quietly in complete awe. The pet store was pretty empty that day, with it being Saturday and all, meaning people would hold off on running errands till later that afternoon.

Once each snake got their own mouse, Damian hopped off the step ladder, sticking the metal grabber back under the snake cage. He walked back over to the counter with Thomas following close behind him.

"So, Uncle Damian, what's on your work agenda for the day?" Thomas asked, resting his arms on the counter surface.

Damian pursed his lips. "Nothing much really. Brenda asked me to help out at the groomers today due to her main groomer being out sick and the appointment is at 11:45," Damian replied, just as another one of the pet shop employees walked in.

"Morning Courtney," Damian greeted.

"Morning Damian," Courtney greeted back. The flirtatious tone in her voice made Damian roll his eyes in annoyance and looked over at Remy.

"Damn gurl, she still be flirting with you?" Remy asked in a hushed voice, peering at Damian over the top of his sunglasses.

"Yup," Damian replied, saying the letter 'p' with a loud pop noise. "Even though I told her that I am not into women, she still does it," He added in his own hushed voice.

"Why are we talking quietly?" Thomas whispered, clearly confused. Remy laughed, ruffling Thomas' hair. The teen let out his own laugh, batting away his dad's hand.

"Hey Courtney, I need you to cover the counter for a good 45 minutes or so! I gotta go fill in for Brenda's main groomer next door!" Damian called out to the back of the store.

Courtney popped her head out from the break room, a big smile on her face. "Of course, Damian! Anything for you!" She replied, practically skipping over to the counter.

"Thanks!" He called back, disappearing into the hallway that connected the store and groomers, making for easy access. Remy sighed, looking down at his phone and waited for a certain someone to text him while Thomas went to go look at the fish in their tanks.

The bell at the front door rang, not really alarming neither Remy or Courtney. But it was the voice that caught Remy's attention.

"Oh, hi Remy!"

[hey-there-buddy-pal]

Howdy!~ How about UT & UF Sans & US & SF Pap in a car and they're in the back while somebody else is driving and the crush falls asleep on their shoulder and then the car takes a sharp turn and the crush just falls into said skelly's lap. Instead of waking up, the crush just curld up into the lap and smile and say the skele's name? In a sweet, "I trust you" way. Sorry if its long!! Thanks in advance♡

Asked by @hoot-eggs before I moved the blog

Sorry that these aren’t exactly like the request, but I can only write one scenario so many times without changing it up a bit. I tried to keep the general theme the same though.

US!Papyrus: The most annoying thing about car rides were the fact that he couldn’t smoke. Being forced to spend hours in a metal contraption traveling at over 60/mph was bad enough, not being able to calm his nerves while doing it was straight up hell. And since Blue didn’t support his smoking habit, he refused to pull over. In fact the only time Papyrus had gotten a chance to smoke a cigarette had been when you needed them to pull over at a gas station so you could use the bathroom. After that he had jokingly said that if Blue could pull over to let you pee, he should give him a smoke break too.

Neither of you had been very amused, to say the least, and he should be thankful for the small break he had been given. But that had been hours ago, and he could feel his hand subconsciously shift towards his pocket, itching to light another cigarette. He resisted the urge and resigned to let his leg tap an annoying rhythm against the floor, the sound of the engine drowned the tapping anyway. Leaning forward a bit, he tried to listen to Sans’ and Alphys’ conversation in the front seat, but he quickly grew bored and turned his focus to you. You weren’t asleep, despite looking like it. He could tell the differences, in your breathing and in the way your face twitched when a loose thread tickled your cheek. He’d spent hours staring at you throughout your friendship, silently admiring you when you weren’t paying attention. And he refused to feel weird about it. He liked looking at you, and you weren’t bothered by it, so why should he stop? You shifted a little, trying to find a comfortable position with you head against the window. After watching you squirm around for a while, unable to find a way to lean your head just right, he reached an arm out and hooked it on your waist.

Your eyes shot open and looked up as he quietly pulled you against him. Your gaze was dimmed and your eyes hazy, you looked like you were minutes from falling asleep. You made an attempt to speak, but only quiet mumbles could be heard. He hushed you and placed your head on his shoulder, still holding his arm around your waist. You seemed content with this, and closed your eyes as you snuggled into him. A minute passed, and your breaths turned deeper and found a steady rhythm. He loved that sound. It was calming. And if it weren’t for the fact that his mind was occupied with his want for a cigarette, he would’ve probably fallen asleep right then and there, with you in his arms.

He felt content with the situation too, though. And he’d gladly take this over a boring car ride of trying to sleep in the backseat. He’s zoning out while looking out the window, thinking back on his life, from living in the underground to meeting you and then to late nights together at New Muffet’s.

He’s in the middle of reenacting a pun battle he had with the king once, when the car turns sharply and his skull is smacked into the window. Sitting up and rubbing his head to get rid of the pain, he’s sure that he must have gotten his sense knocked out of him, because he could’ve sworn that he heard Blue curse. Before he can ask what happened, Alphys turns around in her seat to ask if he’s alright, and tells them that a car almost pushed them off the road.

Holy fuck, he didn’t expect that. And for some reason he feels almost guilty for zoning out, like it was his fault because he didn’t notice the other car before Blue did. He shakes off the guilt, at least everybody is safe. And nothing happened, nothing’s out of the ordinary.

Except you’re laying down on his lap, which you definitely weren’t before. And holy hell, somehow you’re still asleep. Clutching his hoodie like a life line, face scrunched up in sleepy confusion over what happened. The sudden turn of the car must have shaken you, and maybe triggered a nightmare of sorts. Because your face turns from confusion to fright and you’re almost whimpering, your fists tightening around the fabric of his shirt, and your eyes pressing together.

He doesn’t know what to do, he wants to wake you but that would only scare you further. Moving carefully, he slowly pets down on your head, flattening your hair down and moving his hand in soothing motions. He hushes you quietly, hoping you can hear it over the car engine and your own nightmare. You flinch when his hand makes contact with you, but slowly your whimpering stops and you’re not moving around as much. After a few more seconds of petting you’re breathing normally, face relaxed as you start to calm down. When he decides that you’re no longer having a nightmare he tries to pull his hand away, but yours shoot up to keep it close to you. Your eyes doesn’t open as you quietly breathe out his name, more asleep than awake and still oh so adorable.

‘’I’m here, kiddo.’’ is all he says as he continues to rub your scalp, dragging his hand down to your shoulders every now and then. Your face is once again pressed against his hoodie, and he swears that he hears you inhale deeply into the fabric.

‘’I’m here,’’- he repeats, still rubbing your hair,- ‘’I’ll stay here, hun.’’

But you don’t hear that last part. And as he leans his head back and look out the window, he’s not sure if that makes him relieved or disappointed 

SF!Papyrus: The worst thing about long car rides, were the fact that despite his impressive height, Papyrus was always assigned to sit in the backseat. And while sharing the backseat with you meant one good thing, he couldn’t help but envy his shorter brother and the royal scientist as they sat in the front seat. Both quite a lot shorter than him.

And after hours of sitting hunched over, he could feel his spine grow stiffer. He’d do anything to stretch right now, and feel his joints pop. He absentmindedly popped his fingers as a form of substitute. And averted his gaze from the spacious front seat, he turned it to look out the window. Only three more hours to go. Amazing, he thought.

To lighten his mood, he turned around again to look at you. And he watched you look out your window. The afternoon light made your features look sharper, but it also painted you in a soft, warm glow. Angelic, almost. But it didn’t suit the picture of an angel the underground held. Their view of a savior had been tainted with their violence, their fight to survive. It had been a crueler being they’d imagined back then. He still felt like you were a savior, though. If only to him, although he couldn’t tell you that.

You seemed to notice him stare at you. But when you turned your body, he kept his eyes on you. There wasn’t a lot else to look at, so he figured he could get away with it this time. And when your eyes met his, you smiled and leaned back in your seat. Keeping your gaze leveled, you smiled at him softly, looking even prettier than before. Until your face scrunched up and you yawned loudly, involuntarily bringing your hands up to your face and covering your mouth. The sudden yawn made him laugh, even when you sent him a dirty look, still covering your face as you tried to regain your composure. You really were too adorable.

‘’You should sleep, hun,-’’ he said. Voice quiet but still loud enough to reach you over the engine. ‘’We still have a few hours left, no point in making it longer by bein’ stubborn.’’

Another yawn escaped you, and it apparently convinced you to follow his suggestion. But instead of leaning your head on the window next to you, you put your legs on the seat and your head on his shoulder, wiggling around until you found a comfortable position, using the fluff on his hoodie as a makeshift pillow and smiling at your own handywork. He scoffed at you, but still pulled his arm out from where it had been stuck under your body, letting it rest across your stomach and holding you in place. A minute or two later, he felt his hand rise and fall as you’re breathing turned into a steadier pace. And he leaned his head back to get some rest, letting the rhythmic motion and humming of the engine lull him to sleep.

He woke up by yelling, and then felt his seatbelt tug on his ribcage as his body jerked forward. His arm reached out quickly, holding you back and safe before his eyes were fully opened. Sans was still screaming in the front seat, accompanied by violent gestures and quite a few death threats and profanities. Whatever happened, it must have jarred him. Listening to the chaos in the front seat he managed to gather that someone tried to push Sans out of the lane, aware of what they had been doing. And he felt a quiet rage that they had endangered your life in the process. Just because they didn’t like monsters didn’t mean they had to harm you too.

But you, amazing and weird thing that you was, didn’t even seem phased. Instead you were laying across his lap, face on your arms and body pressing against him. He felt his breath hitch a little, letting you sleep on his shoulder had been one thing. But this was almost too much, and his soul both ached and fluttered at having you oh so close.

He willed his hand not to shake as he carefully touched a scrape on your arm, probably from his jacket as you fell. It wasn’t deep, not even bleeding. But he hated that you’d gotten it anyway, especially as he’d been asleep and unable to hold you up when the car turned.

But when his hand made contact with your skin you squirmed around in his lap, pulling his hand closer and in your sleep, held it under your chin like you would a teddy bear. You murmured a few words, and he caught his name in the middle of them. And if he thought his soul had felt light before, it was practically soaring now.

He let you keep his hand there, and gently traced your face with his other. Until it ended up tangled in your head, massaging your scalp.

You obviously trusted him, otherwise you wouldn’t sleep with your head in his lap. You wouldn’t murmur his name like that. He played with the idea that maybe you liked him the way he found himself liking you. Maybe he could turn what you had into something more.

It was a nice thought. He held on to it for the rest of the ride.

[mexcine2]

               “More Fun Than a Puppy!” (Mickey Mouse Hand Puppets, 1949) 

Although I was once a child, I don’t have children of my own and I don’t associate with anyone who does. [That sounds as if I’m deliberately avoiding people with young children, which is not entirely true.] So I don’t know what “kids today” do for recreation.  Play video games?  Watch DVDs and television?  Go down to the old fishin’ hole with their pals?  Stage scorpion vs. ant fights?  I assume young children still play in groups, until they reach the age when they get a phone and start texting, says the grumpy old man (P.S.--get off my lawn).   So I guess it’s vaguely possible that kids still put on puppet shows and other amateur theatricals for and with their peers.

Today’s object of scrutiny is an advertisement for the“Amazing New Mickey Mouse Hand Puppets,” back in the day (1949) when children had to make their own fun, darn it.  Television was in its commercial infancy, “first” computer ENIAC had only recently been completed and—at 50 tons—was too large to be carried around in one’s pocket to play Fruit Ninja, and child labour laws had stripped kids (in the USA at least) of the opportunity to put in 12-hour days in factories, so they had a lot of free time that needed to be consumed.  Hey kids, let’s put on a show!

As has been mentioned before, the advertisements in comic books of the late 1940s and 1950s are not always appropriate for what one would perceive to be the intended audience of the publication.  This advertisement, seemingly aimed at children, appeared in the December 1949 issue of Romantic Confessions, a comic book whose readership was probably largely female and almost certainly teen-aged and above.  There are only 3 ads in the whole issue (the inside front and back covers, and the back cover): for the Mickey Mouse puppets, the “Dornol treatment” for acne, and a photo enlargement service.  On the other hand, perhaps the thinking was that adults (or older siblings) would purchase the puppets for children of the appropriate age to enjoy them.

[As an aside, Romantic Confessions was also where the “Giant Movie Cartoon Toy” ad appeared, discussed here.  It’s interesting to note that in less than a year, Romantic Confessions went from 3 pages of ads to 10.] 

There are many aspects of this advertisement worthy of comment. It’s loaded with art and text, requiring a considerable investment of time and effort on the part of potential buyers.  You’ve got to read a lot to learn about this product, but that’s only fair when you’re being asked to spend $1.95 per puppet (equivalent in “buying power” to $19.51 today). That’s alright, more content for us to snark on!

Let’s start with the art, shall we?  There are two basic visual components of this ad, the products themselves, and a comic-strip narrative.  The strip artwork appears to be by the same person who drew the famous “Shoots Like a Real Gun” ad, while the drawings of the puppet heads resemble those in another Rubber-for-Molds ad. In particular, the “Idiot” puppet is identical to the “Idiot” mask.  (As noted in the earlier article, this character somewhat resembles Alfred E. Newman and/or George W. Bush.)

The puppets themselves don’t look particularly interesting. Mickey Mouse is adequately represented, but Minnie has a glazed expression on her face. Thumper (from the film Bambi) is a grotesque cartoon rabbit, deliberately not resembling Bugs Bunny, while Donald Duck is not especially on-model (his head is too smooth, he’s missing his iconic cap, and his beak doesn’t look right).  And then there’s “Idiot,” that famous Disney character...?

In case you were wondering, these puppets “are the same type used on television.  Measuring almost 14 inches high, with a head the size of an orange...Extra thin, natural (not synthetic) rubber...hand painted in lifelike* colors.”  

*[In another part of the ad, the puppets are referred to as “flesh-colored”—I suppose that means mouse­-flesh, duck-flesh, and rabbit­-flesh, in addition to Idiot’s human-flesh?]

The comic strip narrative tells the story of Jimmy’s journey from social outcast to the envy of his peers in only three panels.  Jimmy reads an ad (just like this one) in a comic book (just like this one—spooky!) and learns he can “get puppets that really move!”  Not like those puppets that...don’t move?  Those are called “dolls,” Jimmy.  His little sister Babushka approves.

Some time later, “Jimmy’s Puppet Show” is a sensation, despite the outrageous ticket price of two cents.  Let’s see, he spent $3.90 on the two puppets we see, plus something for the sign, so he needs to sell approximately 200 tickets to turn a profit.  Good luck kid! But it seems he’s on to something—or the children in the audience are truly starved for entertainment—because there is “applause” for his puppet show which is “better than a movie!” (but is it better than...a Disney cartoon?)  We don’t get much detail about the content of the show, although in the scene depicted, Minnie appears to be demurely waiting for Mickey to kiss her, which he seems to be enthusiastically about to do.

“After the Show,” Jimmy is beseiged by admirers, one of whom offers to buy the Mickey puppet, claiming (rather obscurely) “It’s more fun than a puppy!”  Jimmy refuses to sell, realising that “the puppets have made Jimmy the most popular kid on the block,” and once he no longer has his puppets, he’ll return to his previous grim and friendless existence, hated and shunned by all.

There are also two pieces of artwork for those unclear on the concept of what a “puppet” is: you “slip them on like a glove and wiggle your fingers...Slip puppet over hand.  Move fingers.  He obeys every command...Come to Life When You Move Your Fingers.”  OK, I think I’ve got it.  Put hand inside puppet, move fingers.  Is that right?  I don’t want to miss a step even though you claim it’s “Easy as A-B-C.”  To be fair, it’s possible the copywriter wanted to distinguish these hand puppets from marionettes, and in fact the text emphasizes “No strings, nothing to break, wind or get out of order.”

The ad text reinforces the 3 basic themes introduced in the art: (a) these things are amazing; (b) they are easy to use; ( c ) they will change your life for the better.

How amazing are they?  “They laugh, cry and move like real!” Yeah, no they don’t.  These “Television Type Puppets”** can “’Talk’, Laugh, Practically Live” (notice “talk” is in quotes even in the ad copy).  “He laughs, moves, almost becomes alive at the slightest wiggle of your fingers.”  “Looks and acts so alive it’s uncanny.”  In fact, we advise you to securely lock up these puppets at night, to avoid...accidents, if you know what I mean.  Haven’t you ever seen those horror movies?  “Completely safe,” the ad reads.  Hmm...why did they feel compelled to say that?

**[Perhaps the most famous TV puppets were the Muppets (and the Sesame Street gang), Shari Lewis’s Lamb Chop, Howdy Doody, et al., but puppets were ubiquitous on television—local and network--from its earliest days.  Early television programs utilised puppets because they were cheap and simple entertainment: the “costumes,” sets, and so on were miniature, multiple “characters” could be interpreted by one or two people, and these factors allowed shows to create a fictional world (or bring fictional characters into the “real” world) for much less than live-action or animation.]

Alright, I agree these puppets are pretty amazing.  But aren’t they difficult to operate?  I didn’t major in theatre arts at university, after all.  Actually, “it’s easy to put on a puppet show in your home!”  “Just by moving your fingers, he will smile, laugh, cry, hide his head, put fingers in mouth, etc...Slips on and off hand in a jiffy. Even a child can work instantly. No experience necessary.”  “Over 1000 Different Movements!”  (Sorry, complete list of movements not available.) For those who are still insecure about their abilities, purchasers also receive “secret revealing pamphlets on ‘How to Become a Ventriloquist’ and ‘How to Put on a Puppet Show.’”   If there ever was something that deserved to be called “idiot-proof,” this product is it!

But wait, didn’t you mention something about these puppets changing my life?  Why yes I did, very observant of you.  If you put on puppet shows, you’ll “Cause a Sensation at the Next Party...Your Friends Will Scream with Delight and Amazement!”  [Unlike the last party, where you demonstrated how to slaughter & disembowel a hog. Your friends screamed all right, but probably not in Delight and Amazement.]  You’ll be “the most popular kid on the block,” if you don’t count Jonathan, Jordan, Joey, Donnie or Danny.

And don’t think your options are limited to backyard puppet shows only!  These puppets are “Ideal for shows or to carry in pocket or purse.”  Stuck in traffic? Waiting for a doctor’s appointment?  Killing time in a holding cell until your bail bondsman shows up?  Stuck with a  boring blind date?  Whip out your puppet and play with it!  “Pays for itself in fun and laughs first time used.”

Don’t think a hand puppet can make your life better?  Just watch Mel Gibson in The Beaver (2011).  I never saw the end, but I assume it worked out well for him. (hint: it sort of didn’t) 

Thanks Rubber-for-Molds!  I didn’t want that puppy anyway!