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HICCUPS! : MLP Fan Fiction : A Grumpy Goat >tail<

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HICCUPS!

A Grumpy Goat >tail<

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

16440 words

Writing begun 11/30/18

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All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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Characters:

Grumpy Goat and usual cast

Thomas/and/or/Dashie Writer – remote controlled T82

Wind, the Mama Cat

Victor Mordenheim - Mad Doctor

Krystal Dragoness “KD” Wingless dragon - artist

Fume Hood Unicorn, a bit small-Forensic Chemist

Jinni and Sassy vampire and succubus

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

It was being a quiet day out on the ledge in front of my cave. We were sitting on a bench, out in the sun, rereading Daring Do and the Secret of the Appleoosa Cave. The stout iron sheeting that blocked the entrance to my cave was warm behind us.

The lovely Coalsmoke, a pony of perfect glossy black except for her cutie mark, was leaning over where my shoulder would be, if I still had a body, or for that matter was even technically alive. She was admiring one of the illustrations in the book.

“I especially like these illustrations signed KD, Grumpy. They capture the mood and action really well.”

Sitting on my other side was the finely polished skeleton of an alicorn. He was the Litch King, Lord of the Dead, the being responsible for my present condition and now one of my few true friends.

He agreed, “Look at how well the artist has made the cave entrance look menacing. Whoever did this is very good.”

We were distracted from our pleasant reading by a flare of flame down on the trail leading up to my cave. Looking down the way, I was more or less expecting it to be the torches of another anti goat mob or, more specifically anti Grumpy Goat mob.

Due to my business, I am less than popular with some ponies. I have a thriving practice in Non Equine Magic. Mostly, it does not appear to do anything. Somehow, the desired, contracted for and paid in advance results just seem to happen by perfectly natural, if often bizarre means. Most of the time, those results are the advantage over, injury, death or ruin of some pony, paid for as mentioned, IN ADVANCE, by some other pony.

This time, it was not a mob. There was a wingless blue dragon toiling up the stony path to my cave. The next time that she flared, we could hear it. It sounded like she was suffering from a case of hiccups! Possibly not the best ailment for a dragon to have, since she was burping a smallish fire blast with each hiccup!

When she gained the ledge, she considerately turned her head out away from us. Good thing, too! She had two hiccups in quick succession!

She offered, “My name is Krystal Dragoness, KD for short. I've come to you about these hiccups. They are like to ruin me. I am at my wit's end. See, I am an artist. I draw and paint. I get going on a piece and these hiccups start up! One of them is sure to hit my work, and, well, paper, paints, canvas and frames are all pretty flammable! I've even burned up brushes!

“Can you help me to end these hiccups?”

I nodded, making my skull, apparently floating on nothing, with its everburning candle between the horns, glowing snake like eyes and fangs bob. “I could do that, yes. It would not cure the basic problem, though. Hiccups usually have a natural cause from tummy and lungs not coordinating right. If I fix this case, it could easily happen again.

“Let's dig into how this started and whether there is some underlaying cause that we can fix.”

Somewhat disappointed, Krystal nodded. “That makes sense. My first case of the hiccups like this happened at my one dragon show in the Sunrise Gallery in Manehatten. You know how those things are, lots of nobs that you need to chat with and lots of small snacks and drinks. The show itself was a pretty important one.

“I landed a contract to illustrate the next Daring Do book. There was some serious competition for that contract, let me tell you. It nearly went to Drawin Pitcher. She wasn't too happy about me getting to do the art for another Daring Do book. This one will be my fourth.

“I had only just signed the contract when the hiccups started. The first one nearly incinerated my new contract! I was able to get out of the gallery safely when they began. I was lucky that I didn't hurt anypony or any of my art.”

She absently pulled a sparkly topped muffin out of a bag and began munching it. Looking up, a bit embarrassed, she pointed out, “I really can't share dragon muffins with you. They are topped with crushed gems and have gold or silver dust in the muffin part. I'm afraid that they are pretty toxic to non dragons.”

Coalsmoke asked curiously, “Where did you get them? No place in Ponyville makes them at all. Sometimes the kitchen in Princess Twilight's castle makes up some for Spike but they never sell them.”

Krystal knit her brows in puzzlement. “I get them out of this bag. I always like have them when I am a little tense, like when I am concentrating on my art. Nibbling helps me to focus.”

Just then, she let out another small belch of fire.

Whistling softly, I thought carefully about what I had heard. “Tell me, Krystal, at the art show, did you have muffins like these?”

“Well, yes. Any well equipped bakery can make them. They just have to clean up carefully afterwards. They always serve them if I am going to be showing any of my works.”

I nodded and looked over at the lovely Coalsmoke, who is always a treat for the ol' eyeballs and asked, “And where have you bought them since that art show in Manehatten?”

She paused, thinking. “I haven't had to. This bag always has some in it.”

The eyes that I don't really have widened just a bit. “It always has some of those muffins in it for you? When did you get that bag?”

She scratched behind the spines along the back of her jaw as she sorted it out. “I first noticed it just after I left the gallery at the show where I got those first hiccups. It's always there when I am tense.”

I glamored my invisible spirit body to look like the handsome tan, black and brown goat that I was before the tiny mistake that killed me and destroyed my original body. Holding out a hoof, I said, “Just give me the bag, please. I am going to try something simple with it.”

Nodding affably, Krystal handed me the bag. I took it inside my cave and shut the iron door. That door and my cave front were designed by a good firm of military engineers to withstand an Equestrian standard military battering ram.

It only takes one anti-goat mob burning your house, your library, years of study, hopes for a degree and dreams of well paying work to make one take a few simple precautions. Add the mob trying to stone your burned and battered body to death to drive home the lesson in how how to hate most ponies. That trivial incident also motivated my simple and sensible precautions against a repeat of the problem. Like living in a cave. With a military fortress grade steel and iron entrance.

I turned about from sealing the door and asked Krystal if she was still feeling tense. Digging into the bag for a muffin, she replied, “Yes, a little. Why?”

The Litch King pointed with a foreleg of bone. “That is why. He just shut that bag inside his cave and it looks like you have it back.”

He turned his skeletal head to me and stated, “Grumpy, if you can, we NEED to help KD. Her illustrations really make a Daring Do book! Plus, we know now that a new one is in the works! We can't let anything interfere with THAT!”

I shrugged and opened the door. I was not even surprised that the bag was not there inside my cave any longer. Krystal munched her muffin and shortly hiccuped another tongue of flame.

I pointed out, “That bag was behind six centimeters of forged iron. In spite of that, it homed in on you without seeming effort. Moments after you nibbled that muffin, you hiccuped another flame. I suspect that there is a direct connection. To be sure, we need to go back down into Ponyville. I know someone in the forensic chemistry lab at the police department. In the meantime, try not to nibble another muffin and let us see if that helps to control or stop the problem.”

On the trail back down to Ponyville, Coalsmoke and I tried to simply hold the bag instead of letting Krystal carry it. This wise measure proved impossible. The bag kept sneakily returning to her claws. After what happened up on the ledge in front of my cave, that was pretty much what was expected.

I have to admit that I was pleased by the simple fact that Krystal did keep her claws out of the bag. We got down the trail and into Ponyville without incident as a result.

Instead of my usual turning towards the town hall and the Hall of Records, to record a new contract, I trotted right on, with a right turn, headed towards the Ponyville Waste Treatment Plant and Falmire Marsh, which is fenced and actually the final stage of the waste water treatment, before it goes into the river.

Coalsmoke was most interested in why we were going where we were going. Soon enough, we came to a modest stone building close by to the treatment plant. The sign said,

Ponyville Police Department

Forensics Laboratory

Chemistry, Physical Evidence Analysis,

Forensic Autopsy

As I pushed open the front door, I explained, “I know most of the staff here. Sometimes they will consult with me, when a case is being a pain.”

Coalsmoke chuckled, “How often is one of their nasty cases the result of one of your contracts, Grumpy?”

A smallish unicorn looked up from where he was working at a desk, apparently compiling a report. “Not really all that often, Miss Coalsmoke. Even when it is, there is no actual evidence that can link the contract to the results. Grumpy is often a big help in sorting out how something that we are investigating happened. We pay him a proper consultation fee, of course.”

I introduced, “Coalsmoke, KD, I would like you to meet Fume Hood, one of the best forensic chemists in the whole kingdom. We are lucky to have him here in Ponyville.”

KD offered, “You have some unusual friends, Grumpy.”

I chortled, “If they aren't unusual in some way, the aren't worth having as friends.”

Turning my attention to Fume Hood, I explained what our situation was in a few words and ended with, “Think that you could do us a rough analysis of one of KD's dragon muffins?”

He thought for a moment, tapping quietly on his desk top before nodding, “You say that the flame is mostly pale blue? Nearly transparent but pretty hot?”

KD shook her head in agreement. “Right. That is, unless I eat something with salt in it. Then the flame is yellow. Is that significant?”

Fume Hood said, “It MAY be. I would like to see both your normal flame and one from your hiccups. Please step over there. Dragon flame can be pretty handy for some chemistry tests, so we have a small indoor flame range.”

KD stepped over to the flame range's head rest. Fume Hood lowered the room lights and suggested, “Whenever you are ready, Miss KD. Just give us a small shot of your regular flame.”

KD's fire blast was impressively different from a hiccup flame. It was a bright yellow with some red to the center and flame tips that went to a bluish hue.

Fume Hood almost danced pleasure at seeing it! Perfect! Normal dragon fire. Now, let's see what we get with one of those muffins. Go ahead and take one from the bag and eat it.”

He was watching the bag very closely as KD extracted the muffin. “Fascinating. There is only one muffin in the bag until you take it out. Then a new muffin forms almost immediately afterwards.”

KD contentedly munched her muffin. Within moments, she stuck her head into the flame range headrest and belched a nearly pure, pale blue flame.

Fume Hood smiled in chemistly joy. “Timing and color nail it! You were right, Grumpy. There is a direct connection between the muffins and KD's hiccups of flame. The only reason that she flames at all with them is that, being a dragon, she has a natural ignition spark every time she exhales or belches. Whatever this vapor she is belching is, it is highly flammable.”

KD's shoulders slumped. “Does that mean that I can't have Dragon Muffins anymore?”

Fume Hood chuckled as he replied, “I suspect that you can have all that you want. Just not these, from this bag.”

He went to pull one out. Looking perplexed, he tried again. “Humm . . . I can't seem get that muffin out of the bag. KD, will you get it please? I need to analyze it.”

Without any problem, KD extracted the muffin. Fume Hood took it and sliced it in half. One half he put into a beaker with a lye solution. It began to dissolve at once. Soon there was only some slightly coarse granules mixed with loose sparkly fragments of gemstones in the bottom of the beaker.

Fume Hood filtered out the solid residue and rinsed it with water. Stirring it with a glass rod, he explained, “The lye took away everything but the gems in the topping and the metal dusts in the body of the muffin. Now, lets see what happens next . . .”

He dripped some acid onto the residue. “Gems, gold, and silver won't dissolve in this mild acid.”

In spite of that, something was happening! It bubbled and fumed something fierce! Happily touching it off with a sparking wand used to light his lab burners, Fume Hood pointed dramatically!

“There! You see? Pale blue flame! See the white residue? Zinc oxide. Your muffins are adulterated with zinc! It reacts with your stomach acids to make hydrogen and that is what, along with a bit of moisture and such that it picks up as you burp is what makes your so called hiccups! Just don't eat any muffins from that bag and you should be fine.”

He turned to me and snickered, “OK, Grumpy. We are even now.”

I turned to the perplexed KD and Coalsmoke. “They needed an autopsy done last year. The cadaver was over a week old, in August. I glamored up a form with no sense of smell and did it for them. Death was from blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Clubbed, to be crude about it.”

KD brightened up and commented, “If they get that sort of thing to deal with, it is no wonder that this place is beside the waste treatment plant!”

I agreed, “Right! Now all that we need to do is sort out how you got a bag that can do what this one does.”

KD put a finger to her cheek as she thought. “I do know where I got it. It was at that Manehatten art show that I told you about. The Dragon Treats that they serve at those things are always kept separate from the pony treats by putting them in bags. Somepony gave me this bag with a muffin in it, just before I signed that Daring Do contract.”

Fume Hood tapped me on my nonexistent shoulder and pointed to the bottom of the bag. There was a small trade mark in the form of a silhouette. There was a small bit of advertising too.

KD read, “Redline Party Supplies – For a party to remember for the rest of your life – If you survive!” She also pointed out, “That silhouette looks like a laughing wolf's head.”

Fume Hood agreed, “It does look like that, doesn't it? I know of someone who uses a silhouette like that on their business cards. Here.” He hoofed over a card.

The card read:

Doctor Mordenheim,

General Surgery and Prosthesis.

Everfree Edge Clinic

Practice inspected and approved by Princess Luna

I was delighted! “I know where that is! It was a small old castle that was supposedly built by a -” I made my voice low and shivery while making Hoof Quotes, “- 'Mad Doctor' long before Ponyville was established. It was in ruins when the Apples came and founded the town.”

Coalsmoke smiled and said, “Right, Grumpy. I know where it is too. I send my workers there for general health workups and surgery when it is needed. Doctor Mordenheim really is very good. It is not far from here, either. Let's go see if he can shed any light on this business.”

We left, taking the Falmire Causeway that crossed the marsh, going out towards the southeast side of the Everfree forest. We paused by a street vendor's cart to watch the antics of her trained alligator.

Have to admit that Pinkie has done a great job of training Gummy! I mean, he is two and a half meters of fun! Rumor has it that she has broken him to saddle, but she was not offering rides today.

“Gator Chow, gator chow! / The gators below are hungry now! / Feed the gators down below / It is really quite a show!”

A chuckling Coalsmoke hoofed over coins and got a big bag filled with large chunks. It said “Certified Gator Chow” on the label. She shared the chunks around and we spent a few happy minutes tossing them to the many alligators gathered hopefully under the bridge.

There were splashes and chomping a-plenty as the gators lunged about for each new chunk of the chow. We heard a munching from behind us.

KD, swallowing, asked Pinkie, “Where can I get some more of this stuff? It is pretty good!”

At our stares, she retorted, “What? Dragon here, remember? I don't eat grass!”

We left Pinkie to her vending and went on across. It was not long before we saw the sign pointing to the forest beyond. It said, Everfree Edge Clinic, General Medicine and Prosthetics.

Only a little way up the designated path of yellow cobbles, we came to a small but well restored castle. I had to give this Doctor Mordenheim credit for showmanship. This was one classy clinic. The sign over an open door read Welcome to Everfree Edge Clinic.

Coalsmoke rang a bell labeled Ring for Service that sat on a beautiful mahogany desk in the lobby/waiting room.

We did not even get to try out the assorted seating and laying cushions. A large, near horse sized zebra with an eye patch came out of the back. His professional smile turned to a genuine one as he laid eye on Coalsmoke.

“My dear Coalsmoke! What may I do for you, or is it for one of your friends?”

Suddenly stopping like he'd hit one of his stone castle walls, he gave me a careful and most knowing look. “I do fear that the goat is beyond any help of mine.”

Coalsmoke smirked just a little as she replied, “You are correct. This is Grumpy Goat, my long standing friend, of whom I am sure that you have heard. We are not here for him.

“This is Krystal Dragoness. She prefers to be called KD. Our problem is sort of related to her, but it is not medical.”

Resting his chin on one forehoof, as he sat behind the desk, Doctor Mordenheim inquired, “If the problem is not medical, then what is it?”

I held out a hoof, “KD, may I have the bag please?”

I showed him the bottom. “Somepony named Redline is using your cutie mark on his things. It has some interesting properties.”

Mordenheim put his face in his hooves. “I know. I see that KD has it. She can't lose it either. Whatever is in it, seems like an endless supply. I made it, years ago. How it got here to this world, I have no idea.”

He was sort of surprised when we all simply found seating and Coalsmoke asked casually, “So, how did you get here? More to the point, when you arrived, did you meet an elderly blue unicorn with a white mane, tail, and beard?”

Mordenheim looked blank. “What? No, I never met anypony like that.”

He got a seriously uncomfortable expression as he elaborated, “I would really prefer not to go into why I wound up here. Princess Luna knows in detail. Suffice it to say that the events led me to wandering in the Everfree Forest. I have no idea at all how it happened, since the Everfree is not all that big, but I was in there for over a week. Perhaps more, I am not at all sure. What I am sure of is that the path that I was on did not seem to double back on itself or any thing like that. Between sun breaks in the forest canopy and the scenery, I am sure that I was not going in circles.

“I happened on the ruin of this old castle. I might have simply passed it by but it had a small cobbled road leading to it from outside of the forest. I followed that road and it led me to Ponyville.” He shook his head in wonder, “It was a very different Ponyville than the one that I left. By good fortune, I met Caramel Treat, Fangrin and Reverend Smallflower. The rest all came from meeting them.”

I pointed out, “Fascinating as that is, it completely dodges the question of that bag and its neverending supply of adulterated Dragon Muffins.”

One of Doctor Mordenheim's ears cocked up in fascination. “Adulterated? How?”

Coalsmoke filled in, “With lots of zinc metal dust, that's how.”

Doctor Mordenheim winced, “Ouch! That would make mountains of hydrogen gas! That could cause a serious problem for a dragon!”

KD confirmed, “It sure does! The hiccups that it causes have been near the ruin of my art.”

Suddenly you could see things clicking together in Doctor Mordenheim's mind! “KD? Art? Did you do the covers and illustrations for Daring Do and the Secret of the Apploosa Cave? The Adventure of the Singing Sands? The Nippony Diamond?”

KD nodded, clearly pleased. “All three! Why?”

Acting like a foal as he was going to his book shelf, Mordenheim snagged all three books and returned to his desk. “I love your art, KD, would you please autograph these for me?”

With an impishly evil grin, displaying her big dragon chompers, KD replied, “Sure!” She was reaching into the bag. “Just as soon as I snack on this muffin! Or, you make this bag harmless!”

Grinning right back, and revealing a set of fangs that would not have been out of place in a tiger shark, Mordenheim replied, hoof over heart, “You wound me! I was going to do that anyway. You did not need blackmail me. It did make it more fun, though!”

KD chuckled as she said, “I would not really have done it, Doc. It was just too much fun to pass up the chance. So, tell us, why did you make a bag like this?”

Reassured that we did not hold his apparent past against him, he sat back comfortably and half smiled at the memory. “Revenge. Count Sourbottom was being a problem, objecting to some of my experi . . . projects. He had a whole herd of foals of all ages. One of the youngsters had a birthday party coming up. I set up one of these for each of them! Loaded them with the finest, sweetest candies that I could locate. It was a near perfect revenge.”

Always interested in more ways to get back at ponykind for their mistreatment of me in the past, I asked, “How was giving his foals candy any sort of revenge?”

Suddenly, Coalsmoke put a hoof to her lips to suppress giggles. “Don't you see it, Grumpy? He couldn't take them away for discipline because the bags will go right back to the foals. Worse, the endless supply of sweets could cause all sorts of health and mouth problems that the Count would have to pay for!”

Mordenheim nodded happy agreement. “Last that I heard, Count Sourbottom was headed for bankruptcy on dental bills alone!”

Going more serious, he offered, “KD, we may be able to save the gem topping of your muffins if we are lucky. Would you like that?”

KD replied seriously, “That would be great, if we can do it. I really like their flavor, especially the crushed rubies. How can we do it?”

Doctor Mordenheim picked up the bag and headed for the outside door. Over his shoulder, he invited, “Come outside for a simple little experiment. We can save the gems themselves for sure. Question is whether we can save the topping that they are in or not.”

He pointed down the yellow cobble road leading to his door. “Now, my dear, take a muffin out of the bag but don't eat it.”

Mystified, she hoofed over the muffin. “I understand why I have to get it out, but why not eat it? What are we going to do with it?”

With total assurance, Doctor Mordenheim replied, “You are going to eat it but in parts. Here, let me scrape off the topping.” Carefully he removed the topping, taking none of the muffin itself. “Just eat the topping. I will hold the muffin for now.”

With obvious relish, KD did. Licking it off her claws, she asked, “What now? I like this test!”

“We wait a bit to see if you get gas. If you don't, the zinc is only in the muffin part.”

KD cocked her head, brow wrinkled in concentration. “I don't feel any gas coming on. That usually happens pretty quick when it does.”

“I see. To finish the test, eat the rest of the muffin now.”

She did. And was soon hiccuping blasts of flame.

Nodding in confirmation, he said, “Just in the muffin then. We can definitely save the topping for you. Would you like just this topping or would you prefer it on something?”

“As it happens, I do have something that it might go good on.”

Back inside, she produced a bag. We all saw Mordenheim's nose dilate as he caught the scent. His ears shot forward in interest. Drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth!

“What is that lovely smelling stuff, KD?”

“Gator Chow. I got it from Pinkie Pie over on the bridge. She told me that it is made from smoked and flaked meat pressed into bite sized chunks.”

Both Coalsmoke and I were rolling on the floor, laughing! Getting myself somewhat under control, I commented, “Those teeth of yours are real, aren't they, Doc?”

“Yes, they are. Is it a problem?”

Coalsmoke, composing herself comfortably on a large cushion, replied, “Not for us. It was just unexpected. Looks like Pinkie is going to have to stock in more Gator Chow, is all.

“This explains why Caramel has mentioned you eating there a lot but I haven't seen you, and I eat there too. You eat in the back, in her carnivore plaza.”

“Right. Now, KD, those Gator Chow chunks are just about muffin sized. That is about as big as the bag can handle. It is time to disarm the bag from those bad muffins.”

He got a large, heavy book from the shelf. Instead of consulting it, he held it at the ready.

“Now, KD, take the muffin out and move your paws away from the bag swiftly.”

As she did, he slammed the book down on top of the bag! He held it down for around a whole minute. Relaxing, he pronounced, the spell is reset. It can now be reloaded and set to anyone. Just a sec.”

He went into the back and returned with salad tongs and a spreading knife. Selecting one of KD's chow chunks, he carefully and neatly spread the gem topping onto it. Taking the tongs, he used them to insert the topped chow chunk into the bag.

“Now, KD, just reach into the bag and take out the snack. That will reset the bag to you with a safe treat. You also now know how to change treats any time that you want.”

Saying, “Thanks, Doc!” KD fished out the treat and nibbled it down with gusto!

I was watching the whole thing with narrowed eyes that I don't really have. Thinking it over, I pointed out, “KD, whoever set you up was at the show in Manehatten. The way it works, that spell didn't lock onto you until you took out that first muffin.

“It may be time for a contract or a bit of detective work in Manehatten. Perhaps both.”

Thoughtfully she suggested, “There is another big art show in Manehatten in a few days. I do have a studio there with some finished pieces that I could enter if I could get there in time. That would give us the cover that we need for detective work if we can arrive in time.”

I suggested, “If time is a problem, I could try setting up a portal between here and the Manehatten fairgrounds. It has been a while since I studied that but it is really pretty simple magic.”

We all trooped outside and I began the really pretty basic preparations for opening a portal spell. I did add a whole lot of “stage dressing” rituals, circles and other misdirection. I always do. Better showmanship and it hides what makes it work from prying eyes, even if they are watching.

A glowing circle appeared in the air, just in front of us and barely touching the ground. Suddenly it began to grow, becoming a huge oval. Something enormous, making a steady pulsing roar and clanking like metal was coming toward us!

First, pretty high up, came a sort of short crossways tube with a hole in it on the side facing us. The thing continued to advance. That funny bit was attached to a long metal tube! Down lower, some big metal plates appeared and then between them an enormous bridge of metal. Huge wheels of steel supported endless linked plates of more steel!

As the contraption came on out, it was revealed to be a gigantic machine of some sort! It had sloped sides up to a heavy device on top that the long tube came out of. That had sloped sides too, as if this thing were made to bounce catapult shots off of it! There were some serious dents and obvious repairs that made it seem that those slopes were strictly functional!

Sticking her head up out of a hatch in the top was a pony who looked for all the world like Rainbow Dash! Reinforcing that idea was a brown pegasus with a black mane and tail clinging to the rear of the machine and calling out loudly enough to be heard over the machine's roar!

“Dashie! Stop! You going to smash through garden wall again! You crush Jade's herb garden again! You so grounded!”

Dashie retorted, “I not hit wall, dad! Big blue hole show up. I drive through that! Besides, last time I drive through Jade's herb garden, I fix it better than before. She ask me to squash it again!”

“And one more thing! Dashie, you make me good hot tea or you so grounded you need dig up for thousand year to see daylight!”

Innocently she shot back, “If I that grounded, I make you nice tea that De Writer send for me to get you! It his idea to get it with remote control T82 Main Battle Tank! If I NOT grounded, I MIGHT be able to find you nice green tea that he never touch!”

The brown pegasus sat hard. “De Writer ask you to use Remote Control T82 IN CANTERLOT for that tea? You not so grounded as I thought.”

The one identified as Dashie noticed us from her vantage point, high up in the top part of the T82. She picked up a small boxy thing with buttons and levers and pushed one of the buttons. The T82's loud grumbling fell quiet.

“Um, Dad, we come through portal, I think. You not teach me that magic yet. There ponies here and a dragon. Come around T82 and you see. There small castle here too.”

The brown pegasus stepped around the metal monster and courteously introduced, “I Thomas the Writer. Miscreant who drive T82 through your portal my daughter Dashie Writer. T82 is educational toy give her by De Writer.”

Mordenheim looked up at the behemoth of steel and remarked, “Where you are from has different ideas about educational toys than any place I have ever been.”

Dashie replied, “It crazy where we from too, but what you expect from powerful wizard like De Writer? Something safe? He good to have on your side when trouble come, though.”

She turned about and exclaimed, “The portal gone!”

It was true. Standing where it had been was a familiar cat otter hybrid with red hair. She was wearing a well worn cloak of dark green and light seeming chain mail. Mithril by the look of it. Her left arm was a prosthesis, a mechanical arm of metal that moved in an utterly natural way. Under the cloak was the scabbard of a large sword. In her mechanical hand was a parchment that looked like a map of some sort.

She tucked away the map in a pouch at her waist and looked about, her gaze missing nothing. Smiling, she waived! “Hi, Grumpy! It's me, Wind! We met at Ponyville Fair, remember? I am part of Marchhare's band of Rom. I was going to meet them at Haymarket fair, up north, but this out of control portal got in the way. I took the liberty of closing it.”

Thomas gave Wind a strangely puzzled look. “This world with Marchhare in it?”

She shrugged, “I wouldn't be going to meet him and his band if it wasn't! Why?”

Speaking to Dashie, Thomas said, “This important lesson, Dashie. How many worlds in multiverse?”

She replied, “Infinite. Everyone and thing have infinite copies, each a little different.” Raising her eyebrows in thought, she added, “This a trick question, isn't it, Dad?”

“Sort of. You very quick. Every rule have exception, right?”

Putting hoof to chin, she thought and then went wide eyed with realization! “Every rule have exception, even that rule!”

Thomas lifted his wings in pleasure. “Right! This ONLY world in whole multiverse that have Marchhare! That is secret to navigation when go between worlds.”

Dashie blinked. “What happen when he dies?”

“Nothing, Dashie. Marchhare already dead. Not die twice.”

We were all listening in amazement. It was newcomer Wind who said, “That is sort of a relief. That there is only one of my foster dad, I mean. I have met some of myself and it was not the best of experiences!”

She put her jaw in her metal hand and examined the whole situation carefully. Turning to me she asked, “Did you cast the portal, Grumpy?”

Scraping the grass where I was standing with one nonexistent forehoof and looking down, I muttered, “Afraid so. Portals are not really my specialty. I guess that I really messed this one up.”

Wind stepped over and lifted my glamor's head to look me in the eye. “I am an expert with portals. That one was really well done. It would have worked perfectly if you had not cast it here. The Everfree's Hidden Ways are what messed you up.

“Now, where were you trying to go?”

KD interjected, “We were aiming for the fairgrounds at Manehatten by the Sea.”

Wind nodded in a very take charge sort of way. “I see. That is about 6 or 7 hundred kilometers from here.”

Leaning casually up against the iron monster called T82, Wind asked, “Does this thing have personnel and cargo railings and how fast is it, uh, Dashie?”

Dashie brightened up as she replied, “It sure does have safety railings! I use them when I give Mia and Becky rides. It can go as far as you want. Out in the open, it can hit 100 kilometers an hour! How did you know about that?”

Wind gave a delicate shudder, “I have adventured on a few worlds where similar machines were used. I saw the passenger railings on some of them.”

Wind smiled ingratiatingly at Thomas. “Would you be willing to let Dashie take us all on an Adventure to Manehatten by the Sea? It will get these nice beings where they need to go and be fun for us all. From there, I can easily send you both back home.”

Dashie had hopped out of the top of the T82 and began releasing catches and lifting up metal railings. They clicked as they locked into place. When she was done, she lowered a set of steep metal stairs to climb up onto the back of her “educational toy.”

Thomas watched with a skeptical lift to his right eyebrow. “I not say we go, Dashie.”

She looked him straight back in the eye as she retorted, in front of us all, “Right. All that you have to do is tell our hosts that you won't do something simple and fun to help them.”

“That blackmail, Dashie!”

“Right. Between you and our De Writer, I learn from the best!”

He chuckled, “OK. We do it.”

Wind swung easily up the boarding stair and called, “All aboard for the Manehatten Express!”

KD swarmed up, found the engine vents, and curled up with a “Dibs on the warm spot!”

Coalsmoke gently pushed me toward the enormous device with, “I would love to go too, Grumpy, but I have serious business to talk over with Victor. The Princesses want to set up a program for helping wounded veterans of their armies.”

Dashie started the T82 and made a big turn. Wind guiding her, we set out for Adventure! And Manehatten.

Technically, we took Doctor Mordenheim's path down to the Falmire cutoff and turned south towards the junction with Royal Road 315. For some reason, the busy traffic of Ponyville's industrial district gave way before us, even when it had the right of way! Couldn't imagine why! Surely it had nothing to do with fifty or more tonnes of steel monstrosity charging along at a “mere” twenty kilometers per hour.

We reached the Royal Road toll booth without incident. Almost had an incident there. The poor booth keepers were going nuts trying to sort out the proper toll.

Pages were fluttering back and forth in their toll manuals, “It ain't a cart or wagon from any section! Darn thing is made out of iron like a fool locomotive on the railroad!”

“I know, Jeb! Can't even classify it by team size or set up! It runs itself!”

Wind was sitting on the edge of the turret, which Dashie had taught us was the name for that upper part with the long pipe sticking out of it, and giggling at the small uproar.

“When Marchhare hears about this, he will split his harness, he will laugh so hard!”

One of the toll collectors looked up at her and got a beatific smile. “You are Wind, from Marchhare's band of Rom, right? I saw you at our fair a couple of times.”

She nodded acknowledgment, “Yes, Sir. I am.”

He turned to his buddy and pushed the manuals shut. “Just write Rom from Marchhare's band, toll free by Crowns Law.”

Jeb did write, though he was still trying to protest. His superior shut him down with, “Jeb, like enough you are right. Still, it solves OUR problem.” He tripped the gate mechanism and the flimsy red and white painted wooden bar lifted up out of our way.

We pulled onto the Royal Road. Besides less traffic, it was wider and better maintained than the Ponyville road we had come from. Dashie began to open up the speed once we had clear road ahead of us. I must say, I was impressed. Dashie was not kidding about hitting a hundred kilometers an hour!

The T82 was fast and high enough that we had to duck shade tree branches! A delighted KD had her sketchbook out and was rapidly drawing things from her high perspective!

Chortling, she explained, “Even as roughs, some of these will adapt to pictures for my book contract! This is great!”

Wind steered us into one of the many waysides, making Dashie slow down and drive gently as we parked for the evening. With assurance, she showed us where the free water and firewood were.

With a fond smile, Wind recalled, “I have camped here before, while traveling with Dad's band. There is a small stream over in the bushes that we can get fresh fish and crawdads out of for a nice dinner.”

KD had out an easel and was busily drawing with colors. She was doing the T82 framed by a sunset of riotous clouds and glowing light.

She asked politely, “Wind, would you be so good as to pose there, just below the turret? I want your metal arm just casually holding something and your sword out in your right hand, ready but not on a guard.”

Wind did pose. It really did not take KD long at all to capture the feeling of the scene. The way that Wind was posing, it looked for all the world like she OWNED the metal monster behind her!

Done posing, Wind stretched and began doing limbering up exercises. With an expression of delight, and without even thinking about it, Wind began to dance and sing in a language strange to all of us. I did recognize it from my times at the Ponyville fair, serving mainly as security for Caramel Treat's excellent food booth. The language was Gyptian, the sort of private and held secret, nearly melodious tongue of the Rom. I did recognize the dance.

She was treating us to the Shehan Ja Rom, their story of how the Rom came to be. I gather that it is the oldest dance and song of the Rom. As her dance and song finished, I remembered that the Rom did not clap for applause. I leaned my head back and gave the loud trill that the Rom use.

Wind looked sort of startled as the others followed suit. Embarrassed, she mumbled, “Sorry. It was just the joy of being on the road again.”

It was KD who said it, “Don't be sorry. It was lovely. Is there an Equestrian translation?”

I put in, “I know that there is. That was the famous Shehan Ja Rom. The Rom traditionally dance and sing it in an Equestrian version to open fairs. What I am curious about is how Wind, who is nothing like any horse or pony, came to be a Rom and of Marchhare's band at that.”

Wind sat near the fire and absently began to assemble vegetable skewers for Dashie, Thomas and I. “I made a little mistake while adventuring. I survived it, obviously. Mama Dragon fixed me up and sent me here, to this Equestria to finish healing and recuperate. De Writer met me and steered me to Marchhare's band.

“Good thing, too. One of my wounds developed a small inflammation that could have killed me. Black Lotus, Marchhare and Hoof Dancer, his wife at the time, healed me. Mama Dragon was wise in sending me to them for a month. I had more than physical wounds to heal. I joined them and learned to read, write and speak Gyptian. Having a real caring and extended family provided the rest of the healing that I needed. Now, I have my Freedom and I can come and go as I wish, but my Rom family is always there for me.”

I could tell that there was a lot left out but Wind cut her tale off without harming her tail by asking, “Grumpy, will you tend these skewers for me while I go catch some fish, crawdads and a bunny or two for dinner to share with KD?”

I realized at once that besides being an adventurer, Wind was quite diplomatic. She had just reminded the lot of us that KD had not eaten all day, except for snacks, and that both she and Wind were carnivores. Possibly hungry carnivores.

Dashie took off too, calling, “Wind! Wait up! I want see how you hunt and fish without fancy gear.”

Wind looked back, nodded and then beckoned with a finger curl. As soon as Dashie was up to her, Wind slid into the brush without a sound. Dashie, trying to follow was pretty quiet.

Coming to the creek bank, Wind laid flat and wriggled forward on her stomach. Carefully parting the small thin wands of the bank willows, she slid her right arm into the water, reaching back, under the cut bank. Her face screwed up with concentration, she eased her hand up, feeling for a fish. Smiling, she slid her hand further up and grabbed!

Rolling back and lifting, Wind flipped the good sized trout out onto the bank! She caught the flopping creature and bent its head back to break its neck. She snipped off a thin bank willow strand with her knife and laced it through the fish's gills and out the mouth. Loosely knotting the ends, she hung the fish up and repeated the trick three more times!

Dashie was watching with awe. “I never even hear of fishing that way! How you do it?”

Wind picked up her willow loop with fish and replied, “It takes practice to tickle trout but it is not really hard. You need to be careful and gentle. When you feel the fish with your fingers, you need to work your way up until you feel the pectoral fins, those just behind the gills. Snap your fingers into the gills and lift it out quickly.

“Now for a nice brace of bunnies and dinner will ready to cook.”

Dashie, keeping her voice down, asked, “I see warren right over there. How you catch them? Some kind of trap?”

Wind, following Dashie's pointing hoof, shook her head. “I could, and if we were going to be here longer, I would set some snares. Since it is only dinner and breakfast, I will just pounce them. It is easier and quicker.”

Dashie watched Wind ghost her way through the brush toward the warren. Choosing her place, she waited, a bunched spring of living huntress. Nothing moved except for the tip of her tail twitching slightly. It was only a few minutes before a bunny hopped lazily toward one of the main holes of the warren. Wind's pounce included a fast chop with her metal hand! The bunny only twitched once before going still.

Wind quietly picked a different spot and soon had a second bunny!

Bearing her prey, Wind and Dashie returned to camp. On their way, Wind asked, “Why did you want to see how I got fish and bunnies? Most ponies really don't want to see that.”

Face flaming a little with embarrassment, Dashie replied, “I am sort of, like half dragon. I turn into one if I need to or want to. Thing is, I not very good at getting meat to eat! I have to turn back to a pony and graze up dinner! There are times that really inconvenient!”

Wind chuckled. “I can see that! We have one more stop before Manehatten by the Sea. I will take you out hunting there too, OK?”

Back at camp, Wind considerately went to the other side of the T82 to clean and prepare her catch. A lightly drooling KD went to help! They both returned to the camp, licking their lips and smiling. They were finishing up with some of KD's endless supply of Gator Chow. Wind had carefully cleaned off the gem topping from hers and used it to enhance KD's snack.

As we were settling about the fire, Dashie asked, “Um, Wind, did Rom hold you prisoner some way? You say you have your freedom.”

Wind chuckled at the misunderstanding. “No, Dashie. The Rom Freedom is a thing that they wear. Here, I have mine in my bag.”

She reached into her bag at her waist and her arm seemed to go in further than was possible. She saw us staring and snorted her amusement. “It is called a bag of holding. It is sort of like Marchhare's caravan. It is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Here it it is!”

Stopping her rummaging, she pulled out a sort of headstall thing of richly tooled and dyed leather with rings and buckles that looked to be gold. She strapped it on.

“This is a Freedom of the Rom. They grant them only to beings that they have fully accepted as one of their own.”

“Why is call a Freedom?” Dashie wondered.

Wind lifted her chin with pride. “The original cast off slaves that were the first Rom wore a headstall with a bit and lead ring. They had them all their lives and were not comfortable without something on their heads. They re made them into the Freedom by taking away anything by which they could be made to serve another. No bit or lead ring has ruled any Rom from that day to this.” Very carefully, Wind removed her Freedom and put it away.

KD had curled into an amazingly hard to see coil of dragon to sleep until dawn. The rest of us were spreading blankets to sleep under the stars.

A wagon full of road repair tools and an accompanying work gang of ponies pulled into the rest area. A couple of them strode arrogantly to our camp and demanded, “We are hungry! What ever food you got, hoof it over now! You don't, we gonna take sledgehammers to that there tin thingy!”

I gently prodded the almost sleeping dragon in our midst. KD had been paying attention! Her head rose up, eyes alight. A curl of flame showing at each nostril and outlining her barely opened jaws completed the picture!

She serenely asked, “What? More dinner? I'm not sure that I could hold another whole pony. Mind if we just sort of pack along the leftovers for lunch?”

Dashie had lifted a fully draconic head. In the late evening's light we could not make out her color but we could easily make out the totally paling ponies!

“What! They got TWO DRAGONS!”

Dashie corrected, “No. Two HUNGRY dragons!”

Dashie was giggling at the frantic retreat of the two jerks! Got to admit to some chuckles of my own. KD's sides were heaving as she re coiled herself.

Dashie got up onto all fours. In the dying firelight, she could be seen to be a light blue color. She flexed her wings a couple of times and strolled over to where the road crew ponies were carelessly re packing to leave. In terror but not so terrified that they were willing to have to pay for abandoned gear!

One thoughtlessly yelled, “Road camp privacy! Stay away, that is kingdom law!”

Wind, who was almost unnoticed at Dashie's right front leg, calmly pointed out, “You have just admitted that you knew that you were breaking kingdom law when you tried to hijack our dinner. In your haste to correct your error, you dropped your sledgehammers. Here!”

Wind revealed a hidden strength by casually giving the heavy hammers an underhand toss. Both hammers overshot the wagon and hit the turf on the other side of it.

That got the attention of the road crew ponies! One noticed, “How come you only got one arm?”

Smiling angelically, which showed off her fangs nicely, Wind reached up with her metal left arm and scritched at the base of Dashie's left dragon horn as she replied, “What, this?” Campfire light glinting from her metal arm, she said casually, “Kitten here, and I got to roughhousing last week! She was a little too enthusiastic, that's all.”

Dashie, catching on to the game, bent her head around and gave Wind a lick at the shoulder and said contritely, “I said that I was sorry! We just need to find a Phoenix potion so that you can regrow it. Again.”

They strolled back to our camp, Wind taking the time to re hang her cloak to sort of hide her metal arm. Thomas, Dashie, now turned back to a pegasus, and I nibbled up Wind's excellent fruit and vegetable skewers.

Wind toasted the last of the bunnies and trout over KD's flame and shared that extra bit dinner with her. Dashie “sneaked” over and turned back to a dragon to beg a few bites. Grinning, they let her have some.

Sleeping out in the open, I did not have my usual nightmares of a Celestian Church mob burning my home, studies, and, failing to trap me in the house, attempting to stone me to death. Perhaps my feelings of safety came of sleeping beside a big blue dragon? One that liked me? Very likely.

It could not last. For one thing, dawn comes far too soon for a cave dwelling goat like me. The other was a light blue bundle of enthusiasm with rainbow mane and tail! Dashie was bounding into camp! She was waiving a forked stick with three big fat trout on it! It was laced through their gills and out their mouths, with the forked branch acting as a stop to keep them from sliding off.

“I did it, Wind! I tickle trout just like you show me how!”

Wind looked up from laying the morning cook fire. Her grin showed her usually hidden fangs as she replied, “Just like I showed you? Not sure how to point this out diplomatically but you don't have any fingers to do it with.”

Totally disingenuous, Dashie replied, “I just use my magic like you show with hand. It not hard. Real trick was find where fish hide. You show me that. They too quick to catch if just grab. Gentle tickle is trick.”

Both KD and I were listening with rapt attention. It was clear that Thomas and Dashie's Equestria was very different from this one. As they talked, that became more and more apparent.

“Does your magic come from being a weredragon?”

“Only a little. Most I learn from Dad. He one of two most powerful beings in our Equestria. Be honest, I think De Writer worst. Super strong magic and wicked sense of humor. And bored. He three thousand years old. Raise Princesses.”

“I see. Do other pegassi use magic where you come from?”

“Not really. Dad figure out that there more magic in world than Earth, Pegassi, and Unicorn. It come from his mom, Aurora, the Demon Queen.”

We all looked askance at the innocent appearing brown pegasus. This was getting more and more interesting all the time.

Wind just nodded, took the fish and efficiently set about preparing them. She also pulled some fresh looking apples and peaches out of the bag at her waist. She expertly split them into proper chunks and dropped them into a pot. She added a little fresh water and, reaching into her bag of holding, pulled out a box with many drawers and bottles, a jar with a sealed top and a small flour bag.

I was sort of amazed, watching the sheer skill with which Wind organized breakfast. She even had water on heating in a biggish pot. She added some from the sealed bottle. The camp filled with the heavenly aroma of Rom black tea!

Satisfied with the progress of the fruits in the pot, she added sugar, cinnamon from one of the drawers of the box and stirred in the flour to thicken it.

It smelled heavenly, not like regular flour at all. Wind closed the bag and returned box, bag and jar to her bag of holding. She saw my calculating look as I watched it all happening.

Wrinkling her nose in amusement, she explained, “Ka'chek flour. A Rom without it? Unheard of!”

Breakfast lived up to the lovely scents, and then some.

Wind, KD and Dashie went to the other side of the T82 to fix and eat the trout. Coming back, Dashie and KD were finishing up gem topped Gator Chows and Wind was nibbling at one with the topping removed.

While they were eating, the rest of us cleaned up all the cookware and put out the fire. We especially cleaned out the fruit stew pot! Nearly came to blows over who got to lick it out! Good sense prevailed and we took turns licking parts of it. Then, we washed it. We did have one thing unwashed.

We saved Wind the last mug of Rom black tea. Smiling at our courtesy, Wind drained it and saw to proper washing of the mug. She then caused us all a small croggle of the mind by causally putting all of the clean cookware and dishes into her bag of holding!

We all piled onto the remote controlled T82 and Dashie got us on the road again!

I noticed that Wind was wearing her Freedom and had put on a harness. It was as richly tooled and dyed as her freedom. They were clearly a matched set.

While KD was busy with her art, making fast sketches of the lands that we were passing through, I made bold to ask, “Why the Rom outfit? This is not exactly a caravan.”

Wind giggled at some joke that I did not understand as she replied, “Actually, it is. You just have to understand what caravan means. It is a loan word from the desert Kingdoms that was already in use by the time that the first Rom came here. In their language of Gyptian, it means something slightly different from how it is used in Equestrian.

“It is just that there is a road section toll gate coming up in a little. Me being dressed this way should get us through the gate for free.”

Nodding acceptance for her reason, I turned my attention to Thomas, who was trying hard to act like an adult pegasus, rather than a colt having the time of his life.

I guessed, “You have not ridden on Dashie's T82 before, have you Thomas?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he admitted, “Never before this. I think that she get to play with it more but need daddy supervision!”

I was chuckling at that when we all felt the iron monster slowing down. Wind, pointing ahead, made clear exactly why. There was the toll booth with its light weight red and white bar across the road. There was a substantial cabin in back of it for use of the toll collectors when off duty and out here, kilometers from any town. A sign said, WELCOME TO THE MANEHATTEN ROYAL ROAD SECTION.

Wind hopped off the top of the huge left tread guard of the T82 and greeted the toll takers, “Hi! What do you think of my new act? Just doing a shake down run to IRON out any problems! We are promised entertainment for the big art show.”

The utterly bemused light yellow toll collector turned to his lavender buddy and shook his head. Pushing the toll manual shut he said, “Rom. No accounting for 'em. Just write Rom, toll free by Crowns Law.”

He tripped the mechanism and the toll gate rose up out of our way.

As the mechanical behemoth passed through the gate, Wind trotted after and swung up the steel boarding stair and resumed her place on top of the turret, next to Dashie.

We had passed two of the Waysides when Wind guided Dashie into one that seemed empty. It was nowhere near noon, yet.

“Thanks, Dashie! There is a friend here that I want to talk to. It would have been rude to just go by and not say Hi.”

With that, she bounced off the turret, grabbed what we had learned was called the Main Gun, and swung, letting go and landing lightly. She sprinted over to the edge of the woods.

Sitting suddenly, she quietly reached out and laid a sparkling pebble among many others in that spot. She said, “Hanar Na Kili.” We could not make out the rest. It was all in Gyptian. It contained pauses as if she was listening to what another was saying. The conversation was soon over.

Wind got up, smiling serenely, and returned to us. Dashie had turned to a dragon so that she and KD could share a couple of KD's gator chows.

Wind suggested, “We could get going, now. The Loved Dead are always with us. Hanar and I had a nice chat.”

It was slowly percolating through the brain that I don't really have, just how different Rom are. And I have known them, shared food with them and talked with them for years. They have even been guests in my cave. I have heard that expression, the Loved Dead are always with us hundreds of times. I have heard about Laying the Stones goodness only knows how many times. This was the first time that I had seen it.

Seeing how Wind treated it, both casually and with absolute assurance, as if the horse in that grave that the Rom call a Gateway to the Lake of Paradise, or Lake for short, was really there, made it hit me like a gut punch.

I knew, like everybeing in Equestria that the ONE THING THAT YOU DO NOT DO is desecrate any Wayside burial. Ponies who die more than two days travel from their homes are entitled to a Wayside burial. It is a Royal Benefice. The graves are marked and tended as part of Wayside maintenance.

All Rom who die get a Wayside burial, that they call a Lake or going to the Lake. They lay small, inexpensive, but pretty pebbles on them to mark them.

Desecration of a Rom Lake will bring the Princesses in person to investigate. The criminals WILL get caught. Penalties are HARSH. They range from twenty years at hard labor on the Royal Roads up to life. The worst offenders, who have actually exhumed Rom remains get a punishment worse than simple death.

They get life in the Twins Mine, digging mercury ore. The fumes destroy the mind and wrack the body. After the first few such grave robberies, centuries ago, no pony in their right mind will risk that.

Wind looked so quietly happy that I had to wonder whether there was any truth to the Rom belief in the Lake of Paradise.

Dashie finished her snack and changed back to a pegasus. We all piled back onto the T82 educational toy and hit the road again. It was not long before we came to a bridge across a stream.

It was a nice, well built and solid bridge. It was clear that it was not made to take the sheer mass of the T82.

Dashie, following Wind's suggestions and pointing, reversed the T82 for about fifty or sixty meters. There, she eased off the road and headed toward the stream. She stopped short, while Wind scouted ahead, dropping down the stream bank and checking the bottom to be sure that it would hold up the tank.

Returning, she suggested to the others, “I think that you should get off and use the bridge on foot. This will be a wild ride!”

KD pointed to the line of ten to fifteen centimeter diameter trees that lined both sides of the stream skeptically. “Um, not to cast doubt or anything, but how do you plan to get this thing past those?”

Wind replied quietly, “I have seen machines like this, doing what they were designed to do. I don't think that it will be a difficult problem.”

KD and Thomas both looked into Wind's eyes and saw reflected experiences that they did not want to share. Neither did I. Thomas just said, “T82 break trees in orchard before this. I take Wind's advice.”

Nodding, KD followed him, saying, “Let me get to the center of the bridge and get my sketchbook out! I don't want to miss this!”

Figuring that the center of the bridge would have the best view of the proceedings. I joined them.

That was when I noticed something completely uncanny. As big and heavy as the T82 was, there was no sign of its driving across the grass and brush to get to the stream. Looking back, I saw that the road was in perfect condition, too.

I pointed it out to the one here who might know something about it. Thomas snickered happily, “Yes, know already. You not say anything to Dashie but she very good with magic of rock and stone. Also with magic of plants. She fix what educational toy do as it happen most time.”

Just then, it started. The T82 let out a loud roar and charged the treeline! There was a splintering set of crashing sounds as it struck the innocent vegetation! The trees did not stand a chance! They swayed, cracked and buckled, falling down into the stream as the “toy” crunched over them, tipping down steeply as it plunged into the stream! With a huge splash, followed by the churning up of rock, gravels and white water, the machine charged the opposite bank!

As it hit, I began to appreciate the ingenuity of the linked steel belts that the T82 ran on. There was a slope at the front before the treads hit the ground. Now, that slope let the machine claw its way up the bank, tilting back steeply as its momentum and driving tracks forced it up, pushing the trees aside and down while it topped the bank!

Dashie drove her “toy” up to the road's edge and parked it. She bailed out and took wing to the other side of the stream. Landing in the water, she transformed into her dragon self!

She called, “Dad! KD! Will you help please!?”

She was lifting the fallen trees back into their places, on the stumps that they had broken off from. While she was at it, I could see her magic going into the stems and branches, binding together cracks and breaks.

KD loped down and joined her. “What can I do, Dashie? I don't know anything about this kind of magic.”

“Just hold trunk up while I fix break and roots.”

Thomas strolled down and waded into the stream. He started repairing cracks and breaks in the wood of the fallen trees to speed things along.

Wind and I sat on the bridge rail and watched them work. She commented, “Ah, hard work! I can sit and watch it for simply hours!”

It really did not take all that long for the party to restore all the trees and larger brush, leaving almost no sign that the massive T82 had charged through there.

KD said it for all of us, as we climbed back aboard the T82, “I never even heard of magic like that before!”

As she was settling into the turret and picking up the remote control, Dashie shrugged. “All world each a little different. Some thing go from world to world, some not. Magic dad teach me, it work.”

Not too much later, we pulled into a Wayside to fix lunch. Some heavy freight dray ponies were already camped there, so Dashie parked us at a site well away from them, to give them camp privacy.

They stomped over to us just as Wind was setting a large pot of water to heat.

“Whatever you gots to eat gotta be better than our road ration oats! Hoof it over! We even got you a bag of oats to make it a fair trade!”

Dashie quelled Wind before she could say anything. She gestured for KD to stay hidden behind the T82. Pretending to quail some, she replied, “We just stop for ordinary tea before go on. Got special box tea need to be deliver.”

Thomas, sounding indignant, demanded, “No! Dashie, that tea special! Got to go to Castle . . .”

“They meaner than us, Dad! I give them one packet. Only make them a couple of gallon.”

She ducked down into the T82's interior and returned with a modest package wrapped in gold colored foil.

She made a point of securing the oats before giving them the package. “We going be in much trouble for this. Oats is least you can do.”

As they retreated, I noticed that Thomas had a diabolical grin. Dashie, on the other hoof, simply hopped up on the T82 and tripped something on her control box.

The turret turned and the main gun lowered some. It pointed the big main gun directly at the drover's camp.

All that Thomas would say was, “It De Writer tea. Never know what happen. Best be safe!”

Wind's ears perked up! Almost too casually, she asked, “Is that thing loaded?”

Dashie sort of shrank a bit as she replied, “Yes. Have five case ammo. Two explosive, three solid shot. Five round in each case. De Writer give them to me when I get tea. Dad not like me have it.”

“OOPS! No time talk now! They getting water boiling!”

KD sidled up to Wind, “You seem to know a lot about this thing. Just how dangerous is it?”

Wind put an arm over KD's neck as she replied, “That depends on which kind of round Dashie has in the gun. A solid shot will rip a crater about two or three meters across. The flying dirt and stone from the fire place will make a deadly spray.

“If it is an explosive round, it will blast a hole about five or six meters across. It will scatter fragments of the shell and any loose stone or dirt too.

“Yes, the T82 could wreck any ordinary fortress in Equestria.”

KD was chortling, “I hope that the tea is worth a shot! Not only would I like to see that, I did not like those ponies at all.”

Thomas overheard and replied, “They not get hurt. De Writer not crazy. Have spell on T82 it not hurt any pony or intelligent being. Can do much property damage. That educational part of toy. Dashie get to fix up damage. Study hard her magics since she get it from De Writer!”

The wayside ponies added the tea to the water boiling in their big kettle.

As they did, Thomas asked urgently, “What De Writer say about brew tea?”

Dashie's brow wrinkled, “He say make in ceramic pot only a little at a time. It good for cold morning!”

Just then the flames began in the drover's big kettle of boiling water! They burst up in a great gout of blue and yellow fire! We could feel the heat from where we were! The sides of the big iron pot glowed red, then yellow! They began to melt!

In only seconds, the sides gave way and the tea gushed out, drowning the campfire, not that it was much help! The wood instantly went to ash! The tea soaked into the bottom of the fire place and the flames slowly subsided.

The heat had driven the drovers away from camp and wagon. The whole side of the wagon that had been facing the tea was charred. There were small wisps of smoke arising from it here and there.

Thomas was sitting on his rump laughing. “Now know why fix in ceramic pot and only little at a time! Definitely good for cold morning!”

While the drovers were frantically hitching up and hauling out of there, Thomas was thoughtfully heating water in an iron pot. He called up, “Dashie! Packet tea. Small measure. Ceramic pot I know you got in there!”

She popped up out of the hatch and gave Thomas the things that he had asked for. KD, who could breathe fire, quietly backed up.

Dashie saw it and reasured her, “With De Writer tea, follow direction important. We see what NOT do.”

Thomas added boiling water to the small, indeed tiny, measure of tea in the pot. Flame poured out the spout and leaked around the lid. It soon died. Thomas poured a small cup and smelled it.

“Have good nose.” He sipped. Eyes wide, he exclaimed, “This one of De Writer's best teas yet! Try some, Dashie!”

She promptly poured a cup for herself. “It good dad! Thanks!”

Wind added vegetables to her pot of boiling water and soon the savory scent of vegetable stew filled the camp area.

While it was cooking, she took Dashie and they entered the woods. It was not long before they returned with a couple of squirrels and a few bunnies. This time, it was Dashie, turned dragon, who toasted the carnivore lunch.

After everything was cleaned up and put away, Dashie strolled over to the camp that the drovers had used. While we watched, she actually pushed a few heat broken stones of the fireplace back to position. Somehow, they stuck. What really got me though was her casually picking up the hardened iron from the melted pot and the original fire grilles and sort of pushed, pulled and squeezed on them to make a good, substantial grill for supporting cook pots. It went into its place. She carefully scouted the camp, leaving bright green grass where it had been fire browned.

A grinning KD got several quick sketches!

Wind reminded us all, “The Manehatten fairgrounds turn off is only about another hour down the road. Shall we be gone?”

It did not actually take us an hour to get there. We all disembarked from the T82 and did stretches.

Among the assorted goodbyes, I heard Wind ask KD, “I am not on a schedule. Mind if I tag along to see your art show?”

I personally, after wishing Thomas and Dashie well, inquired, “Would it be possible for me to get some of that De Writer tea?”

He practically pounced on me! “How much you want? He send a crate of it! Got lots!”

“I could use several packages. Say, five?”

“Dashie! Get Grumpy five packets De Writer tea!”

Her voice muffled by being inside her machine, she retorted, “FIVE? What he want to do? Melt T82?”

As I took the packages of potentially deadly tea, Thomas pointed out, “You know Grumpy do magic. Pony here seem mostly think only unicorn do magic. Grumpy use much ritual and misdirection to keep them from catch on. I bet tea become part of that.”

My already high respect for Thomas went up another big notch. I nodded, “Right, Thomas. Also, once the fire burns off, it makes a really good tea. Right up there with Rom black.”

Wind told the group, “Well, I promised to send you back from here. Is it time to go?”

Though Dashie looked a little downcast, Thomas nodded, “It been fun here, but yes. It time to go home.”

Wind reached into her bag of holding and fished out a thing that looked like a map. She traced out what looked like a route on it with a delicate touch of one claw.

The pale blue oval of a portal big enough to drive a T82 main battle tank through appeared. Thomas climbed the passenger steps, up onto the back of the iron monster and our friends drove through. The portal silently vanished.

I turned to KD. “Which way to the Art Show?”

She nibbled a gator chow treat and pointed. “My studio first! Then off to the show!”

KD snickered, “You two are little! Hop on my back and we will make better time!”

As Wind boosted me up and then leaped up herself, she said, “I could get used to this. Traveling places without having to walk, I mean. First, the T82! That was fun! Now I get to ride dragonback again!”

I looked back, trying not to miss the sight of Manehatten's famously tall buildings. Many of them were over five levels tall! Some, in the downtown area looked to be way taller!

I commented, “Again? You have ridden dragons before?”

“Just one, Grumpy. My daughter Aurixa.”

That gave me real pause. I ventured, “Adopted?”

Sort of. I found her egg out in the wilderness not that far from Mama Dragon's cottage. I was there when Aurixa hatched. She imprinted on me as her mother.

“When she grew up some, we used to play together a lot, including riding her. I love flying on dragonback!

“Anyway, she grew up to where she was too big for that. Last I saw her, Aurixa was bigger than a house. I need to go home to Mama Dragon's and visit her. I miss them.”

We came to a nice two level house in the outskirts of town. The only odd thing about it from the outside was that the door was bigger than usual. KD got out a key and let us in.

The inside WAS unusual! The whole second level floor had been knocked out, leaving a sort of rim around the single large room. It was just the right height to serve as shelves for KD! There were a few scorch marks on the walls, souvenirs of her hiccups!

There were paintings and drawings in profusion! All was neatly organized. Drawings were in X-frames and paintings were racked or stood against the walls.

KD selected a number of drawings, including some from her sketchbooks filled up on the trip here. Truly professional, she framed the drawings and sketches behind glass. She had frames at the ready for her paintings. It took her about an hour and a half for her to be ready.

She put on a harness designed to carry framed work and suggested, “Load me up! The Manehatten Art Show is only about a kilometer from here!

We trudged through some pretty fancy streets and up a hill to a small estate. I giggled when I saw the iron scroll work lettering over the gate.

Wind nudged me and whispered, “Pretty up front about it, aren't they, Grumpy?”

The letters said, “Snob Hill Estate.” Under it was a banner proclaiming, “Snob Hill Art Festival! Opening soon!”

The pony watching the gate seemed both pleased and surprised to see KD. “Krystal! I was told that you would not be able to make this show! Let me announce you to the committee!”

She held him gently back. “Please don't, Edward. I am most curious as to who is saying that I would not come to this show.”

He sort of scraped the pave with a forehoof and looked down as he said, “I am not supposed to gossip about our patrons.”

KD grinned as she flipped him a silver bit. “You said nothing!”

Expertly fielding the coin, he said, “Of course it could not possibly be Drawin Pitcher spreading rumors about you.”

KD grinned, with many teeth, as she replied, “Of course not. Why would a fine artist like Drawin say anything negative about me?

“Oh, Edward, these fine beings are guests of mine.”

We went on in, following KD. She went straight for the main entrance to Snob Hall.

Even before we entered, we heard, “You know, I am really sorry to say that KD not only won't be making this show, it looks like she will have to give up the Daring Do contract.”

As she was about to charge in and confront the speaker, I gave her leg a tug. “Not quite yet, KD. Now, it is contract time. I suspect that this one can be really simple and oral, witnessed by Wind, here.”

I don't think that I have ever seen as many teeth as showed in KD's grin. “What sort of contract do you have in mind, Grumpy? I don't have a hundred gold on me.”

I pointed inside, “I overheard that. I will take one golden bit, ownership of that painting of Wind by the T82, and an autographed copy of the new book when it comes out. Thanks to the one bit, the magic will work.

“You can still enter the painting in the show as an original, on loan from the owner.

My refund terms will be one gold, one silver plus return to your ownership of the other items.

“What will happen is that not only the one who sabotaged you, but any accomplices will reveal their parts in such a way that they will receive the maximum of embarrassment. Attempts to extricate themselves will only dig them deeper.”

KD nodded slowly. “That sound pretty good. Can we include some career help for her, IF AND ONLY IF, she stays on the straight and narrow?”

I nodded, sucking in the cheeks that I don't really have. “I will include that. But only if it will still embarrass her.”

KD's tail wagged in delight, threatening several ornamental plantings! “Done! Here is the bit!.”

There was a brief flash of yellow in the sunlight. I put it in my saddlebag. “Wind, did you witness the contract and it's terms?”

If Wind's feral grin was not answer enough, her, “I did. You have a contract,” was.

KD breezed in through the big ornate doors. Cheerfully she called out, “Sorry to be late but I see that I am still in time for entering my latest works!”

The yellow mare with the green mane and tail that exclaimed, “It's KD! We have to get her out of here!” had to be Drawin Pitcher!

That was confirmed in mere seconds. KD said amiably, “I don't know what you are on about, Drawin! Oh, I see that you have some neat things up already! Let me get a closer look!”

As the blue dragon approached the hanging works, she absently pulled one of her crushed gem topped snacks from the bag. She was holding it so that all that could be seen was the topping. She started to munch it down as she got up close to the drawings and paintings of her rival.

Drawin Pitcher frantically charged KD and pushed her head aside, away from her art. “Please! Don't incinerate my art!”

KD turned her snout to aim directly at Drawin and asked in a mild voice, “Whatever to you mean, Pitcher? Why would I incinerate anypony's art?”

Drawin dodged behind a portly pony who was watching the scene unfold with interest. His cutie mark was a stack of books. He turned to her and, greatly puzzled, asked, “Why are you afraid of KD, Drawin? She has participated in many shows around the kingdom and never any incident like you seem to fear.

“True, last show she got a minor case of hiccups but controlled them and caused no harm at all. Why are you afraid now?”

There was a mumbled reply.

“What? That made no sense at all! What do you mean, it's the muffins?”

KD offered, “You were in industrial chemistry before you became a publisher, right, Mister Hazard?”

“I was.”

“Read this. It will explain most of the problem with the dragon muffins from this bag.” She fished in one of her bags and gave him a folded paper. “It is the Ponyville Police Department's Forensic Chemistry Laboratory report on the dragon muffins from this bag.”

His eyebrows rose sharply at what he read. “Zinc metal? That much in each muffin? No wonder you were having fire blast hiccups! Obviously, that little bag can't have held many of them. Why is she afraid of you now?”

For an answer, KD took a treat out of the bag and gave the bag to Mister Hazard. As she munched the treat, she pointed out, “I just emptied the bag. Notice how it has another treat in it now?” She pointed to a large painting on one wall, “Is that a Clyden Dale?” As he looked, she held up the bag. It had returned.

“See, Mister Hazard, the bag is enchanted by a form of non Equine magic. It always has another treat and it always comes back to me. That is why Drawin is afraid of me. She expects me to erupt in flame at any moment. It won't happen though.”

A despairing Drawin Pitcher hung her head. “It has to. Once the bag is set, you can't change it.”

KD grinned. “Want to bet, Ms. Pitcher? Thanks to Grumpy, here, we not only sorted out your little scheme to end my art career, we met a Zebra (not Zecora, Ponyville has TWO zebras now) who was familiar with the spell. He showed us how to re set it. These treats are harmless. Really tasty, too.”

Mister Hazard suggested, “Now that is taken care of, let's get your things entered and hung. We were saving you a panel for your work. Thanks to Ms. Pitcher, we almost put your panel away. That is it, over there.”

KD smiled properly for a collection of important ponies and began setting her selections out along the bottom of the display panel. As an aside to us, she commented, “The Show's Committee will have the final call about what is hung and what is not.”

She looked about and zeroed in on Drawin Pitcher. “Drawin, if you will do it, I have a little actual paying work for you!”

The yellow mare looked up from where she was about to fill out some papers at the art show's main desk. “What can you possibly want from me, KD? After everypony finding out about my trick, I was going to withdraw from the show.”

KD agreed, “It was a pretty dirty trick, Drawin. Only the ponies here right now know about it, though. That does not change the fact that your work is first rate. Stay in the show. We can cover this up really easily. My pieces will need labels. As far as I know, you are the best calligrapher in Manehatten.

“Any pony claiming bad blood between us will have to explain how YOUR distinctive calligraphy is on my labels.”

“Why are you trying to help me, after what I did?”

KD sat and scratched at her jaw spines with her big left hind claws before answering, “Critical thinking, Drawin. There are two parts to you. One is more than a bit mean and underhoofed. The other makes works like the ones over there on the wall. That last part is too valuable to lose. The first part should be lost, if you can.

“I am trying to save that valuable second part.”

Sourly the green maned yellow mare said, “I see. Actually, thanks. I need sales from this show or money from somewhere else or I could lose my studio.”

Laying a big claw gently over the withers of Drawin, KD said, “I do understand. Before I got established, I was there more than once. Here is my list of titles. What will you charge me?”

“After this? I may need money but I don't need it that badly. I will get right on these.”

“Fair enough, Drawin. When you finish these up, go talk to Mister Hazard. He has a commission, no committees or the like. I had to let it go, due to time constraints. It might be just right for you.”

Watching in fascination, wondering where the embarrassment would come from, I felt a really sort of creepy sensation. I was not sure, but it seemed to involve the two strange ponies standing outside the door.

I saw Drawn Pitcher hard at work, her pen producing truly excellent calligraphic labels for KD's art.

I hated to interrupt, but there could be a life or more in the balance. I really did not care one way or the other about the yellow mare's life, but KD DID. That tipped the scales, as it were.

I strolled over to her. “May I interrupt you briefly, Ms. Pitcher?”

She looked up with a glare, paused and made an obvious effort to compose herself. “Um, you are the goat that KD brought here, aren't you?”

“Correct. My card.”

I proffered my business card. It was embossed stock with raised lettering in black and gold gilt. It said:

GRUMPETER “GRUMPY” GOAT

Licensed Practitioner of Non Equine Magic

All work by publicly registered contracts.

Refund of 110% if contract terms are not met.

A ROYALLY CHARTERED BUSINESS

“Impressive. How can a goat even have a Royally Chartered business?”

I sort of sucked in my nonexistent cheeks a little and retorted, “By being VERY good at what I do. I wanted to ask you about how you got that bag. I know that it was not made on this world. Either you summoned it, or you summoned a being that brought you the bag.

“Since you knew how to load it and trick KD into taking it, my money is on the second choice.”

She sort of hung her head and absently scraped at the floor with a hind hoof as she replied, “You are right. I did summon something. It was like a cloud of ugly dark smoke with eyes floating in it. I told it what I wanted to do. I mean make KD so that she would lose the contract, but not be actually hurt.

“It brought me the bag and told me how to set it.”

I nodded as parts started falling into place. “I see. Two more questions. Which book did you use and did your summoning go right on the first try?”

“Umm, I was afraid to try the Necronomipony. It has such a dangerous reputation. I used the Black Pullet as printed by Non Equine University Press.

“And no. I had to try twice for the summons to work. Is that important?”

Urgently, I asked, “Did you clean everything up after the failed try, or did you re use the same pentacles?”

“I re used them. Getting everything right was a LOT of work.”

I chuckled. “I do know about that! Non Equine magic is way harder than just waiving a wand around!

“Thing is, I believe that your first summoning may have worked. That is why I was checking on what you did.”

“What! Nothing happened. That is why I tried a second time.”

“I do understand, Drawin. I was just clearing something up. I will let you get back to your lettering. Beautiful work, by the way.”

Now sure of what happened, I sauntered over to the door. I gave the ponies waiting there my best, fang filled grin. “I see that you noticed that until the show opens tomorrow, that this is a private residence. Vamponies here in Equestria need to be invited into homes. The succubus should be able to enter without a problem. That means that she is tied to you, ma'am.”

I covered up my glamored in fangs as I bowed to them. “My name is Grumpeter Goat. Grumpy for short. As you have likely already noticed, I am dead. Not a zombie or anything like that, but totally deceased. Let us retire over to that bench under the shade tree in the garden while we talk. If that talk goes well, I will invite you in myself.”

The vampony nodded. “That makes sense, sort of. My name is Jinni and this is Sassy to her friends. Not sure what sort of power real names have here, but for now, I am not taking the chance. Getting out of the sun is a good idea.”

As we seated ourselves comfortably out in the garden, Sassy ventured, “What do you want to talk about? I don't think that we have done anything wrong.”

I raised a hoof in agreement. “Not yet, you haven't. You have already noticed that this world runs on slightly different rules than where you came from. I saw you try to enter through that open door. I am sure that nopony saw it. That is a rule that is different from your home. You can freely enter any public space, the door of a store, for instance. Private homes, not without an invitation.

“Daylight leaves you no stronger than an ordinary pony. Night will let you be about twenty times that strong. It will increase your ability to control your prey as well.

Jinni nodded slowly, “We have noticed some of that. Why are you trying to help us?”

I curled a lip and my eyes slitted. “I don't like most ponies very much, at all.

“Now, you need to understand some basic rules. This world is well aware of vamponies. They have tried and true methods of hunting down and destroying supernatural beings. So, the best way to manage, is to not draw attention to yourselves by leaving a trail of dead, dying and wounded ponies behind. Use your talents at prey control to take only small amounts at any one time.

“Let them think that they had a pleasant interlude with you, except for Sassy, there. They will feel like they had a fun INTERLEWD with her.”

They both had the courtesy to wince at my pun.

Jinni offered, “We came here because we sort of felt drawn to this place. We aren't sure why. Do you know that, Grumpy?”

“As a matter of fact, Jinni, I do. You were summoned here by a spell strong enough to warp you both into ponies. I don't know what you looked like before and don't care. Your natures have been preserved. There is a connection between summoner and summoned and that is what brought you here. The pony that summoned you is inside that place. She was trying to cut a rival out of a lucrative book illustration contract. She has failed.”

Sassy paused to think carefully. “What should we do and why would you let us into that house?”

I grinned again. Gave them a great show of phony fangs. “As I pointed out, the path of safety lies in moderation. If you agree to it, I can let you in to play fanpony to our guilty party. You know, autographs and the whole nine yards. Her name is Drawin Pitcher. She is yellow with a green mane and tail. Because she summoned you, SHE can't keep you out of HER home or any private space of hers.

“She can do one thing for you that will make the rest worthwhile, unless you REALLY LIKE being ponies with unusual diets. She has the spell book and knows the spell that will send you back where you came from.”

Both responded at once, “WE DON'T!” Jinni added with a smile that showed her fangs, “It IS fun for a nice visit. Say, a week or two. Shall we go in?”

“I shall precede you, ladies, and introduce you to the nice young mare who invited you to this world.” Reaching the door, I stepped in and bowed, “Jinni and Sassy, would you please come in? The artist that you are looking for is over at that desk.”

Jinni's eyes were glued to KD. “That is a dragon!”

“No kidding. That is KD, the artist who Drawin was trying to muscle out of the contract.”

That got them both to focus. They squealed fairly quietly as they descended on Drawin Pitcher! “It's really her! Oh, Ms. Pitcher! It is so great to actually meet you!”

At first, she tried futilely to fend off the duo. I noticed that her really good calligraphy was now labeling all of KD's works, hanging on both sides of her panel. I realized that the two were interfering with Drawin Pitcher's signing something for Mr. Hazard of Haphazard House Publishing.

We found out what it was very quickly. Jinni squealed in delight, “Your first book of art! They will be the luckiest foals in the kingdom that get to color your drawings! Can I get a copy with your autograph on it?”

Drawin Pitcher looked like she was ready to sink through the floor with her face aflame.

I cheerfully leaned up against KD and questioned, “What do you think of Drawin's cheering section. They will be fanponying her for the next few weeks!”

KD watched with amusement. She offered, “You really did not get much for all of your trouble, Grumpy. If you wanted to, you could make a killing off the painting of Wind by the T82. Not only do the critics think that it is a great piece of fantasy realism, Wind has agreed to stay for the show and pose by the painting so ponies can see her genuine metal arm and sword. The show has not opened yet and there have been three bids. The last one was for over a thousand gold bits.”

I agreed, “Monetarily, this contract was a bust. At least I did not have to give out a refund. I am going to keep the picture. It is a better treasure to me than gold.”

KD chuckled, “Are you feeling all right? I thought that I just heard you say that something was worth more than gold!

“Drawin will be both taken care of by that contract and embarrassed to death. It is an open ended one to draw foal's coloring books. The money is really pretty good but even with her good work doing well at shows, she will always be remembered as the mare that draws those foal's books.

“Our contract is fulfilled, Grumpy. You will get the autographed Daring Do book when it is ready for distribution but before it hits the stores.”

~THE END~

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#HICCUPS!#MLP Fan Fiction #The Annals of Grumpy Goat #Written by De Writer

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arcadialedger · 5 years

Text

As promised-- 100 things about admin

1. I am really, really short. 4′10 short.

2. Books are my favorite thing in the world-- I am a die hard bookworm, collect them endlessly, read about 3 a week.

3. I had spinal surgery for scoliosis and have Turner’s Syndrome, a chromosomal disorder

4. ASPIRING AUTHOR!

5. I’ve got big blue eyes

6. Harry Potter is one of the most important things in my life, and literally my childhood. It is my heart, and it is home.

7. I have lived in 10 different houses, because my family loves to move

8. I am a double major in English and Film Studies, hoping to be both an author and work as a creative executive for Walt Disney Animation Studios, or in publishing

9. Boston is my favorite city in America

10. I am very, very Italian- Sicilian. Ciao.

11. Overprotective cat mom, and crazy cat lady

12. I absolutely adore BBC/ PBS television, and anything British: including Victoria, Downton Abbey, Poldark, and more.

13. Astrological sign is Cancer (July 20th)

14. Lifelong Sherlock Holmes nerd. I adored Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories as a child and the friendship between Holmes and Watson is incredibly important to me.

15. Scholar and lover of all fairytales, folklore, myths, and legends.

16. Yo hablo español. ¿Alguien mas?

17. Language and linguistic studies fascinate me. I love both learning languages and language family trees. The story of history is written within them.

18. History buff and nerd.

19. Proud brunette who wishes she was ginger.

20. Youngest sibling of three girls.

21. I just realized I never said my name so hi, my name is Katie.

22. I am a die hard Whovian. Like, huge Doctor Who nerd.

23. INFJ, 4w3 personality.

24. Alongside Harry Potter I grew up with Percy Jackson, which I love wholeheartedly to this day. The nostalgia I feel with that series-- man.

25. My best friend is @shadowqueendiangelo and I love her. We’re platonically married.

26. I love film history and learning about film techniques.

27. Connoisseur of all period fashion.

28. I’m kind of obsessed with red lipstick.

29. Active member of the YA book community.

30. I’m a barista!

31. I am a barista because I love coffee and drink too much of it.

32. Only 19 but my mind is older.

33. Speaking of which, I am a theatre kid, and live for the stage.

34. I love Broadway and musicals.

35. Besides musicals/ Broadway, I was born and raised on country. I also love 80′s rock, and am an absolute classical nerd.

36. Beethoven and Tchaikovsky are my two favorite artists.

37. Shakespeare aficionado and lover.

38. Big Stranger Things fan and 80′s nostalgia junkie.

39. Would live in Victorian England if I could.

40. Proud Christian, of Catholic and Jewish ancestry.

41. Very, very pale.

42. I practically live in preppy dresses and skirts.

43. Self proclaimed hobbit, and LoTR fan/ Tolkien scholar.

44. I suffer from severe OCD.

45. I play the piano.

46. I used to do archery, and was very good. I hope to take it up again.

47. Lifelong New Englander.

48. My favorite color is blue.

49. Huge HTTYD fan-- like, ridiculously obsessed.

50. Jane Eyre is my favorite classic outside of Sherlock Holmes, as well as the works of Austen, The Odyssey/ The Illiad, Little Women Frankenstein, Anne of Greene Gables, Beowulf, The Great Gatsby, and Alice in Wonderland.

51. I LOVE GAME OF THRONES AND A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE.

52. ^Arya Stark is my GIRL^

53. Obsessed with Queen Victoria because she was a short, stout, brunette blue eyes woman like me.

54. I long to travel abroad, and have serious wanderlust

55. I am absolutely obsessed with not only history but culture. I considered going into cultural studies for a long time.

56. Secretly a wannabe historian.

57. I collect coffee mugs.

58. For a Christian I am oddly obsessed with everything pagan and absolutely love Halloween/ Salem culture (us New Englanders have the best Halloweens!)

59. I’m a sketcher and a cartographer!

60. Had a childhood obsession with Pixie Hollow Fairies. Still kind of do.

61. I AM A HUGE DISNERD! I want to work for Disney, and am super passionate about not only their animation, but the history of the company and the parks.

62. I am very passionate about animation as a whole. I adore foreign animation, and anything highly stylized which stretches the reaches of the art form.

63. Guillermo del Torro’s Pan’s Labyrinth is my favorite film, and GdT is one of the all time favorite creators.

64. Avid reader and lover of Agatha Christie.

65. Art museums are one of my favorite places on the planet. They’re cathartic to me, and help my anxiety.

65. I absolutely love the solar system, constellations, astronomy, and astrology.

66. I have a deep connection with the ocean. It is home to me. Not only do I just love everything nautical, I love old maps, seafaring tools, ship wheels and ropes. I’ve been on SO many ship tours it’s ridiculous. The sound of the ocean waves and an endless horizon before me is pure magic.

67. There are few things I adore more than a starry night sky.

68. Other favorite shows not yet mentioned include A Series of Unfortunate Events (first the books then the series), The Umbrella Academy, Merlin, Lost, Reign, Firefly, Battlestar Galactica, Broadchurch and Vikings.

69. Star Wars and MCU fan.

70. I am starting to run out of ideas for this.

71. Middle grade was my golden age of reading, and middle grade books will always have a very special place in my heart.

72. I can best be described as passionate, stubborn, sassy, caring, and complex.

73. I have an incredibly aggressive and confrontational personality. I have been frequently called a chihuahua.

74. I am half blind. My eyesight is awful, I need to update my glasses prescription yearly.

75. Right handed. Boring, I know.

76. I grew up playing soccer/ in a hardcore soccer family, and am now super passionate about fitness and working out. I work out 6 days a week and love it.

77. I love to sleep. Like, a lot.

78. I have to take Vitamin D supplements during the winter or I will pass out often.

79. Favorite foods include: pizza/ any Italian food, any seafood, eggs/ egg sandwiches, burgers, ribs, mac and cheese, dumplings, and grilled chicken. I also love anything corn (including corn bread and muffins), potatoes, and LOVE all fruit besides pineapple.

80. Speaking of which, if you put pineapple on pizza my Italian ass will COME FOR YOU.

81. Ungodly introverted, but also very outgoing and social.

82. I continue to go my therapist mostly because of her dog and she is well aware of this.

83. I just really love animals in general.

84. Koalas are my favorite animal.

85. I tend to stick to canon shipping, and I kind of hate fan fiction. Nothing against it, I just find it stupid.

86. One of my goals in life is to not only visit multiple countries on each continent, but to be at least trilingual.

87. I have crazy long eyelashes, and love to emphasize this with mascara. It’s one of the few features about myself I like.

88. Hopeless romantic who has never had a boyfriend and dreams of falling in love/ having a fairytale romance.

89. I have a stuffed Toothless gifted to me by my best friend-- I feel this is oddly important.

90. My favorite art form (as in literal art, drawing/ painting) is charcoals.

91. I have always felt I would be good at knife throwing and have wanted to learn.

92. Hermione Grander, Belle, Jane Eyre, Hiccup Haddock, Jo March, and Elizabeth Bennett are my heroes.

93. Nicknamed Angsty Yoda. (I really am an angsty Yoda).

94. I’m a big fan of ballets, operas, and arias.

95. I love school. A lot. It’s kind of my element.

96. My dream career (a writer) has stayed the same since I was 3 years old.

97. My favorite Disney animated film, is The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I also love The Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid, Tangled, Moana, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Mulan and Hercules.

98. Favorite musicals include: The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Wicked, Les Mis, Into the Woods, Rent, Once on This Island, Phantom of the Opera, Hamilton, The Sound of Music, Anastasia, Hadestown, Bandstand, Cinderella, Singin’ in the Rain, Newsies, Finding Neverland, The King and I, Fiddler on the Roof, Miss Saigon, The Music Man, Beauty and the Beast, Something Rotten, Once, Jesus Christ Superstar, and Sweeney Todd.

99. I live for the deliciously dark and macabre (yet I hate horror?) Guillermo del Toro and Tim Burton are my favorite creators.

100. Friendship is the greatest love in my life, and what I firmly believe to be the most beautiful, raw, powerful, unconditional love in this world.

#tales of arcadia #guillermo del toro #netflix #admin post #admin #admin speaks #about me #learn about me #getting to know me #100 followers #100 facts about me #100 facts about admin #commanding daylight

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chaosgreymistchild · 6 years

Text

Unto the Soul, Unto the Flesh

My entry for the UraIchi Prompt Competition 2, I guess...

Ichigo slides his fingers across the skin of his chest, feeling the ridges and bumps where Aizen had nearly cleaved him in half, the circular scar where he had been speared through the chest (hisSoulSleephiscorethecentreofhissoulPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT) then the larger circle of lighter skin overlapping it. Softer skin. Newer skin. Skin that had been regenerated (alongwiththemajorityofhischesthishearthislungshehasahollowholeahollowholeohgodohgodPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT).

He moves onto other parts of his body. He runs his fingers over his hands and arms, the slight discolorations the only sign of the marks Senbonzakura had left on his body (heneedstorescuehersaveherherbrotherdoesnotdeserveherhewillbeherbigbrotherthenPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT). He runs his fingers over his face, his eyes, the countless thin, nearly invisible scars where people had aimed for his Hollow mask, his eyes, his brain (he’shalfmadandattackinganythingthatmoves[cutoffmyarmandlegisthisanywaytowin]heistheirownlyshieldPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT). He traces intricate swirls and tribal tattoos over his hips and spine, weaving his way around that near-constant ache of chipped spinal cord.

Ichigo takes his hands away.

His body is his canvas and his art, painted in muscle and carved by blood, but all there are there, are marks made by others.

Kisuke keeps his hat tipped dangerously low over his head nowadays to hide the scars on his face. It doesn’t help, it never helps, not when his hat wobbles dangerously whenever he so much as turns his head, and he must look up every time a customer comes in to greet them, exposing those thin, curséd lines, running like tears down his cheeks. Sometimes he wishes that he could have hidden away from the world, from Aizen. Wishes he had never tried to fix his mistakes and just run, far, far away from anything and everything (theHogyokuseeshearswatchesneverwishneverwantkeepsilentdonotspeak).

Kisuke leaves the shop counter early on the bad days, resolutely ignoring the way Tessai stares at him disapprovingly even as he says that he’s got something cooking in his lab, could he just mind the counter for him while he takes notes, thank you very much Tessai, such a gem, in a cheerful (alwayscheerfulnotallowedtobesadhavesorrowactivatetheHogyokuneverwishneverwantkeepsilentdonotspeak) voice.

He stares and stares at the walls in his lab blankly until night falls, and then the moon dies, and then sun rises on the new day again, not knowing what it is to want for anything anymore.

Ichigo refuses to go to the shouten anymore. Urahara is rarely there and on the single occasion he was, he had been so shattered and broken and hiding behind his mask, that Ichigo hadn’t the heart to keep going.

Kisuke wishes, sometimes, that Ichigo would come back, but he squashes that feeling immediately, buries it with a century of experience and instinct, and turns away.

Yoruichi kidnaps the two, throws them into a room, and guards the exits with watchful eyes.

The student may have surpassed the teacher, and her friend may know how to free himself regardless, but her boys know her well, and know not to attempt to escape.

She would not allow them to destroy themselves over an absence of faith.

Ichigo stumbles a little while speaking. “Did- did, you, Yoruichi—”

Kisuke refrains from nodding. “She did,” he says instead.

An awkward silence settles between them, a rift that had been created when they couldn’t see each other without pain.

A stubborn expression spreads across Ichigo’s face. Kisuke recognises it as the same grimly determined expression he had worn when battling Aizen and fighting against insurmountable odds.

With a deliberate slowness that Ichigo rarely exhibits, he reaches out to cradle Kisuke’s scarred cheeks, an action the other allows with a flinch. “Kisuke,” he says to the older man, scarred and broken and wrapped in splintered, jagged edges designed to draw blood, yet yearning all the same, “Urahara Kisuke, you made me who I am today, trained me, marked me with a Hollow’s power, and carved with blood into my flesh. You are my maker, do not think of hiding away from me now.”

Ichigo watches as Kisuke trembles beneath his hands, shaking for reasons he cannot fathom.

Kisuke wants to rip his student’s hand from his face, wants to hide away from them, wants to unleash his confusion and fear and crushing guilt as a wave of crimson energy ready and willing to rip and tear through his student’s body and sliCE THE OTHER INTO THE TINIEST PIECES—

A pulse of killing intent, near drowning the wave of fear that rode under that current, flashes through his reiatsu before he can hold it in.

Ichigo flinches back, gripping onto Kisuke all the harder so that his hands never leave the scientist’s scars.

Kisuke gasps and jerks, as if to free himself, but then he is clinging onto Ichigo’s wrists just as hard as he rides out the waves of supressed wants and needs.

Then Ichigo is kissing him, hard and fierce, as wild and untamed as his reiatsu. Kisuke knows that he really shouldn’t be being poetic, but that’s his first instinct when his mind feels like it’s being poured out of his head like sand from a broken hourglass, and he’s shifting through the remnant grains for brief, bright flashes of thought. He kisses back, tentative and yearning, caught in the younger man’s gravity.

A tongue licks into his mouth, and oh Soul King, that was everything he’d longed for and more. He could taste the tea Tessai liked serving, and hands grabbed his wrists, and since when had he let go and closed his eyes?

“You okay with this?” Ichigo mumbles breathlessly against his lips.

He responds with a nibbling at Ichigo’s bottom lip that makes a whimper pass those brilliant lips.

“Gods, Kisuke,” a strangled gasp.

Wood thuds under his shoulders — the table. A brief flash of cold air, before Ichigo’s bare body covers him again. He can feel every inch of skin, every raised scar. He kisses those scars, fervently, like a worship. “Want you,” he mouths against the remnants of Ichigo’s near-bisection, “Love you,” he murmurs against the marks the Hollow hole had left behind.

A hitching breath, a hiccup in the body above him. “Love you,” Ichigo murmurs back, kisses pressed into his hair, “Love you, so, so much,” and Ichigo’s bringing his face up, and kissing his scars. “Beautiful, gorgeous, brilliant,” Ichigo murmurs, kissing worship into his skin.

A thigh brushes against him.

Kisuke swears that the sun might have exploded. He lets out a strangled groan and struggles to remember how to breathe.

Ichigo smiles down at him, unusually smug and radiant.

Then he lets go of the tight control he has over his reiatsu.

Ichigo’s pupils blow wide and his hips jerk up. Kisuke groans at the friction.

A torrent of reiatsu floods the room, Ichigo’s lust hitting him like a freight train and then all he sees are stars and light.

In short order, these things happen:

Ichigo draws on his skin. At first, they are names of loves, both platonic and romantic, then swirls and stripes like those of his Hollow form, and then tribal patterns that wind their way up his arms and down his back and sliding up his neck and creeping up onto his face (“Heyo, King,” a voice whispers in the night). It isn’t long until he learns to draw the lines of his intimately, achingly familiar Hollow-mask on his face, freehand and without a mirror.

Kisuke begins to show his face to strangers and friends alike, baring to the world his trust in his student (not his guilt, never his guilt, not again), the relief of his burden.

Kisuke keeps two rooms empty and made-up for whenever the three Kurosaki siblings need to get away from their father. It doesn’t take long for Ichigo to move into Kisuke’s room. It takes barely a day later before the youngest generation of the Kurosaki family to move into the Urahara Shouten altogether.

Kurosaki Isshin bursts into the candy store screaming and wailing about his son’s virtue and how his family has abandoned him. Underneath all the dramatics and tears enough to drown a small puppy in (“Urahara-san! Ichi-nii said that drowning puppies is mean!”) there is a very real pain and sense of betrayal. Kisuke doesn’t allow that to sway him. Isshin had had his chance, and all he’d ever done was drive away his children.

A very smug black cat was frequently sighted around the neighbourhood.

That smugness soon turned to yowling anger as the Urahara Shouten closed its doors to meddlers.

(Yuzu soon rescued the “poor thing”, so Ichigo and Kisuke were saved Yoruichi’s revenge. Well, up to a point, anyways)

Kurosaki Ichigo and Kurosaki Kisuke lived long fulfilling lives, until Ichigo died for the last time, and the whole family began the slow move into Soul Society.

Even to this day, some say that in the town of Karakura if you pray to the right spirits on the right day for the right reasons— there might be a green-and-white fan waiting for you on your doorstep.

(Ichigo never could let go of Karakura, and his drive had always been to protect his people)

#uraichi prompt challenge 2 #bleach #urahara kisuke #ichigo kurosaki

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petals42 · 7 years

Text

The Parson/Chowder Body Switching AU that, well, actually Ngozi did specifically ask for...

Okay so this was going to be a full fic and then i got 1k in and realized that if it was going to be done right, it would have to be like 50k and I don’t have quite the inspiration to do that so, I present to do, the bullet point form of: The Chowder/Kent Parson Body Switch Fic (petals version) [Note: it is still like 6.5k because i have lost control of my life]

Kent Parson wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom and is like “well, fuck, did this again-- but it’s a Friday so… that’s not that crazy” because he’s Kent Parson and if you think KP is not getting dangerously drunk on the semi-regular, then you have not given him as much angst as I have and I invite you to get on board with Kenny P and his bad coping mechanisms

Of course, he is a little confused, cause he usually saves that for the off-season and they are still playing so like… it’s not totally in character but he accepts he was extra stupid last night.

Actually he was really fucking stupid because he clearly hooked up with a guy (based on the smell) and a Sharks fan (based on the whole fucking room) and he usually doesn’t risk hooking up with hockey fans because… he’s not trusting hockey fans to not out him to the world.

(And also good lord, if he is so drunk he cannot even remember this guy at all, he was probably a shitty lay.)

But, okay, he accepts this: Bad decisions were made last night. But this isn’t exactly his first rodeo so he breaks it down like he would a play and first things first: Coffee.

He stumbles down to get coffee, noting that his body is moving kinda weird and maybe he is still drunk?? That would also explain the lack of hangover.

This is when shit gets crazy. Because Bitty is downstairs in the kitchen and Bitty smiles when he sees him and there is no world in which Eric Bittle, Jack’s perfect fucking boyfriend, smiles at him. Kent Parson, Jack’s fucking asshole of an ex.

Then Bitty moves away from the kitchen window and Kent sees himself and-- Holy Shit, he is not Kent Parson.

MEANWHILE, over in Vegas, Chowder wakes up with a killer headache and worries he is getting sick which is good in that it means Bitty will make him soup, bad in that he has a project he needs to do with Dex and also, boy his feet are hot.

He makes the mistake of moving them.

He is then attacked by some huge white furry monster and when he yelps, the monster freezes, looks at him long and hard for a tense 30 seconds before hissing and running away.

It is at this point that Chowder realizes he is not in his own room. In fact, he does not think he is in the Haus. His assumption that this is a prank by Holster and Ransom but it seems awfully elaborate and they lost last night so he would have thought he was safe from pranks oh and also, when he swings his head to see more of the room (dark gray sheets, mint colored wall, no art up at all), a piece of his hair falls out and it--

It is white people hair. Blond. He’d know it a mile away.

So he jumps up and runs to the bathroom and Holy Shit He Is Kent Parson.

Meanwhile, Kent has almost died. Bitty had asked about the Sharks and he had been too stunned to lie and then Bitty threatened him with death and he’s managed to laugh and say something like “JUST KIDDING JUST KIDDING THEY WON 3-1!!!” (he was shouting more out of fear than enthusiasm but luckily it seemed to do the trick) and thank god he actually did follow that game because they were playing the Sharks the next day.

Well. The Aces are playing the Sharks the next day.

He is… fucking shit, he needs to figure out who he was.

He forgoes the coffee that Bitty offers him and runs to the bathroom and-- Chowder. He stalks enough of Samwell and Bitty’s dumb vlog that he knows Chowder. He is… He is Chowder. He is trapped in Chowder’s body. He is--

He is on his way to a full panic attack when the door bangs open and Holster blinks at him and “you’re up early dude” and then walks over to the toilet and starts peeing and he looks half asleep so Kent runs away.

Running away does not work though, because Ransom grabs him as he tries and “no, no, no moping about the game last night for you. It was a tough loss, but it was everyone’s fault, not yours and c’mon Bitty is making breakfast”

And so Kent Parson is manhandled back downstairs.

Chowder’s solution to the problem was to lay down and hope that he woke up from that fucking weird ass dream.

It does not work.

So then he gets up and decides that step one is to fix this hangover. He grabs water, advil, open the fridge to find that it is empty (almost cries a little tbh) and it is when going for his phone that he realizes his phone is Parson’s phone and that phone is dead. He cannot get into the laptop because there is a password. So ordering food is out.

He is nothing if not a problem solver though so Chowder puts the phone to charge, hops in and out of the shower, puts on clothes (that are literally so soft oh my god kent parson spends his money right), grabs his wallet and keys (at least, he assumes) and heads out.

Luckily, Kent Parson lives in a walkable area. So no driving is necessary to find a chinese place because that is exactly what Chowder thinks he needs right now. Good, cheap, tastes nothing like the real thing but man he loves it anyway, Chinese food.

When he walks in the store, the man behind the counter says “you want the usual?” and it is here that Chowder makes his first mistake. Because he doesn’t know what white-boy Kent gets but he’s sure it’s not what he wants. So he says “no”, gives the man a correct order (yes, he’s sure he wants extra hot everything, thank you very much) and then he takes it home and--

DIES.

HE DIES.

Chowder puts one bite of what is SUPPOSED to be delicious food into his mouth and HE DIES.

Seriously. His whole mouth lights up on fire and he starts sweating and gets the hiccups and also heartburn?? It turns out that is a thing?? and the only thing in Kent Parson’s fridge is heavy cream (presumably for coffee) but Chowder just takes that to the dome and holy shit, white people are the worst and he--

He goes back and says “yes, actually, please I would like my usual” and then goes promptly back to sleep.

Because he is hungover and stuck in a nightmare where mild beef and broccoli is almost too much for him and sleep seems to be the best solution.

Kent Parson would like to be asleep. Boy, would he. But Ransom had dragged him downstairs and he is trying to continue to hate Bitty while also eating these fucking delicious waffles and his strategy to making it through this breakfast is to just sit quietly and nod every once and a while and hope that Samwell’s loss is enough of an explanation for “chowder’s” silence this morning.

(He also has to keep reminding himself to stop glaring at Bitty. Bitty is… Bitty fucking hates him but not when he’s in this body and that’s weird and he hates Bitty too because Bitty has it all and he has nothing and he-- Everyone here clearly loves Bitty. He has to pretend.)

“Dude, you aren’t even ready yet?” The boy telling him this is very ginger and Kent doesn’t think he was around when he came to Samwell the last time but “cut a man a break, Dex,” another boy says, sliding into a stool. “Chill a little. You’ll get there in time.”

“Class starts in 15 minutes,” Dex tells him and Kent is going to open his mouth to say that he is not feeling well and gonna skip but Bitty is sort of frowning at him suspiciously so he just nods mutely and runs for the stairs.

It is now, in this minute alone, that he gets his first good idea: Call myself. He grabs Chowder’s phone, thanks every god that might exist that Chowder has his fingerprint set up so security is not an issue and then he types in his own number and--

Nothing.

His phone is off.

Goddammit.

There’s nothing left to do but get ready to go. So, he pulls on clothes (and man, this guy needs an updated wardrobe, like seriously what are these t-shirts made of?? cardboard??) and runs after Dex and okay, it turns out he has computer something-or-other… at 10AM. Every MWF. What the fuck.

Chowder wakes up a few hours later, feeling better, but still tragically stuck in Kent Parson’s body.

Also the cat. It’s back. And glaring at him. But also… meowing at the food bowl.

Chowder considers looking up how much food you are supposed to give cats and then thinks, fuck it, and fills the whole thing. The cat looks pleased by this but when Chowder tries to pet her, she hisses at him.

Either this cat somehow knows he is not really Kent Parson or she is the meanest fucking cat in the world.

At this point, Chowder sees that Kent’s phone is charged, turns it on and finds out that Kent Parson is one of those idiots with one of those patterns used to unlock it instead of a fingerprint.

He is… he is at a loss for what to do. LUCKILY, at that moment (because this is fic), a Troy Swoops calls. Chowder lunges for the phone and answers it and

“Booy, where the fuck are you?? We’re all at the stadium and our flight leaves in three and a half hours so like… what the fuck?”

“Uh. Oh. Um. I’m…” Chowder had been so excited to answer, he had actually not thought this totally all the way through.

“I’m… flight?”

“Yes. Flight. Leaving this afternoon. For the game tomorrow.”

Right. Kent Parson is on a professional hockey team. Kent Parson plays games. “Yes.” Chowder says. “Right… where are… where are we going for the game?”

There is silence on the other end. Dead silence.

“Dude. what the fuck. We… we’re playing the Sharks tomorrow. You know that.” The voice sounds honestly concerned.

“HAH! RIGHT!” Chowder says, trying to play this off. “Just kidding! Haha, uh, obviously I knew that. Just… got you!”

He winces. He does not think he sounds like Kent Parson. He clears his throat and tries. “Gosh, Swoops, you are… so fucking gullible. If I-- If I told you gullible was written on the ceiling you would-- you would fucking believe it!”

“Uh- what?”

“Look, gotta go,” Chowder says. “I’ll be at the stadium soon” And then hangs up. And throws the phone.

And then let’s out a little scream because finally, finally, he thinks he knows what’s going on.

Kent Parson is 99% sure everyone around him is talking in a different language. Sure, he recognizes the words they are saying and sometimes he can put together a sentence but… he has no idea what is happening. He has his notebook open since Dex had shoved his bag at him on their way out and he opened it to see his (well, Chowder’s) handwriting all over it and everyone is scribbling furiously around him and well… fuck, he’s inhabiting the guy’s body so he might as well try to take some notes for the kid so…

As of right now, he has managed to write: Java is… good. Or bad. Binary. Zeros. Remember to close your loops. Documentation. Loops splicing??

The class mercifully ends and he nods when Dex turns and tells him he had some good ideas for their project and then--

Then a girl is walking up to them and Kent looks behind him, praying to anyone who may be listening that that familiar smile and flirtatious wave is for someone who is standing right behind him but--

“Hey babe!” the girl says and of course, of course this guy has to have a fucking girlfriend.

“Uh, hi!” he says and tries to sound enthused and then she is leaning in for a kiss (one of those casual, “we’ve been dating for a long time and still really like each other so I’ll kiss you in public” kisses that Kent has only seen in movies) and then Kent Parson’s cheek has been kissed and this body blushes so easily he literally feels himself turning red.

He does not remember the last time someone has kissed him on the cheek.

Unless it is a female reporter doing a polite “meet and greet” sort of kiss.

This feels different.

“Are we still hanging out before your practice?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he says. “Hanging out… for lunch. Lunch.”

Her face falls into a slight frown. “Don’t you usually do lunch with the team before?”

“Yeah. Yes. Now?”

“It’s 11,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “We have an hour to kill. I thought we were going to… you know. Hang out.”

She is smirking a bit and leaning closer and Kent turns around to see that Dex has conveniently disappeared and look, Kent is the first person to tell you that he is a fucking asshole but he is certainly not about to go fool around this girl while trapped in her boyfriend’s body.

“No!” he yelps, taking two steps away as if that will help. “I mean… uh- sorry. I- I don’t feel well. Actually. I’m going to… I have to… Sorry, I’ll see you later. I am… busy. So busy! Homework! And sick. I am both.”

And then he turns and basically runs away.

It is the least smooth Kent Parson has ever been.

But he tears out of the building and back to the Haus and thank god it is empty so he reaches for his--no Chowder’s--phone and calls himself and--

“HELLO!”

Kent Parson has never been so thrilled to hear his own voice in his entire life.

“Chowder?”

“KENT PARSON! OH MY GOD-- IT’S CHRIS CHOW I AM IN YOUR BODY.”

“Shit, fuck. I know!” Kent says, his relief is coming out of him in the form of annoyance because he has had too much personal interaction today and he is scared and he wants his body back and-- “I’m in your fucking body!”

“I AM SORRY!”

“Stop yelling!” Kent says. “Stop just-- let’s calm down. We need to-- we need to fix this.”

“Right. Sorry. Sorry,” Chowder says. “I- I think this is my fault.”

“Wh-What? How?”

“Well, last night,” Chowder says. “Around 1AM my time so like… what is that 10pm your time? There was a shooting star and I-- well I wished on it. Did you see it?”

“No,” Kent replies. “Why the fuck would I wish on a goddamn star?”

“I didn’t think it would work,” Chowder says. “I just-- I wished!”

“To take over my body??” Kent replies.

“No! No I just… I wished to play in the NHL! To play the Sharks! So I’ve been thinking and… and I think that’s why this happened. To me, at least. I don’t… I don’t know why it would have been you that I switched with.”

Kent… Kent swallows and doesn’t say anything. Because he… he’s just remembered something. At 9pm… at 9pm he was home alone in his apartment and he’d… he might have accidentally wished something but it wasn’t a wish. It was more a passing thought and he--

“Well, whatever,” he says, roughly. “The point is we have to fix this.”

“I feel like we probably just need to meet up?” Chowder says. “Hold hands maybe?”

Kent wants to scoff at that idea but also he has somehow switched bodies with another human person so like… any idea is a good idea at this point.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s meet up.”

“I’m about to get on a plane to San Jose!” Chowder says. “Or should I stay here?”

“Stay- fuck, no! You gotta- I can’t miss a game. Get on that plane. I’ll meet you in San Jose. I’ll buy a ticket.”

“Uh-- I don’t… my credit card isn’t going to handle that,” Chowder says. “Sorry.”

Kent blinks. He has… he has not thought of money in a long, long time. “Oh. Well. you buy me one. Or, I mean, I’ll-- use my credit card and go by a ticket for me. Eh, Chris Chow. Buy a ticket for you but use my card. Your card.”

“You’re sure?”

“Dude, we have to get switched back. Like… yesterday. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Oh! Okay! I’ll get you on like the first flight. Also… I… I owe you $15. I had to buy chinese food with your card.”

“Dude, you can--- you can buy whatever you want. Go crazy.”

Downstairs, the front door squeaks open.

“I gotta go,” he says. “Gotta go. Buy the ticket. E-mail me.”

“Wait! What’s your shape password!”

“It’s just an L! Backwards!”

“Backwards L. Got it! Okay! I’ll get you a ticket! Nice meeting you! I’ll take care of your body!!”

“Uh,you too?? Bye,” Kent says. And hangs up.

And wonders at the fact that his idle thought last night, the thought that flitted across his mind just as he flopped on his couch and poured himself a glass of whiskey, somehow got him here. Stuck in another man’s body.

He doesn’t know if the thought, if I wish I was just fucking happy, was worth it.

Chowder almost misses the flight. He has to purchase a ticket for himself (which is wild because Kent texts and tells him to make sure to get FIRST CLASS!! And then when Chowder tells him he doesn’t know how to get First Class only one way, Kent says “get it fucking both ways then) and then Kent texts him telling him to leave out extra food and water for Kit (who still has not stopped hissing btw) and all of that just takes longer than he thought. Asking for advice results in the following: “curse a lot and say you were a bit sick. It’s not ideal but whatever ill deal with it when we switch back”. It exactly the opposite of what he would do “apologize profusely and just tell the truth” but Chowder can see why “telling the truth” would not be ideal in this situation.

So he pretends he is in a horrible mood and limits his sorry to once per sentence and tries to curse more and the weird thing is, even after he says he’s sick, no one on the team really asks how he’s doing. They all just seem both a bit annoyed that he was so late he had to just meet them at the airport and relieved that he actually made it. Even when he says “sorry was throwing up, didn’t know if i could play!” the only question he gets is “you gonna be up for it?” and that’s it.

Well, Swoops orders him a ginger ale and sits next to him on the plane but it… it’s very different.

Then it occurs to him that Kent is the captain. Maybe the team is waiting for him to say something? Before the fun starts? Even Jack used to try to say something. Now Ransom and Holster give full on speeches.

He decides to start with Swoops. But pitched a little bit so that the others can hear. Sometimes that’s how Ransom and Holster start.

“Man, this is gonna be fucking awesome,” he says (trying not to smile too much, Kent had said not to do that). “Playing the Sharks!”

Swoops looks at him. “Uh. Yeah?”

“We’re going to do so awesome!” Chowder says. “Aren’t you just… we’re pretty fucking lucky, huh?”

Swoops is still looking at him like he’s a little bit crazy.

“I mean, think about it,” Chowder tries. “We’re the be- the fucking best hockey team and we get to go play another fucking awesome hockey and get paid for it! And we’re gonna play really well. I can just tell.”

Two other Aces plays are twisting in their seat to look at him.

“I’m really proud of us,” Chowder says. “We’re having a great fucking season. This is gonna be amazing.”

This must not be how Kent gives his speeches. He is getting a lot of stares and not any nods.

“Parse, you sure you didn’t hit your head or something?” one of them finally says.

“Uh,” Chowder says. “No. No I’m just… excited?” He makes it a question. “Excited as shit?”

People don’t really say anything. Just turn back around and put their headphones in and turn back to their devices.

Huh.

“Well, that’s a bit different,” Swoops finally says. “From your usual.”

“My usual?” Chowder tries.

“You know,” Swoops shrugs. “Right before we go out, you say something like ‘Alright, boys, let’s fucking do this.’”

“Oh,” Chowder says. “Uh, well, figured I’d… mix it up.”

Swoops still looks confused but he smiles just a little. “Alright, bro. Whatever.”

Then he’s looking back at his phone too.

Chowder sighs.

He needs to get back to his team.

Kent needs to get back to his team. Immediately.

The earliest flights to San Jose weren’t till this evening and while he’d fed everyone the agreed upon lie (“My little sister is getting her wisdom teeth out and really wants me to be there”) and they had accepted it because he’d be back by Sunday, there was no real reason for him to miss practice.

Which Kent wasn’t worried about at first. Hockey was hockey. He might have even looked forward to smoking these guys a little bit just for fun.

Then he found out.

Chowder is the goalie.

This is… he is dying.

It’s not that the body can’t do it either-- the squat position isn’t as bad as he thought it would be, uncomfortable, yes, but not like… super painful probably because Chowder is used to it, and once he’d warmed-up (or he thought he did, he was really just trying to copy the movement he’s seen goalies do his whole life), Chowder was also pretty crazy flexible but… he.

Fuck, being a goalie is fucking miserable.

People keep fucking hitting pucks at him and they are coming right toward his face so he keeps flinching and there’s no way anyone could have saved that shot, it was going to fast, they are all going too fast and he--

“Dude, are you feeling okay?” The one called Nurse asks him. “You… you look sorta green.”

“And you’re playing like shit, to be honest,” Dex tells him.

“Fuck off,” Kent mumbles. And then remembers that Chowder’s instructions were to “just be nice and friendly and stop Dex and Nurses from killing each other and eat lots of pie and wait, holy shit, do not go anywhere near Caitlyn. Especially in the afternoon!! Or mid-morning!! OR ANYTIME. DO NOT BE ALONE WITH CAITLYN!!!!”

“I-uh- just not feeling great,” he says. “Uh, thanks for asking??” He tries to keep the question mark out of his voice but it might come out anyway.

Thankfully, a moment later Ransom and Holster sort of exchange glances and change the drill to stick handling instead of taking actual shots and Kent thinks he’s gotten out of it when suddenly Eric R. Bittle is skating up to him.

Fuck.

He doesn’t want to deal with this.

But Chowder’s instructions regarding Bitty had been clear: “We love Bitty! And Ransom and Holster and everyone but Bitty is ESPECIALLY awesome because he makes pies and is really nice and-- oh he has a boyfriend that, uh, well I know about him but you don’t and I don’t want to--” Kent had texted back “I know.” and Chowder had replied “oh good!! Isn’t that great??”

Yeah. Great. This was all great. It was great that Jack had moved on and didn’t care about him and probably never cared about him, he was just the convenient dude on the team willing to blow him and god he was so desperate for it and actually thought Jack liked him--loved him even, thought that they were going to do it all, have it all, be the secret boyfriends in the NHL and then fucking come out in some spectacular fashion after they were both rich and famous and fucking legends and--

Yeah. It’s great. It’s great that Jack’s boyfriend, who is even smaller and cuter and just plain better than him is skating over to talk to him. While he is stuck in Chris Chow’s body. A guy who fucking loves Bitty.

Christ, he wants a drink.

“Hey,” Bitty says, voice all quiet and understanding.

“Hi!” Kent tries. It comes out too cheerful for the mood. He… fuck, he doesn’t know how to do this. Chowder had said to be happy.

Bitty stares at him… “are you okay?”

People on this team need to stop fucking asking that question all the time. Though, he did just have a fucking horrible practice so… fair.

“Oh, yeah,” he tries. “Just… you know. Feeling a bit off.”

“Look, Chowder, I know last game was rough but it really wasn’t your fault.”

Kent nods. He had gathered over the course of the day that Samwell had lost last night.

“And today’s practice…” Kent braces himself to be yelled at. “Everyone has off days. It’s no big deal.”

Kent… does not remember the last time he heard those words.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

“You can’t be so hard on yourself. We’re a team. Win together and lose together.”

That is not how the Aces work. Not really. He doesn’t say anything but luckily Bitty seems willing to continue.

“I know you are flying out today but when you get back, I’ll make you your favorite pie,” Bitty says. Kent forces himself to smile.

He won’t be back though. Not for the pie or the next game.

Or any of it.

He tells himself that’s for the best.

Alright, I think this is getting to be around like 3 or 4k now so let’s skip forward a bit.

Chowder gets to San Jose. Luckily it is a night game so he has the morning pretty free. He just needs to make it through a brief strategy meeting and then he can meet up with Kent at 11.

Kent takes the red-eye and lands in San Jose in the morning. He… he realizes he is hunching his shoulders and wearing the only pair of sunglasses he could find and he is tense moving through crowds of people because the Sharks have made San Jose a hockey town and he is a famous hockey player except--

Except he’s not.

He… he straightens. No one is looking at him.

No one wants an autograph. No one is trying to take a picture. No one is yelling at him.

He is… He can do whatever he wants.

Well. not really. He can’t go shopping, so that’s out but he ends up walking through a park like some sort of total loser and staring off at a lake and he can just be outside and be peaceful and he would have thought he would get bored but he didn’t. When 11am rolled around and he headed off to meet Chowder, he is almost disappointed.

He goes to the restaurant and grabs a table for two in the way back and ten minutes later, he has the absolutely bizarre experience of watching himself walk in the door.

Chowder has a hat drawn low over his eyes and Kent’s biggest sunglasses on and he is hunched over and frankly dives into the door and then skips to the back and--

Kent didn’t know his face could smile that widely.

“HI!!!” Chowder says and this is weird. It’s somehow even weird to see him. “Oh my god!!”

“Holy fucking shit,” Kent says and sees himself as Chowder blink. It’s possible Chowder isn’t used to seeing Kent’s smirking smile on his own face either. For some reason the thought makes Kent’s smirk break into something easier. “How’s it going?”

“Dude,” Chowder grumbles, taking off the hat and the sunglasses. “I’m not gonna lie, people suck! Four people yelled at me to “go die!” on the way here!”

Kent laughs. “Well, the Sharks do hate the Aces, man,” he says. “I try not to go out too much while I’m here.”

“I mean, I’m a Sharks fan as much as the next guy,” Chowder says, plopping into the seat. “But I think telling someone to ‘go die’ is a bit much.”

Kent shrugs. It’s become pretty par for the course for him.

“Also, dude, I tried to make sure you looked good but I cannot- you have this weird cowlick at the top of your head and I cannot get it to stay down” Chowder is patting it as he says it and Kent can’t help but laugh again.

“Dude, don’t worry about it. It’s impossible. I usually just wear hats.”

“Gotcha,” Chowder crams the hat back on his head, backwards this time as if he has just remembered Kent wears it that way. Kent can’t stop staring. This is weird as fuck. “Well how did it go at Samwell?”

“Uh, good,” Kent replies. “Well, everything thinks you are real upset cause I tried to just… not talk. I mean, I tried to be nice! But it didn’t… Bitty is making you your favorite pie when you get back.”

“Oh swawesome!”

“Yeah, and uh-- well Caitlyn might be a little mad at you too,” Kent admits. “I… I had to sort of… run away from her?”

“You what?”

“She came up and wanted to hang out and we hadn’t talked yet but she was… you know, man, she was giving me the eyes!”

“She does do the eyes,” Chowder agrees.

“She also… she did kiss me on the cheek,” Kent says. “Well, you- she kissed you on the cheek before I could run away.”

“Did she grab your butt?”

“What? No!”

“She does that! She likes my butt.”

“Dude,” Kent says, relaxing more than he thought he would. “She wanted to hang out in the middle of the day on a Friday is that… are you really… that often?”

For the first time, Kent’s face looks familiar as Chowder smirks just a little. “The team thinks we go on all sorts of cutesy dates.”

Kent laughs.

“Last month, I told them we walked over to the petting zoo like four times and they bought it! Except for Dex. I think Dex is onto us.”

“Oh about Dex, he might be mad at you too. He kept wanting to work on some… project? I tried to take notes for you.”

“You did!! Ah, thank you!”

“No,” Kent says. “Really, do not thank me. It did not go well that is-- you have to do that shit every day and then play hockey?”

“Ugh, it sucks,” Chowder says. “You should see us during finals.”

“I thought college athletes just like… fucking paid some nerd to do that shit.”

“Nope,” Chowder says, sighing a little like he wishes it were true. “Not at Samwell. But it’s alright! I really like coding!”

Luckily Kent is saved from having to respond to that by the waitress coming over. They are at some sort of Asian fusion place that had good reviews and is nearby the stadium and he goes to order his usual when--

“Wait, wait,” Chowder (as Kent) says. “Dude, before we switch” (the waitress looks confused) “you gotta try real food. Get--” and then he is off, ordering, and then Kent has to tell him that with his game tonight, he should probably only eat certain things and Chowder looks crestfallen but when the waitress walks off and Kent asks if they should just get it over and hold hands now, Chowder insists that he wants Kent to be able to eat something good for once in his life and--

The whole lunch ends up being a lot less awkward than it should be. Considering they’ve been walking around in each other’s bodies and talking to each other’s friends (well, he’s been talking to Chowder’s) and they’ve both showered so like… there’s not that many secrets between the two anymore.

Still, instead of being awkward, Chowder tells him that he is pretty sure the cat somehow knows and did nothing but hiss at him all day and that warms Kent’s heart a little (and his face because my god, why does Chowder’s body blush so easily???) and then Chowder tells him about how he tried to order Chinese food and died and Kent tells him that being a goalie is fucking terrifying and all about the notes he did manage to take and--

“I’ve never been able to do a split before,” Kent says as he scoops another bite of food into his mouth. He never knew spices could be so delicious. “It’s pretty cool. And also this food is fucking awesome.”

“Swawesome!” Chowder says. “If you’re gonna be me, you gotta say ‘swawesome a lot.”

“That’s so fucking lame,” Kent says but then his own face is pouting at him and-- “Fuck. Fine. ‘Swawesome.”

Chowder nods at him regally.

This is when it occurs to Kent that, despite it all, he’s actually had a pretty good time in Chowder’s body. Sure, he had had to run away from Caitlyn and go to class and being a goalie is terrible, but he… this body is in good shape and can eat any food it wants and he got to go to the park and be outside and-- Well, his body he knows for a fact was probably hungover and sore because it’s mid hockey season and people had told Chowder to “go die” so--

“Dude, sorry,” Kent says. Chowder blinks at him. “I mean… about getting stuck being me. That probably sucked.”

“I do think you need to do a better job of stretching,” Chowder says. “And icing. And your shoulder… does it always feel like this?” He rotates it backwards and winces.

“Yeah,” Kent admits. “I mean, it gets better in the offseason but towards the end like this… one too many checks into the boards I guess. Doesn’t affect my play at all though so… y’know. It’s fine.”

Chowder looks doubtfully at him. Kent shrugs. That’s the other thing. It has been pretty nice to be in a body that is only sore instead of… damaged. He knows the difference.

“And… the hangover on Friday,” he says with a wry smile. “Sorry about that one too.”

Chowder nods, looking at his plate for a second, and then--

“You know,” he starts. Kent tense automatically. Feels trapped when Chowder looks up and meets his eyes. “You don’t need it.”

Kent blinks. “Need what?”

“Alcohol,” Chowder says. “Your body… you-- the whole time I was in here, I didn’t have any urge to… you know, drink or anything. Just in case you were worried.”

Kent… Kent was not worried he was actually an alcoholic--he… he wasn’t really he just.

“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well that’s… good.”

So it was still just a mental thing. Cool. Perfect. Great.

“And you didn’t drink while you were in mine,” Chowder says.

“What? No,” Kent says. He wasn’t going to do that to someone else’s body.

“So you probably don’t need it at all,” Chowder concludes, looking back at his plate as if this is simple and he has solved it. “Just a bad habit.”

“Yeah,” Kent says. “Yeah, I guess… just a bad habit.”

He has no idea why but that makes him feel better.

So by unspoken agreement they finish eating and then sort of linger but finally, “Well,” Kent says. “I guess we better switch back.”

“Hah-- unless you want me playing the Sharks tonight!”

“If you didn’t play goalie, I would totally let you,” Kent says. “Make that wish come true.”

“Nah, I’d rather play them… you know as me. One day.”

Kent nods and then reaches across the table but Chowder sort of frowns at him and stands up and before kent can ask, Chowder is waving for him to do the same and then--

Then Kent Parson is being hugged by… well by his own body technically and he knows he’s described as “small for a hockey player-- all sharp angles and lean muscle” so he’s assumed that he would not be that great a hugger but he feels nice enough now and Chowder’s body must have some sort of “hug instinct” because his arms come up and wrap around Chowder easily and it’s a really nice hug, if he’s being honest.

He relaxes and closes his eyes and when he opens them, he’s staring at Chowder’s face.

Which means he’s back in his own body.

“Oh my god, thank goodness!” Chowder says while Kent is stretching a little bit, getting used to his usual aches and pains. “I’m the right height again! You are so fucking short, dude!”

“I am literally like one inch shorter than you.”

“Still!”

And then, now, for the first time-- it’s a little awkward. They… the transaction is finished. There’s no longer a reason for them to keep talking.

“Well,” Chowder says. “I-uh-- I guess I better get going. You have a game and I’m gonna go surprise my parents.”

“Yeah,” Kent says. And then remembers and thank goodness he’s beaten the blushing out of this body (his real body) long ago. “Also, I uh-- I logged into my e-mail account from your phone and, well, I got you 4 tickets. Box seats. To the game tonight. If you wanted.”

Chowder’s eyes are widening. “You… you did???”

“Well, you know, this screwed up your weekend and uh-- as a thank you. For...being me?”

“THIS IS AMAZING!!” Chowder says and then Kent is being hugged again and he-- Chowder is like no one he has ever met.

“So I’ll-- I’ll see you tonight, I guess,” Kent says, twisting his hat around and putting on his sunglasses. “There’s passes included to meet the players, since I figured… you know… Sharks.”

Chowder looks like he may cry and body switching or not, Kent is not down for that so he smirks, and nods, and walks out the door.

THE END.

I mean… basically the end.

Really, you know this is the start of an epic friendship and Kent starts buying nicer clothes and sending them to Chowder but then also sends a Parson Ace’s jersey and Bitty glares at it for days and does not seem to buy Chowder’s excuse of “Met Parse when I went up to San Jose and he was actually a cool dude!” and Chowder and Kent keep on texting and Kent sends Chowder a picture of Kit curled up on him with the captain “See! She is nice-- she is just also a genius and knew you were an imposter” and THIS FRIENDSHIP MAKES NO SENSE to ANYONE but it is happening anyway and-

I HAVE GOT TO STop THERE. Any future kent/chowder friendship will have to be on a DIFFERENT POST.

Thank you for reading this mess.

I hope you enjoyed it.

(does a part of me ship chowder/parse now?? Maybe, my dudes, maybe so.)

(was this all a mistake?? Same answer, my dudes, maybe so.)

#check please #check please fanfiction #kent parson #chris chowder chow #chowder #body switching #a lot of cursing tbh #alcohol cw #because kent parson is a mess #my fic #mostly ridiculousness with a sprinkling of angst #because its kent parson #and its me

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dewbond-blog · 6 years

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Shallow Dive: Bakuman (Manga)

I am a firm believer in the “Sausage Principle” something that was brought up by ‘Last Week Tonight’s John Oliver a few years back. The idea is simple: If you love something, don’t find out how it’s made.

I love anime and manga, and I feel I love it even more because I do not know what actually goes into creating it. I have a faint idea, and if you are around the internet long enough you get a basic outline of how anime and manga are created, and while that is a whole other discussion that involves serious issues, I want to instead talk about a manga that quite possibly is the best glimpse into the industry we have.

Let’s face it, anyone who is a fan of the industry has had those youthful dreams of packing up your bags, flying to Japan and hitting it big as a mangaka (manga artists). Don’t deny it, you’ve had the idea, I’ve had the idea, everyone has had the idea. It’s the joyful dreams of youth and it’s wonderful, but during those dreams did we really have an idea of just how that industry works, and the time commitment it takes?

One such series does, and after the cut let’s take a shallow dive into the manga version of Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata’s Bakuman.

Ohba and Obata’s names should be familiar to anyone who has been in the Shonen world for some time, as they are the writer and artist responsible for Death Note, long considered to be one of the best “gateway series” for people looking to get into the genre. Death Note’s impact on the Western fandom is significant and so it was a welcome surprise to see that both Obata and Ohba would be returning for new, very different series.

Bakuman is quite simply, a manga about making a manga, and it represents probably the most honest, open and revealing look into how Japanese manga is created, published and maintained. The story follows aspiring creators Moritaka Mashiro and Akito Tagaki as they navigate the cut-throat and work intensive life of creating a popular shonen manga series. Furthermore, Moritaka has promised his longtime crush, Miho Azuki that they will get married once his work becomes an anime, and she becomes the voice actress for the main heroine.

It’s a simple story, but it is also an incredibly interesting one, as again this is probably the only real look thousands of fans have gotten into an industry that is unknown to many outside of Japan. Instead of life or death villains, Mashiro and Takagi deal with things like meeting deadlines, difficult editors, creative differences, rival authors and balancing the intense pressure of being a serialized author. While there is a hint of a larger than life view of the manga industry being painted, and now and again the story feels it needs to create a “bad guy” for the sake of wrapping up a plot point, Bakuman is very much about the path of an artist, the dreams of youth and how you achieve them, and it’s very grounded look helps the series be as successful as it is. So your reception to the series is based very much in how interested you find a behind the scenes look into the manga writing world. This isn’t like Food Wars where the story doesn’t have enough confidence in just being a story about going to a cooking school and has to keep upping the ante. Bakuman is comfortable being exactly what it is.

However, the one major flaw (in my view) of the series that I feel I need to mention is that the overall storyline of the Mashiro and Miho romance. The start of the series paints them as innocent youths, who want to achieve their dreams and make a pledge to be together once they do. However as Bakuman takes places over years, chronicling their days in high school to their mid-late twenties, their plotline becomes more and more unbelievable as it goes on. The romance is pretty much forgotten for vast swaths of the story and only comes back right at the end of the series to wrap everything up. While that conclusion is fitting for the story, Bakuman very much falls into the same trap that other series have suffered from: The longer your story goes on, the stupider some of your plot ideas become. I had a very hard time suspending my disbelief that Mashiro and Miho would voluntarily choose to remain apart even after both of them achieve reasonable levels of success and that they are holding themselves to a promise made when they were kids. Is it a dealbreaker? Absolutely not, but during my time reading the series weekly, I found myself getting more and more frustrated and it remains a sore sticking point in what is otherwise an excellent piece of work.

Is Bakuman a 100% legit look into how the manga industry works? Probably not, but it IS the best attempt yet to show readers and fans just how manga is made, maintained and how the life of a mangaka is. The stakes are grounded, the characters are believable and the drama is focused on the art itself. Much like Black Cat before it, Bakuman shows up, says everything it has to say and then has the grace to exit the stage. Despite some hiccups involving the main romance, it remains one of the best short manga series produced in Jump, and something I would recommend to anyone who wants to see what life is like behind the writer’s desk. If you loved Death Note and wanted more from the authors, you should give this series a look and you might find yourself engrossed in its wonderful world.

#Bakuman #Mashiro Moritaka #Takagi Akito #Miho Azuki #Manga #Manga about making a manga #Shonen Jump #Death Note #takeshi obata #Tsugumi Ohba #shallow dive

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ukaia · 6 years

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Spread the Magic

So I got an inspiration from some MMD Videos on Youtube, Specifically one labeled “ [MMD X Jacksepticeye]Novocaine-Marvin the Magnificent & Dr. Schneeplestein “ it was created by Sky_Dragon_Queen. I encourage you to look at the video if you’re curious!

I really loved the images used for Henrki’s syringes, how they glowed and circled and he could control some to “fire” at the other person, as well as the one glowing eye. It gave me a thought of Marvin managing to “enchant and open the magical pathways” for the others so they could create magic themselves, though it would be one specific item for each person, not a range like he can do naturally. I wanted to do art but... unfortunately.... I screw up stick figures. SO I’ll put it in words, since it’s the only art I can manage. This might end up REALLY Long, so I think I might end up splitting each Person into their own story, or only having two in a story. I’ll see how it goes.

If it inspires you I’d love to see your take on the idea!! Feel free to do any art of it if you like!

And as always I hope you enjoy!!

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Jakie’s Power

Marvin finally found it. The perfect spell, the one he’d been searching for for ages, one that would allow him to give magic to his family! He grinned, his eyes gleaming with delight as he poured over the needed items and words. It would be tricky, he’d have to enchant each one of them one at a time, too many things could go wrong if he tried to do all of them at once. Still, he couldn’t help but cringe slightly thinking of how much power and energy this was going to take from him, but he would do it. He was sure it would give them an edge over Anti! Marvin licked his lips as he stood up and headed out of his room, his cape swirled around his shoulders and his cat mask firmly in place. He had preparations to make.

Jakieboy would be the first one, after Marvin had called a family meeting and explained what he wanted to do. They had all talked for a few days about how safe this might be, what might happen, and who would go first as the “test subject’ Jakie had volunteered.

“I’m the one with super powers already. “ he’d said firmly, crossing his arms and looking at the others as they protested.

“If something goes wrong I”m the one most likely to survive it” he added. That had shut them up quickly. That was true, Jakie could take a few blasts from Marvin’s magic and survive it. The others, well not so much. There had been a few close calls in training with accidents happening. Still Henrik spoke up after gnawing on his bottom lip for a moment.

“I do not think I like ze idea of this Marvin. Are you sure zis is safe?” he asked again. Marvin sighed slightly running fingers though his already messy hair.

“No I’m not sure” he said simply to him as he had to shrug. He couldn’t make promises. It could be dangerous, or even deadly if something went seriously wrong. And it could also turn out to have no effect at all on the person he was trying to enchant. There was always a risk when it came to this kind of thing. The other person had to be able to use magic in the first place, and open to having that channel opened. He was fairly confident every member of his family would be able to do that though. James could already do some limited magic, so his channel was partially open. Jackieboy was a superhero with some powers of his own, so this would simply be adding to them. Robbie was the undead, brought back by magic, so he was fairly confident that this would only add to the sweet zombie, and not harm him. The ones that worried him the most was Henrik and Chase. Neither of them had any magical talent that he had ever seen or felt. They were the ones he was anxious about opening their magic channels. They were surrounded by magic, and had magic used on them sometimes, so he had some hope that each man would be open. But it was different having magic used on you, and using it yourself. Still this was an idea he really thought could work. Henrik finally sighed and threw his hands up, he was outnumbered. He wasn’t going to be able to deter these stubron brothers of his so he simply said.

“Fine.. I will get ze medical table ready for an accident. “ He said as he stood up. He gave them both a very sharp look, as if saying, don’t let there be an accident, and headed out of the room. Marvin let out a breath he’d been holding. Henrik was really the one opposing this the strongest. Chase had been all for it, something that gave him a bit more power, outside of his sharpshooting skills, against Anti would only be welcome from him. Jakie grinned at Marvin, he seemed exited, his baby blue eyes were sparkling eagerly.

“lets get this show on the road!” he said pumping his fist in the air. Marvin grinned at the enthusiasm and nodded.

It didn’t take long before Jakie was standing in the center of the training room, facing Marvin. Marvin had spent several days prepping all the ingredients he needed for this, getting the spell memorized and practicing the movements and words over and over so there wouldn't be any hiccups. He grinned at Jakie who seemed to be vibrating with excitement over the spell. There was just one last thing he needed, but Marvin couldn't be the one to provide it. He glanced over at Henrik, who stood off to the side,far from the two of them, where Marvin assured him he should be safe from any spells problems or blow back. Henrik had his medical bag, and a gurney was right outside the door if there was an emergency, so he could ensure they got treatment fast. Marvin looked back at Jakie.

“I need you to think of an item that represents you Jakie’; He said to him. Jakie looked puzzled. He didn’t understand, Henrik looked curious as well as he listened in.

“Whatcha mean?” he asked. Marvin sighed, how did he explain this so they would understand.

“I can only enchant you to have one item, something you feel represents you in all your strength. It doesn’t have to be a physical item that exists in this world. It can be something that you imagine would represent you. “He said to him. Jakie seemed to think about it and then he grinned.

“Sam” He said simply. Marvin blinked puzzled at him

“Sam? The floating eye?” he asked confused. Jakie nodded as he smiled a bit.

“To be honest, I’ve always thought I should have a Sam as my partner. A lot of the fans draw me with him, but it doesn’t seem like something that would happen. I think that he and I would work together very well to protect the city and our family. I think the little guy would have a lot more power then his form would let on, just like us.“ He said. Marvin grinned a bit. Well it made sense. He nodded and then took a firmer stance.

“Keep him in your mind. Focus on Sam and Sam alone then “ he said to him. Jakie nodded and shut his eyes, his heart thrumming in his chest. He focused on Sam, the little Sam he always pictured would hang around with him, help him fighting crime. He could hear Marvin starting to speak words, a language that he couldn’t even begin to understand. It seemed like it was reaching out for him, wrapping it’s self around him, staring to burrow under his skin. He winced a little bit, that stung. Marvin continued to speak, the words crawled along Jakie’s body faster, burrowing in deeper. He grit his teeth as he focused on Sam. It stung, and smarted, and felt... unbearably creepy to have the spell crawling on the outside and inside of himself, but he could take it. He thought of Sam again, his little buddy floating with him, making soft chirps and wriggling. He let out a hiss of pain as the words Marvin wove reached his skull, a headache immediately blossoming in his mind. Still he stood firm, thought of Sam, focused on that and that alone. The spell was moving faster now. It had found what it had been searching for, it found the channels that needed to be opened and they swarmed them, pressing in them widening them forcing them past the boundaries they had already.

“AHHGNNNN!!” Jakie screamed out in pain, he dropped to his knees his hands clutching at his head. The pain was blinding, building faster then he could have ever imagine, the feeling of the spell surrounding him was suffocating him, he couldn’t draw in a breath, he couldn’t see.. desperately he still tried to focus on the image of Sam. He felt something tearing open in his head. The world went dark.

“--kie... “ a distant voice spoke. Jakie couldn’t focus past the throbbing in his head. Who was calling for him? It sounded urgent.. was someone hurt?

“Jakie!” the voice rang out again, slowly the pain in his head was ebbing, he managed to open his eyes. Henrik was leaning over him, his face drawn and frightened looking. He had a stethoscope out and was listening to Jakie’s heart, feeling his pulse, checking his temperature.

“heyah.. doc... “ Jakie managed to slur out a bit. Henrik looked at him and then sighed looking a little bit relieved at least. Henrik brought out a penlight and shown it in Jakie’s eyes making him wince.

“Vell.. you are physically responding normally.. “ he muttered, though he still looked worried. The heart rate was slowing down, the clammy feeling of Jakie’s skin was warming back up to normal, and Jakie’s eyes tracked the light normally as well.

“How do you feel?” he asked. Jakie thought about it.

“I feel like I went a few too many rounds with Silver in a drinking contest” he admitted with a grin. Henrik blinked.. and then sighed sagging slightly. If he could crack a joke like that then he was likely OK. He helped Jakie sit up off the floor. His head swam for a moment but it passed quickly.

“Well.. nothing.. .feels different.. “ He admitted as he looked at the two of them. Marvin looked tired, and Henrik worried. But he was feeling better by the moment. He grinned at the two of them, and then stood up. He needed to lean on Henrik for a moment but then got his feet under him.

“I’m feeling as good as ever” he said nodding. The headache was gone, the feeling of being suffocated was gone as well. He ran his hands over himself, everything felt like it was in the right place, and there didn’t seem to be any effects he could tell. Nothing about himself felt different at all. He wondered if it had actually worked or if it had failed.

“Sooo.. how do we know if it worked?” he asked curiously. Marvin grinned a little bit and would look at Henrik, he looked Jakie over then nodded slightly and stepped away. Permission for a test run granted it seemed.

“Well when I use my magic I focus on calling it forward “ he said. He held out a hand, and instantly sparkling orbs floated around his hand.

“So you’ll need to figure out how to call it. You should feel it naturally, now that the channel should be opened. “ he said to him dismissing the lights in a shower of sparkles.

“I would suggest you think about Sam, and try to .. well call him out. “ he said. Jakie grinned and nodded. Well he supposed it wasn’t unlike using his normal powers then. He had to call on those, though they responded almost unconsciously to him now. As easy as breathing. He grinned and focused, Sam.. Sam the little sidekick he’d always wanted.. Sam his friend.. He wanted to see him.

Henrik and Marvin backed up a bit, Silver flickered in Jakie’s eyes and there felt like the hum of electricity, similar to just before lightening strikes. And then with a Crack Sam appeared. He was roughly the size of a softball, but instead of being the normal septic green he was depicted as, he was a silvery green color. The colors mingled and swirled around inside him, with every movement he made. His baby blue eye was looking ahead and he floated easily by Jakie. Jakie looked at him and grinned in amazement. This was his Sam!?! He loved him!

“Sam!” He said eagerly. The little eye chirped and floated closer. Jakie reached out and pet him with a grin. Marvin was looking ecstatic, it had worked! Jakie grinned happily at Marvin and Henrik who was still watching him with sharp eyes.

“Alright Sam.. lets see what you can do!” Jakie said. Sam chirped again and would move away from Jakie. They turned towards the wall with the bullseyes that Chase often used for target practice to hone his shooting skills.

“Go for it Sam!” Jakie said. The little eye shot forward and the hum of electricity swelled in the air. As Sam reached the first target there was a Crack and lightening struck the board, He raced to the others and Crack Crack Crack! All four targets, burned with lightening strikes to them. They were blackened, but none of them had caught fire. Sam zoomed back to Jakie who was in awe. He was going to have to learn how to control Sam’s lightening strikes, otherwise he could seriously hurt people. But that was SO COOL!! he cheered and bounced up and down in place. Even Henrik seemed, shocked, but impressed. Marvin was simply grinning.

“Well Sam, seems like you’re able to call lightening down. “ Jakie said.

“It’s not normal lightening “ Marvin said grinning more.

“it’s your hero power condensed into lightening. After the first couple times I recognized the feeling. That means you should be able to control the strength he hits with fairly easily since it’s drawing from your own powers. You’ll jsut have to learn the right feeling for it. “ he said. Jakie grinned even more impressed. His own powers as lightening? That was so cool!! Suddenly though he felt a bit dizzy and he swayed. Sam chirped and seemed to shimmer, then vanished.

“Woh... “ He muttered, he blinked a little bit, his head spinning. the world tilted under his feet and he stumbled. Henrik somehow was already at his side once more supporting him, keeping him from falling.

“headrush.. “ he muttered, putting a hand to his head as the dizzy spell slowly subsided. Marvin walked over and looked Jakie over carefully. He recognized the symptoms actually.

“You used a lot of your power quickly with those strikes. It’s going to have to take some time to get used to using them so you don’t use all your energy up in one go.” he said after a few moments. Jakie nodded grinning.

“Got it. Take it slow then, looks like I got some extra training to do now. But hey.. it worked!” he said his eyes glittering with joy and excitement.

“So who should go next?” he asked. Henrik huffed an annoyed sigh and Marvin laughed a bit. He needed a day or so to recover himself, it had wiped a lot of his power to do that spell. But he was happy it had worked. He could help his family add another layer of protection for themselves against Anti.

“Probably Jamie, he seemed as curious and eager as you to do it. “ he said grinning. Jakie nodded a bit. He could hardly wait to see what the sepia boy would have!

#jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye #jackieboy #marvin the magnificent #henrik von schneeplestein #fanfiction

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tcohs-messenger · 6 years

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Gossip Over Tea Leaves (Fan Apprentices)

This is one of the few things I’ve been working on this last week- decided to post it~ Some fun casual times with Weston and @hiccuping-ghosts-art‘s apprentice Primm!

"Wes-ton!"

The shop keep paused, just at a nearby bookshelf putting away the last of his guides. Through the curtains, he could see the silhouette of a short figure that he had become all too familiar with. He takes his time, straightening the spines and waiting until he can see the figure swaying impatiently. Finally he laughs to himself and moves to open the door. "Sorry- shop's closed at nine."

Primm's eyes narrow along with a puffed out lip. "West- Asra left and I'm lonely."

With a soft, slightly irritated sigh, Weston fully opens the door and steps aside as the other mage walks inside. They're immediately greeted with loud meows, an entrance only punctuated by the padding of agile paws and a brown, fuzzy head poking past a collection of succulents. "Hey Jenny, catch anything yummy today?" Primm greeted back, holding out a hand for the cat to nudge her head into.

Weston gave a laugh, shaking his head. "You know she's a pampered princess- I even cut her fish into small pieces."

"Wow, she is pampered." Primm looked back up at the shop keep whilst digging a hand into their pack and, soon, pulled out a bundle of leaves. "From Asra-" They handed it to Weston, a knowing look on their face.

Weston chooses to ignore it though and takes the bundle anyway. As with all 'gifts' from Asra, he stores it in a jar a few shelves up along with the other bundles, all the while with Primm staring at him accusingly. Jennifer agrees, it seems, as she peers similarly before shaking her head and going off for better adventures. When Weston is done stowing it, he turns to see that same accusing expression. "What?!"

Primm, brow still raised, shakes her head. "I'm gonna tell him you don't like the lapsang."

"No! Don't-"

"It's a waste of tea if you don't drink it!"

Weston knows they're right, but the part of him that wants to be right won't let him give up. "I'll end up drinking it- okay? I'll use it for readings maybe..." He was lying, of course, another mage's tea never works. To help solidify his point, he shrugs, and adds, "I just prefer my darjeeling."

Primm rolls their eyes again, probably for the eleventh time within the last minute, and sighs. "Yeah you prefer darjeeling... and you prefer his attention over his tea." This time, Weston doesn't respond, a reasonably guilty expression on his face. They frown soon after, a little guilty themselves for having made him feel bad. "Look, I'm done now, I won't bring him up anymore. Why don't we actually drink some tea instead of talking about it?"

After a moment, Weston smiled a small smile. "Sure, I'll start up the water..."

Primm finished their tea quickly, the taste of it a reminder to them of where exactly they were. They always loved his shop. A mixture of homey and new in the sense of exploring a new country. He always had it filled with spices and plants from his home country, filling the small space with a pleasing smell, and that mixed with deep and vibrant hues was very pleasing to the eye.

They were mostly looking forward to the food though.

A very educated cook, Weston preferred making dishes from his home land, as though trying to make up a false memory of his childhood there. He was cooking now, only getting started on the meat for his dish, but Primm could already tell how tasty it would be.

"Oooh!" Weston swings back, rounding the table with a wooden utensil in hand. When he leans over the table and peers at the empty teacup in front of them, Primm immediately straightens with interest.

"What, do you see something?"

"I do- it says..." His brow furrows, lip pursed in concentration as his free hand adjusts the cup. After a moment, his eyes go wide. "Oh my god-"

"What? What is it?"

"It says-" A small laugh stops him, and a big smile breaks Weston's stoic expression. "It says you're a little bitch~"

Primm shoves him away without hesitation, only making his laughter louder. "Oh yeah?! Well- well," noticing his tea off to the side, they drag the cup close and peer into the amber liquid. "Yours says you're a thirsty slut!"

Weston's laughter became louder and heavier, but he continued cooking nonetheless. "Bu-but the tea has to be gone to read it-!" He playfully points out the information as his cooking continues, smile still beaming.

Primm shook their head, a mixture of halfway annoyed and halfway playful from the small banter. A part of Primm wished that things were always like this. In fact, they wished it felt like this when they were with Asra. No self-doubt, no suspicions, no accusations...

They'd been living together for nearly three years now, and yet Primm found more comfort in the tea man down the road than Asra himself. Why was that?

When Primm hesitated in eating, Weston knew something was amiss. He left it up to them for a while, picking at his own plate and sharing some of the lamb chunks with Jenny as she came to their feet. After a full five minutes of them still not eating, he shifted uncomfortably. "What's on your mind, Primm? Any problems I can help resolve?"

They sigh, refraining from looking him in the eye. If anything- there was just a sense of loss coiled along with the anxiety of something near. Yet they couldn't place it. After another moment of quick decision, they shoved both hands out in front of him. "Read my palms, please? I'm nervous for the future."

Weston sputtered, caught off guard by the sudden explanation. But he read their palms anyway, tracing the lines etched there with perfected precision. At moments, his brow furrowed, and he frowned in what could only be confusion. After a time, he reached for their empty tea cup and brought it to his observant eye. "I'm- actually reading it this time, I promise. I just need another viewpoint to this..."

They knew he was telling the truth about it, but they couldn't help the judgmental glare they gave him despite it. But the longer he stared in the cup, the more concerned his expression became (even if it was such small changes), and that finally made them worry. "What is it- what's wrong?"

The tea reader shook his head as he gently placed the cup off to the side. "Primm, there is no clear destination I can see for you. I do see... danger though. It is a danger that even you yourself will find fear in. Primm-" He reaches out, nearly solemn as he takes their hands in his own. "In times where you find yourself lost or in need- know that I am always here for you. As a friend on the sidelines of whatever adventure you face, keep me in mind whenever you feel completely alone."

#the arcana #fan apprentice #my ocs #weston #tcohwrites #i love writing about weston with other apprentices #so fun yo

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fandompitfalls · 3 years

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Left Coast Sherlock Symposium: At Home 2020

Originally posted 10/13/2020

2020 has been a crap year for a lot of things, cancelled vacations, not eating in restaurants, the general all around trash fire called life. One of the hard ones, especially for fans, has been the cancellation of conventions. This however, had been both bad and good. The good part being that many of the conventions have gone virtual this year, which means that people who normally haven’t been able to go (time, money, availability) are getting a taste of what these conventions would normally be like.

This past Saturday one such convention, The Left Coast Sherlock Symposium, went virtual and offered me, being in the Midwest and on the heels of what would have normally been my local annual convention last weekend, an opportunity to attend a convention I wouldn’t normally be able to go to. The entire Symposium, lasting about three hours between all the panelists with a four-hour social hour afterwards, pulled in speakers from around the country to host lectures. While there were a few hiccups (because what is a Zoom meeting without a few hiccups) and a cat loudly expressing their displeasure early on (again, what is a Zoom meeting without a cat), the symposium was entertaining, informative, endearing and all around perfectly wonderful. The symposium, opened by a speech by Elinor Gray, who gave heartfelt thanks and acknowledgments of the indigenous people who lived on the land before the us, hosted five speakers, Bonnie MacBird, author of Art in the Blood series of Sherlock Holmes book as well as an actor, teacher, and artist. She hosted a wonderful panel on “The Observations of Baker Street”. Her lecture included wonderful pictures that showed Baker Street and Marylebone beginning from Regent’s Park and going down to Wimpole Street. Some of the places along the virtual tour mentioned were the Holmes Hotel, which was the original spot of Bedford College for Women, the place where Charles Babbage met Ada Lovelace, the old and new pictures of the Baker Street tube station, Madam Tussauds and of course the home on Wimpole Street where Arthur Conan Doyle lived for a time. Most of the places she mentioned were listed on the Booth maps of London which she mentioned in her lecture. https://booth.lse.ac.uk/map/14/-0.1174/51.5064/100/0The second lecturer was Rob Nunn, author, and teacher of children. His lecture was entitled “A Friend of Mr. Sherlock is always Welcome”. He spoke of teaching a Language Arts curriculum to fifth grade students as well as how to encourage children in a forever love of reading, not only Sherlock Holmes but any books. He gave us eight core lessons of how to not only encourage students to read and to nurture interests but to encourage and nurture fellow novices and people who express an interest in Sherlock Holmes. Out of all the lessons he gave us, the one that needed to be repeated over and over was his final lesson: Sherlock belongs to everyone. The third lecture was Angela Misri, author, and journalist. Her lecture was on “The Responsibility of Writing about Baker Street”. She discussed writing pastiches while still being accurate with the canon. Writing in someone else’s world as opposed to creating a world from scratch is that the author must keep to the canon that the original author created. She listed five of her rules that she feels an author writing pastiches in Arthur Conan Doyle’s world should follow. Out of those rules the one that stuck out was her first; Respect what Conan Doyle wrote but don’t copy him.The fourth lecture was with three student filmmakers: Mina Huffman, Caroline Duessel and Taylor Dolniak who wrote, produced, and created a student film called “Sherlock Holmes and the Furtive Festivity”, now available on You Tube. The film was a screen writing project about an older Holmes and Watson that focuses on a relationship between the men. The project was created for those who follow and appreciate a Holmes and Watson romantic relationship. They discussed the process in which they worked through the making, the hiring of the actors and how they found the place that ended up becoming 221B.The final speaker of the symposium was Les Klinger, Annotator, Editor, World’s First Consulting Sherlockian, as it says on his website. Mr. Klinger finished the day by reading letters, correspondence between Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Dr. John Watson. The correspondence details how Conan Doyle became the unofficial literary agent of the case studies of one Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The chronology of their relationship as well as the stories, the pub dates, up to and including the final

letter to Jean from Dr. Watson follows the dates and story lines accurately. Klinger discussed the copywrite issues that he defended as well as the current copywrite lawsuit regarding the Enola Holmes movie. For their first virtual symposium, the Left Coast Symposium was professional and expertly done. The speakers were entertaining and educational and interesting. The virtual social rooms, after the symposium, hosted by the speakers and a virtual performance by the historical conjurer Professor D.R. Schreiber, held a mix of extended question and answer sessions, general mingling and relaxed fun with a bit of show and tell at times. For people who wouldn’t normally be able to attend this symposium as well as the regular attendees this was a bit of fun, a perfect way to spend a Saturday with Sherlockian friends and colleagues, to meet new people, learn new things and have a rousing good time. My thanks to the organizers of the Left Coast Sherlock Symposium, Patrick Ewing, Elinor Gray and Beth Gallego as well as the speakers for making this a fun and memorable event. For anyone wanting to look into their symposium for 2021 or want to know more about them, they can be contacted at https://www.leftcoastsherlock.com/

#FPBlog #Conventions #2020 #LCSS #review #blogging

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takaraphoenix · 7 years

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Phoe’s Advent Calendar: Day 6

HAPPY NICHOLAS DAY TO Y’ALL! This one goes out to its requester @hicspegleg! Enjoy!

Title: Advent Calendar Project – Never too Sweet

Fandom: Disney/DreamWorks

Disclaimer: All rights concerning the movies reserved to DreamWorks/Disney respectively. 'Guardians of Childhood' is property of William Joyce. 'How To Train Your Dragon' is property of Cressida Cowell. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Warnings: shounen-ai, fluff, cuddles, Christmas fluff

Main Pairing: Hiccup/Jack

DreamWorks Characters: Jackson Overland | Jack Frost, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Toothless

Summary: Hiccup doesn't like sweets much, but for Jack everything has to be tooth-rotting sweet and with time.

Links: FFNet | AO3

Never too Sweet

Hiccup had never really been a fan of sweets. His uncle Gobber claimed that it was just 'such a Hiccup-thing'. He had always been too serious as a child too. But his hard work had paid off. From the little village he had grown up in, he had earned himself a scholar ship for the most prestigious science school in the US – the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology.

And while he was missing his friends and father and uncle a lot, he loved that school. Finally, his tinkering paid off and got him acknowledged. He finally found friends who loved the same kind of things as he did; no more bullying for being a nerd. Nerds were the cool kids here.

He had never felt that at home before and he also loved his small apartment. It wasn't much, just one room with a kitchenette and a small bathroom, but it was his. And it was enough for Hiccup and Toothless. Toothless being his small, black kitten with the large, green eyes. The two of them had gotten really comfortable in their small apartment and had made it fully their home.

But the one thing that made it truly home was, oddly enough, the one not living there.

Hiccup's boyfriend of two months. Beautiful, gorgeous, mesmerizing Jackson Overland, aka Jack Frost. Because Hiccup was honestly dating a superhero. Which was utterly amazing.

The thing about Jack was that he also attended SFIT. He was also the grandson of Nick St. North, the new teacher replacing Professor Callaghan after the latter had gone batshit crazy and tried destroying the world (yeah, that was a thing that had happened. Some people, Hiccup included, still struggled with the fact that this was actually their reality). Nick St. North, a very brilliant and inspiring man, was hired to fix this mess. And with him came his grandson. His grandson, who specialized in cryo science – cryotherapy, cryogenics and building a freaking ice-ray. The latter was being used by Jackson's alter ego Jack Frost to fight crime with the other superheroes of San Fransokyo. Which, in itself, again, something that gave Hiccup pause.

When Hiccup had first met Jack, he had instantly developed a very stupid crush. The kind that left him gaping and accidentally running against walls because he couldn't tear his eyes off the white-haired beauty. It, thankfully enough, had only taken Jack three weeks to have mercy on Hiccup and asked him out. Jack was, basically, perfect. He was sweet but mischievous, caring and gentle, but also well into roughhousing and getting into trouble. Not to mention, he was gorgeous and brilliant.

After a few weeks of dating Jack, Hiccup came to realize that Jack was also Jack Frost, the hero.

"Hi—ics. I’m cranky, tired and cold. Stop staring holes in the wall and warm me up."

Hiccup blinked slowly and turned to look over to his bed in the corner where Jack was curled together under two blankets, with his head and Toothless' head poking out of the heap of blankets. Smiling, Hiccup went to grab the hot chocolate he had been preparing while getting lost in thoughts. It was something that tended to happen when Hiccup was making hot chocolate, because as a kid, he had hated that stuff. He didn't like sweet things. But then Jack had become part of his life and Jack loved everything sweet. Cakes, cookies, chocolate, hard candy, ice-cream. The more often Jack was staying over, the more sweets found their way into Hiccup's apartment. And when Jack had started to make it a habit to drop by at Hiccup's after a mission, Hiccup had even started to stoke up on the sweets himself instead of having just Jack sneak snacks into the apartment. Because when Jack was hurt or exhausted, he deserved a treat. And now that winter was rolling around, it got really cold – especially for someone with a freeze-ray, because that technology radiated cold. So Hiccup, who preferred a black coffee in the morning, had actually learned to perfect the art of making super-sweet hot-chocolate. The glass was half-filled with chocolate-powder, three spoons full of sugar, everything topped off with a giant heap of whipped-cream. The mere concept of this abomination made Hiccup shudder and fear for his sugar-levels.

But the first time he had managed to make the 'perfect' chocolate – according to Jack – he had received the most beautiful, blinding smile from his boyfriend and that was totally worth it.

"Hard mission, snowflake?", asked Hiccup gently as he sat down next to Jack.

Jack greedily grabbed the mug from his boyfriend and basically emptied the scaling hot thing in one go. Hiccup watched that in mortification while he got comfortable next to his boyfriend. Once the mug was empty, a contently smiling Jack snuggled up to him.

"Ye—eah. I mean, don't get me wrong, I adore the others, but Wasabi is such a scaredy-cat", sighed Jack, burying his nose in Hiccup's neck. "And Honey keeps accidentally... turning stuff pink. She's still working out the kinks on her chemistry. I swear, if she ever dyes my hair pink again, I will freeze her ass to the wall, Hics."

Hiccup laughed softly at that, gently running his fingers through the soft, fluffy pure-white hair of his boyfriend. Jack crawled into Hiccup's lap, cheek squished against Hiccup's chest, nose still buried in his neck. The white-haired boy was freezing cold, but Hiccup was used to it. Instead, Hiccup grabbed the blankets and pulled them closer around Jack. Toothless hissed in protest as he was nearly being squished by the couple, sneaking out of the bed and glaring at them.

"Poor baby", sighed Hiccup, placing sweet kisses on Jack's face.

Jack giggled and tried to doge him. Jack's laughter was Hiccup's favorite sound and especially when his little hero – Guardian, as Jack preferred, because heroes were just those loud fictional guys, but they were guardians, protecting real people – was exhausted and drained, it felt good to know he was the one capable of making him feel safe and happy. Jack sighed softly.

"We need bigger mugs, Hics", complained Jack mournfully. "You make the greatest chocolate ever. And I'm still cold. I could drink like another three of them."

Hiccup turned a little green at that thought, his stomach protesting. But Jack was turning those large, ice-blue eyes on him, soft-pink lower lip pushed forward in what was clearly cheating.

"One day, you have to introduce me to that summer-camp friend of yours who taught you that kitten-pout", sighed Hiccup frustrated as he peeled himself out of the bed again.

Jack snickered to him as Hiccup headed back to the kitchenette to get the big mug out and make another sickeningly sweet hot chocolate for his overly sweet boyfriend. After all, Jack did the same for him. When Hiccup binge-tinkered, Jack would interrupt him with coffee or sandwiches or reminders that 'the bed was too big and empty without you, Hics, so take a damn break'. It was why they worked, because despite how different they were, they cared deeply about each other, took care of each other and were willing to do everything for each other.

With the new hot chocolate, Hiccup returned to Jack and snuggled back up against his boyfriend.

~*~ The End ~*~

#hijack #frostcup #jack frost #hiccup haddock #how to train your dragon (2010)#Rise of the Guardians (2012)#dreamworks #christmas #christmas fluff #fanfiction #phoe's advent calendar project 2017

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ask-de-writer · 5 years

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HICCUPS! : MLP Fan Fiction : A Work In Progress

As usual for works in progress, new parts and changes to older ones are done in Boldface type.

HICCUPS!

A Grumpy Goat <tail>

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

10601 words so far, this is a WORK IN PROGRESS